Read Online Bonded (Soul Ties, #1) by Peyton Brittany Clarke - Free Book Online
Authors: Peyton Brittany Clarke
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Chapter One
Z isa
propped her legs up on the table in front of her. The Sargent's lounge was the
one place she could relax without fear of interruption from the officers who
insisted on riding her hump and the lower ranked enlisted who tended to act
like they didn't have a clue. Pulled from both sides, it tended to wear her
out.
Finally
able to relax, she sighed as she rubbed the inside of her rifle with a soft
cloth. She studied the black carbon scoring that smeared on the white rag.
Regular weapon maintenance was the hallmark of a good soldier, for it ensured
the safety and reliability of their rifles. But that along with a whole bunch
of other things had been put off to the side. Won't have to worry about
that any more.
“Hehehe,
can you imagine being replaced by mechans and gebeds?”Garr asked raking his
hands through hishair. Turning up a container of mouthwash, he sloshed the
liquid around inside his mouth in between gargles. He leaned over the
washbasin and spat into it. Automatically the water turned on, he cupped his
hands allowing the liquid to pool into it. He splashed water on his sand and
grit covered face, removing most of Retaya's sandy ground. “Those things
couldn't hit a target if it was placed right in front of them.”
“I've
heard that talk before, it's nothing,” Zisa replied.
“I
don't know, times are a changing,” he said wiping his face with a towel.
He
continued studying his face in the mirror. In his late twenties, he appeared
even younger. Like most soldiers, who were superstitious, he was a creature
of habit, believing if it worked the first time then it must be good luck.
And obsessive grooming a mission was his.
“You
still look the same don't bother checking,” she smirked having no such
routine. For her, either good things happened or it didn't. There was no such
thing as luck. It was clearly evident in her choice in men.
“You're
right, just as beautiful as ever.”
She
snorted, chuckled, and went back to wiping down her weapon.
“As
I was saying,” he said walking over to a chair and picking up his shirt,
“lately the Electorate has been hinting of a change. All they do is sing the
praises of mechans and gebeds, saying how efficient and good they are. You
know they are no fan of the independent security forces. They think we are a
bunch of hired guns.”
Even
though he carried a pleasant disposition, he always said he had a severe
allergy to crap. Whether it came out the front end or the back, he wanted no
parts of it.
Zisa
mouthed a toothpick. She had no use for politicians or their useless ideas.
She was born and raised in the Borders, an area just on the edge of the known
galaxy. It was known for its own version of civil law. In the Borders, a
person's word was the rule of law and if they didn’t live by it, they died.
Life
was so different in the Central Systems , she noted shaking her head.
“Nariseerons are hired guns. We are trained professionals. Not a bunch of
mercenaries out for a bounty. We are legitimate members of the Security Guild
which means we are tax-paying citizens with ties to the Collective. We provide
an important service for the galaxy.”
“Mainly
the central systems. There's a whole lot of empty space out there. And most
of it is untamed. You of all people should know that.”
“Same
thing. And I'm not talking about the Borders or the Barrens either. That's a
whole other conversation. Before we could even think about going out there as
a guild, we need more people from the Collective to move out there and set up governments.
It's lawless out there for a reason.”
“There
you go singing their praises again. You know you ought to be a lobbyist.”
“Me?
Why?”
“Because
you're a conformist.”
“Garr
look around,” she gestured at their cramped lounge. A boxy room with one
window, two couches, a table and some chairs, it was the only
Z isa
propped her legs up on the table in front of her. The Sargent's lounge was the
one place she could relax without fear of interruption from the officers who
insisted on riding her hump and the lower ranked enlisted who tended to act
like they didn't have a clue. Pulled from both sides, it tended to wear her
out.
Finally
able to relax, she sighed as she rubbed the inside of her rifle with a soft
cloth. She studied the black carbon scoring that smeared on the white rag.
Regular weapon maintenance was the hallmark of a good soldier, for it ensured
the safety and reliability of their rifles. But that along with a whole bunch
of other things had been put off to the side. Won't have to worry about
that any more.
“Hehehe,
can you imagine being replaced by mechans and gebeds?”Garr asked raking his
hands through hishair. Turning up a container of mouthwash, he sloshed the
liquid around inside his mouth in between gargles. He leaned over the
washbasin and spat into it. Automatically the water turned on, he cupped his
hands allowing the liquid to pool into it. He splashed water on his sand and
grit covered face, removing most of Retaya's sandy ground. “Those things
couldn't hit a target if it was placed right in front of them.”
“I've
heard that talk before, it's nothing,” Zisa replied.
“I
don't know, times are a changing,” he said wiping his face with a towel.
He
continued studying his face in the mirror. In his late twenties, he appeared
even younger. Like most soldiers, who were superstitious, he was a creature
of habit, believing if it worked the first time then it must be good luck.
And obsessive grooming a mission was his.
“You
still look the same don't bother checking,” she smirked having no such
routine. For her, either good things happened or it didn't. There was no such
thing as luck. It was clearly evident in her choice in men.
“You're
right, just as beautiful as ever.”
She
snorted, chuckled, and went back to wiping down her weapon.
“As
I was saying,” he said walking over to a chair and picking up his shirt,
“lately the Electorate has been hinting of a change. All they do is sing the
praises of mechans and gebeds, saying how efficient and good they are. You
know they are no fan of the independent security forces. They think we are a
bunch of hired guns.”
Even
though he carried a pleasant disposition, he always said he had a severe
allergy to crap. Whether it came out the front end or the back, he wanted no
parts of it.
Zisa
mouthed a toothpick. She had no use for politicians or their useless ideas.
She was born and raised in the Borders, an area just on the edge of the known
galaxy. It was known for its own version of civil law. In the Borders, a
person's word was the rule of law and if they didn’t live by it, they died.
Life
was so different in the Central Systems , she noted shaking her head.
“Nariseerons are hired guns. We are trained professionals. Not a bunch of
mercenaries out for a bounty. We are legitimate members of the Security Guild
which means we are tax-paying citizens with ties to the Collective. We provide
an important service for the galaxy.”
“Mainly
the central systems. There's a whole lot of empty space out there. And most
of it is untamed. You of all people should know that.”
“Same
thing. And I'm not talking about the Borders or the Barrens either. That's a
whole other conversation. Before we could even think about going out there as
a guild, we need more people from the Collective to move out there and set up governments.
It's lawless out there for a reason.”
“There
you go singing their praises again. You know you ought to be a lobbyist.”
“Me?
Why?”
“Because
you're a conformist.”
“Garr
look around,” she gestured at their cramped lounge. A boxy room with one
window, two couches, a table and some chairs, it was the only
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