by Mia R Kleve
He cringed at hearing the words spoken out loud. “Because of the Goka?”
“Oh, Seessuss…that was definitely a mistake on my part, I should have used somebody better.”
“No kidding! A fucking Goka! The place is overrun with giant cockroaches, but not that big. And was he really wearing gray clothes?”
“I warned Kurtz he was a bad choice, not just because he was an insectoid, but because Seessuss in particular was a murkha, a dumbass. But that is taken care of. None of this will blow back on us.”
She didn’t look or sound as confident as her words.
“You’re sure of that?”
“I am, one hundred percent. Everything leads back to one person, and it’s not you or me. I set the whole thing in motion before any of this happened, as a fail safe.”
“How?”
“Suffice to say it involved a Martian prison and a convict with a family they loved too much and couldn’t protect. Now we’re going to leave Mister Matthew Kurtz holding the whole bag of flaming shit.”
“By himself or as part of the BOF?”
“Preferably by himself; we can use the BOF for some of our later projects. But if whoever comes to investigate the murder of the Peacemaker gets through Kurtz, the trail leads to the Brotherhood, not to us. It’s a dead end. They’re freelance, so that makes them more expendable than our people. Besides, Kurtz is a dick. I don’t mind seeing him go down for it.”
Qabba grinned. “No argument there. What a waste of oxygen.”
“Even so, I wouldn’t burn him if I could help it. Street people have their uses.”
“Better him than us, though.”
“True, but he’s five people removed from me, and each person in the chain only knows the one above them. Only one man in the world has dealt with me personally.”
“What if they get up the chain to him?”
“That is impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible, Chaar.”
Hidden in the shadows under the brim of an American style baseball cap that read, in Russian, Leningrad Polytechnic, Go Polar Bears, her large brown eyes reduced to slits from her broad smile.
“Theoretically speaking, if they somehow got that far, they’ll find the one person who knew my identity was missing, whereabouts unknown, and that he disappeared right after giving my orders to the one below him on the ladder. If they kept investigating, they’ll discover that I recently changed the water in my piranha pool, which eliminated any environmental DNA, and had the red-bellies left any bones to cremate, a good place to scatter the ashes would have been the river beneath our feet.”
Qabba glanced down. Was that gray powder near his foot? He tried to keep his admiration from reflecting on his face but couldn’t.
“I have never before been tempted to become involved with one of my business associates…”
She rose on her tiptoes to look him in the eye.
“It’s not going to happen now, either.”
* * *
Nepali Trauma Center, Kathmandu, Nepal, Earth
At first Jaypaas was grateful that the man, Ganju Limbu, who three days before had personally fought the attackers, sat in one of the trauma center’s chairs. With Limbu seated, that allowed her to do the same, and take her full weight off her aching paws. Unfortunately, Earth’s chairs weren’t built for aliens, and pretty soon the base of her spine hurt more than her feet had. No sign of her discomfort reached her face, though.
“Let me make sure I understand what happened,” Jaypaas said. “Nepal authorized the formation of a mercenary company, which is to be called High Mountain Hunters. A group of your most prominent species gathered at a religious site—”
“Religious and cultural,” Limbu corrected. Jaypaas made a notation on her slate.
“The purpose of this gathering was to announce the name of the new company and to award the first two franchises. You, as owner of one franchise, bought two CASPers to show visitors what Human Mercenary mecha looked like.”
“Correct,” Limbu said. Jaypaas noted both deference and authority in his tone.
“What model CASPers were they?”
Limbu looked down. “Refurbished Mk 5s. It’s all I could afford.”
Jaypaas kept her face and vocal tone neutral, all the while thinking that if they could only afford rebuilt Mk 5s, the High Mountain Hunters wouldn’t be around for long.
“Mk 5s…thank you. And during the ceremony, four Human atmospheric aircraft, which derive both lift and propulsion from one or more sets of horizontally revolving overhead rotors—”
“They’re called helicopters.”
“Yes, helicopters. These helicopters approached the mountaintop where the ceremony was taking place and opened fire without provocation. Your CASPers returned fire, after which the intruders attempted to disgorge a group of armed Humans?”
“Yes.”
“And during the course of this incident seven of the Human attackers were killed, along with an Oogar who fought with them. Further casualties among the combatants involved three of the defenders killed and nine wounded, one of whom is your youngest son. Ten civilians died as a direct result of this incident with nineteen more wounded. Is this an accurate representation of the facts as you know them?”
“It is, but you should also know that one of the more severely wounded is the son of Amir Pun, who has also been awarded a franchise.”
“Thank you for that information. To the best of your knowledge, was this a terrorist attack related to Earth’s political struggles?”
“That seems to be the million-credit question, doesn’t it?”
“I do not understand. There is no payment for either asking or answering the question.”
Limbu waved his hand, another Human gesture Jaypaas had learned which meant “never mind.”
“That’s just an expression.”
Jaypaas didn’t understand that, either, but decided it wasn’t important. “Tomorrow I wish to see the site of the attack. Can you arrange that, or should I speak to someone else?”
“I can do that,” Limbu said. “I’ll arrange for transport from your hotel in the morning.”
