The sleeves of Max’s housecoat were loose, as were the sleeves of all her clothes. This was to accommodate the custom pistol and spring holster that she always wore. It was a very small caliber, .177 to be exact, the same size as a BB, and the sound it made when firing was no louder than a man snapping his fingers. The small size of the hollow-point bullets meant that she could fit twenty-five of them into a magazine no larger than a matchbox, yet they were deadly if they hit a vital organ, and Max was a crack shot who could hit anything she could see.
Laverna knew this, and while she acknowledged the constant potential for violence in their profession, she didn’t approve of it.
“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging again. “You pay me for my opinions, and you’ve heard my thoughts on this one. By the way, if you’re seriously thinking of leaning on that child, remember he has a couple hundred troops of his own backing him. What’s more, that isn’t the Regular Army, that’s the Space Legion, and it’s my understanding they aren’t big on playing by the rules.”
“Oh?” Maxine said, raising one eyebrow. “Well, neither are we. See if you can locate Mr. Stilman, and tell him I want to see him in about an hour. I’m still a little tired. Not getting any younger, you know.”
Her decision made, Max retreated back into the bedroom, leaving Laverna to stare at the holo-images alone again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Journal #212
Even as the company was settling into their new quarters and beginning to stand duty, their undercover colleagues were filtering into the space station.