Soldier of Fortune: Gideon Quinn Adventures Book One

Chapter 3

2100 hours found Gideon in the prison's gate yard, along with the handful of other souls granted parole that day.

The suns had long since set, taking the life-draining heat with them, and leaving in its place a soul-sapping cold. Above the chill desert, the sky glimmered with optimistic stars, and a glow over the Eastern wall presaged the imminent appearance of Ma'at, the first of Fortune's three moons to rise that night.

The other soon-to-be-ex-cons stood scattered about the holding area, overtly or covertly adjusting civilian clothing not worn since the day of their arrival in the Barrens.

Clothing, Gideon noted, which now hung loosely on bodies pared down by years of labor in the crystal fields, giving the impression of a company of scarecrows awaiting field assignments.

Of the other scarecrows present, Gideon knew only one, a grifter by the name of Horatio Alva. Horatio was something of an anomaly, as, being both a first-time offender (which is to say, this was the first time he'd been caught), and a non-violent, he technically didn't belong in Morton.

Gideon had come to know Horatio after stepping between the grifter and one Pavel Escavilla (who absolutely did belong in Morton) when the latter thought the former was "looking at him funny."

The resulting throw-down had earned Escavilla solitary and Gideon another trip to the infirmary.

Horatio caught Gideon's roving gaze and gave him a nod and a quirk of a smile. Gideon returned the nod.

He didn't know what it said that he felt more reassured by Horatio's impending freedom than his own.

"Is this all your kit?"

He glanced to his left, surprisingly unsurprised to see General Satsuke at his side, apparently engrossed in studying his scant personal effects.

"Didn't have much coming in."

Her eyes dropped to the pack at his feet, then rose to his right shoulder, where Elvis crouched on the scarred pauldron, his tail twined around Gideon's upper arm, bisecting the twin suns of the Colonial infantry tooled into the leather. "I don't imagine you had him coming in, either."

Gideon looked as well, giving the draco a habitual tickle under the chin. "Elvis came along two years ago," he said, not elaborating further. He doubted Satsuke would care how Elvis had imprinted on him after Gideon (stupidly, Doc later told him while administering the antivenom) put himself between the draco hatchling and a hungry desert viper.

"Elvis," he said, gesturing to Satsuke, "say hello to the general."

Elvis tilted his head up and bobbed it down, long enough to make it seem a genuine bow, before raising it up again with a low, trilling sound.

Satsuke's brow rose slightly, then she nodded back to the draco before returning her attention to the draco's human. "You kept the coat," she observed.

"It's a good coat," he shrugged, but gently because of Elvis. "And, I don't know if you've noticed, but it's balls-shriveling—it gets cold in the desert at night."

She favored him with a glare he felt certain was meant to mimic those desert nights. "I'd like a word in private."

She turned and strode towards a corner of the gate yard unoccupied by any but two Corps warrant officers.

Gideon, after a beat, followed.

As he and Satsuke came near, her escort moved out of hearing range, but remained close enough to deal with Gideon, should he prove troublesome.