Maarg jumped into the conversation. “Confirmed. That’s them.”
The sound of weapons fire reached a crescendo, then halted. Echoes of the blasts reverberated through the buildings as an eerie silence blanketed Vannix and the surrounding block.
“I’m moving in,” she radioed Maarg.
“I think you should wait,” Maarg replied. “Being a Peacemaker is not going to protect you here.”
Vannix thought about it. “Whirr is two hundred meters behind me. I’ll create a diversion and—”
“And what? Tell them to drop their weapons and surrender to you?” Maarg laughed. “If they want that server badly enough to violate a few longstanding guild agreements to get it, do you think they’ll stop just because you’re there?”
“One hundred meters. We have sensor data on your position, Vannix,” Whirr said.
They’ll be here in thirty seconds or less. Good.
Vannix watched the Cochkala swarming out of the shattered building’s facade. Six of them carried what looked like a heavy, oversized footlocker. “That must be the server.”
“Copy, but I can’t get any data from it. It’s inert,” Maarg replied. “What are you going to do?”
Yeah, what am I going to do?
“They have to get it off planet, right?”
“One would think so,” Maarg replied.
Vannix nodded. “The other ship is down. Is it a total loss?”
“Unknown.”
She did the math quickly. The Cochkala infantry had two choices: run back to their downed ship and attempt orbit or commandeer one of the landers at the airfield. A group of Cochkala appeared in the distance driving a stolen large-wheeled commercial skiff. They got the skiff to the center of the building. One Cochkala, its fur bright brown in the sunlight, pointed and gestured at the surrounding soldiers.
At least we know who is in charge now.
As she watched, the infantry formed up around the skiff where they placed the server case and a guard of six armed soldiers. She noted the orientation of the skiff and the infantry. A move to the west meant they were headed for the airfield.
She heard the distinctive, muted clicking of MinSha claws on the street behind her. Vannix turned and saw them approaching quickly. The MinSha were exceptionally trained and unbelievably capable warriors. That the Human force here had defeated them and convinced them to become allies was nothing short of remarkable.
A large female, wearing a bandolier over one armored shoulder and green laser shields over her compound eyes, approached, hunched, her carapace nearly at ground level. She crawled up to Vannix and tapped a foreclaw to her chest.
“Peacemaker Vannix, I am Whirr.”
Vannix nodded. “Well met.”
“Well met. Have you ascertained their objective?”
“I think so. They’ve taken a large case from the Cartography Guild’s forward office and loaded it aboard that commercial skiff.”
Whirr raised up carefully and looked over the planter for a good ten seconds. Returning to her kneeling position, she looked at Vannix. “Two companies, maybe a little more. Light weapons and a few anti-armor cannons. Nothing terrible. What do you want to do?”
“See where they’re headed and get in front of them,” Vannix said. “An ambush.”
Whirr’s antennae vibrated with approval. “I like what you are thinking, Peacemaker. We just have to ascertain which route they are taking.”
“Yes, to what ship.”
Whirr looked at her and shook her head. “There is only one option. They aren’t getting off the planet in their larger ships.”
Vannix nodded. “You’ve come to a conclusion?”
“These Cochkala are the main effort, and the enemy will try to collect them shortly.” Whirr’s antennae stood straight up on her head. “They need to be stopped before any more of my friends die. We are with you, Peacemaker. Stand Victoria.”
Understanding washed over her. Whirr and her soldiers were what remained of the MinSha force Chinayl had sent to eradicate the Human settlements on the outer rim. Through the benevolence of the Humans, not just Jessica Francis, the MinSha soldiers were now an integral part of the Victoria Forces. In the days since their defeat, they had trained, integrated, and become one with those fighting and dying at the spaceport. Whirr wanted to get back to them, and Vannix knew why. Soldiers care most about other soldiers.
Vannix looked at Whirr. “I have an idea, Whirr.”
The MinSha’s antennae waggled in curiosity. “I trust it is a good one?”
“Considering the source?” Vannix grinned. “It’s something those assholes aren’t going to expect.”
