Forge of War (Jack of Harts) Read Free Page A

meant eight weeks of training.  Well, one week of healing, mentally and physically.  The physical was easy.  Mentally, he was pretty certain he wasn’t close to healing yet, but he’d put on a good show for the shrinks.  He bet at least one or two of them had guessed it was an act, but they’d not been willing to put their objections down on paper.  Not against someone with his physical aptitude.  The military needed every volunteer they could get after all.
    Boot camp had been the hard part.  He had no idea how recruits survived it in the old days.  Twelve weeks of Parris Island?  No thank you.  One week of hundred kilometer marches and an hour to sleep like the dead had been more than enough for him to never, ever, want to go through that again.  Ever.  For the first time in his life, his body had actually failed him in the end.  Almost.  He’d missed the three-minute mile mark, but at least he’d crossed the line in the end.  Which was better than half the battalion.
    And six weeks later, here he was in the heart of the Republic of Texas.  Possibly the most powerful of the American States, especially after Yosemite, he supposed it made sense.  He just wished it wasn’t so hot and dry.  It made his skin itch, and his mouth was always parched.  He really hated this place.  Of course, if things went right today, he wouldn’t have to be here much longer.
    There was a War to fight after all, and the Marines needed every pilot they could punch through this abbreviated training schedule yesterday .  Literally.  News of the Battle of Mars had arrived last night.  There was only one, final test to pass and Jack would pilot a starfighter in the ranks of the Republic of Texas Marine Corps.  Texas.  Jack sniffed raw, dry wind into his lungs and coughed it out again.  Well.  He would leave soon, one way or the other.  There was no need to waste perfectly good ill feelings on a land he was about to get away from.
    He turned from the bleak landscape and walked up to the door, to feel cool air streaming out over him.  He smiled and looked down at the 40-kilo German Shepherd guarding the door.
    “Hey, Bruce,” Jack said to the older dog, enjoying the cool breeze.
    “Jack,” the dog answered, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth betraying his perpetual amusement.  Bruce had been one of the first Uplifted German Sheperds, and he still loved laughing at all the young pups wanting to join the Marines.  “Six weeks to the day.  You know what that means?”
    Jack gave the dog a feral smile.  “Yes it is and yes I do.  I find out how I’m gonna start killing Shang.”
    “That’s the spirit,” Bruce said with a hearty bark.  “Remember, if you need character witnesses…” Bruce trailed off with a leading expression.
    Jack laughed at the statement before frowning in thought.  Was Bruce more than just a guard dog?  “Are you part of the test?” he asked, genuinely curious.
    Bruce barked again in laughter and sat down on his rump, cocking his head to the side.  His tongue seemed to hang out even more, giving a truly comical look to the dog.  Certainly a lot more comical than the time he’d seen Bruce running off a trespasser with the full rabid dog act, foaming at the mouth and everything.  “What do you think?” Bruce finally asked.
    Jack rubbed his jaw, considering the question with care.  “Maybe,” he finally said with a smile.
    Bruce answered with another bark of laughter.  “Get in there.  You don’t want to be late because you stopped to talk to an old guard,” Bruce ordered.
    “Yes, Sergeant,” Jack snapped back.  He turned for one more glance at the dusty grounds where Bruce’s pack patrolled, just like every morning.  They felt…more watchful today.  He caught one of them glancing at him.  That was Annabelle.  She turned away when she caught his gaze and returned to prowling the perimeter.  He thought about asking if there was something wrong before