Free Maximum Offence by David Gunn

wouldn’t believe the number of daggers the factor boxes have been asked to make in the past twenty-four hours. For decoration obviously.’
    ‘Obviously.’
    She shoots me a glance. ‘You’ve made a big impression.’
    ‘And that makes you look good?’
    ‘Of course,’ she says.
    Paper hugs me, which shocks Colonel Vijay slightly. Then she walks us to the open door of a shuttle and steps back, smiling. We are on lenz, I realize. Millions of U/Free are watching this.
    God these bastards must be bored.
    Hydraulics hiss, doors rise, we buckle ourselves in, and Letogratz drops away hard and fast. Fifteen minutes later, we put down eight thousand miles away. On a deserted beach, with coral reefs to one side and a mangrove swamp on the other. The roots of the mangroves are woven tightly enough to make an impenetrable wall.
    ‘Planted them an hour ago,’ says the pilot. He smiles at our disbelief. ‘Made the island this morning. It will be gone by tonight.’
    Now that’s what I call maximum deniability .
    Another shuttle is waiting on the beach. And stacked beside it are crates fixed with OctoV’s seal.
    diplomatic supplies, reads a stencil. security cleared.
    Inside the crates are enough weapons to start a small war. Also flip-down helmets, body armour, boots, field-glasses and battlefield radios. The colonel and I have reached an agreement. The agreement every CO reaches the moment he gets his first command. Find someone competent; tell him to carry on as normal. Of course, that is not how Colonel Vijay puts it.
    He will tell me if I do anything wrong .
    Ripping open a case, I check the list inside its lid.
    ‘Here,’ I say.
    Catching a package, Rachel unwraps a stripped-down sniper rifle. She has never seen one like it before. She snaps the barrel into place from instinct and gives me a wide grin.
    ‘Like it?’
    ‘Fuck, sir. Yes.’
    It is an 8.59mm Z93z long-range rifle, with adjustable cheek piece, ×3-×12-×50 spotting scope, floating breech and fluting on the outer barrel to aid heat dissipation. And while it might fire electronically to avoid the snap of a firing pin, it’s bolt action, because snipers cling to the strangest traditions.
    The only other Z93z I have seen decorates the wall of a sergeants’ mess in General Jaxx’s mother ship. The braids cut from a metalhead general are arranged underneath, along with his shoulder patches.
    Colonel Vijay looks at me when I say this.
    Not Rachel, she gets taking trophies. Snipers are high maintenance, like their weapons, everyone knows that.
    ‘Mine, sir?’
    ‘Until you’re dead,’ I tell her. ‘Or I take it back.’
    ‘This is my rifle,’ she says. ‘There are many like it, but this one is mine. Without it I am nothing.’ Brushing aside long red hair, Rachel adjusts the sight and blind-fires at the shuttle disappearing into the sky above us.
    When she lowers the rifle, she’s still grinning.
    ‘Sir,’ she says. ‘Thank you, sir.’
    ‘That true?’ Colonel Vijay asks a minute later.
    ‘What, sir?’
    ‘You were’ — he hesitates — ‘on the general’s mother ship?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Doing what?’
    ‘Being tried for treason. Well, that was the third time. Second time, I was being fitted for this.’ I tap my arm loud enough to make it ring. ‘Of course, that was after Colonel Nuevo rescued me from the ferox . . .’
    ‘Colonel Nuevo?’
    ‘Shot himself at Ilseville. All part of a bigger plan.’
    The colonel shuts his eyes. Think it might be irritation.
    ‘So you’ve never met General Jaxx?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘Several times.’
    For some reason that doesn’t make Colonel Vijay any happier. ‘See you inside,’ he says, heading for the shuttle. A real CO would give me a time limit.
    ‘Keep unpacking,’ I say.
    It is the second case that excites my gun. The SIG-37’s been pissed off since it hit U/Free territory. No ammo. Mind you, given the way I feel about Morgan, not letting me take a loaded gun into Paper’s