Chain Reaction Read Free Page B

Engineering food chain by being sloppy.
    Nils stared hard at Frayne. “Marek betrayed the 8 th Wing and he betrayed me. I want on this mission. And neither you nor Lieutenant Jur can dissuade me.”
    At the mention of the traitor’s name, Frayne scowled. If Nils wasn’t prepping for another fight, he might have been intimidated by the commander’s anger.
    “Wish I had your tech skills.” Frayne’s jaw tightened. “ I want to be the one who kills that sipkaswine . Not just for his treachery to the 8 th Wing, but because his actions caused Celene to be captured.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The Wraith wasn’t the only thing that was going to be sold.”
    Nils’s gut clenched. “I’ll find Marek. And make him pay.”
    Satisfied with this answer, Frayne smiled. Actually, it was more of a teeth baring than a smile, but the intent was clear. “If Celene has her way, you’ve got to survive her and the SimCom first.”
    Nils moved past him, and they walked out of the gear room together toward the area of the base reserved for the combat simulator chambers. As they walked, they passed 8 th Wing soldiers, who all stared at Nils as if he were walking to the neutralizing capsules.
    He couldn’t let them intimidate him. If he let his concentration waver for a microsecond, everything would spin out into chaos. He liked Engineering because it meant he could harness chaos, tame it. The variables and the parameters were his to control. Science and tech could be relied upon, behaving in precise ways that could be predicted and even subverted if one understood them properly.
    Much better than dealing with people. Early in his career with 8 th Wing, he’d been given the option to pursue medical training. He preferred the constancy of tech. Besides, if he kept all the equipment running properly, there’d be less need for medical attention. 8 th Wing troops could engage the enemy in the best ships and with the best weapons he could construct, keeping losses to a minimum. A fair trade.
    They approached the SimCom section of the base. He was minutes away from the biggest physical challenge of his life.
    “Any advice, Commander?”
    “Just watch your ass.” Frayne smiled darkly. “And your balls.”
    Waiting outside the SimCom were Admiral Gamlyn, Ensign Skiren and Celene. Skiren’s pretty face lit up when she saw Frayne nearing. Nils’s gaze moved past her to Lieutenant Jur.
    She’d changed from her flight suit into PT cargo pants and tank top, divulging in aching detail the strong, sleek lines of her body. Like him, she had a plasma blaster on her thigh. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing the curves of her high cheekbones and the brilliance of her silver eyes. At his approach she raised one brow and her full lips thinned with impatience. She wanted to fight and she wanted to get the mission started, and she looked so damned fierce and beautiful it felt like a sonic blade piercing his chest.
    His palms began to sweat. Not precisely the scenario he’d envisioned when he finally claimed her attention. And he had envisioned many, many scenarios.
    “Last chance, Calder.” She stalked toward him and put her hands on her hips. “Sub someone else. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
    He didn’t want to get hurt, either, but he’d do whatever it took to earn his place on this mission.
    “Whenever you’re ready, Lieutenant Jur.”
    She growled in frustration and then stalked to the SimCom chamber door.
    “Are you sure about this, Lieutenant Calder?” Admiral Gamlyn asked.
    “Absolutely, ma’am. I’m the best person to accompany Lieutenant on this operation and if I have to go through SimCom to prove that to her—” he spread his hands, “—so be it.”
    “SimCom with the safety protocols off.” Ensign Skiren sounded almost gleeful. Given that she used to be part of the galaxy’s criminal element, her delight in possible bloodshed was not a surprise.
    Nils nodded. “I