Read Online Into the Storm by Larry Correia - Free Book Online Page A

aren’t doing this for the money. You’re bored. That’s why you play these games. I’ve known men like you. There’s no point if there’s no challenge, and where’s the challenge in having everything in life handed to you on a silver plate? You come with me, right now, and you’ll have your challenge—and when this war is over, you’ll have stories to tell all your little aristocrat friends. The noble ladies swoon over a war hero.”
    Thornbury adjusted his silk cravat. “I don’t need much help in that department, but I’m intrigued.”
    “It is the way of the Dark Twin to think only of your personal benefit—” Wilkins began.
    “Sacrifice, Wilkins, sacrifice.”
    Wilkins sighed. “Yes, sir.”
    “Tell you what, Madigan. I’ll check it out. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
    “Good, good,” Madigan smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. He leaned in even closer, right into Thornbury’s face. The aristocrat shrank back into the couch. Cleasby had seen that expression on the lieutenant a few times now, and it was unnerving, like the only reason you were still alive was that it wasn’t worth his effort to kill you.
    “A few things we have to clear up, though. That’s Lieutenant Madigan from now on. They might think we’re the dregs of the army, but we’re still the army.” The next part was a whisper that could barely be heard. “And if you ever bring up Earl Hartcliff’s children again, I’ll make you regret it. Understand?”
    Thornbury nodded quickly.
    “Good. That’s settled then.” Madigan patted Thornbury on the shoulder. The aristocrat flinched. “Let’s be going.”
    “Uh, sir?” Wilkins nodded his helmet toward the improvised fighting arena. “We’ve still got company.”
    One of the boxers remained, sitting on a stool in his corner. The man was huge, with a torso that was a solid block of muscle. His head was down, blond hair covering his eyes. His face and hands were badly swollen and dripping red.
    “That’s the champ,” Thornbury explained. He pointed at one of the chalkboards showing the odds. “That monster took on five challengers in a row tonight and whipped them all. He’s strong as an ox and can take a beating like you wouldn’t believe. I think he must be half ogrun.”
    “I never took any of Pendrake’s classes at the university, but I’m fairly certain that isn’t biologically possible,” Cleasby said.
    “Is he dead?” Wilkins asked.
    “He’s still breathing.” Madigan raised his voice. “You, fighter! What’s your name?”
    Surprisingly, the battered man got to his feet, wobbling for only a moment, and then raised his arm and saluted. “Corporal Nestor Pangborn, sir! Stormblade Infantry Storm Gunner!” he shouted. “Currently unassigned, sir!”
    Cleasby checked his clipboard. “Pangborn . . . He’s on here. Disciplinary problems. Fighting. Fighting. And more fighting.”
    “You don’t say.” Madigan stroked his scar. “You like to fight, Corporal?”
    “It’s all I’m good at, sir.”
    Cleasby was a bit unnerved by some of the notes on Pangborn. “He was released from the brig yesterday, sir. He was there for getting into it with some long gunners. He put five of them in the hospital . . . using only his bare hands.”
    Wilkins whistled.
    “One of them called me dumb. I’m from farm country, and never went to school or nothin’, but I’m not dumb, no sir.” The huge man lifted his head proudly. His nose was currently smashed flat and blowing frothy blood bubbles, but he didn’t seem to notice. “They all laughed, so I went at them. I don’t like people thinking they’re better than me, especially those that laugh all mean at folks. There was ten of them, but I only got through half the squad before the MPs clubbed me down. Would’ve gotten them all, but a few ran too fast. Sir.”
    Thornbury sounded disappointed. “If I’d known that beforehand, I would’ve made a lot more money on the odds tonight.”
    Madigan