Read Phoenix Rising (Book Two of The Icarus Trilogy) for Free Online Page B

in disbelief.  Roberts had no idea what the wrathful man wanted from him, so he kept his tongue.
    “So what if he’s different?  He was there to help you out when you were passed out on painkillers, and yeah, we all fuckin’ know,” Warner said preemptively.   Roberts’ eyes widened as he realized that his addiction wasn’t much of a secret.  “But it’s not like any of us would have shot you in the back.  Goldstein’s always giving you those pills.  Hell, when we’re paired up I don’t say a goddamned thing because I respect you.  You get your shit done,” Warner said, saliva starting to collect at the corners of his mouth.  By this time all the soldiers in the transport were looking at the angry, white man with the light brown hair.  It was enough for Carver to turn and start to get up.  Warner noticed and turned his ire to the veteran.
    “Sit the fuck down, old man, you’re the worst one, but I’ll get to you in a minute.  And the best part is you’re going to sit down because you know I’m just saying the fucking truth,” he said while pointing at Carver.  Roberts watched as the legend was cowed and sat back down on the bench.  Carver had never sat down for anyone.  The boy soldier turned back to Warner and expected more of the verbal onslaught, but he had turned his ire to the giant beside him.
    “And you.  Feldman.  Just grow the fuck up.  He was your friend, sure, but stop giving lessons to every new recruit that looks like they’ll fall for it.  I’m sick of your smart-ass superiority complex.  You read books and know philosophy; big fuckin’ whoop. You lost him, well guess what?  We lose people.  It’s war.  It’s a fuckin’ prison.  There’s not any happy ending we’re ever gonna see.  Carver might have, but the old bag of bones is stuck fighting his own private war, and I promise, old man, I’m getting to you,” Warner said without any intention of stopping.
    “Warner, chill the fuck ou-,” Abrams started to reprimand, but Warner whipped around and almost smacked her in the face before changing his mind and clenching his fist in front of her for effect.
    “No, Abrams, I’m going to say every fucking word because they need a reality check.  I know I don’t have to say a damned thing to you or Norris or any of those despondent motherfuckers who keep to themselves.  You know what we’re doing and why we’re here.  The only thing wrong with you is that you still think you’re getting off planet,” Warner said, turning around to look at Cortes and not even bothering to check Abrams’ reaction.  He glared at the Spaniard and caught his breath.  It was an awkward silence that stretched far too long before he shook his head.
    “You know why I hate you; who gives a shit?  Suck your god’s cock on your time, not when people are shooting at me,” he said before turning his gaze to the old man sitting beside the penitent soldier.  Roberts’ brow furrowed at that, but he decided to shake it from his mind.  The boy soldier guessed the angry Crow just needed to find reasons to hate people.
    For a while Warner just stared at the old man.  Roberts could tell that the veteran was staring back beneath the helmet, but after a moment Carver unclasped the helmet and brought it over his head.  The old man was resolute and still intimidating with his full beard and head of salt-and-pepper hair.  Since Roberts had known him the salt had started to outnumber the pepper, but Carver still had plenty of fight in him. 
    That was until now.  Suddenly Roberts realized that the man was very, very old.  He had been in his mid-fifties when Roberts had arrived.  Over the four years Roberts had watched the legend turn into an old man.  He was tired, he was shrunken; he was feeble in his own way.  He could still fight and Roberts didn’t want the man’s anger, but something had changed.  The boy soldier wondered why the old man had not retired.
    “Say what you have