Read Online Virtues of War by Bennett R. Coles - Free Book Online
Authors: Bennett R. Coles
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leaned up against the counter across from her, wry smile still in place. “But for next time, I’m happy to stay the nerd. You’re the scary one, remember?”
Katja was still puzzling over why she’d hit the man. “They were just stun guns,” she said absently, “every bouncer has one.”
“I know what they are. I’ve just never had one pointed at me before.”
“Did those two guys get kicked out as well?”
“Nope. Just us, honey. We are so bad-ass.”
Katja chewed her lip in thought. “So the guy didn’t provoke me?”
“Not that I saw. I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Her mind was a complete blank. “I don’t know.”
Merje straightened and rounded the counter, heading for the armchair and activating the TV wall. Katja turned in her seat, trying to guess her sister’s mood as the familiar chatter of the 24-hour news network softly filled the room, but her hung-over brain still struggled.
Why had she hit a complete stranger?
“Up until then,” Merje said, “it was quite a pleasant evening. I even liked the gala. The Fleet sure puts on a good spread.”
Annoyance flickered through her. Everyone was calling the Astral Force “the Fleet” these days, as if the vacuum-heads were the only thing that mattered. It was the Corps that had invaded the Centauri homeworld, troopers like her who had carved the name Expeditionary Force 15 into the history books. But as she watched the images drift by on the TV screen, shot after shot highlighted Fleet warships patrolling majestically in low orbit.
Apparently the newly minted Admiral Chandler was giving yet another interview, no doubt drinking in the honors showered upon him as a hero of the war. Katja had yet to see a single mention of those who had been at the bloody end of the business in the attack on Abeona. If anything, the Corps had done more than the Fleet to safeguard Terran interests, but the media loved those big, shiny ships…
“And there was plenty of talent, too,” Merje was saying. “Your boys scrub up nice in their uniforms.” She reached over and grabbed Katja’s abandoned tunic, tossing it up onto the couch. “Especially that yummy biscuit you were talking to so intimately. Who was that guy, the one you dashed off with right after our interview?”
Katja’s cheeks flushed, and blood pounded in her ears. Suddenly everything fell into place. That guy at the club had made a comment about returning war veterans, and how they were getting all kinds of extra privileges for not having done much.
“Thomas Kane,” she muttered. “He was my CO, and he’s doing pretty well for himself.” Like getting married into the plutocracy, and getting some cushy job on his rise to the top. And getting
married
.
Damn you, you bastard
.
Merje sipped her coffee. “Hmm.” Katja glanced up. Her sister was watching her with a carefully neutral expression, soft eyes probing.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Merje shook her head and smiled. “Good for him.”
Katja dropped her gaze, annoyed that her cheeks still burned. Merje was too perceptive sometimes. She flicked the hair out of her face again and downed her coffee.
“I’m going to have a shower.”
Merje nodded absently, eyes on the news. “How much longer can I crash here?”
“I’m on leave for five more days.” She wondered how much more “fun” she could endure before donning her uniform once again. “They’ll kick you out of here when I head back to my post.”
“Maybe I’ll just find myself a cute Fleet boy, and stay longer.”
Katja wondered who would be more at risk—Merje or the Astral Force.
Toothpaste, soap, and extended hot water combined to liberate Katja from most of her headache and general crappiness. When she re-emerged into the sunshine of the living room, wearing the brightly patterned sundress she’d bought on a whim yesterday, she almost felt ready to smile.
Merje was still watching the news, but her upright position, forward in the chair, indicated more
Katja was still puzzling over why she’d hit the man. “They were just stun guns,” she said absently, “every bouncer has one.”
“I know what they are. I’ve just never had one pointed at me before.”
“Did those two guys get kicked out as well?”
“Nope. Just us, honey. We are so bad-ass.”
Katja chewed her lip in thought. “So the guy didn’t provoke me?”
“Not that I saw. I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Her mind was a complete blank. “I don’t know.”
Merje straightened and rounded the counter, heading for the armchair and activating the TV wall. Katja turned in her seat, trying to guess her sister’s mood as the familiar chatter of the 24-hour news network softly filled the room, but her hung-over brain still struggled.
Why had she hit a complete stranger?
“Up until then,” Merje said, “it was quite a pleasant evening. I even liked the gala. The Fleet sure puts on a good spread.”
Annoyance flickered through her. Everyone was calling the Astral Force “the Fleet” these days, as if the vacuum-heads were the only thing that mattered. It was the Corps that had invaded the Centauri homeworld, troopers like her who had carved the name Expeditionary Force 15 into the history books. But as she watched the images drift by on the TV screen, shot after shot highlighted Fleet warships patrolling majestically in low orbit.
Apparently the newly minted Admiral Chandler was giving yet another interview, no doubt drinking in the honors showered upon him as a hero of the war. Katja had yet to see a single mention of those who had been at the bloody end of the business in the attack on Abeona. If anything, the Corps had done more than the Fleet to safeguard Terran interests, but the media loved those big, shiny ships…
“And there was plenty of talent, too,” Merje was saying. “Your boys scrub up nice in their uniforms.” She reached over and grabbed Katja’s abandoned tunic, tossing it up onto the couch. “Especially that yummy biscuit you were talking to so intimately. Who was that guy, the one you dashed off with right after our interview?”
Katja’s cheeks flushed, and blood pounded in her ears. Suddenly everything fell into place. That guy at the club had made a comment about returning war veterans, and how they were getting all kinds of extra privileges for not having done much.
“Thomas Kane,” she muttered. “He was my CO, and he’s doing pretty well for himself.” Like getting married into the plutocracy, and getting some cushy job on his rise to the top. And getting
married
.
Damn you, you bastard
.
Merje sipped her coffee. “Hmm.” Katja glanced up. Her sister was watching her with a carefully neutral expression, soft eyes probing.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Merje shook her head and smiled. “Good for him.”
Katja dropped her gaze, annoyed that her cheeks still burned. Merje was too perceptive sometimes. She flicked the hair out of her face again and downed her coffee.
“I’m going to have a shower.”
Merje nodded absently, eyes on the news. “How much longer can I crash here?”
“I’m on leave for five more days.” She wondered how much more “fun” she could endure before donning her uniform once again. “They’ll kick you out of here when I head back to my post.”
“Maybe I’ll just find myself a cute Fleet boy, and stay longer.”
Katja wondered who would be more at risk—Merje or the Astral Force.
Toothpaste, soap, and extended hot water combined to liberate Katja from most of her headache and general crappiness. When she re-emerged into the sunshine of the living room, wearing the brightly patterned sundress she’d bought on a whim yesterday, she almost felt ready to smile.
Merje was still watching the news, but her upright position, forward in the chair, indicated more
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