Edward Grant - Rebellion

Though this bar looked and sounded like a much better place to work than the derelict buildings of the ZUS. Maybe they’d even run into some aristo who’d take them away from all this, one day.

But probably not.

“No, thanks,” Logan said. The girls might be young and pretty, but he’d known the girls of the ZUS too well to want to take advantage of their sisters here.

“You really are in love with your girl,” Bairamov said.

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

Logan shrugged.

That would have been Angelique, a few days before the flics caught him and dragged him back into prison. A long, cold night when they’d talked once more about getting away from all that, and building a new life together somewhere else. Somewhere they could be free. Even though they knew they never would. And never could.

But how long ago was that?

“Dunno.”

“You must remember.”

“A year, maybe.”

Bairamov chuckled. “No wonder you’re so grouchy.” He slapped Logan’s shoulder. “Come on man, I’ll buy you a girl for tonight. It’ll do you some good.”

“I’m really not in the mood.”

“The way you’ve been burning through your luck since we landed here, this might be your last chance.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

“Alright, Desoto, it’s your lucky night. Since I won all you money, it’s only fair I buy you a girl.”

Bairamov strode toward the bar.

Desoto glanced back at Logan and Gallo, then shrugged and followed him. The girls smiled at the the two men as they climbed the steps to the doors. Then four of them wrapped their arms around Bairamov’s and Desoto’s, and led them inside.

“Damn,” Gallo said. “You know, I think it would have been worth letting Volkov beat the crap out of me for a night with those girls.”

“You want to join them?”

“I ain’t got any money left, either. So I’d just be in there window-shopping.”

Logan checked his pocket. He still had about fifty francs left. And who knew when, or if, he’d have a chance to spend it after tonight. “Let’s take a look at the town. I’m buying.”

“More wine?” Gallo said.

Logan was still feeling lightheaded, though it was hard to say whether that was from the air, the wine, or the girls.

Probably all three.

“I’ve had enough. I could do with some real food.”

“I haven’t had decent chocolat in a month.”

Logan could almost smell it.

A bowl of steaming hot chocolate would certainly warm him up. The sweet taste already seemed to fill his mouth as he imagined swallowing it. And whatever other food they might have that wasn’t made from goo out of a vat.

He strolled on along the street.

Wooden tables lined the exterior of a building a hundred meters ahead, and a painted sign hung from the wall showing pictures of steaming drinks and plates piled with food. The smell of baked bread and roast meat oozed into his nose as he came closer. Whatever that place was, it smelled better than anything he’d smelled since he landed on New Strasbourg.

Joffer sat at the table closest to the door, and Heinrichs on a seat across from him. A girl giggled beside them. Pretty eyes, long hair, long legs, wrapped in a black dress. She nodded at whatever Joffer was telling her.

Heinrichs raised his hands and motioned toward Logan and Gallo. “Join us, boys. Gallo, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

“I could hardly look worse.”

Logan slumped down in a chair across from Heinrichs, pushed away the empty plates and mugs to make space, and slapped his helmet down on the tabletop.

His body relaxed as he took the weight off his legs, and breathed slowly and deeply to fill his blood with oxygen. Gallo sighed as he sat on the far side, then stretched out his legs and massaged his thighs with his hands.

“That’s the most work my legs have done in days.”

“No luck with the nurses then?” Heinrichs said.

“I think the Legion chooses nurses who’ll scare the men into wanting to go back to battle.”

The girl turned away from giggling with Joffer. Those eyes and the curves beneath the tight dress didn’t look like someone who’d make a man want to go off to battle to get away.

“What can I get you, soldiers?”

“Give me chocolate,” Logan said. “And some of whatever smells so good.”

Gallo smiled a wide, goofy smile at her. “I’ll have the same.”

“How’s the hero of Valenciennes?” Heinrichs said.

Not that again. “Sick of people making fun of me.”

“Come on. You’ve bagged almost as many insurgents as the rest of the company since we got here. You ought to be getting a medal.”

“Tell Volkov that.”

The girl smiled at Joffer, then sauntered into the cafe.

Gallo leaned over the table toward him. “You fraternizing there, Joffer?”

A wide smile spread across Joffer’s dark face. “I’m showing a friendly face to the locals. Just like our lovely political officer said we should.”

“Do you think it’s working?” Logan said.

Joffer chuckled.

“Don’t know about her, but it’s working for me.”

“Since you’re so good at it, we should send you in to the next village for Poulin. They’ll love us by the time we walk in.”

“I don’t know why we bother,” Gallo said. “I don’t like the aristos any more than they do. I didn’t sign up to come out here and kill French colonists.”

Heinrichs picked up a coffee cup from the table, sloshed the dark liquid around the bottom, and took a sip. “Look, you’ve got three kinds of people on this planet. The ones who care about kicking out the aristos. The ones who want a quiet life, and don’t care who’s in charge. And the ones who’ll cut your head off for not caring. Those bastards don’t deserve mercy.”

“Yeah,” Joffer said. “It’s kind of shitty killing farmers and miners to protect the aristos, but imagine what it would be like if we pulled out and left them to their own devices. They’d run out of space to bury the bodies in a week.”

He was right. It was one thing to shoot at the Legion, like the boy in Gries. The Legionnaires might not like it, but they were the muscular arm of the government out here. You had to expect that.

It was quite another to cold-bloodedly murder your fellow colonists just for disagreeing with you.

“If I run into those Montagnards,” Logan said, “I’ll kill the lot of them and celebrate afterwards. But I still don’t like doing the aristos’ dirty work, either.”

“You didn’t kill that kid for the aristos, did you?”

Logan shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Then why did you?”

“He shot Desoto, and blew up Gallo.”

“There you go, kid,” Heinrichs said. “You’re learning. The Legion is what matters, not any of that crap. It will be here long after the aristos are dead and gone. You’ll go crazy if you keep worrying about politics.”

“Yeah,” Joffer said. “You can let your girlfriend do that.”

“She is not my girlfriend.”

“Just kidding.”

“Volkov isn’t.”

Heinrichs laughed.

“You’ll understand when you’ve been in the platoon as long as we have. Every time we get a batch of newbies, Volkov picks one to shit on, to encourage the others. This time, you got the shit stick. It’s nothing personal.”

“You’re lucky we’re in a combat zone,” Joffer said. “So he can’t kick the crap out of you every day. Right now, he needs every man he’s got.”

The waitress’ hard shoes clunked on the wooden deck around the cafe as she hurried back to the table. The sweet smell of chocolate filled Logan’s nose, and she placed two steaming bowls on the table in front of him and Gallo. Then hurried back inside.