by Mia R Kleve
Millzak looked back at the silent Caroon in front of him. “This one did it. She is lying to me.”
Daylinn scooted to the front of her chair, excitement on her face. “What did she say?”
“Nothing,” Millzak answered. “It doesn’t matter. I know she is lying.” He reached over with a pair of powered cuffs and locked the suspect to the chair she was sitting in.
“But…” Daylinn stammered. “Without an admission or the location of the missing credits, how will you arrest her? I still cannot find where they went. There have been no unauthorized system breaches. There are no extra credits in any account in this exchange. Every account has the balance attributed to deposits and withdrawals in it. Believe me, I looked at every one. I’m just thankful it is not a huge credit exchange or the branch of a large company.”
“Daylinn, please explain again how the deposits are made here,” Millzak asked for the second time since they walked into the exchange.
Starting to understand Millzak’s thought process and realizing some things needed more explanation, Daylinn answered plainly. “The hard currency is brought in and counted in front of a teller. The teller re-counts the credits. The being making the deposit slides a preprinted deposit slip into the adding machine and the amount is entered. Both parties key in the amount. If it matches, it is printed on the top of the slip. That slip is then inserted into the slot on the deposit console and the credits are added to the account on the slip. Sometimes multiple deposits are made at once if the limit per deposit is reached.”
Millzak stared off into space for a moment repeating to himself what Daylinn had said, over and over in his mind. Once he was sure he remembered it and understood the process he turned to his new assistant.
“I want to see the deposit slips,” Millzak said. “Please notify your contact at the…the…?” He reached for his slate and his notes.
“Pangtol Company?” Daylinn prodded.
“Yes,” Millzak said, “the Pangtol Company. Have the being responsible for depositing the credits bring the deposit slips here now.”
With a look of slight confusion on her face, Daylinn made the call. Fifteen minutes later, an older Caroon walked in with a nervous-looking, younger version of himself. After the introductions were made, the young one handed Millzak the booklet of preprinted deposit slips. Daylinn shook her head at the archaic system of using actual deposit slips but she watched and waited.
Millzak flipped through the slips quickly, the print on them a blur as they made a steady flapping sound. He wasn’t looking at them as he stared off. He turned to his assistant. “Write the deposit account number down please. I will read them.”
“What?” Daylinn asked. “The account number? That is like, fifty digits. Do you want me to put them in my slate?”
“Yes,” Millzak answered. “Can you write a program or something to tell me if every digit matches? That is a lot of numbers.”
“I…I can, Peacemaker,” said Daylinn, “Are you going to read each one? The slips are all the same, they are preprinted, but if you wish, it is only a few lines of programming. Just one moment.” Her fingers flew over the screen of her slate. “Okay, I am ready.”
Millzak read the digits slowly, one by one, to his assistant. Everyone in the room was silent. The exchange president was now in the room with the rest of them. None were brave enough to interrupt the large Peacemaker, though they all knew this was foolish. The slips were preprinted with the account number. It would not change.
Millzak flipped to the next deposit slip and read the digits. He did this three more times. On the fifth slip, he heard Daylinn inhale sharply. The fifth slip had one digit different in the thirty-second digit. The number was almost identical to the one it replaced.
Millzak looked at the suspect, now deflated and staring at the floor. He handed the deposit booklet to Daylinn. She flipped to the tenth slip, looked at the thirty-second digit, and nodded. The preprinted slips had been printed like that on purpose, every fifth slip.
“That’s it!” Daylinn exclaimed. “That is why I could not find it. That account’s credit matched its deposit slips. There were no red flags. The gap in the system was there so no one could see when its deposits were made.”
Millzak turned to the exchange president. “This one is in charge of opening accounts and providing the deposit books?”
“Yes,” answered the president. He glared at the thief. “She is—or should I say, she was. Her console is used to print them.”
“Transfer the missing amount to the correct account,” Millzak ordered. “Contact the local authorities to have her picked up and charged for theft and any other law she may have broken on this planet and in this system.
“At once, Peacemaker,” agreed the exchange president, clearly relieved. Several businesses had hinted at changing credit exchanges due to the rumors.
“From what Daylinn told me, there is trouble at the mines because of her?”
“My mine supervisor informs me he has lost control,” the head of the Pangtol Company agreed, his long nose bobbing up and down. “Things are getting out of control.”
“I will notify the supervisor so he can let the miners know they will get paid as soon as it processes,” the older Caroon said. He left with his son.
Later, standing outside the exchange, Daylinn turned to Millzak. “That was amazing. All my searching, the programs I used—some I wrote on the spot—the exchange’s full cooperation, and I couldn’t find the credit. You looked where no one, and I mean no one, would have thought. How did you know?”
“I am a simple Lumar. It is a fact,” answered Millzak, shrugging all four shoulders. “I looked for a simple solution. All the knowledge and skills in the galaxy cannot help you if you can’t see what is right there in front of you first.”