Whirr motioned to her soldiers. The warriors silently joined them at the structure as Vannix watched the Cochkala and their stolen skiff move west toward the spaceport. Two roads ran all the way to the restricted area markers encircling the hangars and out buildings. Driving the Cochkala onto one road and channelizing them into a kill zone was the best course of action.
“Maarg?” Vannix called on the radio. “Can you fly the shuttle?”
There was silence on the channel for five seconds. “What do you have in mind?”
Vannix laughed quietly. “Something Tara and our friends would call death from above. Can you do it?”
“That sounds terrible,” the TriRusk responded. “I believe the phrase is something like I wouldn’t miss it for the planet?”
“Close enough,” Vannix grinned. “Close enough.”
* * *
Aboard the Storm Obsidian
Hyperspace
“You have wasted enough of my time, Peacemaker.” Kr’et’Socae stood menacingly over the fallen form. In the darkness, his imposing figure blended with the shadows. The power of his voice echoed off the hull as he adjusted the shock whip in his forehand. “What does Jackson Rains know?”
The MinSha lay motionless on her side in the cold, dark room. He knew she was breathing and responding to torture the way Peacemakers were taught. The room’s cold temperature and dry air were effective weapons. Reynah wouldn’t last much longer before the truth spilled out of her. Her disgrace in following the Mercenary Guild’s plans and those of her warden, Calx, would get her removed from the rolls of the Peacemaker Guild if she hadn’t been already. It wouldn’t matter. Reynah would not leave his ship alive, even if she told him everything he needed to know and more.
Kr’et’Socae flipped the shock whip at Reynah’s exposed abdomen. A blue arc snapped from the whip to the unprotected flesh. Reynah yelped, flinched, and rolled away from the shock. It was the most she’d moved in the last hour. He smiled. Patience was something learned in solitary confinement and easily adapted to any situation. He maintained control. She knew what he sought, and given time, she would talk.
He listened to her breathe and smirked at her effort. Her time was almost done. He flicked the whip a second time, adjusting the sparking ends so they touched the sensitive flesh of her underbelly. Reynah snapped up awkwardly and rolled hard onto her back, grunting in a deep, guttural way he’d never heard before.
“Nnnghh!” Reynah flopped onto her back. “He knows nothing!”
“Where did he go?”
“They jumped for Araf.” Reynah wheezed. “You know this.”
“Then what don’t I know?” Kr’et’Socae waved the whip in front of the MinSha’s face again. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Calx...”
His ears flicked. “What did you say?”
“Warden...Calx...” Reynah drew a long, hitching breath. “She ordered him tagged.”
What?
“Tagging a Peacemaker is against the laws of the Union.” He clenched his jaw at the abominable decision. There were reasons, certainly. Calx’s decision would not only result in criminal prosecution, but it would give him an advantage. Should the operations at Victoria Bravo fail, he could find Jackson Rains. All Rains had to do was step off a ship at a gate or on a planet, and he would be recognized by secur
ity platforms. His presence would be reported immediately to the Information Guild.
“She didn’t care.” Reynah collapsed back into the straps holding her down. “Calx did whatever she wanted. She marked the Peacemaker and secured the code. I have it on my slate.”
Kr’et’Socae spun and consulted a small Tri-V display. Sixteen hours from emergence and facing a choice he hadn’t expected, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Not a cleansing or focusing breath, just a breath. He did so again, letting the stale air of the ship’s cabin fill his lungs to capacity before exhaling it. He relished the sensation. The Peacemakers wanted him to control every aspect of his life from breathing to ethics. They believed he could find a way to calm others in any situation.
They had been wrong.
He’d tried to calm the godsdamned GenSha. They wouldn’t listen. Anxiety turned to fear. Fear turned to disillusionment. Disillusionment turned to distrust. Distrust meant no one would listen to anything other than their fears. Their anger. Their outrage at the smallest grievance. Their incessant cries for justice and restitution. He tried to negotiate on their behalf, but the bovine species kept returning to the table with new demands. They became irrational, believing the elSha meant to cause them harm. The elSha delivered technology designed to monitor agricultural fields with minimal intrusions. The GenSha couldn’t leave their fields alone, tromping through them multiple times each day, weeding, watering, cultivating, and fertilizing. Their excrement covered the fields and poisoned the sensitive crops.
