Gears of War: Anvil Gate Read Online Free Page A

quarters.” Gradin paused like he was debating whether to risk giving Marcus more information. They really had taken this no-surrender shit seriously, then. After a few seconds, he seemed to give up and pointed at various structures like a tour guide. “The section in the center is the drilling module. The other side of that is for treatment and condensate handling. That’s where gas is flared off when it builds up. The big flame. You know?”
    “I get it,” Marcus said. “And the only way to board is to fly in or climb the legs.”
    “Then it’s like hijacking a big ship. Same problems, except it doesn’t go anywhere.”
    Marcus just nodded. Gradin seemed to have thawed enough to slip the wrench into a pocket on his pants leg. Now the squad got the rest of the tour. The crew accommodation looked ragged after years of neglect, but still pretty comfortable and well equipped, like a run-down business hotel that had seen better days. The deck vibrated under Dom’s boots in two distinct rhythms—the steady throb of machinery and the slower, more ragged pulse of pounding waves. It felt like ships he’d been in. When he got outside again and the spray peppered his face, he had a sense that the rig should have been heading somewhere.
    It was only when Dom reached the end of the drill module gantry and studied the cranes that the reality of life on Emerald Spar really hit home.
    A gull swooped in and took a peck at the tattered flag, making it swing around. Now that Dom was close enough, he could see that the ragged shape wasn’t a flag at all.
    It was the top half of a badly decomposed human body dangling from a rope.
    Marcus seemed to notice at the same time. Gradin nodded as if he’d been waiting for them to catch on.
    “They want to play pirates?” he said. “Good. We play pirates too. Amuse the gulls.”
    Baird perked up. “Does that deter them?”
    “We don’t care,” Gradin said.
    “Okay, so you can take care of yourselves.” Marcus made no comment about the half-pirate dangling from the crane. “But we’ll put a squad here. And I didn’t see any close-in defenses.”
    “We don’t have any.” Gradin tapped his wrench. “Just these—and plenty of rifles.”
    “Your navy can afford to lose a few deck-mounted guns. How many of your security cameras are working?”
    “About half.”
    Marcus looked at Baird, who just nodded. He was gagging to play with this rig and now he had his chance.
    “We’ll fix that,” Marcus said. “And you’ll need a detachment of Gears on every tanker run.”
    While Baird and Marcus went off to draw up a parts list, Dom explored the platform with Cole. One of Gradin’s wrench party trailed them at a constant five paces. A name was embroidered on his orange overalls— EUGEN —but there was no guarantee that it was his. He spoke for the first time when Cole swung ahead of Dom and went to climb a ladder for a better look at the drilling deck.
    “No, you stay
here,
” he said. He pushed in front of Cole and barred the way. “Too rusty. And you—too heavy.”
    Cole was a big guy even by Gears’ standards, still built like the pro thrashball player he’d once been. He gave Eugen a broad grin. “Thanks for lookin’ out for my safety.”
    He might have meant it, of course. Cole was like that.
    Eugen, stony faced, beckoned them to follow and walked away toward the crew accommodation section. These Indies really were paranoid. As Dom picked his way down metal stairs wet with salt spray—not easy in bulky boots—he passed a roaring air-con vent and heard female voices drifting up from somewhere, but the words meant nothing. The vented air smelled temptingly of fried onions. It was one of the most delicious scents Dom could imagine. It smelled of home—the home he grew up in.
    Eugen shook his head. “My wife,” he said, suddenly and unexpectedly frank with them. “
Still
damn angry with me.”
    So one of the voices was hers, then. The Gorasni guys had their