“Yes, sir.”
“The scavs usually don’t have guns, but they can still do a lot of damage. Ambushes are the worst problem; my last sergeant was killed in an ambush, so I hope you know this is dangerous work.”
“I do, sir.”
Hunt grunted. “Some people think the Peacekeeping Corps is an easy berth, so if that’s why you applied, you should know – it isn’t.”
“That’s not why I applied,” Josiah said stiffly.
“Good. Don’t lose your sense of proportion, though,” Hunt warned. “Don’t start seeing ghosts and firing at nothing. Remember, the scavs just want to survive, too, even if they are on the side of the warlords. We use force as a last resort.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re a little young to be a sergeant, aren’t you?” Hunt gave him a searching look.
“I’m twenty-five, sir.”
“The average age of a sergeant used to be thirty-four.” Hunt shook his head. “They’re sending me children these days. How did you get promoted so quickly? Either you’re exceptionally good, or…”
“Dead men’s shoes, sir,” Josiah said quietly. “Although I like to thinkI’m pretty good, too.” He gave a cheeky grin and then could have kicked himself. Was he flirting with his commanding officer? Christ.
Captain Hunt’s eyes sparkled. He was an ordinary-looking man with wavy dark hair, brown eyes, and a rumpled, lived-in face, but he had an easy-going charisma that rendered him instantly attractive.
“I understand you’ve spent the past six months recovering from some pretty severe injuries. Are you okay now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you requested this posting?”
“Yes, sir. I wanted a fresh start.”
“Are you an indentured servant?” Hunt asked, gazing at him keenly. “I don’t see a tag.”
“No, sir, I’m not an IS,” he replied stiffly.
“Good.”
“Do you have a problem working with indies, sir?”
“Yes, I do.” Hunt grimaced. “It’s bloody dangerous out here, Sergeant, and nobody should be asked to risk their life because the army owns them. Indies make for lazy, unhappy soldiers, and I don’t bloody well blame them. I prefer people who’ve chosen this life because they want to be in the army. Is there a problem?” he asked, noticing Josiah’s confused expression.
“No, just… I’ve never heard anyone talk like that, sir.”
Hunt laughed. “You’ll get used to me. All I want is a sergeant I can trust – and I believe you’re that.”
Josiah gave a beaming smile. He suspected that everyone who met Captain Hunt wanted him to like them, and he was no exception.
There was a noise outside the tent, and Hunt looked up. “Shit, the top brass is coming. Here – hide the pup.”
Pulling the dozing puppy out of his jacket, Hunt deposited her in Josiah’s hands. She made a squeaking sound, and he held her at arm’s length, wondering where the hell he was supposed to hide her in the empty tent.
Hunt grabbed his nanopad and strode to the front of the tent to greet his visitor. Josiah looked around frantically – he didn’t want to screw up the first task his new captain had given him. He had a suddenstroke of genius, and put the puppy on his head and covered her with his cap just as Colonel Brownlee walked in.
“Sir – I’ve got my report on the scavenger activity we encountered on our way here,” Hunt said, moving forward to greet his commanding officer. The two men spent an agonising couple of minutes chatting, while Josiah stood there, praying the puppy didn’t move, or squeak, or fall off his head. Luckily, the colonel didn’t pay him any attention, and Hunt was doing a good job of blocking him from view. Finally, the colonel left, and Hunt turned back to him.
“Bloody hell – that was close!” he exclaimed, looking energised by their little deception. “Where is she?”
“Right here.” Josiah removed his cap to reveal the puppy, who seemed to have fallen asleep. Hunt looked at her, and then at him, and then burst out laughing.