The elSha attempted to tell them, then attempted to fix the problem with technology and chemistry, but the GenSha grew convinced they were being deceitful. They caught him alone, after the negotiations finished on the third day. He’d eaten a dinner of fresh fruits and vegetables provided by the elSha. He much preferred what the GenSha brought, but the local produce wasn’t bad. The sun had set not long before, and he’d decided to forego additional contract study and rest. Four GenSha he’d never seen before decided that wasn’t possible. As he walked down a packed dirt thoroughfare near a thousand-acre field of something akin to corn, they’d come around a corner and blocked his path.
“Reenaaga,” the leader said. Spineless shit for brains. Their intentions were clear, and away from the negotiation table, he had no way of recording the event as part of his discussion. He’d gotten lazy, and the four GenSha seemed determined to make him pay for it. He watched them spread out. He couldn’t see a weapon, but he knew from experience the weapon he couldn’t see was the one meant for him.
He’d reared up to his full height, stared at them one by one, and said, “Stand down.”
They charged and his instincts took over. He fought well, dropping three to the ground with minor injuries and devastated pride. The fourth wasn’t moving. As the others struggled to sit, Kr’et’Socae leaned down and shook it.
Nothing happened.
“Get up and go home,” he’d said as he rolled the GenSha to the left. The young male’s eyes were still and cold. Foam bubbled from one side of his mouth, and his black, swollen tongue lolled from the other side. Classic, self-induced poisoning was Kr’et’Socae’s immediate analysis. But the GenSha coroner said it was blunt force trauma and excessive force. Kr’et’Socae had followed the protocols to the letter, recusing himself from the negotiations, calling for support from the Peacemaker Guild, and placing himself before the GenSha. He was incarcerated for two weeks, which was enough time for report of the incident to reach his guild and for them to respond. He’d waited, certain of his innocence, ready to move on to the next assignment.
An official inquiry was launched and overseen by the Selector himself. Hak-Chet took less than an hour to interview him, then less than that to deliberate over the evidence before arresting Kr’et’Socae for murder of an innocent. They took his badge, his pride, and his life’s work and sent him to prison. An Enforcer, the Selector said, should know better than to fight against an untrained innocent. He’d argued self-defense, but to no avail. He’d ignored the most important tenet for an Enforcer—any force applied can be deadly. When it came to light that he’d received funds for several years, primarily from the Mercenary Guild, to resolve disputes in their favor, it was enough to lock him away in disgrace.
Reynah would not know that disgrace. She would not know the shame of being led by her former peers into the secure wing of the prison on Kleve. She would not face their ire. Unlike him, she would never escape. Because she would never arrive at the prison.
Kr’et’Socae looked at the time remaining display one final time and pulled his sidearm from the holster slung over his right hip. He walked back to Reynah and pointed the barrel at her head.
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
The MinSha stared up at him for three long seconds, her mouth working silently. She spoke softly. “There is nothing to be said to you.”
“Because I am a disgrace?” Kr’et’Socae laughed.
“Because you do not understand what happens around you.”
He blinked. “Meaning what, exactly? I do the Mercenary Guild’s bidding, and I make more credits than needed to be forgotten?”
“You will forever walk, looking over your shoulder.” Reynah wheezed. “Guild Master Rsach will ensure—”
“Your Guild Master is weak and pathetic!” Kr’et’Socae said. “I could easily defeat your entire guild.”
Reynah glared at him. “Then do it.”
He laughed. “Tell me where they are, and I might.”
“No.”
“The Mercenary Guild will find them. As soon as Peepo squashes the resistance of the remaining Human mercenary companies, a new order can be established.”
“The Mercenary Guild wants the Humans, Kr’et’Socae,” Reynah said. “Not you. They do not care about you, and they will give you nothing in return for your betrayals.”
