Enforcer

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “Indeed, I do,” Hr’ent said, with a good deal of sarcasm. “I didn’t get it all out of my system raising glasses with those Besquith mercs on the transit out of Ocono. I’m sure I’ll be able to keep up with the likes of you three.”

  Kor’shi chuckled as a grin split his face.

  “Right, Peacemaker. We’ll just have to see about that.” And then they were gone.

  Hr’ent turned to Raw’wna.

  “I know you’re friends and all,” he said, “but he can be an ass.”

  Raw’wna sighed, but with an excusing smile.

  “You’re not wrong, but I’ve gotten used to him over the years.” He eyed the door where the three young Oogar had gone. “He’s actually not as bad as he sometimes acts.”

  “If you say so,” Hr’ent said. He looked around the crowd to see if there was anyone he knew personally, rather than through his mother.

  There was a long pause, and then Raw’wna put a paw on Hr’ent’s arm.

  “Listen, Hr’ent, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  It was his friend’s tone that caught Hr’ent’s ear. There was an urgency to it, and even worry.

  “What is it?” Hr’ent asked, concerned.

  “Hr’ent!” a jovial, deep voice called from a few feet away.

  Hr’ent turned toward the voice, but not before he saw a disappointed look on Raw’wna’s face. He found himself facing the governor and the SLPC Chief, standing on either side of his mother, arm-in-arm. His mother was beaming, and both officials had proud expressions on their faces. Hr’ent tried to hide his frustration at what he knew was about to happen.

  “Governor Chu’mir,” Hr’ent said politely with a bow of his head. “Constable Phoar’sha,” he added, bowing again. “I see you’ve managed to entangle my mother, about which I’m sure she is very pleased.”

  “Delighted,” she purred.

  The governor stepped forward and placed his paw on Hr’ent’s shoulder, as if they were old friends. They gave a polite sniff, and then he pulled away.

  “Peacemaker Hr’ent, if I could intrude in your conversation for a bit, I’d like to make a formal announcement to all of the guests.” The governor’s face was imploring.

  “Please,” the constable said with a smile, “come join us.” He turned to Raw’wna. “Our apologies, but we wanted to take the opportunity to celebrate this fine, young Oogar’s success.”

  “Of course, Constable,” Raw’wna said, managing to mostly cover his disappointment, but Hr’ent caught it. “He’s the reason we’re here, and he more than deserves the accolades.”

  The constable bowed his head.

  “Look, Hr’ent,” Raw’wna said in a low voice. “I’ll send you the address. Come on by whenever you can.”

  “I’ll see you there,” Hr’ent replied, searching his friend’s eyes. “It won’t be long. Just as soon as I can pull myself away from…this.”

  “Right,” Raw’wna said. There was something in the way he said it that made it clear he was deeply troubled, but Hr’ent would have to wait to find out what the problem was.

  Hr’ent felt a pull on his arm as the governor guided him up the stairs.

  “If everyone could come to the base of the stairs,” the constable shouted over the din of the party, “the governor would like a few moments of your time.”

  Hr’ent let himself be led up five steps so everyone could see and hear them. The governor turned him gently to face the guests who were quickly gathering below. The constable joined them, taking a step behind and to the left of the governor, and Hr’ent’s mother joined him on the right. As everyone drew in, most with a drink in their hand, Hr’ent saw Raw’wna move to the back door. His friend turned and cast a somber look in his direction. Raw’wna nodded once and then was gone.

  “My fellow Oogar,” the governor started, using a well-practiced speech voice, “we have all gathered here tonight to celebrate something very special…something that hasn’t happened for nearly 60 years.” He motioned toward Hr’ent. “One of our sons has achieved something only six other Oogar have accomplished in the entire history of the Galactic Union. I stand here before you, overwhelmed with a sense of pride not only for him but for our entire race.” He paused, and the guests below slapped their thighs in applause. Hr’ent heard someone coming down the stairs behind him. He turned his head and saw a young, slick-looking Oogar female approaching with a slim, burgundy box in her hands. The constable reached out for the box as the governor held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “My friends,” he continued, “please grant me the honor of introducing to you Peacemaker Hr’ent Golramm, who I am told missed becoming the class valedictorian by only a hair’s breadth.” The guests applauded once again, more fiercely this time, and there were even a few hearty HUFFs from some of the males, an almost barking sound his people used as a sign of respect reserved for heroes and the victorious returning from combat.

