The Grandest Army
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4 Location Unknown
Donegal District
Lyran Commonwealth
12 April 2762
If he didn’t turn his head to the right his shoulder didn’t hurt, but that wasn’t an option. The idiot doing the talking was on his right. And it didn’t work to not look at your host, when your host had you handcuffed to a chair in a featureless building on a world without a name.
“It’s really too bad you survived,” his host said.
“I get that a lot,” Lieutenant John Hampton said.
“I’m sure you do.” His host—
what had he said his name was?
Blakely? Blackie? Baxter? Something with a b —grinned and walked around to in front of Hampton’s chair. Hampton turned his head to follow, fighting to keep the sigh from escaping as the pressure came off of his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me about your orders yet?” Hampton grinned up at him. “Hampton, John. Lieutenant, Star League Defense Force.” He cycled through his number. “Did you get that?”
The man standing— Badger? Bickel? Damn it, I’m terrible with names —smiled tightly. “I think I can remember it after hearing it this many times.”
Hampton just held his grin. His shoulder was starting to throb where it had clipped the edge of the egress port when he’d ejected from the burning carcass of his Falcon. The pirates who’d destroyed his lance had captured Hampton and Sergeant Gaines before the rest of the battalion could reach them. They’d shot Gaines. Hampton they’d stuffed into a DropShip and brought here.
Wherever the hell here was. It was wherever this batch of the pirates and bandits that seemed to spring up like cockroaches came from.
“Your orders, Lieutenant.”
“Hampton, John. Lieutenant—“ he was already expecting the punch. That the fist came down on his already-sore shoulder instead of across his jaw was the only surprise. The pain was white-hot. Hampton screamed. There was no point in trying to hold it in. He was going to die anyway. “Your orders.”
“Hampton, John—“ again on the shoulder. Again he screamed.
Tears burst out of his eyes. His armpits and back were sweating, and his booted feet kicked against the ties securing him to the chair. He didn’t expect the kicks to do anything. They were just reflex. “Why are you protecting them?” Bordon— that was his name — asked. “They let you go. They let us carry you off. You don’t owe them anything.’’
Hampton forced himself to laugh. “You know,” he said, ignoring the question, “I spent two years on Garrison a few years back.”
“Garrison?”
“Yeah. I lived in New Patterson. It’s a little city on the coast. Not much there—some boats, some factories. A highway. Truckers used to come into the restaurant I liked, from all over the continent.”
“You have a point with this, I’m sure,” Bordon said.
“One time this guy came in with an accent. Sounded like two dogs trying to shit a rooster bone.” Hampton opened one of his eyes and looked up. He’d meant to open both, but the light was suddenly too intense. It hurt to open both eyes. “He sounded just like you.” Hampton forced a smile. “Told me he was from a little place called Howell. Couple hours to the east.”
“Howell, huh?” Bordon’s face was calm.
“Howell. Know what he told me Howell was famous for?” “What’s that?”
“Hookers.” Hampton grinned. He worked his tongue around and spat on the floor between them. “That’s all you are. I don’t know who you work for. I don’t know why you wanted to raid anywhere, much less my patrol area. I don’t know who buys your ’Mechs and who pays your bills. But you’re from Howell on Garrison, Bordon, and I learned that just from hearing you speak.”
Bordon sneered. “Everyone’s from someplace, Lieutenant Hampton.”
“So they are.” Hampton tilted his head back. “So they are. But you’re from that place. And I know it. Eventually the Star League will know it, and they’ll send the SLDF to wipe you and your little band off the face of the universe. My brothers and sisters. It’ll be like you never existed. Because that’s what it’s like when you’re SLDF, Bordon. Someone will remember me. And they’ll make sure you don’t get away. That’s what it’s like.
“What what’s like?”
“Just shoot me.”
Bordon drew a pistol from behind his back. “What what’s like, Lieutenant?”
“Being part of something greater than yourself.”
“Hmph.” Bordon chewed on his lip for a second. Then he pointed the pistol at Hampton’s face. Hampton smiled. He began to whisper. “Something great—
-------------------- "I have just called President Obama to congratulate him on his victory. His supporters and his campaign also deserve congratulations." - Mitt Romney, on the eve of his and his follower's Epic Defeat Thanks Mitt.
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