Relic Hunted (Crax War Chronicles #2)

by Terry W. Ervin II

  As it got closer, taking the spot where its thrall had stood, tiny electronic devices, faceted and intermingled with fiber optics adorned the harness, seemed to be functioning full speed. Being nearly crystal clear, they’d blended with the Umbelgarri’s glistening skin, now gray with waves of yellows and blues rippling from snout to tail. Irregular splotches of browns and pinks appeared and faded, temporarily mimicking the random patterns of a Dalmatian’s coat.

  A low frequency hum undulated from its throat. It could be felt more than heard. The physical sensation reminded me of the massive pipe organ in the church of my youth, but this subsonic emanation burrowed more deeply beneath the skin, but not quite to the bone.

  The Umbelgarri swayed its head from side-to-side, like it was changing the focus of its red eyes. Sizing me up. Rather than requiring me to watch and interpret its visual language, it decided that auditory was more appropriate. That choice allowed everyone else to follow along as well.

  “Security Specialist, Fourth Class, Krakista Keesay,” it said. The words were slow and measured while its deep voice sounded tinny, like emanating from a bucket at the bottom of a well. “Special Agent Krakista Keesay, now serving Humanity’s Intelligence Service in a parallel capacity.” Its tail, no longer dragged like a crocodile’s or a salamander’s, but remained parallel with the floor, swaying left and right, while the appendage’s last foot flicked faster, as if two puppeteers controlled it.

  “You’ve properly identified me,” I said after the Phib didn’t continue. “With whom am I speaking, if I may ask?”

  “We require your service. As a protector. As an advisor. As a companion.”

  Although I was sort of sure, I asked, “Who is ‘we?’”

  “The one that stands before you and all my kind. Known as Umbelgarri.” Its tail began flicking up and down at the tip. You prefer the term ‘Phibs.’”

  Phibs was said to be a derogatory term, one I occasionally used. Maybe it had some device aboard its shuttle that read my mind? Probably not, as it’d have anticipated my words and provided its thrall with answers to circumvent them. Still, that bit of information shared indicated he’d seen at least part of the Documentary, or at least some old recordings, as I tended not to utter the word after they’d assisted in my recovery. When annoyed, however, I did tend to both speak and think ‘Phib.’

  “To say that I prefer the term Phibs is inaccurate,” I said. The only reaction that earned was Vingee taking in a sharp breath. Thinking further, how the Umbelgarri standing before me had answered said something about Umbelgarri society. “Do you, the one standing before me, have a name?”

  Its tail continued swaying, but stopped flicking up and down at the tip, until it answered, “This one does.”

  “Would you share it?”

  “If you transfer your contract.”

  I replied, “The assigned duties, protector, advisor, companion are vague.”

  “We do not know the parameters, other than in the broadest terms.”

  The increasing accuracy in which the Umbelgarri communicated, its fluency and mimicry of human conversation and speech patterns…the translation device was doing it. If the one before me was a diplomat, it made sense he’d have the most effective model available.

  “I’m a Relic,” I said. “My gear is technologically inferior to what you and your Bahklack thralls have access to. I’ve gotten along well with the Chichers I’ve encountered, but have limited knowledge of their culture, politics, military tactics. As a human, more than a few would say I’m far from the mainstream, an outsider, an agitator, a loner, and not a reliable source on humanity’s norms. As a companion, I don’t have a lot of friends, and of those I have had, most are dead. Killed by the Crax or their allies.”

  I crossed my arms. “I wonder at your motivation. I question your choice.”

  “What’s he doing?” Vingee whispered, presumably into Guymin’s ear.

  He didn’t reply. The Umbelgarri did.

  “We believe in you, Krakista Keesay. We believe in your tenacity. In your daring. In your reliability.”

  Without realizing it my arms uncrossed. That response wasn’t what I expected.

  “You will not serve only beside the Umbelgarri before you. We will expect you to serve us as an emissary and as a soldier.”

  “Would I have autonomy, serve as a contracted employee and not as a thrall?” I couldn’t think of a proper term, so added, “Not along the lines of an indentured servant until my contract expires, and that when it does, I will be transported to a human settlement or colony of my choice?”

