Enforcer

by Kevin Ikenberry

  He stepped up to his flightcycle and stood there admiring the sleek, metallic-black bodywork. The vehicle had been a gift from his mother for his 23rd birthday, only two years prior. Its body was very much like a ground-based sportcycle, aerodynamic and made of lightweight carbon fiber, but where a sportcycle ran around on two wheels, a flightcycle had four high-output rotary fans, two fore and two aft. When parked, the fans folded in, lining up with the body. In flight, however, they would scissor out, with two spread out wide in front and two set closer together in the rear. Each fan could rotate on its axis, allowing for VTOL and high-speed acceleration as needed. His cycle, considered top-of-the-line, was easily capable of upwards of 400 kph and could reach altitudes of nearly 4,000 meters. Flight licenses to operate the thing were expensive and hard to get on most metropolitan worlds, but his mother’s contacts had made it a small matter for her. It was the one area where he’d had no difficulty taking advantage of her wealth and generosity. There was nothing like cruising over cities, rolling hills, and mountainscapes while just about everyone else had to roll around on the ground.

  He opened the boot at the front of the cycle, and, in moments, he had slipped on his flight jacket, HUD goggles, and atmospheric helmet. He just wanted to get back to the barracks and start packing up his gear for the journey home. He swung a leg over the saddle and settled onto the machine, nestling his knees and chest into the curvature of the bodywork that had been custom-shaped specifically for him.

  He hit the ignition and felt the powerplant thrum beneath him. The sensation made him smile. There was little he enjoyed more than rocketing across the sky on the thing. Just as he engaged the rotors and began to throttle up with a growing whine of power, the comm buzzed in his ear. The number displayed on his HUD was not one he recognized. For a moment, he wondered if it was one of Rsach’s buddies, calling him to give him shit. A flick of his eyes toward the HUD of his goggles activated the comm, and he released the throttle, feeling the turbines ease back into a gentle hum.

  “This is Hr’ent.”

  “Peacemaker Hr’ent,” a reedy voice said somewhat formally. “This is Deputy Selector Hak-Chet. Perhaps you remember me? We met briefly when you first joined the Academy.”

  Hr’ent scratched through his memories and seemed to recall a dark-eyed Sidar at a welcome reception for the new cadets. Hadn’t he been at the graduation ceremony? But why would a Deputy Selector be contacting him? What could he possibly want?

  “The Sidar from the welcome reception, right?” Hr’ent said cautiously. The memory was vague, but it was hard to forget Hak-Chet’s eyes. They seemed to take in everything, always calculating what might happen next.

  “Yes,” Hak-Chet said. “Excellent memory, by the way.”

  “It helped get me through the Academy.”

  “I’m sure it did. Look, I’d like to meet with you—immediately if it’s at all convenient—to discuss a very important matter.”

  Hr’ent let a frustrated breath escape his lips and then immediately regretted it. Was he in trouble? Had Rsach spun some story and thrown Hr’ent under a tank? Maybe it was about a mission. The guild certainly knew what he’d accomplished with the Pushtal, so maybe something had come up with the Fangmaster. And here he was debating whether or not he should resign his commission. It occurred to him that if he knew his missions would all be like that one, he’d have little difficulty sticking with the Peacemakers. But the reality was they were mostly just paper-pushing drug-busters.

  What should I tell him?

  “Peacemaker Hr’ent?” Hak-Chet asked. “Are you still there?”

  Hr’ent hastily cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Deputy Selector. Sorry. I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

  “I have no doubt, and call me Hak.”

  Hr’ent didn’t know what to make of that.

  “Listen, Hak,” he said a bit uneasily. The familiarity of using the first half of a Deputy Selector’s name made him feel a little awkward. “I don’t know what you might be after, but in all honestly, I’m not sure I’m going to remain a Peacemaker for very long. I’ve been having some…personal…hell, I don’t even know what to call it.”

  “The word you want is doubts…and I know.”

  “I’m sorry…what?” Hr’ent felt an edge slip into his tone.

