Tara shook her head. “What are you getting at? Establishing a corporation would work, Watson, but establishing it now, with a Victorian in command, would give your inbound diplomats a reason to call everything off. Having any Victorian lead this corporation would be a conflict of interest, and the Peacemakers would throw out the articles of incorporation if the other guilds pressed the issue. You’d still have to surrender your stuff to the guilds.”
“You’re not following me, Commander Mason.” Watson raised his eyebrows.
“I’m no expert, but I think I understand contract law of this magnitude and…” Tara paused as comprehension dawned. He wanted her to be the head of the corporation. “I’m a bounty hunter on assignment by the Peacemaker Guild.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t create your own corporation.” Watson smiled. “Or should I say your own mercenary corporation?”
Tara sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t have the capital for it. And I can’t be expected to maintain these facilities while I’m off on this mission.”
“You don’t have to. Take what you need on your mission. Leave a rear detachment here. Set it up as maintenance or logistical staging, whatever you want. Some forces will remain here, living and working the same way they did for Victoria, except they’re working for Force Two Five now. If they provide security and assist with logistics, which I would arrange payment for, the Merchant Guild would certainly provide overwatch.”
Tara laughed. It would work. “You’re a slick bastard, Watson.”
He smiled, but it faded quickly. “No, I thought I was slick. That almost cost the life of a Peacemaker and nearly meant the end of the Victoria Forces. All I’ve done is come up with a way to atone for one of those things and make the other a reality, in a different sort of way.”
“That doesn’t solve the capital problem. I cannot guarantee a return or an IOU on anything.” Tara sighed.
“Do you have a credit, Commander Mason?”
“What?”
“A credit? In your coveralls or your personal effects, do you have a credit?” Watson grinned.
Tara reached into her chest pocket. She’d carried a five-credit token there, in case of emergency, for years. The coin was heavy with a small red diamond in the middle. “I have 5. Can you make change?”
Watson theatrically tapped his pockets. “Actually, I think 5 credits will pay for my personal legal clerk on emergency dispensation and the materiel, facilities, equipment, and all things Victoria Forces to be transferred to the legal ownership of the Force Two Five Corporation effectively immediately. I might even be able to persuade the governor to offer a tax break for your company remaining a tenant of Victoria Bravo and our fine spaceport, Colonel Mason. Do we have a deal?”
* * *
Victoria Forces Medical Facility
Victoria Bravo
Rains realized he was dreaming as he woke with a start. He was lying on a soft, comfortable bed surrounded by warm sheets. The air smelled of antiseptic. He knew he was in a hospital. He kept his eyes closed and took a deep breath, searching for pain. He was nauseated, and he felt an odd tingling in his knuckles on both hands. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips before opening his eyes and looking up at a featureless ceiling. The gentle whirring and beeping of nearby medical devices oddly reassured him. There was movement to his right, and Rains turned his head and saw Maarg’s elongated face and the pinched, rat-like features of Vannix staring at him.
He blinked once, then again, to ensure they were real and not some figment of his imagination. They were there. Vannix smiled at him, and Maarg reached out a large hand to pat his uninjured knee.
“You okay?” she asked.
Rains nodded. He wanted to speak, yet his mouth was too dry. Licking his lips again did not help. He looked away from Maarg and searched for a water container. On his left, a cup of water with a long, flexible straw rested on a table-like surface. He reached for it and stopped. His left hand trembled visibly.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He again reached for the water with his shaky hand and found the smooth, cool surface of the cup. Lifting it to his mouth wasn’t difficult, except for the bobbing straw that threatened to throw water in all directions. The water was cool and clear and good. As much as he wanted to gulp it down in powerful swallows, he realized sipping the water was better for his upset stomach. He took several small sips without protest from his insides.
