Read The God Mars Book Six: Valhalla I Am Coming for Free Online

makes me want to rip this
pressure hull open with my bare hands and show him that the last
thing I need or want is his permission. And there’s my curse again,
the most unfortunate side-effect of what I’ve become: The arrogance
of the invincible. I used to say I wasn’t anything like the
monsters I hunted, and I was absolutely confident in that
distinction, but now… The only thing that keeps me from being what
Asmodeus is, is that I won’t let myself give into it, no matter how
seductive it is.
    Lisa gives me a knowing nod. I swallow my anger and
climb the ladder.
     
    Another slightly promising sign: I’m not met by gun
barrels when I come through the airlock. They do keep their
distance. And put up a few barriers.
    The rear of the hull looks like it’s devoted to tight
crew quarters, supply lockers and one sealed lab space. Through the
layered viewing port, I see the familiar face that matches the
familiar voice I heard on Rios’ link: Lyra Jameson. Anime-big eyes
and white-blonde hair bob-cut like the last time I saw her, but
there’s more experience in those eyes now. I can only imagine what
she’s been through since I left her with these people during my
last attempt at a diplomatic gesture. She raises the cylinder I
gave Rios where I can see it, and gives me a nod of thanks, though
there’s still an edge of anger flashing in her eyes, the pain of
perceived betrayal. I told her I would show her the bigger world,
and let her assume that meant she would be traveling it with me and
mine. But instead I turned her over to UNMAC, as living proof that
UNCORT had secretly sent recon ships to this planet decades ago;
and, already knowing there were people living here, ordered
experimentation on living humans.
    The worst part about that is I did it to test the
character of people I really had no faith possessed any. I wanted
to see if they would pursue the damning evidence, to investigate
and punish the conspiracy and atrocity, or bury their crimes in
denial and secrecy. And I don’t know for certain, but I expect it
was more of the latter. So I gave her to these people for nothing,
other than I felt like I had to try, had to give them the benefit
of the doubt, just once.
    Having no time for apologies, excuses or reunions, I
see Rios waiting for me at a heavy hatch in the direction of the
bow, his helmet off.
    “This way, sir. Please.”
    And so I’m excused from another piece of peripheral
drama I’d rather not face right now.
    The hatch opens onto the vehicle’s command bridge,
which is more like a cockpit, but there’s enough seating to make it
a cramped briefing room. They’ve even set up a small screen-table
in the middle of it.
    Waiting for me are two familiar faces and one readily
recognizable one:
    General Richards is standing in formal greeting,
despite having very little headroom to do so. He still reminds me
of his grandfather, mostly in the good ways. He gives me a nod, and
seems reasonably grateful that I took the risk of calling this
meeting. But I know there’s a lot weighing on him, pressure from
Earthside, and their loyal agents in his own command chain. (I’m
sure none of them had any regrets that Richards was at zero with
the rest of Chang’s hostages when Jackson tried to nuke us.)
    In what I assume is the pilot’s chair is Erasmus
Jane. Dee told me he’d been grounded from flying due to his
prosthetic arm, and then exiled to Long Range Recon like Rios
because he mouthed off to the wrong people in my defense, making
himself inconvenient and expendable. (Like Lyra—I’m sure the real
reason she’s here isn’t her extensive knowledge of biological
nanotechnology.)
    The third figure I know is Jackson, and not just
because of the updated Aircom uniform and the colonel’s insignia.
Most of the right half of his face is a featureless black patch,
probably carbon fiber, covering whatever damage he suffered when he
crashed his ship—and a T-88 tactical warhead—into the first
Stormcloud.