The Mongrel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 1)

by Walt Robillard

“After a fashion.” Nazrahn answered.

  Cas looked to the Lasher, remaining motionless in the mesa entrance. “Would you prefer we do this in private?”

  Lasher crossed the space and set down his cup. “I would prefer we get this over with. Time is not on my side. The longer this dance takes, the easier it becomes for my prey to escape.”

  “Orin, I don't see a way for you to just walk away to pursue your prey, as you put it, or anything else, for that matter. You have murdered a lot of people. The Faith requires you answer for it.”

  The light where Lasher was standing played ominously with the shadows from outside. The weird exchange of light and dark seemed to turn his slight grin into a predatory smile. “Inspector, are you familiar with Tyth tribal law?”

  Cas set down his cup. “I'm not sure what this has to do with our current situation, but, no. I am not familiar with it.”

  Lasher walked behind Nazrahn. The old man continued to blow on the steaming tea. The misty vapor flew away from his mouth, reminding Cas of stories from Old Sol. The ancient Tyth leader was reminiscent of a wizened dragon, the tea steam his breath.

  “Marshal Ferrand always taught me that a marshal's first duty was to enforce the law. My question was always 'what law?' In order to do our duty, we would have to learn the laws of the places we went to,” Lasher explained. “There is a Tyth tribal law that states, 'If two parties come under flag of truce for the purpose of civil discussion, no violence may be had until that flag has been taken down. Should one party become an aggressor before the lowered flag, the wounded party had the legal right to wipe their name from the record.’”

  Cas sat against the back of the chair. “Orin, I am not seeing the point of this. What does a contract negotiation have to do with...”

  “Let me give you a better translation” Lasher interrupted. “The one on file with the marshals was a bit tame. 'Should one family attack the other while under a flag of truce, the victim has the legal right to kill all members of the other family until their name holds no meaning on Tythian.’”

  Shock and wide eyes accosted the face of the monk. “This can't be true.”

  “Oh, it is,” Nazrahn confirmed, waving his finger at the other man. “It is how we have negotiated between tribes for centuries. It was unheard of for the Hidek to attack the way they did. In doing so, they opened themselves up to extreme measures by us, as well as those who are allied with us. Open civil war was halted by Lasher taking the law and enforcing it for us.”

  “While this might be true, Lasher is not a Tyth.” Cas countered.

  “You are wrong there, too.” Nazrahn said, countering the monk's counter. “Many years ago, he came here as an apprentice to his marshal. During her dealings, she endeared herself to us. She was declared 'Hal Vasni.' It means adopted daughter. Or, more accurately, 'she who we chose.' It made her a part of the Surando. Since the marshal had taken him as her cub, an adopted son, he was considered adopted to us, also. This has ever been the way of the Tyth. In losing everything to defend us, Lasher was further adopted by Tythian. The planet itself made him Halsur Asrani. Favored son. An old tradition by some of the oldest of us. It was a right of adoption by rulers who didn't want spoiled, idiot children as chiefs. Instead, they chose outsiders who were gifted in some way. Stopped a lot of inbreeding too!”

  Both inspector and fugitive watched Nazrahn brake into a knee-slapping laughter. Both men forgot their mutual anger for a moment as the aged mayor fought to contain himself.

  During the fit, realization dawned on Cas. “That's why a lion was here as a mediator. She had presided over this argument before.”

  Lasher was quick to add, “And well versed in their law. So according to local tradition, eliminating the Hidek family line was in keeping with the law. The spirit of the marshal's mandate was upheld. The law was upheld.”

  “I... I... Orin, I can't believe the High Council of the Faith Revere would go along with this.”

  “Good thing I was a marshal and not under mandate from them.”

  The chief inspector rose from the table. He gazed out into the darkness of the steppe, barely making out the faintest line of the dawn on the horizon. “My superiors will need a report of this. They will also want you in custody until all this is confirmed.”

  “No.” Lasher said, more as a statement than a response.