Finishing, he set the cup back on the table and turned to Maarg and Vannix. He smiled, grateful to see them and thankful he wasn’t alone. Maarg was her usual self, except for the bandolier swung over one shoulder that held a long knife with an ominous curve. She studied him with a half-smile on her weird, triceratops-like face. Her eyes were clear and bright. There wasn’t a detail she would miss, and while she was technically a child, there was a peace and confidence in her eyes he’d seen before. Mrs. Green, way back in Mississippi, called folks with that look “old souls.” They knew and expected things unlike anyone else around them. They’d been around the block a time or two. She’d grinned at him before saying he had the same look.
Vannix, though, looked pale. For a white-furred Veetanho, looking pale was quite a feat. Her eyes were glassy. She was clearly drugged, but coherent. She looked at him with a combination of gratitude and amusement. Her tiny maw curled up on one side in a sardonic grin. “Hey partner,” she said softly, despite her pain.
“You good?”
She shook her head. “Took a point-blank burst from the Governor.”
“I heard.”
“Yeah,” she wheezed. “Tried to cut off the Cochkala from leaving the city and ran into his forces. He didn’t see me coming.”
Rains closed his eyes for a moment. Fratricide, the act of killing friendly forces, took more lives than combat operations it seemed. Watson and his security team had been trying to do the right thing, but they’d nearly killed his partner, a Peacemaker. That she was still alive was pure luck. “Prognosis?”
Vannix looked at Maarg who spoke for her. “Vannix took some damage to the chest cavity, but her vest took most of the impact. Nanite therapy will start tomorrow. The doctors expect that she’ll be ready to move in three weeks. That meets our timeline.” Maarg smiled at him. “She’s going to be fine. But we’re not sure about you, Jackson Rains.”
Rains blinked. “What happened to me?”
“How about you tell us?” Maarg leaned closer. “You went from hobbling around to climbing into a CASPer in about two minutes.”
“That kid. Doc. Gave me a nanite shot to the knee. I was able to move and fight one minute, then I didn’t feel so good.”
“What were your symptoms? Do you remember?” Maarg asked.
He looked at Vannix, who watched him with expectant eyes. Seeing her in pain curdled his stomach. “I started to cough. I felt pretty hot in the suit and turned up the cooling system to maximum. I felt like my heart was racing out of my chest for a bit, then I got dizzy and confused and collapsed. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“You had basic medical training at the Peacemaker Academy, right?” Maarg asked.
“Yeah,” Rains replied as he scrolled back through the training he’d received. “There are at least half a dozen explanations.”
“Like what?”
“Could have been anything from altitude sickness to dehydration. Could have been exposure to vapors inside the suit, which isn’t unheard of. There’s a chance it could have been an allergic reaction to something on Victoria Bravo. Influenza? Nanite sickness? Or even the common—”
Oh shit.
He took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Nanite sickness?”
“Bingo,” Maarg replied. “You had 2.5 times the normal concentration of therapeutic nanites when they brought you in. The ones Doc applied did exactly what they were supposed to do. Problem was they reacted adversely with something else you’ve been carrying in your blood. More nanites—ones that did
n’t get expelled from your system like normal therapy doses. You developed a pretty serious blood infection. I’m betting you had no idea they were there, or that you hid them from everyone, including the Peacemaker Guild.”
Rains blinked. “What do you mean?”
“When did you get the other nanite shot?” Maarg replied. “Do you remember ever having one?”
Rains shook his head. “Not that I remember. I had a saline injection in the prison on Karma. They called it a tracking serum, but I know it’s not something done to Peacemakers.”
“It’s not. The nanites were older than that, so you have to go back earlier. We traced them to an Equiri manufacturer, Rains,” Maarg said. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Rains looked at Vannix, then back at Maarg. He closed his eyes and let the memory surface. There wasn’t much to it. He’d discovered the fugitive Enforcer Kr’et’Socae was close by while on his commissioning mission to Cetla. He’d been close enough to try and do something heroic and stupid, and he’d failed.
