BooksBarbecue
Back Rapture
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. 1.
  5. 2.
  6. 3.
  7. 4.
  8. 5.
  9. 6.
  10. 7.
  11. 8.
  12. 9.
  13. 10.
  14. 11.
  15. 12.
  16. 13.
  17. 14.
  18. 15.
  19. 16.
  20. 17.
  21. 18.
  22. 19.
  23. 20.
  24. 21.
  25. 22.
  26. 23.
  27. 24.
  28. 25.
  29. 26.
  30. 27.
  31. 28.
  32. 29.
  33. 30.
  34. 31.
  35. 32.
  36. 33.
  37. 34.
  38. 35.
  39. 36.
  40. 37.
  41. 38.
  42. 39.
  43. 40.
  44. 41.
  45. 42.
  46. 43.
  47. 44.
  48. 45.
  49. 46.
  50. 47.
  51. 48.
  52. 49.
  53. 50.
  54. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  55. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

He had put a knife through her three years later. But even in that instant, he wasn’t sure who was more terrified—him or her. Worse, he wasn’t sure what any of that proved.

Ahmed had worked for a lot of smart, sadistic fucks. They had hidden the sadism behind military intelligence badges and security protocols, but their arrogance and lack of compassion were harder to tuck up under a prayer rug. They had taught him everything they knew, and he had used it ruthlessly, relentlessly. It had kept him alive, yes. But his reward for fifteen years of service and putting a knife in the eye of every good soldier he knew was this.

Six weeks ago, he’d known very little about the world outside the military. Now he knew enough to be certain that the man he was at the front no longer existed. Assholes lived a long time, but if that was living, he wanted none of it. It was time to let go of all the catshit, and learn how to be a man on his own terms, in a new world that had no idea what to do with him.

6.

Eshe wore somber colors to the wake, darkened by the warm rain. He stood well back from the gravesite, now clogged with mourners and pall bearers and swordsmen. The whole steaming, chanting, incense-heavy affair reminded him of just how stubbornly conservative many parts of Ras Tieg still were. All the rest of the people on Umayma had learned not to bury their bodies three millennia ago, back at the beginning of the world. They cut off their heads and burned them, no matter the prescriptions set down in any holy book. Those instructions were for people on some other world.

But Ras Tiegans on the frontier thought differently. Cutting up a body and burning it was still sacrilege, desecration. It had something to do with ashes and dust and prophets who didn’t stay dead, and how that was holy. Eshe didn’t really follow it. But it meant that this crowd waited for something far more dramatic than just seeing a man’s body covered over in dirt.

The priest’s grave was about as deep as Eshe’s arm was long. The body was covered in a white muslin shroud that trembled and shook. Beetles and midges skittered along its surface. The trembling and writhing beneath the shroud was likely still just the bugs, doing what bugs on Umayma did—devouring, destroying—transforming.