“I do not wish them to,” he replied and pulled the trigger three times.
Reynah slumped to the floor as the Equiri stepped over her corpse toward the inner hatch. Sealing it, he engaged the cabin’s exterior cargo door and exposed the space to vacuum. Decompression swept the MinSha’s body into the void of hyperspace. He did not watch Reynah’s body disappear. As soon as it was done, he closed the cargo door and secured the ship for its final hours in transit. When he arrived, there would be much to do he had not prepared for. Ransacking every Cartography Guild office and confronting the system administration was unnecessary with the tagging of Jackson Rains. As long as Rains did not have a nanite scan before leaving Victoria Bravo, Kr’et’Socae could find him anywhere in the civilized galaxy, with one exception. He checked Reynah’s slate and easily found the code and the encrypted location history of Jackson Rains’ travels. Confident in his advantage, the disgraced Enforcer allowed himself a moment of repose.
Sitting at the command console of his ship, Kr’et’Socae looked at the GalNet’s archived pages for the Information Guild on Weqq and smiled. He’d never intended to go to Victoria. If Regaa was successful, Thraff knew the next phase of the operation well enough to take command and begin the chase. If Regaa failed, Thraff would do what was necessary to secure their prime objective and leave Regaa and her collected mercenaries to their fate. They were nothing but a distraction for the Victoria Forces to focus on while his operatives hit their target and ran. Thraff knew what to do, and Kr’et’Socae’s trusted him to initiate the next phase of the operation. After all, deception was the root of all warfare.
Either way, an open conflict was no place for a disavowed Enforcer. Better he maintained his position in the background where the eyes of the galaxy could not find him. There were plenty of others he could pay to fight his battles. He would orchestrate them from afar and work to accomplish his goals at the same time. He was calm and patient. There would be a time for action, very soon. For a long time, he wondered if Guild Master Rsach knew the meaning of the word anxiety. By the time Kr’et’Socae’s mission was complete, the Peacemakers would know
far worse than anxiety.
They would know misery.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hammerhead 6
Victoria Bravo
“Hammerhead Six, this is Deathangel Two Five, on direct.”
Ian MacFollett keyed the direct laser comm system and locked onto the signal. Tara Mason, the commander of Force Two Five, had taken command of the field. “Deathangel Two Five, Hammerhead Six. I thought Avenger Six had the field, over?”
“Thunder Six is dead, Hammerhead Six. Avenger Six has the forward area under control, but if we’re going to survive this day, you and I have to make quick work of three landers,” Mason replied. “Are you with me?”
Listening to the curt, direct command voice, MacFollett found himself nodding long before he spoke. “Hammerhead Six is with you, Two Five. Orders?”
“Check the sky, bearing two six five from your position.”
She was obviously waiting for him to do it, so MacFollett opened the commander’s hatch and stood on the seat. Turning to the west, he looked up into the wispy, whitish-gray clouds filtering across the sky and saw the three landers. Their type and size weren’t immediately clear. He could see their descent engines firing and guessed they were about three thousand meters up, preparing for a high-speed combat landing.
“Copy, Two Five. I’ve got visual on the targets. What’s your plan?”
“I want your elements to swing west and hit them before they hit the ground,” Mason replied. “Have to assume they’ve got sub-orbital munitions based on their destruction of the forward command post.”
MacFollett gritted his teeth. She does know tanks typically have the weakest armor on top, right?
He saw the attack unfold quickly in his mind. Within three seconds, he pressed the transmit button with his thumb. “Deathangel Two Five, Hammerhead Six. Understand. Moving now. Request MAC cover from Avenger Six at max range.”
Mason didn’t respond for a few seconds. He knew she was doing the math and looking at the dispersion of forces on the field. Avenger Six and his three CASPers could fire MAC rounds into the path of the descending landers. If Vuong could maneuver a CASPer closer, they might be able to disable any visible weapon platforms and allow the tanks to get close enough to drive their attack home.
Deathangel Page 24