“My commissioning mission,” Rains said. “I had some type of shot on my commissioning mission, but it wasn’t medical. I went after Kr’et’Socae, the disgraced Peacemaker Enforcer. I’d been doing my diplomatic engagements and learned from a source he was nearby, attempting to influence things behind the scenes. A real target of opportunity. I tried to go after him.”
“This is all classified, Vannix.” Rains paused. How much can I tell?
Maarg made a “come on” gesture with her right hand. “We know about your contact with him. We’ve seen the official and the classified reports on Storm Watch. Vannix read me in. You’ve been out a few days, Jackson.”
The classified report from the Peacemaker Guild traveled innocuously through the GalNet as the Barracks Force Readiness Report. Used with a classified dihedral encryption sequence, the detailed report of all notable Peacemaker activities found its way to every Peacemaker barracks in the galaxy. Rains knew Selector Hak-Chet had filed an official report, but he’d never read the final version. Instead, he’d gone on leave and skipped his graduation from the Academy to go back to Earth and drink himself stupid. He would still be there if Vannix hadn’t hauled him back to the fight.
Rains glanced at her for a long moment. He smiled a little, and she returned it. “I was cocky. I tried to walk in on him and his associates. They laughed. One of them came at me. I drew my weapon and killed her. His girlfriend. Two of his friends rushed me, so I tried to take him down, but the bastard spun around and donkey kicked me in the chest. I flew through a plate glass window, into the street. They grabbed me, stabbed me in the thigh with a pneumo-needle, and I lost consciousness. When I woke up three days later, I found the injection site on my thigh. I didn’t report it. I probably should have, but I didn’t want to get into any more trouble. Hell, I thought they’d knocked me out so they could escape. So, I didn’t say anything incriminating. I’d left my mission and tried to apprehend one of the most wanted fugitives in the history of the Guild. In some ways, I thought I was a hero. When it was all swept under the rug, and they didn’t want to formally announce my commissioning, I went back to Earth prepared to quit.”
“And I brought you back,” Vannix whispered. “I’m glad I did.”
“I’m glad you did, too.”
“We traced the shot back to an Equiri named Thraff. Does his name sound familiar?” Maarg asked.
“One of Kr’et’Socae’s trusted aides,” Rains replied. “Something he’s used before?”
“A tracking device, yes. It’s a good one, too. Recognizable by small sensors deployed all over the galaxy by the Information Guild. They’ve been watching you ever since.”
“And now?”
“We think it all was scrubbed out of your blood, but we won’t know for a few days,” Maarg replied. “You and Vannix get to stay here a bit longer while we try to figure out the future of Force 25.”
Rains frowned. “Didn’t we win the field?”
“We won the battle,” Maarg replied. “The diplomats are here now. Three different guilds want to establish a commercial trade zone for Victoria and provide protection therein. There’s a diplomatic battle being waged for Victoria’s resources. Where things will stand when the talks end is anyone’s guess.”
Rains looked at Vannix for a moment and winked. “I think we’ll worry about healing a little, then see what’s waiting for us on the other side.”
Maarg chuckled. “If we got all the nanites out of your system, you won’t have to worry about Kr’et’Socae waiting on the other side.”
Rains smiled, but he didn’t feel happy. The Enforcer known for finding every target ever given to him had tracked Rains and Force 25 since their inception. “He was behind all this, wasn’t he?”
“Certainly seems that way,” Maarg replied. “He’s likely after our target, too. The Cochkala tried to capture a Cartography Guild classified server. He’s looking for something, and it’s pretty apparent our target is wanted by at least two guilds. I don’t think I have to draw a diagram for you to see how this is going to go.”
Rains didn’t answer. He knew Kr’et’Socae had a larger, more troubling goal in mind. What it was couldn’t be determined, yet. If the former Enforcer was really trying to find James Edward Francis, they were in for the race of their lives.
“I’m a liability to the mission,” Rains said. His body was heavy, and he was exhausted. He stared up at Maarg’s face. “You have to make sure Tara leaves me behind.”