  “That is understood and will be done,” the Umbelgarri said, his tail no longer swaying or flicking, “if you choose to sever your service to us.” His head tipped slightly from side to side. “The Chicher have agreed to receive you serving with me in my capacity as diplomat to the Chicher. Their representative has insisted that you be allowed a human companion during your service.”

  That was what I was waiting for. An opening to make my play. “In lieu of a companion, and as part of my agreeing to contract with the Umbelgarri, I ask that you use your influence to ensure that Marguerite Corvelzchik lands on her feet, with a contract suitable to her talents with a stable corporation or government organization.”

  Other than her full name and former position as a CEO, I’d never been able to research anything about her background, skills or why she’d been taken captive, other than for Heartwell’s torturous experimentation. The thought of him caused me to grit my teeth. I motioned with my hand, signaling additional requirements. “I ask that the Umbelgarri use their influence to have Fleet name a warship after my deceased friend, Kent O’Vorley.”

  I looked over my shoulder, making eye contact with Guymin and Vingee. He nodded once. She continued to stand straight, but her eyes widened.

  “Finally,” I said, once again facing the Umbelgarri diplomat, “I ask that the Umbelgarri employ your advanced technology to undo the genetic damage inflicted upon Administrative Specialist Janice Tahgs.”

  From behind, a distressed cry, “No!” caught everyone’s attention. I recognized the voice and turned to see Janice running down the military shuttle’s ramp. She dropped my shotgun and shrugged a belt holster from her shoulder. It held my single-action revolver. “Agent Guymin promised. He promised I could go with you!”

  Chapter 53

  “Leave it to you, Keesay.” McAllister shook her head in amusement. The video link was detailed enough to count her freckles, if I wanted to. “You broke her heart. At the same time, you offered her hope.”

  I packed my few belongings and supplemented that with gear scrounged from what the Ashkelon’s crew abandoned after surrendering. I even found two decks of cards. Useful for, if nothing else, many games of solitaire.

  Through the communication screen, I observed McAllister leaning back. “I’d ask you to pick up any programming tips from the Umbelgarri, but…” She grinned broadly.

  “Maybe I’ll have the Umbelgarri diplomat show me a few nifty chess strategies.”

  “Good luck with that,” she said, and leaned close, her face filling the screen. “Guymin told me they’re planning to rename one of the captured armed freighters after O’Vorley.”

  “He deserves better than that.”

  “Rare as it may be, I agree with you.” She shrugged. “Your first two requests, they didn’t cost the Umbelgarri anything. The last…shrewd, Keesay.”

  It was my turn to shrug. “Thanks, I know. Only way she wouldn’t be shoved aside.”

  “Remember that old revolver you gave me, to give to Tahgs if I ever got the chance?”

  I nodded. I gave it to McAllister just before leaving the subterranean Umbelgarri breeding ground on Tallavaster. Before I went out, figuring on dying. “My backup .38 I used to keep in an ankle holster.”

  “It’s in storage,” McAllister said. “I’ll have it sent to Tahgs once she reaches Io.”

  That the Senior Engineer bothered to keep it suggested a
measure of respect for me. “You think that’ll be a good idea?”

  McAllister nodded. “If you ask me, she’ll get over you not long after she arrives. But my opinion of you isn’t exactly high and may be skewing my analysis.”

  “You kept the .38,” I said, teasing.

  She changed the subject. “I know you won’t pass up any opportunities to kill a few Crax, Keesay. But when you do, make it painful. For me…and for Anatol.”

  The name brought up mixed feelings. Her lover had been my shipboard enemy. He died defending her from Crax boarding the Kalavar. I arrived too late to save him but in time to help her bring down the Crax and Stegmars around them. McAllister and I weren’t exactly friends. I’d killed her fiancé during the Colonization Riots and, despite all we’d been through, a friendship between us wasn’t in the cards. But we’d come a long way. If it weren’t for the war, maybe Anatol Gudkov and I would’ve buried the hatchet, at least up to a point, too.

  “I’ll be sure to, McAllister, if you promise to do the same on your end.”

  “That you can be sure of,” she said, leaning closer, preparing to end the signal. “Out.”

  With that, I deactivated the communication screen.