  “I said, I know,” Hak-Chet repeated, completely unabashed.

  Hr’ent was stunned. There was no reason a Deputy Selector should care what happened to a lone Oogar in the Peacemaker ranks, let alone make himself aware of Hr’ent’s personal problems.

  “Peacemaker Hr’ent…” Hak-Chet said slowly, his voice soothing, and then he paused and took a deep breath. “Look,” he said, sounding more like a caring friend than a superior officer, “as long as we’re being honest with one another, I have to tell you that I’ve had my eye on you for some time, and I probably know more about you and your personal life than you would be comfortable with.”

  “Excuse me?” Hr’ent felt a surge of anger. The idea that the Deputy Selector had been spying on him was somewhat of an affront to protocol, regardless of his rank in the guild. Hr’ent hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason for anyone to spy on him.

  “I’ll apologize for the breach of protocol, but only in person,” Hak-Chet said firmly. “I will tell you right now that everything I’ve done was completely necessary.”

  Hr’ent sat there fuming for a moment. He was tempted to break the link, head for the Peacemaker HQ, and turn in his resignation.

  “If you resign now”—Hak-Chet’s voice was calm, almost friendly—“you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  How could he know? Hr’ent wondered.

  “I’m only asking for one face-to-face conversation. If, at the end of that, you still want to throw away three years of Academy training, I won’t—can’t—stop you. Do we have a deal?”

  Hr’ent had to admit his curiosity was piqued. He could not fathom what someone like Hak-Chet would want with him. It probably did have something to do with the conversation with Rsach. If that was the case, then so be it.

  “Fine,” Hr’ent said brusquely. “One conversation.”

  “Excellent.” Hak-Chet sounded pleased and very self-assured, as if there was no doubt Hr’ent would meet him. “Now get off that crotch rocket of yours and come back down to the ground level. Meet me in the Hall of Heroes.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  Ocono

  Peacemaker Academy

  Hr’ent entered the building, his flight jacket unzipped and his helmet hooked onto his belt opposite the PK-40. He lifted the goggles and set them on his forehead. After crossing the cavernous 30-meter expanse of the Academy building’s lobby, he turned right down a side hallway lined with ocean-blue carpet. In the center, a deep blue obelisk rose above a pool of still water. Lights at the edge of the pool illuminated the crystal monument in an ethereal glow. Towering more than four meters high, the obelisk rose above the hallway’s ceiling into a specially built dome. Hr’ent saw the night sky through the dome and chastised himself for having never visited the Hall of Heroes after dark. The beauty of the monument to the First Peacemaker was inspiring, and the import and history of that sacred place filled him with awe.

  Beyond the monument, the hall spread out like a museum. The walls were lined with badges and holos of Peacemakers long dead. At the end of the hallway, his way was blocked by a pair of heavy double doors made of some dark red wood he didn’t recognize. As he moved toward them, he spotted one holo that made him pause.

  The image was of a lone GenSha Peacemaker in his prime, with a deep yellow coat of fur and forest green stripes, illuminated in the light of a bright yellow sun. He stood on a pile of bodies that appeared to be Lumar mercenaries in heavy combat armor. The Peacemaker was hefting an old, belt-fed slug-thrower in both arms that he must have torn off a vehicle before putting it to good use against the unfortunate Lumar mercs.

  Hr’ent rec
ognized the GenSha immediately, despite the many years that must have passed. It was a picture of the GenSha who had nodded to him in the auditorium. Beneath the picture was the Triple-A award for Combat and a date nearly 30 years in the past.

  Hr’ent smiled once, nodding his respect to the now-aged warrior, and then stepped up to the red doors. He took one deep breath to calm his nerves and pushed them open with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary. Both doors slammed open, exposing a wide circular area beyond. Hr’ent strode through confidently.

  The center was dimly lit, with a ring of cases full of holos, weapons, and memorabilia of the greatest Peacemakers to have graduated from Ocono. He’d only been in the hall once before, during the standard tour given to all new cadets. He had to admit, standing there amid all that history gave him a sense of awe and now, having joined their ranks, a deep sense of pride.

