Traitor Book 1 of The Turner Chronicles Read online

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  "No Sir," Johnston said, "I don't think that was a little harsh. It was exactly what they needed to put some backbone into them."

  Drumming his thick fingers on his desk for a few moments, General Field felt lost inside the interior of his own mind. Overall, Johnston was a good man. He was dedicated, and his total lack of ideals was perfect. In fact, the only fault Field could see in the man was that he lacked perspective. Johnston saw the trees but ignored the forest. It was that limitation that kept him a Sergeant.

  "I wish," Field finally said, "that you had not killed the man." Raising a hand, he gestured Johnston to close his suddenly open mouth. "It isn't that I placed any value on him. It's just that there is always the possibility that we have a spy in the camp somewhere. I don't know who that spy is, but I do know that there must be one. Field's Everlasting Life Militia is too influential with all the other Militias for the government to ignore us entirely. All it will take for the bastards to invade us is for some unknown spy to report that we murder our own people. After all, the government and the press already think of us as crackpots since we leaked out word of our plans so we could draw in new recruits. It wouldn't take much for them to believe we're capable of killing our own."

  "All our people have been screened."

  "There are always turncoats," Field said pointedly. "Always. Some people are more impressed with money now than promises later."

  "Turncoats." Johnston grimaced with distaste. "Like Turner?"

  "Turner is a loyal member of this militia," Field insisted. "We raised the boy, so he only knows what we allowed him to learn."

  "The damned cripple knows Isabella, and he refuses to carry people over there. General, I've seen them both work. You can't make me believe Klein is all that much stronger than Turner."

  Running his finger across his graying goatee, Field studied his inferior. "As best we can determine, Klein is stronger, and we have the tests to prove it. Over the last year more than twenty scans have been run on Turner's brain while he transferred. Those scans are exact and thorough. They had to be. We're using their results to build up the software and set the configuration for the machine."

  "How," Johnston asked, "is the project coming?"

  Frowning, Field tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. The Sergeant's tone almost bordered on disrespect. "It's coming slow, but we're making progress. We even have some people lined up who might have the technological know-how to pull the thing together. If things go as planned, we'll eventually have as much influence inside Isabella as we do in Chin. Maybe even more."

  Field watched while Johnston rubbed the back of his neck and peered out the window. Night was falling. Right about now the new recruits were sitting at mess and telling the tale of how Sergeant Johnston had allowed Peterson to fire at him several times before Johnston put a bullet between the man's eyes. After today the legend of Johnston would grow even further. His nerve and judgment were legendary among the common rabble. Of course, that had been part of Johnston's plan, and it was clear the plan was working. Not once in all these years had anyone in the lower ranks realized that these confrontations never happened except with someone whose gun had been personally loaded by Johnston himself. The rounds in the weapon were always three live followed by four blanks, and then more live rounds. Field knew Johnston was a brave man. He was also smart--too smart to be suicidal or totally trusted.

  "What if Turner is a traitor?" Johnston finally asked. "What if he's handing us nothing but lies?"

  "He isn't a traitor," Field insisted.

  "But what if he is?"

  "If he is," said General Field, "I'll give him to you. You can kill him just like he's any other recruit or member of the militia who tried to leave the compound or contact the outside world without authorization.

  Johnston gave Field a slightly confused look. "Forgive me for asking, sir, but doesn't shooting people for trying to leave give a spy as much reason for calling in the government as does my killing unacceptable recruits?"

  "Well, we want to be careful, but there's no reason for us to be too paranoid about shooting somebody every now and again," Field explained. "Besides, it's safest if we just assume anyone trying to leave the compound without permission is the spy we've been looking for. They can't report us to the government if they're dead."

  "Getting back to Turner, sir?"

  General Field grinned and slapped Johnston's shoulder. "Traitor or not, before long you'll be able to do anything you want to him. Once we get the machine working I won't have any further use for the little cripple."

  Johnston nodded and then frowned. "Not always a cripple. He looks pretty straight when he first comes back. I don't like that."

  "Neither do I," Field supplied in a more subdued tone. "There's more to him than we suspected that he's not showing us. That's why I don't completely trust him. That's why I'm giving him to you."

  Johnston smiled quiet satisfaction. "Thank you. That's all I ask."

  "You'll have to beat the rush," Field warned. "Aimes hates him, and even Hill has made comments from time to time."

  "I understand, sir. All I want is the chance."