Free Doom Star: Book 05 - Planet Wrecker by Vaughn Heppner Page B

the chamber, and from somewhere, a klaxon began to wail. The other two doctors and Yezhov, their bodies were torn and bleeding.
    Hawthorne stared at the wreckage. Then he felt Mune’s hands on him, turning him, propelling him toward the exit. Two things kept drumming in Hawthorne’s mind. He’d tried to keep his word. He would have let Yezhov live. The other thing beating in his brain was that there was a hidden enemy among them.

-12-

    Yezhov’s death leaked out, and that infuriated Hawthorne.
    “It’s possible there’s a traitor among the bionic soldiers?” he told Mune, a week after the incident.
    They walked in a botanical garden in New Baghdad, on the Fifth Level. The lamps overhead shined brightly and with heat. It caused Hawthorne’s shirt underneath his uniform to stick to his sweaty skin. A glance at Mune showed an undisturbed captain.
    Hawthorne wondered if Mune resented what the surgeons had done to him. The captain had artificial muscles, his bones were laced with titanium reinforcements and his nerves ran through plastic tubes instead of their natural sheathes. Added glands secreted various drugs, giving him heightened reflexes, strength and the ability to heal more quickly than a normal man could. It surprised Hawthorne that he’d never questioned Mune about it. He’d taken so much for granted with the captain. Did Mune feel sympathy for the cyborgs or a connection to the Highborn? If Mune did not, might not some of the other bionic soldiers question why they continued to fight for the losing side?
    “I’ve considered the possibility of traitors, sir,” Mune said.
    Hawthorne frowned, noticing movement in the distance. Moving a frond, he spied a gleam of metal several hundred meters away.
    Mune turned that way. “It’s a cybertank, sir.”
    “I’m aware of what a cybertank looks like, Captain. Why is it here?”
    “Security, sir.”
    “Is this your doing?” asked Hawthorne.
    Mune inclined his head. “I approved Specialist Cone’s suggestion, sir. You said she had first-rate clearance and that I had full authority concerning your security.”
    “You’re correct on both counts,” Hawthorne said. “But a cybertank—this is the garden level. It’s almost seems obscene to have the cybertank’s treads clanking among the experimental plants.”
    Mune glanced toward the cybertank, but kept any opinions to himself.
    “Hmm,” said Hawthorne. “Cone’s right. I must maintain tighter security. I just hope all these extra guards doesn’t smack of cowardice on my part.”
    “Begging your pardon, sir, but I wish you would show cowardice sometimes.”
    “Captain?”
    “It would make my task much easier, sir. You’re far too likely to enter a combat zone. Level Fifty-Three would be a good example of that, and your insertion into the assault on PHC Headquarters.”
    “I must keep my hand on the pulse, and sometimes that entails risk.”
    “If you say so, sir.”
    Hawthorne opened the top button and pulled at his uniform, trying to let some of his body-heat escape. “Have you taken any measures among your men?”
    “Loyalty tests, sir?”
    “We’re not PHC,” Hawthorne said.
    “I’ve made discrete inquires,” Mune said. “And I’m handpicking a group for you, sir.”
    “What kind of group?”
    “You need a guard team, sir.”
    “I already have that.”
    “When you enter a combat zone you have such a team, or usually when you enter one. My suggestion is that you maintain such a team at all times, giving them license to shot down anyone suspicious.”
    “Hmm. Such a team can quickly turn into my jailors. I prefer you around me, Captain, and leave it at that.”
    “I’m honored, sir. But the truth is that I might not be enough now. The ongoing campaign against PHC has turned ugly and desperate.”
    Hawthorne turned away from Mune. Craning his neck, he looked up at the sunlamps. The heat felt good, even if it did cause his clothes to stick to him. He had acted too precipitously,