  Hak-Chet picked this place on purpose, Hr’ent thought. The Deputy Selector was tricky, and Hr’ent vowed to keep an eye on a Selector who was obviously a subtle manipulator. He would never be able to let his guard down with the Sidar.

  Hak-Chet stood at the far end of the circular room, staring up at the life-size holo of an armed and armored Besquith holding an auto-canon in one paw and a Silver Blade in the other. His head was lowered, and he appeared to be ready to fly into combat at the slightest provocation.

  Hr’ent strode up beside Hak-Chet and waited.

  The Deputy Selector didn’t acknowledge Hr’ent’s presence. He simply stared forward and appeared to be taking in every detail of the fearsome figure that towered above him but only came up to Hr’ent’s shoulder. The Besquith wore the vest of a Peacemaker, although it was an ancient design, and his badge was a standard shield not seen for hundreds of years. There was something odd about the badge, though. Along its bottom was a thin, black bar with three symbols on it, each at the center of a red circle. An eye, a scale, and a hammer were all joined by a straight line through the middle.

  “Do you know who this is?” Hak-Chet said without turning his head.

  “No,” Hr’ent said. “Should I?”

  “Not especially,” Hak-Chet replied. “There haven’t been many of his like over the centuries, and even today, there’s only a small group of them actively working throughout the galaxy.”

  “Who is he?” Hr’ent asked.

  “Kulmar sin’Bariat.” The name meant nothing to Hr’ent. “He was the very first Enforcer,” Hak-Chet added.

  Hr’ent had heard of the Enforcers, but they were a subject not openly talked about in the Academy. Their missions were generally secret. All he really knew about them was that they were the Peacemakers brought into a situation when other Peacemakers couldn’t get the job done.

  “You’ve seen signs that say, ‘In case of emergency, break glass,’ yes?” Hak-Chet asked.

  “Of course I have.”

  “Well, when the Peacemakers need to break glass, an Enforcer is what we loose on those who have begged for it. The Enforcers are a last resort…a nuclear option when conventional explosives won’t do.”

  “Look, Hak,” Hr’ent said impatiently, “This is all very interesting, but what am I doing here? If this is about what happened on the stage, you can pretty much shove that up your ass.”

  Hak-Chet’s head snapped around, and he eyed Hr’ent with a surprised look on his face. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were calculating just the right response.

  “This has nothing to do with that,” Hak-Chet said slowly. “Although, I was impressed with your anger and your restraint. You were spot on with what you told Rsach about his ego and his abuse of power.”

  It surprised Hr’ent that the Deputy Selector had been listening. There was probably a surveillance device on stage that let him hear everything.

  “What is all this about?” Hr’ent asked. He felt his anger easing into genuine curiosity.

  “Do you know that Enforcers can pretty much do whatever they want in the pursuit of their mission?”

  “Are you saying they’re outside the law?” Hr’ent asked. “Above it?”

  “Not exactly,” Hak-Chet said carefully. “Enforcers are definitely not above the law, at least not in the way I think you mean. If they break the rules, we send another Enforcer to attend to it. Enforcers are entrusted with a singular duty that literally makes their word—and their actions—law. They are tasked with being judge, jury, and, yes, sometimes executioner. They do so outside normal channels and without direct oversight by the guild. Their missions require on-the-spot judgment calls and taking matters into their own hands, but they still have to bring back the evidence.” Hak-Chet sighed. “It is a terrible responsibility, and it takes a very precise set of personality traits as well as enormous physical prowess for an Enforcer to be successful.”

  “So, what the fuck does that have to do with me?” He was starting to feel like Hak-Chet had brought him there to shame him, show him what Peacemakers were supposed to be, and then point out that he had failed, just like Rsach.

  Hak-Chat raised an amused eyebrow. “You may regret being so rude when you hear what I have to say.”

