The Last Legion: Book One of the Last Legion Series Read Online Free

you’d thread a little better style.”
    “I would. I did. But I didn’t have any choice. Somebody bought my outfit before I shipped out,” Njangu said. His expression didn’t encourage Garvin to ask more.
    • • •
    The ship schedule was simple: Stand in line to eat, exercise, stand in line to eat again, eat, try to find somebody to talk to or game with, stand in line to eat, eat, sleep … and the days ground past.
    Petr Kipchak had a bunk at the far end of the compartment, but he was uninterested in making friends. He was either in a rec area, working out on the weight machines for endless hours, or in his bunk, reading a disk, completely engrossed.
    • • •
    “Dunno if I agree with this monosexual ‘freshing,” Njangu muttered.
    “Why not?”
    “Liable to give some of us ideas.”
    “Naah,” Garvin said. “They put something in the food to keep it from happening.”
    “Hey,” Yoshitaro said. “You’re right. I haven’t had a hard since we’ve been shipboard!”
    “See? Just listen to Uncle Garvin, and you’ll know everything in time.”
    • • •
    “Allah with a yo-yo,” the recruit named Maev gasped. “You won’t believe this.”
    “What?” Garvin and Njangu rolled out of their bunks.
    “C’mon. You’ve got to see it.” Maev beckoned them to the refresher, which was nearly full of men and women getting ready for the third-meal.
    She pointed to one shower cubicle, large enough for a dozen people. But there was only one in it — Petr Kipchak, who appeared oblivious to their attention.
    Garvin was about to ask what was so special, when he saw.
    Kipchak was busily washing his genitalia with one of the stiff nylon brushes they used to scrub the shower walls and singing loudly off key.
    “Good flippin’ gods!” Garvin blurted, and the three retreated as Kipchak raised his head.
    “What the
hell
… th’ bastard’s mental!” Maev said.
    Njangu was about to agree, then realized — as he’d ducked back around the corner, he’d seen something very much like a smile on the burly man’s face.
One way to have a little privacy
, he thought, and hid his amusement.
    • • •
    Garvin was awakened by a series of double-dings he’d learned told the time to the
Malvern
’s crew. It was deep in the ship’s sleep cycle, and there were snores, some light, some hearty, around the compartment.
    It was dark except for the dull red ready lights on the bulkheads, and, at the end of the room, white light from the refresher.
    He sleepily decided he was thirsty and padded into the refresher.
    It was deserted but for four men, two women. One woman stood by the hatchway on lookout, the other five sat or squatted around two blankets spread on the plas-slotted deck. All were older recruits. One was Petr Kipchak.
    There were money and cards on the blankets. Kipchak had only a few bills and some coins, while the dealer had a wad of currency from a dozen worlds.
    The five eyed Garvin. But he showed no particular interest, and went to the urinal. His expression flickered suddenly as he watched the game out of the corner of his eye, then became calm, innocent once more.
    He finished, drank water from a tap, walked back by the game. One man, the dealer, a heavyset, balding man, looked up.
    “Go to bed, sonny. This is way over your head.”
    “Children’s money’s not good, huh?” Garvin asked.
    The dealer started to snap, then smiled, a rather nasty smirk. He evaluated Jaansma, absently twisting a large silver ring on his left hand back and forth. Finally, he said, “You wanna get burned, it’s your business. I got no objections. Anybody else?”
    Kipchak seemed about to say something, then shook his head. The others shrugged or nodded as well.
    “Table stakes, so you best be ready for some hard ridin', troop, and no sinvelin’ when we wipe you out,” the dealer said. “Go get your stash.”
    Garvin went to his bunk, spun the combination wheels on his small carryall, took out a pair of socks.