Imperial Guard by Joseph O'Day Read Free Book Online

one day regret his decision.
    “You know,” said Unger, breaking into Brogan’s thoughts, “from up here, I think Cirrus is even more beautiful than Earth.” Brogan had seen Earth only in pictures and film, but he had to agree. It was a beautiful sight.
    Afterward, Unger showed him around the ship. One room was much like another, but to Brogan everything was new and exciting. Presently a klaxon sounded. “That’s the first warning for disconnect to start our trip back to Earth. We’d better get to our respective stations.”
    “Right.”
    *
    Brogan saw a lot of Unger and Murphy as the days went by, and friendships formed quickly. But he also encountered those with whom friendship seemed out of the question. One was named Cromartie —“Crow” for short.
    The second day out from Cirrus, Murphy and Brogan were in the mess hall. They had gotten their meals, searched for a place to sit, and put their trays down opposite Crow. Crow was the type with overdeveloped muscles and underdeveloped intelligence. His hulking frame was topped with a bullet-shaped head. He had closely-cropped platinum-colored hair, deep-set, uninteresting eyes, a pale complexion, and thin lips.
    “Hi, Crow,” greeted Unger, “how you doing?”
    Crow grunted in response, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.
    Unger grinned and turned to Brogan. “Crow isn’t the communicative type.” Looking back at Crow, he said, “This is Brogan, a new recruit from Cirrus.”
    Crow expelled his mouthful of food across the table and pushed back his chair. “Cirrus!” he bellowed. “That’s a good one. The service gettin’ that desperate? Welcome to the twenty-third century, hayseed. What century are you from, anyway?” Crow grinned coldly at his own joke.
    Brogan and Unger were trying to divide their attention between Crow and the fragments of his dinner that ended up in their plates when Crow reached over and poked a finger in Brogan’s shoulder. “What makes you think you’re good enough ta be in the Fusiliers, pretty boy?”
    “Hey, take it easy, Crow,” interjected Unger. “Back off.”
    “Stay outa this, fly boy. I just wanna see what junior here is made of.”
    “Look,” said Brogan, “I don’t want any trouble. Why don’t we just try to be friends?”
    “What fer? Why would I want to be friends with somebody from a hick planet?”
    “Come on, Brogan,” Unger said getting to his feet, “let’s find another table where the air smells a little better.”
    In assent, Brogan stood and picked up his tray, but at that moment, Crow leaned across the table and gave Brogan a push. Brogan went sprawling, tray and contents flying into the air and landing on top of him. Crow stood on the other side of the table guffawing. “Look at the greenie! He can’t even stand up without tripping over his two left feet!”
    Brogan’s face darkened. The thin lips of his normally wide, straight mouth grew even thinner. He knocked the tray away and lurched to his feet, facing Crow across the table.
    “Well, come on, hot shot,” Crow motioned to him. “You wanna make somethin’ of it?”
    Unger took his arm, “Come on, Brogan, forget it.”
    Brogan shook off his grip and leaned over the table. “Yea, I want to make something of it,” he said. Gripping Crow’s tray, he launched its contents all over his uniform. Crow swore loudly. In a rage, he leaped the table, and Brogan backpedaled. But before Crow could inflict any damage, several bystanders restrained him.
    Unger took charge. “Look you two, unless you want the MPs to treat you to some extended time in confinement, you’d better cool off!”
    Crow shrugged off the men holding him back. “OK . . . this time. Just keep that greenie outa my way!” With that Crow turned around and stomped off.
    Brogan’s heart was pounding in his chest, but he expelled a sigh at his reprieve. That was pretty stupid, Brogan. You could’ve gotten yourself slam-dunked real good. Remember, you gotta be