  As the constable opened the box, Hr’ent stared out at the faces of his mother’s friends. There were a few younger Oogar he recognized from when he’d gone to school, and he even remembered a few of their names, but for the most part, it was a sea of strangers. And they’d gathered to celebrate his success. A mixture of shame and embarrassment washed over him. He still didn’t know if he was staying in the Peacemakers, and if he left, what would these people think of him? He would be letting them all down…letting the entirety of the Oogar race down, now that he thought about it. He did his best to keep his face immobile. The last thing he wanted was to give any the idea that he wasn’t happy and proud to be standing before them.

  The governor stepped forward half a pace and held out his hand, and the constable placed a medal in it.

  “It is with sincere pleasure and pride that I get to present to Peacemaker Hr’ent the Silver Claw.”

  Hr’ent gasped, and a stunned look filled his features. The Silver Claw was only given to the greatest of his people, those who had served the Oogar race in some remarkable fashion. He’d watched holos of military heroes, renowned mercenaries, and even a handful of legislators presented with his people’s highest award.

  There were several flashes from the back of the room as a half-dozen Oogar took pictures of the moment.

  As the applause of the guests thundered in the room, and the HUFFs rose above it, the governor turned and faced Hr’ent, his aging eyes full of pride.

  “Son,” the governor said quietly, “all politicking aside, I want you to know that I and the rest of your people are immeasurably proud of what you’ve accomplished.” He pinned the burgundy and silver medallion to Hr’ent’s shirt, and there were more flashes from cameras. “I know you’ll make us proud.”

  Hr’ent was speechless, and another wave of shame tangled his insides. His mouth went dry, and all he could do was stand there and stare into the governor’s eyes.

  “Thank you, sir,” Hr’ent finally managed. He glanced down at the gleaming silver claw at the end of the crimson ribbon. His eyes flicked over to where his mother stood, and for just a moment, he saw a flash of concern, even sympathy, in her eyes.

  The governor turned and faced the guests.

  “HUFF!” he barked once, fiercely.

  “HUFF!” the guests returned with enthusiasm.

  “HUFF!” It was the governor and the constable this time, and they belted it out as if Hr’ent had singlehandedly saved the entire Oogar race.

  “HUFF!” the guests replied in unison.

  The governor held up his hands. The applause and HUFFing slowly abated.

  “Thank you, everyone,” he finally said once the adulation died down. He glanced at Hr’ent. “Now, young Peacemaker, would you indulge this assembly with an opportunity to thank and congratulate you?”

  He glanced at his mother once again for only a moment, doing his best not to show his embarrassment, and then returned his eyes to the governor.

  “Of course, sir,” he said. “It would be my privilege.”

  “Then step on down
there and let them offer you their praise, Son,” the governor said, motioning for Hr’ent to step down to the landing.

  Hr’ent nodded once and moved down to the floor.

  When he was in position, the guests began to line up. One by one they placed their paws on his shoulder, congratulated him, and sniffed briefly in an honorific greeting.

  He replied in kind, and with every guest, he felt even more terrible. It took all of his control, but he made sure to put on a good face. It took almost an hour for the guests to offer their congratulations, and when they were done—having dispersed back to their small groups scattered around the ground floor—Hr’ent felt exhausted and even more depressed than when he’d arrived.

  He found himself standing at the base of the stairs with his mother approaching from the side. He turned to her and once again searched her eyes. It had been a wonderful and a terrible surprise. He knew he should be bubbling over with pride at receiving the Silver Claw, but the weight of it dragged on him. Her eyes drifted down to the medal and then back up.

