Soldier of Fortune: Gideon Quinn Adventures Book One

Chapter 2

Close to seven years ago, Gideon was still serving in the Colonial Infantry Corps, still wearing his twinned suns with pride, and still leading the 12th Company, a specialized unit loosely attached to the 63rd Regiment.

Specialized, in that Quinn's Dirty Dozen tended to be deployed where and when a situation called for what the brass referred to as non-conventional warfare, and what Gideon referred to as crime.

Which made sense, given that Gideon had grown up dodging on the means streets of Tesla before signing on to the Corps. Once in the infantry, his unique approach to tactics got him noticed, and, surprising no one more than himself, promoted to full colonel.

Until the day everything went well and truly swarm.

* * *

"Why is it so smogging hot in Treicember?"

Gideon found it best to ignore the question put forth by Corpsman Walsingham because, to Walsie, a day without bitching was like a day without sunsshine.

He glanced up to where the suns did indeed blaze hotly, then forward to the rippling savanna, fragrant with flowering shrubs, and humming with insect life.

A flurry of butterflies danced over a clump of sage as he passed, and in the distance, a herd of mammoths slogged across the plain.

He adjusted the strap of his crysto-plas rifle, slung over his left shoulder, then that of his sword, which lay crossways over his back, as both tended to chafe through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Walsie wasn't wrong. It was hot.

Hot enough that the entire company had stripped down to shirt sleeves, the iconic Corps long-coats rolled up and strapped under their packs.

"How could it not be hot," Gideon heard Lt. Fehr reply to Walsingham's question with one of his own, "when we are so near the equator?"

"Yeah, sir, I get that, but, it's Treicember. That's winter," Walsie added helpfully, in case the LT was unaware of the season.

"Near the equator," Fehr said, also helpfully, in case the Corpsman was unclear of their location.

"And?" Walsingham asked.

Gideon's mouth twitched into an almost smile. He had more experience with Corpsman Walsingham than Fehr, who'd only transferred to the 12th Company from Colonel Singh's 8th two months past.

"Do they not offer geography in the Dodge schools?" Fehr asked in his turn.

"They might offer it, sir, but I sure didn't take it."

"And so much is made clear," Fehr said.

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Corpsman. Carry on."

Gideon looked over as Fehr jogged up to join him.

"The corpsman was joking, was he not?"

Gideon's almost-smile became the real thing. "I wouldn't count on it. Walsie's a basic soul."

He watched to see how Fehr would respond. Not only because he was Gideon's second-in-command but because, besides being the finest swordsman in the regiment, Eitan Fehr was known to be a great believer in education.

According to the scuttlebutt, Fehr had taken his third levels at Chandrasekhar University in Fuji before joining the Corps against his family's wishes. He even carried a few books in his pack, and not the penny dreadfuls the enlisteds pored over, but actual books; tomes covering everything from the astronomy of the Tycho/Nemesis system to ancient Earth politics to crystal-origin theory.