Read Online Imperial Guard by Joseph O'Day - Free Book Online Page A

daydreaming was interrupted by a boisterous shout. “Hey, Brogan!” Looking up he saw Unger approaching. Brogan was grateful for any distraction from his tedium.
    “I’m supposed to brief you on your new promotion pay. But before we do that, why don’t you come with me to the Navigator’s Ward Room and watch Earth approach with me?”
    “Sure thing, sir. I’d be glad to. But I’ve got to finish up this railing. I shouldn’t be much longer.”
    “Fine. Meet me in the Ward Room in half an hour then.”
    *
    Unger and Brogan sat in the Ward Room while the ship approached Earth. Since there was not much to see yet, the two men began to talk about Brogan’s pay.
    “In addition to the many other odd jobs that no one else wants,” began Unger laconically, “the junior officer —me—gets stuck with being pay officer. So tell me, what do you want done with the pay that’s due you?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t even know how much I’m getting.”
    Unger smiled. “A regular private in his Majesty’s Fusiliers draws a grand total of ten Imperial credits per standard Earth month,” he replied officiously.
    “Ten credits a month!” exclaimed the incredulous private. “Why, my father hardly ever saw half that much!”
    “Well, that’s the pay rate. You can receive the whole amount or assign part of it to a family member. Let’s see now,” said Unger, verbalizing his mental arithmetic, “ten credits should get you to the Academy and settled in. After that you should get by easily on three credits a month.”
    Brogan recalled how drab and tired his mother always looked. And his brothers and sisters had next to nothing to wear. Some extra money could make an amazing difference in their lives.
    “I’d like to send some money to my mother.”
    “OK. How much?”
    “I’ll send the seven credits a month.”
    Unger leaned over the console that housed the monitor to the ship’s computer. “I’d like the pay record of Private Timothy Brogan, serial number 15-315-706-12.” The information appeared instantaneously.
    “The computer shows that you have thirty-three credits due you when we reach Earth. Here are the options: You can keep out the ten credits to get you started and send the balance of twenty-three to your mother, then set up the allotment. Or I can go ahead and set up the allotment now, in which case you will receive 12C when we land at Mexcity. I recommend the latter. It will reduce the possibility of screw ups.”
    “Anything you say,” laughed Brogan. Right now he felt like he was leading a charmed life.
    “Good. I’m sure you’ll find some way to spend the extra two credits,” he said with a wink. “Oh, by the way, the captain said to give you this.” The ensign pulled a holster and belt out of a cabinet.
    “This is a stun gun. It’s part of the spoils we took from the rebels. It uses a modulated frequency broadcast to stun the victim. You can make minor adjustments to the pattern by turning this knob, here. I recommend you keep it set where it’s at. A tighter band is more effective. The nifty thing about this particular stun gun is that the grip is programmable. Whoever’s palm pattern is programmed into it is the only one who can use it. If anyone else tries to grip it, it gives them a nasty jolt.”
    “That’s great!” gushed Brogan as he reached to take it.
    “Whoa! Not yet, fella. I have to hold on to it until we disembark. Crewmembers are not allowed to carry weapons except in emergencies. But you’ll be glad to have it on Earth.”
    “Is it that bad down there? Father always said it was a wicked place, but I thought he was just exaggerating.”
    “Well, I don’t know about wicked, but I do know that Earth is a dangerous place for the unwary. Noncitizens have very little to lose by breaking the law, so a lot of them survive by committing crimes. Some manage to steal or extort enough to buy their citizenship.”
    Unger cupped his chin in his hand and stared out at the