  “I know that was hard,” she offered. “You should be proud, you know.” She paused, her head tilting just a fraction to the right. “Maybe this will help you make your decision,” she suggested, hope in her eyes. For the first time since he’d mentioned joining the Peacemakers, Hr’ent saw a glimmer of hope in her features, as if she had suddenly reversed her opinion of the Peacemaker Guild as a path for her son.

  “Mother,” Hr’ent said, doing his best not to let his emotions show. He placed his paw on her shoulder. “I have to go. I…I can’t be here anymore…It’s just too much right now.”

  She nodded.

  “I understand, but I don’t like it,” she said, a weak smile curling her lips. “This was all for you, and I know you’re just going to go see your friends.”

  “It’s not just that,” he replied with a long exhale, “but that’s part of it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I just discovered that I hate ceremonies like this, especially when they’re in my honor.”

  She gave a slight nod, and the smile disappeared.

  “I understand.” She squeezed his hand. “Be safe,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “I know you’ll figure everything out, and I promise to leave you alone as much as you need while you’re here.”

  “Thanks,” Hr’ent said with a half smile. “Don’t wait up for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  She nodded as he released her shoulder.

  “I won’t,” she assured him.

  He wrapped his arms around her and sniffed deeply. Her scent brought back recollections of growing up, from poor cub to anointed Peacemaker, and it left him feeling more confused than ever.

  He released her and made his way through the clusters of guests to the back door. Grabbing his rucksack, he stepped through the open doorway and cast one long glance back at his mother. She stood there, staring at him, worry filling her features.

  He smiled and then turned. He moved down the steps slowly, as if his feet were made of clay, and walked over to his flightcycle. He opened the boot and pulled out his jacket, goggles, and helmet, and threw the rucksack inside. As he slipped the jacket on, it hooked on the Silver Claw. Hr’ent sighed and carefully pulled the medal off his shirt. Slipping it into an inner jacket pocket, he reached for his slate and checked his messages. There was a long list of congratulations, some from the guests, some from old friends, and even a few from the teachers at the secondary school he’d attended. Near the end, he found the one he was looking for.

  The message from Raw’wna was mixed in with the others, and in it he found the address. He thumbed the power on his flightcycle and shot the address from his slate into the flightcycle’s navicomp. He took one deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he sealed his jacket, slipped the goggles and helmet over his head, and fired up the flightcycle.

  Casting one last look at his mother’s house, he shook his head and gunned the turbines. The bike lifted off with a lurch and shot into the air. He rose quickly to about 500 meters and then gunned the throttle, rocketing off toward a very different party and Raw’wna’s unspoken concerns.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Uuwato

  Capital City-State of Saasarra

  Hr’ent shut the vehicle down, locking it with his personal code, then tossed his helmet and goggles into the boot. He’d landed as gently as he could on the lawn near the street. Turning, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to still them. He hoped Raw’wna was inside. He desperately wanted to know what was troubling his friend.

  Kor’shi’s home lay in an affluent part of town not far from the Peacemaker barracks in Gunduun. It wasn’t as large or opulent as his mother’s home, but it didn’t take a genius to comprehend that Kor’shi—and the other mercs—earned more credits than Hr’ent had ever thought possible. He did find the allure of it tempting. With that kind of money, he could be very comfortable and stop taking his mother’s gifts.

  A couple dozen ground cars and cycles filled the long driveway and lined the street. He heard the steady rhythm of modern industrial music popular with his generation, and he spotted a group of young Oogar standing outside the front doors of the home, raising bottles and laughing. They’d watched him come in for a landing, and one of them had called into the house, but they all turned back to their conversation as he cut the power. Flightcycles weren’t common, but they weren’t rare enough to cause any sort of stir.

  Hr’ent took a deep breath and strode up the walkway. He nodded to the group in front of the door, not recognizing any of them, and passed through as they parted. The front door stood open, so he walked straight in and felt the group close in behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that most of them were looking straight at him, but they turned away when he looked.

