Read Strength and Honor for Free Online Page A

Augustus took belonged to Secundus.” Secundus had been the second patterner ever assembled.
    “Kit already went through that,” said Farragut.
    “Mister Kittering was talking about engines and weapons,” said Colonel Z. “I’m talking about data. Augustus has Secundus’ data bank. Secundus identified the Hive harmonics using that database. When that Striker hits Near Space, Rome will have the secret of how to identify a single harmonic out of infinite possibilities.”
    “If Augustus has that information, then we have it,” said Farragut. “Don’t we have a copy of Secundus’ database on Merrimack!”
    “We do,” said Colonel Z. “The secret of isolating harmonics per se is not in the database. Neither is Secundus’ methodology. Secundus didn’t make notes. But some combination of facts in the database together with a patterner’s ability to synthesize data adds up to deep sewage for the United States of America. When Augustus shares that secret with his masters, we have a severe tactical disadvantage.”
    “I know. I’m the one who brought the bastard aboard,” said Farragut. “We couldn’t have exterminated the old Hive without Augustus. We needed him.”
    “Now we need him dead,” said Colonel Z. Insinuation there. Someone had not done his job.
    Kit came to Farragut’s defense, “Augustus won’t give Romulus skat. And if Augustus doesn’t recognize Romulus as Caesar, then who gives a rat’s ass? To hell with him.”
    Farragut gave Kit’s shoulder a squeeze as his pacing took him past her, appreciating the loyalty. “Can’t afford to get quite that comfortable, Kit,” Farragut said. “Augustus is still Roman. When it comes down to Us versus Them, he is definitely a Them.” And to the misgivings he saw in his officers’ faces, he answered, “And don’t anyone think that if I get a shot, I won’t take it.”

3
    M Y CRATE!”
    That was Kerry circling her Swift in the flight hangar. The Swift’s cockpit was charred.
    She lifted her arms up in the air, her fingers curled into claws calling witness to her beloved Alpha’s carnage. “Shit! Oh crap. Oh fugger.”
    She glared up at a severed air hose flapping every which way twenty-five feet up in the overhead and she yowled, “Will someone shut that thing off!”
    Up went an erk to the catwalk to clamp off the hose.
    Kerry Blue was an ordinary sort of unretouched rough-pretty. Her race was purebred mutt. The melting pot had melted right here. Kerry Blue stood on the tall side, slim, loose jointed, with just enough padding on the bow and the stern to know you had a woman under those coveralls. Her easy loose walk really let you know.
    She was battle seasoned but never hardened. She rolled with every hit and just got back up. Kerry Blue had a natural ability to ignore anything that didn’t matter at the moment. She was not a deep thinker, which meant she never thought herself into a hole. She was going to be a lifer, and would probably still be a flight sergeant when they pulled her wings off.
    Her wings were everywhere at the moment. Pieces of Alpha Six lay scattered all across the flight hangar.
    Her Swift’s magnetic antimatter containment field had held fast anyway, the only thing that had. But that thing was real important.
    Flight Sergeant Cole Darby was down on the deck, wedged underneath Cain Salvador’s Swift with Cain Salvador, trying to pry pieces of Alpha Six out of Alpha Three’s undercarriage.
    Came the roar. It was loud and it echoed round in the hangar: “What’d you do to your spacecraft, Marine?”
    The Old Man. TR Steele.
    Colonel Steele stopped in the hatchway, fists on his hips, eyes glowering ice blue fire. Darb sniggered. Someone else cackled. Colonel Steele was always roaring at Kerry Blue. But her Swift’s mess on the deck was so clearly not Kerry Blue’s fault that this roar had to be TR Steele impersonating himself.
    Doing a good job too. Because if he’d been serious, Kerry Blue would be in the brig