Chapter Twenty-Seven
October 3, 2230, Gliese 581, New Samarkand, Sogdia
Damir rubbed at his chest, trying to soothe the ache. It was a dull non-entity compared to the agony he’d suffered from his initial wound, but it was distracting, and a distraction was the last thing he wanted in the field. No matter how hard he tried to keep his mind on the mission, the ache was there, reminding him of how close he’d come to death days prior as if whispering in his ear that he hadn’t escaped it yet. He didn’t mind dying for the rebellion, but he wanted to know they’d win first.
In a reasonable situation, he wouldn’t have been out on patrol so soon after suffering bad injuries, but the Free Samarkand Army had suffered serious losses in the last couple of days, enough that the fate of the rebellion w