  The music was loud, but not enough to prevent conversation. The entryway opened up onto a large living space that dropped down several steps into a glade-like area. Live greenery, including small shrubs, trees, and wide patches of moss and wildflowers, was everywhere. Creeping vines covered much of the walls, and there was a small waterfall off to one side that fed a rivulet crossing the main floor. On the far side, the glade rose up along tiers of natural stone that ended at a large sitting area and several arched doorways leading deeper into the house.

  The furniture had been arranged to allow for small clusters of conversation, with several sets of natural furniture nestled among the greenery, and the guests had taken advantage of the layout. There had to be 30 Oogar gathered in the main area, and as Hr’ent scanned the guests, he stopped. His breath caught in his throat, and a shock of jealousy and pain surged through him.

  On the near side of the rivulet—talking to Kor’shi, Su’mar, and Fen’wyn—stood his friend Raw’wna with his back to Hr’ent. Hr’ent would recognize his old friend from any angle, but in that searing instant, the word friend no longer applied. Raw’wna’s arm was affectionately draped around Tyl’sharn, Hr’ent’s old pre-mate. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, with pale purple fur, gleaming blue eyes, and a figure that still set his senses tingling, but the sight of her with Raw’wna awoke a profound feeling of betrayal.

  She caught him out of the corner of her eye, did a double-take, then turned her head to face him fully. A mocking smile crept into her gaze, and her look was like a blade in Hr’ent’s heart. Here he’d hoped to rekindle something with her, give himself a reason to stay on Uuwato and choose another path, but the truth was perfectly clear now.

  It suddenly occurred to him what Raw’wna had wanted to tell him back at his mother’s mansion. And he wished he had. It would have made this a lot easier.

  Anger blossomed in Hr’ent’s heart, pushing aside the longing, jealousy, and betrayal. He moved down the steps with heavy footfalls, clenching a fist as Tyl’sharn leaned into Raw’wna seductively. Her eyes never left Hr’ent’s, and he could tell she was trying to get a rise out of him, as if she deliberately wanted to provoke hi
m. He came to a strange realization. As he looked at her, a storm of emotions clutching his insides, his Peacemaker training kicked in. The curl of her smile, the tilt of her head, her posture as she leaned against Raw’wna…he found himself calculating the details, and something seemed imperceptibly off—almost as if he were watching a holo-drama. Was he imagining it? Were his emotions skewing his thinking? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something just a hair’s breadth out of place. Of course, when she nuzzled Raw’wna’s neck and whispered something in his ear, the jealousy hit Hr’ent like an anvil and pushed his Peacemaker training aside like dry leaves in wind.

  Raw’wna stiffened, then turned, keeping his arm around Tyl’sharn. As he did, Hr’ent locked eyes with his friend, and there could be no mistaking the anger, the betrayal, burning in the Peacemaker’s eyes. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of something in Raw’wna’s eyes. Was it doubt? Guilt? It disappeared, leaving Hr’ent wondering if he’d seen it at all. He stopped only a few paces from Raw’wna, his breathing slow and heavy. He was doing his best to remain calm, but everything he’d been trying to come to terms with for the past few months was coming to a head. He could feel it, feel the anger burning and growing.

  Hr’ent’s gaze shifted to Kor’shi, who stood there smirking. Su’mar stifled a laugh and then sobered when Hr’ent glared at him. Hr’ent turned his eyes to Tyl’sharn and held them there for a moment. Rage and the hurt of betrayal surged within him. He wanted to grab her and ask why. Why Raw’wna? Why had she not told him at some point in the past three years that she had moved on? He knew that he was as much to blame for their losing contact, but this was almost more than he could bear.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little Peacemaker,” Tyl’sharn purred. She licked Raw’wna’s ear and winked at Hr’ent.

  “I tried to tell you,” Raw’wna offered flatly. His face was as deadpan as Kor’shi’s friends’. There was no regret in his voice. No embarrassment. There was only the simple truth for anyone to see. As Hr’ent looked around, he saw that everyone in the main room was staring at them, as if it were some sort of show.