  I’d already said my goodbyes to Simms by communication relay, and Guymin and Vingee in person. I asked Vingee to relay my thoughts and well-wishes to Marguerite, since I couldn’t find and connect with her.

  I was wearing a collared, loose-fitting set of gray-green coveralls. They were military quality, able to resist blades, bullets and lasers. Only moderate protection against Stegmar needles and Crax acid, but maybe the A-Tech Phibs could come up with something to cover that. I had my shotgun and bayonet, revolver, and MP pistol, one that McAllister sent over and said O’Vorley had carried and used. Of everyone, he’d’ve been my choice to join me during my service with the Umbelgarri. He’d been a true friend.

  Pulling my cart filled with gear, after double checking to see if the two decks of cards were safely stowed, I made my way toward the Ashkelon’s primary bay where the Umbelgarri shuttle waited.

  Down the corridor, near the elevator, stood Janice Tahgs. Her eyes were red and swollen. She used a handkerchief to wipe the tears from her wrinkled cheeks.

  A few steps before I made it to her, she held up the white handkerchief. “Remember the one you gave me, the one you used to plug the wound in my back? When you rescued me on the Mavinrom Dock?”

  I nodded.

  She half laughed, half sobbed. “Well, this isn’t it. It was lost on Tallavaster, after I was taken prisoner by Capital Galactic, and Heartwell. But I didn’t forget it. You saved me then, and you saved me on the Kalavar, even when I doubted you—when I…turned away from you. And you came for me out here anyway. I won’t forget it.”

  I opened my arms and we hugged, despite my gear and slung shotgun.

  “I’ll wait for you, Kra. Because of you, I’ll look young again.”

  It wasn’t a guarantee that the Umbelgarri would be able to undo what Capital Galactic had done. No need to mention that. They had Heartwell’s files on genetic manipulations, many of them stolen from the Celestial Unicorn Palace, so the odds of success were high.

  “Ten years is a long time, Janice.” I held her at arm’s length. “Don’t romanticize me. I’m not very likable. Hard to get along with. Ask McAllister.”

  That brought forth a laugh, although Janice tried to hold it back. Then she let it out and we hugged again. “Why would anyone ask her, Kra? She’s even harder to get along with than you.”

  Whatever Janice said, ten years was a long time, an eternity in time of war. I wasn’t going to hold my breath, believing she’d wait. Odds were I wouldn’t survive anyway.

  I held her at arm’s length again. “Seriously, a decade is an eternity. Don’t wait for me.” My face turned serious. “There’s a good chance I won’t survive the war. A war that we’re losing. Don’t wait.”

  Janice sighed. “Agent Guymin said I could send messages to him and he could get them to you. You could reply back to me through him.” She shrugged. “I think it’ll work.” She looked away, staring at the floor, pursing her lips and pulling them to the right. “Oh, and Agent Guymin said there’d be a surprise on the Phib—” She winked when she said it. “—Umbelgarri shuttle.”

  A sparkle of mischief flashed in her purple eyes. “Close your eyes,” she said.

  I tipped my head and looked at her with suspicion.

  “Do it.”

  I complied, and felt her move close.

  “Imagine me as I was,” she said, and kissed me.

  I pulled off my com-set’s mic and head gear, and returned the kiss. After a moment, we separated.

  “Did you imagine,” she asked?

  I nodded with a smile, saying, “I did, Janice.”

  “Keep that memory, Kra. When you return, I’ll be that way again.”

  The End

  If you enjoyed Terry W. Ervin II’s Crax War Chronicles, try his First Civilization’s Legacy series, beginning with Book one, Flank Hawk.

  Books by Terry W. Ervin II

  Crax War Chronicles

  Relic Tech

  Relic Hunted

  First Civilization’s Legacy

  Flank Hawk

  Blood Sword

  Soul Forge

  Collections

  Genre Shotgun

  About the Author

  Terry W. Ervin II is an English teacher who enjoys writing Fantasy and Science Fiction. He is the author of the Crax War Chronicles, the First Civilization’s Legacy Series, and Genre Shotgun, a collection of his previously published short stories.

  When Terry isn’t writing or enjoying time with his wife and daughters, he can be found in his basement raising turtles. To contact Terry, or to learn more about his writing endeavors, visit his website at www.ervin-author.com or his blog, Up Around the Corner.