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

Everyone was sure he was dead until they found the
wreck of his ejected cockpit days later. The fact that they still
let him fly without an eye but won’t let Jane without an arm—even
though he’s proven he can—is especially galling. (At least he’s not
wearing one of those creepy doll-like prosthetic faces I’ve seen,
but I assume the patch is designed to be intimidating.)
    What’s left of his face is all hard lines and
righteousness. I’d guess him to be pushing fifty Standard, dark
skin, and shaved-short black hair frosted gray. His one
coffee-colored eye glares at me like he’s wishing he knew a way to
kill me. (I’m certainly happy to annoy him with my continued
existence.)
    Lisa and Rios come in behind me. We’re almost packed
in shoulder-to-shoulder. I’m the glaring odd-man: everybody else is
in a UNMAC uniform or UNMAC gear, and I’m wearing a long black
surcoat over heavy black plate (not to mention the definitely
non-reg rockstar mop of hair that won’t stay put and grows back in
hours if I cut it off).
    Rios moves to stand between me and Richards, but
Richards gestures him back, and extends his hand to shake.
    “Colonel,” he greets, showing for the second time
that he isn’t afraid I’m infectious.
    “And I thought I was taking a risk,” I barely
joke.
    “I’d say we all are. Hopefully for a good cause.”
    I can feel Jackson bristle at his nominal CO’s
tolerance. Richards gestures me to take a seat. Rios stays standing
like a guard at the hatch, though the only weapon I see on him is
his sidearm. Maybe his orders are to shoot the mortals if I do
prove infectious. Maybe I should test the theory by pretending to
infect Jackson. But then I see Jackson has his left fist around a
small deadman, probably wired to the nukes under our feet.
    “Begin recording,” Jackson orders whatever systems
are still online. “Debriefing of the entity that identifies itself
as Colonel Michael Ram, former Ground Forces Commander, UNMAC
Planetary Peacekeeping Force.”
    He still doesn’t believe I am who I say I am, and
that’s one thing I can’t fault him for. I’m really not sure myself.
But still:
    “That probably won’t kill me,” I feel the need to let
him know, nodding to the switch he’s barely trying to hide. “Or
her,” I nod to Lisa. “It will be inconvenient. The delay
will certainly be taken advantage of by our mutual enemy. The rest
of you, however…” But I realize as I say it, he’s probably counting
on that, that I won’t risk the lives of Rios, Jane, Lyra and even
Richards. They’re here as hostages, more so than Lisa is.
    “And how are you so certain it won’t destroy you?”
Jackson interrogates coolly, with a flash of a smirk like I’ve just
stepped into his trap.
    “Because I have it from a reliable source that it
didn’t kill Chang,” I go ahead and admit, hoping that will let him
know how helpless he is. But he barely blinks.
    “We know that, Colonel,” Richards tells me before
Jackson can gloat. “But we appreciate your candor.”
    He calls up video files. It takes me a moment to
recognize the ruins of the City of Industry, ruined further—and now
honestly rather than cosmetically—by what looks like a sustained
bombardment. But in the blasted wreckage I can see a single figure.
Or more accurately not see him, as he’s a perfectly black
silhouette, just standing there, as if staring up at the satellites
filming him.
    So that’s where he’s got to. I wonder what his play
is, but I can make a decent guess, assuming he is looking
for some kind of redemption.
    “He’s not the threat,” I insist, “not anymore.”
    “Maybe not the number-one top of the priority target
list, at least for the moment. This ‘Asmodeus’ has taken that
distinction,” Jackson allows, but barely. “We’ve all seen the
videos he uploaded.”
    “Then you have a sense of how dangerous he is. If you
want a better sense, look him up in the old UNACT files. Ange
Apollyon.