He heard Vannix cough and turned toward her. They locked eyes, and she smiled wanly. “You don’t understand, Jackson. You’re part of this team, and we’re not leaving you here. In fact, you’re something even a practiced Enforcer can’t resist.”
“You’re making me the bait.”
Maarg grinned a savagely. “Exactly. We’re going to put you in two places at the same time and see what happens. Either way, Kr’et’Socae is in for a surprise.”
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty
Headquarters, Force 25 Corporation
Victoria Bravo Spaceport
The first of the shuttles from Tirr’s armada landed forty-eight hours after the Guild Representatives arrived and initiated negotiations to protect and secure Victoria Bravo. All inbound ships without diplomatic clearance were held in orbit while the initial negotiations took place. The guilds wanted a foothold in this part of space, but there were also resources on Victoria Bravo that rivaled those of other Earth-like planets in the galaxy. With General Peepo trying to subvert and dominate the Human race for whatever purpose the Mercenary Guild had in mind, planets Humans could operate on without specialized equipment were prime real estate. Tara had discussed the phenomenon with Bukk, who’d brought up something she hadn’t considered. Maybe the other guilds were readying for the eventual Human victory?
Tara wasn’t certain and, anyway, it was the least of her worries. For exactly two days, she’d been the President of the Force Two Five Corporation. One moment she’d had a balance of 5,000 credits in the virtual banks of Karma and Earth, the next she’d acquired more than five million credits worth of equipment, facilities, and materiel for the corporation. With the official standdown of the Victoria Forces, there were two hundred and fifty more personnel seeking jobs. Jobs were few and far between, even with the immediate arrival of the guilds, but there was one company looking. Hers.
Thankfully, Xander Alison had some experience running a company, and while it wasn’t a mercenary company, it was a business that required people, places, and things. Xander knew how to hire and organize people, and he’d taken to the task like a duck to water. Bukk supervised the clean-up of combat operations and the reconciliation of equipment and materiel for the new corporation. Years of moving egg clutches, storing and managing food supplies, and planning expansions of living quarters and the defense of the colony made the Altar an extremely effective part of the nascent operation. With Xander filling the role of Chief Financial Officer and Bukk se
rving as the Chief Operations Officer and second in command, both the unit and the corporation took form quickly.
With the two Peacemakers in the infirmary for at least three weeks, they weren’t going anywhere soon. They had time to figure out who would remain at Victoria Bravo as part of the contracted security force and who would continue the search for Snowman. How she would continue the mission, however, was unanswered by Lieutenant Colonel Tirr. He’d insisted on speaking face to face, and she’d had to wait while the guilds did their diplomatic dog and pony shows before getting down to business.
Tara watched as the lead shuttle’s cargo doors opened and a lone MinSha male wearing the traditional light blue chiton of the royal security forces walked down the ramp toward her. Tara noticed his height and breadth were significantly less than those of his counterparts. That he’d ascended to the rank of lieutenant colonel and was held in high regard by the Peacemaker Guild and the MinSha royal family spoke to his ability. Tara waved, and the MinSha returned it.
She started walking toward Tirr. Incredibly, the MinSha was one of Jessica Francis’ best friends. How should she approach him? Being the newest and most unqualified leader of a corporation made the anxiety in her stomach worse. As they walked toward each other, Tara’s mind wavered between not wanting to create an interspecies incident and wanting to make a good first impression but having no clue how to do so.
Tirr solved the problem by walking up to her and embracing her. “Tara Mason. Well met.”
To her credit, Tara didn’t freeze. She returned the embrace lightly, marveling at the feeling of the MinSha’s smooth, resilient carapace. He smelled of wet soil and petrichor. “Well met, Lieutenant Colonel Tirr.”
“Just Tirr, please. Any friend of Jessica’s is a friend of mine.”
Tara smiled as they each let go and stepped back. “I feel the same.”
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