“Excellent, thank you. I am quartered at the Galaxy Hotel, please have my transportation ready one Earth hour after sunrise.”
* * *
5
The Streets of Kathmandu, Nepal, Earth
Nepal’s chief industry for decades had been tourism, and while most tourists came from China, an influx of Americans and Europeans was also noticeable. Even so, at six feet two inches, with light brown hair and blue eyes, Matthew Kurtz stood out as he walked down a crowded sidewalk toward the Galaxy Hotel. Fortunately for him, with the sun not yet up it was cold enough that his long coat didn’t seem out of place, since it covered up a laser rifle, a miniature sub-machine gun in a shoulder holster, and a belt with two pistols holstered one to each side. Four grenades bulged in his coat pockets.
An ear bud allowed him to coordinate with the rest of his crew, who were the eight survivors of the attack group from four days earlier. He had two pinplants but none of the others did, so while he didn’t need to move his lips to communicate with them, he needed the ear bud to hear their responses. None of them had stopped complaining about targeting a Peacemaker.
“Quit yer bitchin’,” he said. “This is what happens when you fuck up a mission.”
That was met with more chatter.
“Slyšel jsi toho muže,” said Staff Sergeant Filda Merik, cutting through the others without effect.
“Use your translator, Staff Sergeant,” Kurtz said.
“I told them ‘you heard the man.’ In other words, shut up and focus on this job, or we won’t get paid.”
“We’re killing a Peacemaker; we’ll never get a chance to spend it,” said one of the crew.
Merik cut in before Kurtz could. “You can bow out any time you want, but if you do, don’t count on ever working for us or the Brotherhood again.”
“Yeah, yeah,�
�� said the chief complainer. “I’m here, aren’t I? But if this Peacemaker has a CASPer, like those guys the other day, could you let us know in advance this time?”
“Zuuls don’t use CASPers,” Kurtz said.
“But they do have armor, and we don’t.”
“There’s nine of us and one of her. That’s the only armor we need.”
* * *
The Galaxy Hotel, Kathmandu, Nepal, Earth
To Larry Weiner, gaining access to even the low-level databases seemed like cheating. Before his days as a mercenary consultant and weapons broker, he’d made a good living as a hacker. The police never caught him, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Now, instead of spending hour after hour trying to break into the financial databases, the Peacemaker Deputy had full access.
Good thing I’m in a different business now, he thought. The names and account numbers on his screen were worth untold billions, not of dollars, but credits, and it was only the least secure of the financial databases. How much more did the really secure ones have?
Having access to information didn’t necessarily translate to results, however, as Weiner knew all too well. He’d been at it for nearly fourteen hours straight and even coffee could only keep you alert for so long. At some point, all it did was give you a headache and make your eyes burn, and he was there. Yawning, he rolled his shoulders and felt his muscles pop, then he stood up.
He and JoJo had taken a room at the posh Galaxy Hotel in downtown Kathmandu, a few doors down the hall from Jaypaas. JoJo had already gone downstairs to meet the Peacemaker, so Weiner ordered a room service breakfast that would take an hour to deliver. In the meantime, he decided to head to the roof for some fresh air and a cigar, chuckling to himself at the inherent contradiction. As he always did when away from home, he slipped on his shoulder holster and inserted the laser pistol. He pulled his favorite oversized sweater over his head to ward off the morning chill.
When he’d checked in, the front desk clerk had noted his bad knee and gave them a room near the elevator. Two men were already inside when the doors opened. Weiner had never seen either man before, but he knew by their hard stares and scarred faces what they were; mercs.
He nodded to them, but they just glared back, so he kept his eyes on the floor and tried to look harmless. There had been no missing the tattoos on their necks, though, three stylized letters that would have been hard to decipher if he hadn’t seen them before, BOF, the Brotherhood of the Free. Adrenaline washed out all traces of fatigue. In that instant, he knew who had attacked the ceremony on the mountain.
A square tower on the roof held the shaft for the elevator. The doors opened facing the rear of the hotel. Weiner stepped out without looking back at the mercs, stuck a cigar in his mouth, and lit it without first toasting the foot. That affected the taste, but he wanted the Mercs to ignore him. He exaggerated his limp and breathed heavily, as if moving took a tremendous effort. In his peripheral vision he saw it had worked, as they both headed to the edge of the roof looking down at the hotel’s main entrance. He had no idea what was going on, but warning sirens screamed in his mind. The weight of the laser pistol was a comfort.
Through his pinplants Weiner called his wife. “Jo, head’s up, you’re walking into a trap—”
* * *
6
The Galaxy Hotel Restaurant, Kathmandu, Nepal, Earth
Jaypaas ate breakfast in a far corner of the hotel restaurant, trying to remain unnoticed, which didn’t work. Through most of the Galactic Union the sight of a Zuul would draw as much notice as a gust of wind. On much of Earth that would also be the case, especially near starports like Houston, Texas, but not in Nepal. It was her intention to leave as little mark of her presence as possible, so instead of acknowledging the pointing customers at nearby tables, Jaypaas concentrated on her slate and pretended she didn’t see them. Only when JoJo Weiner showed up and sat in the chair opposite her did Jaypaas look up.
