The Drowned Cities (Ship Breaker #2)(92)

Glenn Stern leaned close, intent. Mahlia gathered her strength, and spat full in the man’s face.

“I still want my fingers back!” she shouted.

The Colonel reared back, yelling and wiping spittle from his eyes. He glared at her. “You—”

Quick as a cobra he slapped her. Once, twice, thrice. Mahlia’s head rocked back, her face flaming. Stern struck again. Pain exploded between Mahlia’s eyes as he pounded her already broken nose. A spike of obliterating pain. Blood gushed down her face.

Mahlia cried out, despite the painkillers. She was almost blind with hurt, but still she forced herself to meet the man’s gaze. “That what you got?” Her voice cracked. “That all?”

“You’d like more?” Glenn Stern raised his hand again.

A low growl filled the marbled room, heavy with threat. They both turned at the sound. The half-man was watching them both.

“I do not accept your offer,” Tool said. “I will not war on your behalf.”

Glenn Stern looked from Mahlia to Tool, and back again. Mahlia smiled.

Stern said, “You’re playing a dangerous game, girl.”

“ ’Cause you’ll hurt me some more?” Mahlia let her head roll back against the column. “That was always the way it was going to be. You got your war and I’m just meat in the gears. So hurry up, old man. Grind me up.”

Suddenly, Lieutenant Sayle appeared. “I have a solution, I think.”

Mahlia didn’t like the way he smiled as he murmured into the Colonel’s ear. Glenn Stern’s expression hardened as he listened. He turned to Mahlia.

“You want fingers, girl? I can get you fingers.”

43

OCHO AND THE REST of the platoon were huddled in a corner of the palace, a huge round room surrounded by more columns and statuary. Ammunition and weapons were stockpiled all around, watched over by more Eagle Guards.

Every once in a while, another round from the 999s whistled in, and Ocho kept expecting a shell to just come smashing through and hit the ordnance and blow them all up, but so far the rubble overhead seemed to be protecting them.

He crouched beside Ghost. The boy was staring at the marble and tile floor. All sorts of intricate patterns covered it, decorative knots and geometric tangles running along the floor to where they were hidden under crates of weaponry.

“You okay, warboy?”

Ghost just shrugged. Ocho didn’t like the look on Ghost’s face. Too doubtful, too withdrawn, too haunted.

He’d thought that the boy was fully recruited, but now he was wondering. Using him for bait to get the half-man had been a risk. But now that it was over, the boy should have been pulling back together. It wasn’t like every soldier in the platoon hadn’t had to prove loyalty at one point or another.

“I saved her,” Ghost said. “Long time ago, I saved her from the Army of God. When they cut off her hand.”

“Best not to think about that. She ain’t with us. She ain’t a brother,” Ocho said. “Don’t spend your nevermind worrying about civvies. They ain’t us.”

“We were all civvies.”

Ocho tapped his cheek. “We ain’t now. We’re above them. Don’t put yourself down on their level, soldier. We’re UPF. You stand tall.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, soldier,” Ocho said. “You’re something now. We brought you up, ’cause we could tell you were special. Now you got a place and you got brothers who will throw down for you. Don’t go throwing that off for some castoff war maggot.”

He was about to say more, but he was interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Sayle.

“Sergeant,” Sayle motioned for Ocho. “You’re needed. Bring the recruit.” He waved at Ghost.

Ocho slapped Ghost on the back. “Come on, soldier. Time to get back to work.”

They followed the lieutenant down a marbled hall and were stopped by a pair of Eagle Guards. “Drop your weapons,” one of them said.

“Say again?” Ocho asked.

“Leave your guns here.”

Ocho tightened his grip on his rifle. “I don’t disarm for no one.”

“Disarm, Sergeant,” Sayle said, his voice hard. “It’s for a purpose.” He surrendered his own sidearm as well.

Reluctantly, Ocho stripped off his rifle and bandoliers and motioned for Ghost to do the same.

As soon as they were disarmed, they were led down another hall, past more Eagle Guards, and then into a huge room, full of columns and soldiers and chalkboards. The murmur of strategy surrounded them.

Ocho realized that they were in the heart of the UPF’s war room. From here, all orders issued. The lieutenant led them between the carved columns that held up the vaulted roof. They came around a column and Ocho gasped.

Colonel Glenn Stern stood before him, smiling. Ocho jumped to attention and saluted, jabbing Ghost to do the same. The Colonel returned the salute with a quick nod.

“Sergeant,” he said, “I’ve heard good things about you from the lieutenant.” Ocho stammered thanks but the Colonel’s gaze had fallen on Ghost.

“This is the one?”

“Yes, sir,” the LT said.

“Good.” The Colonel motioned for them to follow. They navigated amongst more columns, threading between them to the far side of the room. Ghost sucked in his breath. “Hold him, Sergeant,” Sayle ordered.