Hardcore - 03 Read Free Page A

had been unsuccessful. Apparently, NanoTek, the organic engineering butchers who created Mel's unfortunate biological modification, had made this particular model a one way process. Franco, however, being a man of his word, a soldier of iron principles, and with a constitution greater than any hardcore barroom brawler, had gone through with his ultimate promise. That of marriage to what was, effectively, a zombie.
    It had been an interesting ceremony.
    And an interesting wedding night.
    "Well," Franco puffed out his chest, watching Keenan unpacking his kit, "I'll come right out and say it. We've had a bit of a lovers' tiff. There." He looked about in a shifty manner.
    Keenan stopped, holding a pair of chemical-socks. He stared at Franco. "You had a lovers' tiff with an eight-foot mutation?"
    "Aye."
    "Did she bite off your head?"
    "Very funny. No. It would appear we had very differing standards about how to conduct marital life."
    "Meaning?"
    Franco shook his head. "It was disgusting!"
    "You mean her jellied vagina? The pus which continually leaked from her nipples? Or maybe the way her distended jaw continually drooled what could only be described as vomitus?"
    "No, no, no, none of that." He waved his hand. "The damn woman expected me to do my own ironing! She wanted me to wash the fucking dishes! And, and this was the worse thing mate, like, I just can't believe she even thought this was a rational request..."
    "Go on."
    "Mel expected me to shave off my beard."
    "The horror," grinned Keenan, unloading several Techrim mags from his pack which clacked as he tossed them on the bed. "I expect she wanted you to pluck your nostrils, too. You never were one for a neatly-trimmed nasal bush."
    Franco stared at the floor, looking sheepish. "Yeah, well, she filed for a divorce."
    " What?"
    Franco looked at Keenan. There was a hint of pain nestling deep in Franco's blue orbs. He sniffed. "Yeah. She filed for a divorce. I signed the paperwork yesterday. I'm officially a free agent."
    Keenan scratched his head, and pointed at Franco. "So, let me get this straight, you're telling me you were divorced by an eight-foot mottled dribbling pus-drooling genetic mutation?"
    "That's one way of putting it," mumbled Franco. He looked up. And brightened. "But look at it this way! At least I'm the Party Boy again! I like women! I like all kinds of women! But most of all, I like women I don't know very well!"
    "You've not been listening, Franco."
    "Eh?"
    "No beer. No women. We have a briefing in..." he checked his implanted plutonium watch. "Five minutes. Hangar 57. So sort out your shit, change your sandals, grab your PAD and follow me." Grumbling, Franco followed Keenan from the quarters and they headed for the mission barracks.
     
    Hangar 57 was packed with perhaps three thousand operatives, ranging from normal reg. soldiers up to Combat-K special forces. There was a dour, serious mood in the air as Keenan and Franco filtered through the ranks of men and women, some seated and many standing in groups, huddled and talking softly. Franco spotted Pippa, waved, and headed off before Keenan could stop him. Cursing, Keenan followed, and watched Franco slump down next to the lithe, athletic woman with bobbed brown hair and cold, grey eyes. She smiled up at Keenan, and he kicked Franco on the ankle as he squeezed past and took the only available seat - beside the woman he'd once swore he would kill.
    "Ouch!" Franco rubbed his ankle. "Well, look at this! The original and the best Combat-K squad, back together again!"
    "You make us sound like a breakfast cereal," said Pippa, running a hand through her hair. She turned to Keenan, and was about to speak when General Steinhauer floated in on his HoverChair and bobbed before the podium. A hush fell across the gathered soldiers.
    "Welcome, all," began Steinhauer, face lined with pain from his recent dual amputation. Despite powerful drugs, the doctors could never quite remove the agony which burned him - both