Daylinn tilted her head and looked at Millzak in a new light. “I will remember that, Peacemaker. Thank you for the lesson. What will you do now?”
“I will go to Gondlo and help my partner,” answered Millzak. “We will finish our missions in no time. We will get back to the Academy long before we are expected.”
“I want to thank you,” Daylinn said. “You barely knew me, yet you saw where I was…where I was headed. I have to be honest with you, I didn’t even know where I was headed. Now, in a matter of hours, not only did you fix the problems for all those miners and their families, you fixed mine. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“Little one,” Millzak said, “there is no need to thank me. You helped a great deal. My first mission has been a success because of your help. Thank you.
“I will be honest with you. I still had doubts. I am not a smart Lumar. I wondered even with my determination, if would it be enough? Could I really do this?” He indicated his uniform, and his badge. “I knew I would not give up. But even in succeeding, am I good enough?” Millzak stared off in the distance. He turned back to her. “Can I do this? Yes. I can. I will be a Peacemaker.”
“Yes,” Daylinn agreed. “Yes, you will. I think you are one now. Only a Peacemaker could solve the problems of many…and of one at the same time. If I never see you again, be safe. Thank you for helping me with my new job at the exchange. The way you let the president know you would be my reference caused him to hire me on the spot. I am the first employee not of the Caroon race here.” She wrapped her arms around his leg in a quick hug and ran inside, sniffing.
Millzak walked a little taller as he headed toward the starport. He decided to commandeer a shuttle to the sister planet and not wait for the scheduled flight.
* * *
Chapter Five
Millzak had the pilot land near the mines. As he walked down the ramp, he adjusted the belt of his holster, and shifted his pistol slightly. He decided during the day-long flight to take it out of its case. From the information the pilot could gather, the miners were still gathered outside the mines in a standoff with the security company.
He started jogging toward the mass of beings. As
he got closer, he saw flashes of a Peacemaker uniform. Zerze was moving back and forth in front of the miners urging them to disband. Even after receiving the news about their pay, the miners had not gone back to work.
He forced his way to the front and called out. “Zerze!”
“Millzak!” Zerze exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Never mind. We have a major problem. The miners have been paid but security won’t allow them back into the mines to go to work.”
“Why?” Millzak asked.
“I don’t know,” Zerze said. Millzak could hear the exhaustion in his friend’s voice. “They refuse to move, and the miners are now up in arms because they are losing credits because they can’t work. It’s a mad house. If it’s not one thing it is another. No one will listen to reason. Diplomacy is not working. I can’t get them to sit down and talk it out. I’m trying to tell them violence is not the answer.”
Millzak looked across the open area between the miners and the security company. One of the Blevin was obviously the leader. He was larger than the rest and kept gesturing toward the miners, urging his troops.
Millzak turned to Zerze. “Tell me how a security contract works.”
“What?” Zerze asked. “It’s a contract. They get paid to be security. Guard the mines, the equipment, put down uprisings, too, I guess. Why?”
“Tell me about bonuses,” Millzak said, still looking at the leader.
“Bonuses?” Zerze said, finally losing patience with his friend. “Look, Millzak, I don’t have time for this. They…” Zerze paused as it dawned on him. “It’s the bonus! They want the bonus for combat. Well, not really combat, but any type of action or fighting. They won’t get it if there is a peaceful resolution to this, which, there is now. I don’t know how you did it, but there is.”
Millzak took off his holster and handed it to Zerze. He unzipped his jump suit to the waist, pulled his arms out and tied the top around his waist, hiding that it was a uniform and his badge.
He turned to Zerze and said, “Sometimes, violence is the answer.” He started walking toward the guards. It took him a few minutes to get there.
Millzak walked up to the leader and said, “Move. Let them go back to work.”
The Blevin sneered. “Make me.”
Millzak shrugged all four shoulders, turned, and glanced back at Zerze. Quickly, he turned his body back and landed two punches with his left fists. One struck the large Blevin in his ribs the other in his face. The Blevin crumpled into a pile. He kicked a guard swinging a rifle butt at him from the other side and ended that threat. The next guard rushed him, his weapon forgotten. Millzak grabbed him, spun him around, and threw him with all four hands. The stunned guard landed more than six feet away.
Millzak stood ready. The remaining twenty or so guards let their rifles hang on their straps and raised their six fingered hands, backing up a step or two. When Millzak untied his jumpsuit and put it back on correctly, his Peacemaker’s badge showed brightly. All of them looked up, down, and away. Anywhere but at him.
* * *
Epilogue
Peacemaker Academy
Ocono
A year later, the graduation ceremony was different. This year the candidates were called up in order of merit by their valedictorian. The entire auditorium was asked to hold their applause until the last candidate was commissioned as a Peacemaker.