  Hr’ent took a deep breath. He was letting his anger get the better of him, and it was exactly the wrong time for that. He sucked in another deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Let me try that again,” he finally said. “What might all this have to do with me?” he asked earnestly.

  “Nobility, strength, and rage,” Hak-Chet said.

  “What?” The answer didn’t make any sense.

  “I believe you have everything required to become, perhaps, the greatest Enforcer the Peacemakers have ever seen…with a little help from us.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Hr’ent blurted.

  “I’m deadly serious. As I told you, I’ve been watching you for a long time. And a big part of my selection begins with who your father was.”

  “My father?” Hr’ent felt his ire rise. The subject was a sore spot. “How could you know anything about my father? I don’t even know who he was.”

  “It doesn’t matter who he was,” Hak-Chet said, locking eyes with Hr’ent. “What matters is what he was.”

  Hr’ent gave the Deputy Selector a dubious look.

  “So, what was he?”

  Hak-Chet paused, and his body tensed ever so slightly, as if he were preparing for a violent reaction.

  “Your father was a Feral, which means you inherited his DNA and everything that goes along with it.”

  Hr’ent went still. He’d always suspected it. He was taller than most Oogar, stronger, too. And his temper had always been a problem, just as if he’d been raised with the Feral clans that lived in the restricted forests around the cities of his homeworld. Some of his teachers had called him Feral when he got unruly as a cub, but never had he realized that it was a true genetic result.

  Gods.

  “Fierce, brutal, and indomitable,” Hak-Chet said. “That’s what you carry within your genes. That’s exactly what I’m after.”

  Hr’ent didn’t want to talk about that. The idea sent his head spinning, but it did explain a good deal about the more reactionary facets of his personality. The Ferals, who had refused to join civilized society on Uuwato, were mostly ostracized on his world, and he couldn’t imagine what his mother had been doing mating with one.

  Why didn’t you tell me, Mamma?

  “But that’s only half of it. When I heard you on stage dressing down Rsach for his abysmal behavior, I knew you were the right candidate for the next phase of Enforcer capability.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hr’ent asked. He suspected he knew what Hak-Chet was after, but he couldn’t believe it.

  “I want you to not only become an Enforcer, I want you to become the first of a new breed of them, genetically enhanced and more capable than any of your predecessors.”

  Hr’ent was floored.

  Me? An Enforcer? The idea was ludicrous and terrifying.

  “You are the best�
�the only—candidate for what I’m trying to achieve with the new program.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Hr’ent growled. “Here I am, trying to figure out if I even want to be a Peacemaker, and you’re talking about making me some sort of super soldier? Judge, jury, and executioner? It’s madness!”

  “There’s more to it than just being an Enforcer,” Hak-Chet said. “I know the pay of a Peacemaker is a sore spot with you, your mother, and your friends.”

  Hr’ent’s lip curled up, and he couldn’t keep the trembling growl from thundering in his throat.

  “I don’t think I like your knowing so much about me,” he said warily. “You best be careful with what comes out of your mouth next, Deputy Selector or not.”

  “Fair enough,” Hak-Chet said easily. “I won’t push.”

  “It feels like you just want to exploit my genetics and drop me into the meat grinder of your choice.”

  “I won’t lie to you,” Hak-Chet said evenly. “The Enforcers get the toughest missions, and they frequently meet messy ends. But I know in my hearts that you were meant for this. I’m playing the long game…one that spans decades, even past my own demise. Unlike the High Council, I happen to agree with your course of action in dealing with the Pushtal. Frankly, it was a breath of fresh air.”

  Hr’ent blew out a slow breath carried on a grumbling growl.

  “I just don’t care, Hak. You have your problems, and I have mine.” He eyed the small Sidar and came to a decision. “You know what?” he asked with a good deal of venom. “I think we’re about done here. I’m not prepared to be a Peacemaker, so I’m sure as the Five Elementals that I’m not ready to be an Enforcer.” He unclipped the helmet from his belt and tucked it under his arm. “It’s time for me to go, Deputy Selector,” he said. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped out, his emotions roiling once again.