  The old Tyth, equal to human height because of old age stooping him over, got up from the table. Lasher was helping him, treating him like a child might an honored elder. The expression Nazrahn had when he looked to Lasher was one of admiration. Pride. Cas had no doubt that the two were telling the truth. His indecision came wrapped in his duty to the council. What would other colonies in the Frontier think if the checks and balances of the Faith Revere had let a mass murderer go due to a technicality of tribal law?

  “Orin...” Cas began.

  The calm demeanor of the predator slipped. Lasher growled his spite for the monk. “‘Orin’s dead. He died on that hill with his mother and brothers, both Tyth and otherwise. And now you come here, uninvited, to impose the will of the Faith? The Faith doesn't live here. The marshals were invited to help the Tyth. No one requested you.”

  Lasher took several breaths as his eyes narrowed. He looked back to Nazrahn. “Go inside, sir. Just in case.”

  Nazrahn nodded. “I will. But if this one tries to take you, I have it on good authority that he might be in for a rough time.” With a wink and a long-fingered salute, the aged mayor made for one of the dwellings.

  “When was your team assembled?” Lasher asked.

  “Several weeks ago. We were pulled from our respective duties to form a gauntlet with a ranger squad as tactical support. I came with my partner, Sister Leeuwen. We met the assembled team on...”

  “You were formed to investigate this before it happened, then?”

  “No, that can't be right.” Cas searched into his belt for a cell-com. Scrolling through dates and times for reassignment, his expression kept changing from confidence to confused.

  “Someone wanted us both to fail.”

  “How so?” Cas asked.

  Lasher walked over and flicked the monk's device with his finger. “Someone coerced the Hidek to violate centuries of tribal law to attack during a truce. Tribal families know the law. The Hidek wouldn't have violated it unless someone guaranteed them safety. Whoever set this off didn't expect me to survive or do what I did.”

  Lasher looked out into the dawn. The first light was cresting over the steppe now, casting shadows in the grass as well as into the divots of the landscape. “What is your specialty, Inspector?”

  “I am a battlefield investigator. But the rest of my team are mostly negotiators.”

  Lasher turned again. He was like an animal who had been caged too long, sensing a break in his prison. Pacing was ever the treadmill of the active mind. “And why would the council send a team of negotiators to assist in a capture? They wouldn't. I was supposed to be dead. Me being alive means that I might have evidence they don't want anyone to see.”

  Cas caught the hint. “Who is 'they'?”

  “For starters, the High Council of the Faith Revere.”

  Cas shook his head. “You don't have any evidence of that.”

  “Don't be so sure, Inspector.”

  “How did you come to suspect that she knew?” Cas asked.

  “Marshal Ferrand would always check the command log on her cell-com every time she linked it to a foreign system, even if it was lancer-owned. She had been sliced before and took steps not to have information stolen ever again. So I started doing it.” Lasher said, tapping the breastplate of his armor.

  “Was this before or after you detected her presence?”

  “After. I didn't know that she was a cyborg at first, especially not one from the Exo-Wars.”

  Cas looked out toward the steppe. Memories of conflicts long past floated through his scholarly mind. “Most of them are dead now. Their organics aged to the point where th
e cybernetic systems couldn't keep them alive anymore.”

  Lasher turned to regard the inspector. “But don't forget the Hyperion ships. The third and fourth Exodus Wars were fought against the Exiles in those. The ships didn't have faster-than-light travel like we know it. They could travel at incredible speeds, but the destination wasn't as important to them as the journey. All that time in the deep black was used to develop science that would benefit them when they finally made landfall. Look at the Amerterasu. When that ship was encountered, it was an enormous asteroid they'd fitted with engines. Inside were all manner of tech wonders. Long-lived patriarchs in cloned bodies, running entire armies of cyborgs, living in an artificial habitat within the rock. It defied imagination.”

  “And you suspected an old bot in the corner of a cell to be one of these patriarchs.”