The room was silent as newly graduated Peacemaker Zerze paused before calling out the last name. He looked slowly across the entire room and spoke into the microphone. “Do you know what they call the one who graduates last in his class at the Peacemaker Academy?”
The room remained silent. He glanced around. Puzzlement could be seen on every face.
After a long moment he leaned closer to the mic. “Peacemaker.”
The room erupted, the class members cheering the loudest, when Millzak’s name was called.
* * *
Major Bellgrund was the first to congratulate Peacemaker Millzak after the ceremony. She looked up at his badge and her eyes widened. She had wondered what tree from the Lumar home world Millzak would use. All Peacemakers were offered the opportunity to give input on the design of their individual badges.
The badge on Millzak’s chest was of a barren tree. It appeared to be a tree in the middle of winter; there were no leaves on it. Suddenly, it dawned on her.
Millzak had chosen a tree he could see through.
* * * * *
Kevin Steverson Bio
Kevin Steverson is a retired veteran of the U.S. Army. Having written several Amazon bestsellers, he is a published songwriter as well as an author. When he is not on the road as the Tour Manager for the band Cypress Spring, he can be found in the foothills of the NE Georgia mountains writing in one fashion or another.
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About Mia R. Kleve
Mia R. Kleve has been an avid reader since high school, unless you count the cereal boxes during breakfast as she was growing up. She quickly became a huge fan of anything science fiction and fantasy, including authors like Robert A. Heinlein, Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey, Frank Herbert, and so many more.
She started proof editing on a volunteer basis with a couple small publishers, including Chris Kennedy Publishing (in an effort to get a jump on the Four Horsemen series). She currently does freelance content editing and proofing through her company MRK’d Up Editing.
About Kevin Ikenberry
Kevin Ikenberry is a life-long space geek and retired Army officer. As an adult, he managed the U.S. Space Camp program and served as a space operations officer before Space Force was a thing. He’s an international bestselling author, award finalist, and a core author in the wildly successful Four Horsemen Universe. His eleven novels include Sleeper Protocol, Vendetta Protocol, Runs in The Family, Peacemaker, Honor the Threat, Stand or Fall, and Deathangel. He’s co-written several novels with amazing authors. He is an Active Member of SFWA, International Thriller Writers, and SIGMA—the science fiction think tank.
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy:
Salvage Title
___________________
Kevin Steverson
Now Available from Theogony Books
eBook, Audio, and Paperback
Excerpt from “Salvage Title:”
A steady beeping brought Harmon back to the present. Clip’s program had succeeded in unlocking the container. “Right on!” Clip exclaimed. He was always using expressions hundreds or more years out of style. “Let’s see what we have; I hope this one isn’t empty, too.” Last month they’d come across a smaller vault, but it had been empty.
Harmon stepped up and wedged his hands into the small opening the door had made when it disengaged the locks. There wasn’t enough power in the small cells Clip used to open it any further. He put his weight into it, and the door opened enough for them to get inside. Before they went in, Harmon placed a piece of pipe in the doorway so it couldn’t close and lock on them, baking them alive before anyone realized they were missing.
Daylight shone in through the doorway, and they both froze in place; the weapons vault was full. In it were two racks of rifles, stacked on top of each other. One held twenty magnetic kinetic rifles, and the other held some type of laser rifle. There was a rack of pistols of various types. There were three cases of flechette grenades and one of thermite. There were cases of ammunition and power clips for the rifles and pistols, and all the weapons looked to be in good shape, even if they were of a strange design and clearly not made in this system. Harmon couldn’t tell what system they had been made in, but he could tell what they were.
There were three upright containers on one side and three more against the back wall that looked like lockers. Five of the containers were not locked, so Clip opened them. The first three each held two sets of light battle armor that looked like it was designed for a humanoid race with four arms. The helmets looked like the ones Har
mon had worn at the academy, but they were a little long in the face. The next container held a heavy battle suit—one that could be sealed against vacuum. It was also designed for a being with four arms. All the armor showed signs of wear, with scuffed helmets. The fifth container held shelves with three sizes of power cells on them. The largest power cells—four of them—were big enough to run a mech.
Harmon tried to force the handle open on the last container, thinking it may have gotten stuck over time, but it was locked and all he did was hurt his hand. The vault seemed like it had been closed for years.
Clip laughed and said, “That won’t work. It’s not age or metal fatigue keeping the door closed. Look at this stuff. It may be old, but it has been sealed in for years. It’s all in great shape.”
“Well, work some of your tech magic then, ‘Puter Boy,” Harmon said, shaking out his hand.
Clip pulled out a small laser pen and went to work on the container. It took another ten minutes, but finally he was through to the locking mechanism. It didn’t take long after that to get it open.
Inside, there were two items—an eight-inch cube on a shelf that looked like a hard drive or a computer and the large power cell it was connected to. Harmon reached for it, but Clip grabbed his arm.
“Don’t! Let me check it before you move it. It’s hooked up to that power cell for a reason. I want to know why.”
