Read Online Conviction by Tammy Salyer - Free Book Online Page B

don’t add how much I hope it isn’t.
    “Uh, why do you call it ‘wank patrol’?”
    “Because if you’re lucky, it’ll be boring enough that jerking off is the only way to fill the time.” I doubt, however, he’ll still be awake after an hour or two of the mind-numbing monotony that defines battlefield circulation control.
    Still, he seems to accept the role with a hint of enthusiasm. After a second, he surprises me by asking, “The guy, David, he’s your brother?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And you were in the Corps together, huh. What was that like? Why did you desert?”
    It’s a guess, but I think the kid is fishing for an out, encouragement to pursue a path that might reasonably offer him and his younger brother a chance at a life once their father dies. I’m torn about what to tell him. On one hand it’s true, the Corps, for all its soul-crushing requirement of blind obedience, will keep him and his brother from starving to death or worse on some backwater rock. On the other hand, as non-citizens their chances for even passing the physical requirements to get in are as slim as their chances for making it out here on their own, and their futures would be no less violent, and likely just as limited. My own loathing for everything the Corps has become probably clouds my reasoning, sure, but I’m not going to lie to the kid.
    “We deserted because being in the Corps is slavery. You might think it’s rough out here in the Spectras”—I’m not about to sugarcoat anything—“but just try to imagine what it’s like when your commander tells you that wiping out a mining colony full of non-cits for insurrection is your duty . I wanted to be a soldier of justice, but that’s not what the Corps does anymore.”
    His expression doesn’t change, but the confusion lurking behind his eyes is clear. He probably isn’t used to being preached to, but I continue. “You don’t want to find out what that does to you, kid. And my advice is, don’t try.”
    “So you deserted because you don’t like taking orders. Sounds chickenshit to me.”
    He’s doing his best to sound tough, but it makes me chuckle. “Sure, chickenshit, whatever you think. You’ve been around long enough to have it all figured out, right? C’mon, let me go over your quad. I want to see what exactly it’s capable of.”
    He follows me to the vehicle without another word. It’s as stripped down and basic as a retrofitted all-terrain vehicle could be, but its simplicity makes it effective. Steel plates have been welded to its frame to give it weight, and the undercarriage hosts tracks instead of tires, adding to its heaviness and balance, but also making it slower than it would be otherwise. It’s not made to engage an enemy, only to stop them. The mortar tubes ride along the tracks’ skirts, and a steel shell topping it serves as a solid barrier to any small-arms fire. Essentially, this little beauty is a boy-sized tank, but with real, lethal weaponry.
    “You load it from inside?” I ask.
    He nods, his expression thoughtful and faraway.
    “Kid. You think you can handle a night in here?”
    This brings his attention back to the present. “Why couldn’t I?”
    Because being inside that tiny cabin would feel a little like being inside a corpse locker . I don’t voice this thought. It’s my own, private little phobia. “Because you’re only sixteen years old,” I comment instead, getting tired of his overblown “I’m a badass motherfucker” act. “This isn’t a game, Drew.”
    “I know that.”
    “No, I’m not talking about standing sentry out here in the middle of nowhere while a bunch of deserters relax inside a stolen e-craft, as if it’s a fucking holiday. I’m talking about your life . You aren’t going anywhere but underground in lots of little pieces if you think you really have it all figured out. I’m not trying to bash you, kid. I’m trying to do you a favor. But playtime is over. Stop pretending you’re a