  Lasher rotated a cup of tea back and forth. The warmth of the ceramic cup felt good against his calloused hands. They were still cold after he came from the dirt and the worms. The tea was helping. “No. I didn't know she was there at first. I felt a presence in the Way. We were having difficulties with the cell-coms when we would access the local Hyper-net. There was a flutter, like a data lag we couldn't account for. I would feel the presence when it happened.”

  “It was accessing the network?” Cas asked.

  “She. She was accessing the network.”

  The monk walked around to face the fugitive. “She?”

  “Yes. During the attack, I noticed the lag again as we tried to call for help. I thought it might be a good starting point to find out what happened. It started at the fort, so I went back in hopes of flushing out whomever it was.” Lasher blew on his cup, watching as the steam from his tea mixed with his breath. “Turns out it was her. The lags we encountered were her breaking into the net. She was stealing network resources to boost a signal to call for help. She wanted out of that cell and off of Tythian. But she had to force every connection because she didn't have a codex like the one the intel officer had.”

  “Why didn't she just ask the lancers to release her? I mean, why was she there?”

  Lasher sipped the last of his tea. “Another story for another time. Would you like more?” Lasher gestured at the teapot that Nazrahn had left for them on the table.

  The monk held up a halting hand. “Any more and my back teeth will float. Thank you. So if she was just stealing net access, what value did she have for you that you risked imprisonment to go and get her?”

  “When she plugged into the Battle-net, she heard everything. Once we got to talking, I realized that I could use the data drives from our security team to corroborate her story. With the full picture, we could potentially ID the one responsible.”

  “And did you?” Cas prompted.

  “I have an educated guess. We'll see if I am right if we survive this.”

  “What do you mean?” As the monk asked the question, he turned to the sound of footsteps. Brother Berezin walked quietly in the rocky sand. He stopped a few paces away from Cas, bowing slightly before he spoke. It was eerie that the large cyborg could move so silently. “Brother, everything is in position. Are we taking this man into custody?” His speech was one of the secret languages of the Faith Revere.

  “No need for that.” Lasher responded in kind. “We're having a good conversation.”

  The newly arrived monk sneered. “Be that as it may, Fugitive, by order of the Faith Revere, I am placing you under arrest.”

  Cas looked to his comrade with worry and concern. “Brother, there are many factors to consider. We should wait on any action until we have heard the entirety of Deputy Marshal Lashra's statement.”

  Berezin wasn't moved by the chief inspector's argument. “Sir, we were ordered to find this man and bring him in for questioning. This isn't bringing him in.”

  Lasher stepped toward the imposing figure. Even with the monk's enhanced height, Lasher was just a hint taller, a gift from his mixed parentage. “I've been answering questions since he got here. I assumed either he or you were recording all of this. I'm sure I can answer what you want to know, right here. As for being ordered by the Faith Revere, no one is ordering me ever again. It was orders that got us into this. It will be free range, creative thinking that gets me out.”

  The bionic monk stretched out his hand in a blur of controlled violence. It grasped empty air. Lasher was there one minute and gone the next. Even enhanced cyber-optics and military-grade combat matrices were unable to track the mongrel as he tapped into the Crucible.

  “What are you doing, Brother? Stand down. Now.” Cas shouted.

  The war machine with the serene face whirled on Cas, delivering a hammer fist, sidelong into the inspector's chest. The force of the blow cracked the breast plate of the monk's armor, taking him from his feet.

  Cas had detected the hit a fraction of a second before it landed. He bent to the force like a willow branch under too much snow, allowing it to take him along its intended path. He struck the ground and rolled backwards, letting his momentum bring him into a crouched stance. He was ready for more, although his face wilted under the weight of what just happened. A brother of the Order had chosen to fight against him rather than with him.

  “You have your orders to find answers. You weren't even supposed to be on this mission.” Berezin roared. “But now that you are, you will stay down and let me apprehend the fugitive. To do otherwise would be to violate the will of the Order. I will put you down if I have to.”

  Berezin stalked toward the monk. His previous focus on Lasher transferred to his former superior. He loomed closer, touching a spot on his wrist, producing a small digital chime.