“Did you enjoy your Earth breakfast?”
“I have eaten Earth food many times at Heinlein City. I particularly enjoy what most cultures call sausage or bacon, but chicken eggs have never appealed to me. In this particular facility, I find it very strange to say that I enjoyed these…banana pancakes. It is not typically the type of food my people eat, but I found it oddly appealing. The taste of this—” she pointed at a bowl of soggy Muesli, “—I did not find pleasing.”
“You drink coffee?”
Jaypaas nodded once, then drained her coffee, wiped her muzzle, and slid back her chair. “It is very bitter. I like that.”
Joanna waited until their eyes met and then she tapped the end of one of the pinplants behind her left ear. Jaypaas nodded imperceptibly and reached out to her own pinplants.
“Is there something wrong, JoJo?”
“We’re about to be ambushed. Larry is on the roof, and he says there are two mercs up there with laser rifles. They’re members of the Brotherhood of the Free.”
Jaypaas growled deep in her throat. Oddly enough, she had learned to do it from a Human.
“If they plan to attack a Peacemaker then they are more foolish than even I believed them to be. Are you well armed, JoJo?”
“Very well armed.”
The Zuul considered her options for several seconds. “If we do not emerge as expected, our assailants may come in looking for us. That would endanger many innocent civilians inside the hotel. I have contacted the Kathmandu Police, but we cannot wait for them to arrive. That risks a fight here in the hotel.”
“What should we do?”
“Precisely what we planned.”
* * *
Matthew Kurtz rubbed his eyes as Jaypaas walked past. Using his pinplants, he sent the alert that would send his team into action. Once the Peacemaker exited the restaurant and headed for the lobby, he took a last look at his surroundings. Assassinating a Peacemaker would bring the weight of that entire guild to bear finding him, so it was mandatory that he put as many stargates as possible between himself and Earth. The payday would make it worthwhile, but the reality was that might this be the last breakfast he would ever eat on his mother planet.
* * *
Weiner held the laser pistol close to his chest with his right hand and smoked the cigar with his left. He leaned against an old-style, waist-high brick wall and looked down on a courtyard parking lot framed by two other wings of the hotel. Out the corner of his eye Weiner saw one of the mercs nod to the other, who immediately turned toward him and shouldered the rifle.
But Weiner anticipated that and took two steps to his right, interposing the elevator housing between them and blocking the merc’s shot. The scuff of shoes told him the merc had broken into a trot, so at most he had three seconds to get ready. He used two of those to move away from the edge and brace his feet in a shooting stance, and the third to aim where he thought the merc would show up as he rounded the corner of the elevator tower.
The man appeared exactly where Weiner anticipated, walking quickly with the rifle at his shoulder. Sighting Weiner he turned to shoot, but Weiner fired first. A shaft of ruby light sliced a six-inch gash over the man’s heart. Exiting the man’s back, the laser burst disappeared into the half-light of dawn.
The merc’s momentum caused him to topple forward, out of sight of his partner. Weiner grabbed the dead man’s rifle and limped to the side of the small tower. Peering around the corner, he saw the other merc with his rifle also shouldered, peering downward toward the hotel entrance. Weiner took two seconds to control his breathing and steady the sights, and then pressed the trigger.
As disabling shots went, it was easy. From fifty feet away, Weiner put a one second beam into the small of the merc’s back, severing his spinal cord. The man collapsed in a heap. His rifle clattered to the roof.
“Mercs on the roof are neutralized,” he told JoJo and Jaypaas. “One is alive, stand by while I interrogate him.”
JoJo answered him. “Make it fast, Larry. If these guys hear sirens, they might com
e in after us.”
“They also might take off.”
“I cannot risk innocent lives, if it can be avoided,” said Jaypaas.
The merc lay with his mouth half open, staring wide-eyed at the bright blue morning sky. Weiner leaned over the merc’s face, and the man locked eyes with his, pleading.
“Unless you want this beautiful face to be the last thing you ever see, tell me right now how many men are downstairs waiting in ambush!”
The mercs mouth moved in a chomping fashion.
“How many?”
The man closed his mouth.
“Listen to me…without nanites you’re a dead man, but I’ve got five injectors in my pocket. You tell me how many people are down there, I save your life. That’s the deal. Now tell me!”
The merc blinked and his lips compressed. They moved, trying to form words. Weiner put his ear close to the man’s mouth and the answer came out as a faint whisper.
“Seven.”
Weiner rose. The merc’s eyes widened. “Nanites?” he said, that one word containing all of the terror flooding his brain.
“Sorry. I lied.”
* * *
When JoJo told her the number, Jaypaas involuntarily raised her ears. It was the one physical reaction to alarming news she hadn’t yet been able to suppress.
“That is an unfortunate number,” she said. “The percentage chance of imminent death is too high for me to request that you continue your service. I therefore release you from your deputization, JoJo Weiner. The Galactic Union thanks you for your service to the Peacemaker’s Guild. I will wait to proceed until you are safely out of the line of fire.”
“I like you, Jaypaas, but you’ve got one annoying habit.”