  From out of the darkness came two Prowlers. Long and lanky, the triangular frame of their torso made them appear like giant armored skeletons, silhouetted by the rising sun. They sprinted into a shadow, snatching Lasher from his hiding spot. One of them grabbed him by the drag handle of his body armor, flinging him five meters across the open space. He landed and rolled, coming up into a crouch. Dirt and dust swirled as he recovered his bearings.

  Berezin smiled, his face haloed in the green light given off by his eyes. It made him look like a troll from an old story, ready to gobble up his prey. “Inspector, by refusing to allow me to take in the subject, you are hereby considered a collaborator. You both will come back with me to the fort for questioning. If you resist, I have orders to take you in by force. I sincerely hope you resist.”

  Twenty

  Yuzheff rubbed the control panel of the assault shuttle. “Oh, this is so nice. You know, Kel, at some point, you are going to have to ditch the ship. No one is going to let you keep a sweet bird like this.”

  Kel rushed into the cockpit and slid into the pilot's chair. The seat registered his presence, several systems coming online to direct his attention. Priming fuel injectors, gravometric stabilizers, and propulsion, all vying for his attention. He keyed several systems at once, hoping to get them all, praying he missed none of them. “Yu, did you get perimeter sensors up?”

  “That's my job, my sweet.” The delicate accent of Baby Doll crooned through the space.

  “Wow!” Yu exclaimed. “Fancy.”

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuzheff. You may call me Baby Doll. Kel spoke of you before we landed.”

  “Did he say nice things?”

  “He said you were a former scoundrel who had 'cleaned up his act.' I told him that he could take a lesson.”

  Yuzheff grinned as he reached across the cockpit to activate weapon systems. “She likes me.”

  Kel rolled his eyes and raised his brow. “She likes everyone.”

  He reached over the console and flipped a few more switches. The whine of repulsor engines soaking up power to lift off on command shrieked through the cockpit. A holographic pitch display appeared right above Kel's controls.

  “Kel.” Baby Doll came over the loudspeaker again.

  “If you're going to say that you like Yuzheff better than me, we're going to h
ave to have a serious conversation about our future together.” Kel talked as he keyed several systems to operating power.

  “Mon cher, I only have eyes for you. But if I did have eyes for another, they would be pointed at the twelve men posing as Elysian Rangers heading this way.”

  “What does she mean ‘posing as’?” Yu excalimed.

  Baby Doll was about to slide into the role of teacher when a dusky lounge singer voice cut through. Also female, the voice had a quality that made it like a Venus fly trap. It was alluring and dangerous at the same time. “Ranger teams from throughout the Elysian military have a certain way they set up a target.”

  “Yuzheff, meet Katerina. Kat, Yuzheff.” Kel said, absently making introductions.

  “Pleasure to meet you. As I was saying, rangers usually approach in a manner that would render them invisible to most detection methods. If they raid a ship, they would have found a way to slice us first.”

  Yuzheff was a fish glaring at a baited hook. “Pretty swanky to have two AIs.”

  Kel cocked his head in Yuzheff's direction. “I don't. Long story. They're not even trying to slice in, are they?”

  Not to be outdone, Baby Doll piped up, “We have not yet encountered any intrusion to the core system. The instant they were detected, I set up a virtual network for them to enter and be trapped by. They never took the bait.”

  Kel was rubbing the stubble on his chin. It had been several days since the lancers had let him clean up. The stubble was irritating, to say the least. “What does it mean that they aren't hacking us?”

  Kat's dusky voice filled the space. “It could be anything from not having brought the correct pulser to attempt a connection, to feeling the ship is too advanced for the gear they have. There is also the matter of their camouflage. It's real good, but not ranger good.”

  Yuzheff raised a hand as though it were the first day at school. “What would make it ranger good?”

  The dueling duo of Kat and Doll changed roles again. Doll took her turn to dazzle her audience. “Outline-masking ponchos with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree environmental mapping, holographic mimicry displays, and sound-baffling technology would all be a part of Elysian ranger camouflage. While the men are moving in near perfect invisibility, their noise discipline is lacking.”