Enforcer

by Kevin Ikenberry

  The force of the blow sent Raw’wna to the ground in a heap where he groaned and gurgled.

  Hr’ent let loose a terrifying sound, a half growl, half howl that echoed across the parking lot. His eyes locked on Kor’shi, who stood only a few paces away, his paws raised. Fen’wyn was leaning against the hood, cradling his ruined arm, a pained expression on his face.

  As Hr’ent locked eyes with Kor’shi, the snarl on the mercenary’s face faded, and fear filled his eyes.

  “I’ll kill both of you,” Hr’ent snarled and took a step forward, flexing his bloodied claws in the lamplight.

  Kor’shi took a step backward.

  “They didn’t pay me enough for this,” Kor’shi grumbled. He stepped backward, raising his hands in submission. He looked down at Raw’wna who lay unmoving and Su’mar who continued to gasp for breath against ribs that might have punctured his lungs. “Get in,” he said, glancing at Fen’wyn. “Now.”

  “But—” Fen’wyn started, staring in horror at what Hr’ent had done.

  “You want to go get them?” Kor’shi asked. “We all took the same risk.”

  Fen’wyn paused for a moment and then nodded. He stood weakly, wincing with each movement of his arm.

  Kor’shi’s words sank in through Hr’ent’s rage. Before he could ask what Kor’shi was talking about, the two mercenaries who were still able to move scrambled around the sedan. Frantic, they opened the doors and leapt in. The engine roared, and the rear tires squealed as the sedan backed away from Hr’ent as fast as the straining power plant allowed. The sight of Kor’shi backing onto the distant street sucked all the rage out of Hr’ent’s heart, leaving only confusion and fatigue. He looked down at the slashes on his arms and the blood on his claws, and then he realized what he’d just done.

  He turned to where Raw’wna and Su’mar lay. A large patch of blood was spreading on the pavement beneath Raw’wna’s opened neck. Panic filled Hr’ent, and a wash of guilt at what he’d done. He rushed to Raw’wna and knelt by his side.

  Raw’wna stared up into Hr’ent’s eyes.

  “I drew first blood,” he said weakly. “My fault…Watch…your…ba—” And then he lost consciousness.

  “I’m not gonna let you die, Raw’wna,” Hr’ent pleaded as more blood pumped out onto the permacrete. “There’s an ER right over there,” he said as if his friend could hear him. He ripped Raw’wna’s shirt apart, folded the fabric into a compress, and pressed it hard against the neck slashes. He knew he didn’t have much time.

  A quick glance at Su’mar showed that his injuries weren’t immediately life-threatening. The mercenary was having difficulty breathing, but he wasn’t coughing up any blood. Hr’ent unbuckled his belt, slipped it off, and wrapped it around Raw’wna’s body, running it over the compress and under the opposite arm. He cinched it down hard and slipped his arms under the mercenary’s body. With a grunt and a heave, he lifted Raw’wna up and jogged toward the ER. The wound on his arm screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. If Raw’wna died, it would be on Hr’ent, and he couldn’t let that happen.

  He made it across the parking lot and through the automatic doors that opened before him. Inside was a small waiting area off to the left and a workstation to the right where a small Oogar in a Peacemaker med-tech uniform reclined, his head back. He was snoring. A hallway stretched off to the right beyond the workstation, and another hallway could be seen beyond a set of security doors on the far side of the waiting room.

  “I need help here!” Hr’ent shouted.

  The Oogar behind the desk woke with a start and shot straight up in his chair.

  “What—?”

  “Get a medic in here, on the double,” Hr’ent ordered. “I’m Peacemaker Hr’ent Golramm, and he needs immediate attention.”

  The med-tech hit a button beneath the desk and then came around, grabbing a gurney along the way.

  “Put him here,” the med-tech said.

  Hr’ent gently placed Raw’wna on the large gurney and backed away in realization and shock.

  “Great Elementals, what a mess,” the med-tech said, lifting the edge of the compress. “Did you do this?”

  Hr’ent paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the bloody wreck of Raw’wna’s neck and belly. A memory flashed before his eyes of when they were cubs playing by a river.

  “Did you do this?” the med-tech shouted.

  Hr’ent jumped.

  “Yes,” he said immediately.

  “How long ago?”

  “Uhh…a couple of minutes.”

  “What?” the med-tech blurted, stunned.

  “In the parking lot. It all happened in the parking lot,” Hr’ent blurted.

  The security doors swung open on the far side of the room, and a HekSha physician in a standard burgundy long coat followed by an Oogar Peacemaker medic in fatigues came rushing in.

  “What’s going on?” the physician asked.

  “One Oogar male,” the med-tech said. “Deep lacerations on his neck and shoulder. He also has deep lacerations on his abdomen. I don’t know if there’s any additional trauma, but he’s lost a lot of blood. It only happened minutes ago outside in the parking lot.”

  “There’s another one out there,” Hr’ent said. “Broken ribs for sure. Maybe a punctured lung, but I don’t think so. He might have internal bleeding.”

  “How do you know that?” the Peacemaker medic asked.

  “Because I’m the one who did it to him.”

  The medic reached for a side-arm holstered on his belt.

  “And who in the name of the stars are you?”

  “He says he’s a Peacemaker,” the med-tech chimed in.

  “Peacemaker Hr’ent Golramm,” Hr’ent said as he dug into his pocket and withdrew the platinum badge. The metal almost felt hot to the touch, but Hr’ent raised it with confidence for the surprised doctor to see.

  “Deal with this,” the physician said to the medic, who nodded in reply. The physician grabbed the gurney and shoved it away, moving quickly through the security doors that opened at his approach, then closed behind him.

  The medic turned to the med-tech.

  “Get another gurney and go get the other one,” he ordered. “Call someone if you need help.”

  “Yes, sir,” the med-tech said and scurried away.

  “You,” the medic said, placing a paw on his sidearm, “step over here.” He motioned toward the counter where a palm reader lay. He moved around the counter, his eyes never leaving Hr’ent.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” Hr’ent said, spotting the insignia on the medic’s collar.

  Without being prompted, Hr’ent placed his right paw on the palm reader and waited.

  The lieutenant hit something on the keyboard behind the counter and looked at a screen.

  “Peacemaker Hr’ent,” he said, nodding. He pulled his paw away from his sidearm and looked up at Hr’ent.

  “Are you injured?” the lieutenant asked, and his eyes drifted down to Hr’ent’s arm.

  Hr’ent glanced at the wounds, now covered in dried blood. His arm hurt, but the wounds had already closed up enough that they were only seeping blood.

  “I’ll be fine.” Hr’ent suddenly felt very trapped. He didn’t want to answer any questions, and he certainly didn’t want to be a Peacemaker anymore. His actions in the parking lot made it clear he was not well suited to enforcing the law. He was better suited to mauling people, apparently. “Look, there were others with him. I have to go.”

  “Are you sure?” The lieutenant gave him a dubious look. “The Adjutant will want to know what happened outside. There are formalities.”

  “I know. I’ll take care of that in the morning. Right now, I need to see if I can follow them.” He started backing away, moving toward the entrance.

  “Do you even know who attacked you?” the lieutenant asked.

  “I know the one in there,” Hr’ent said, motioning toward the security doors. “He was…is…a friend.” He shook his head, and a wav
e of panic started to creep into his bones. “It’s all very complicated,” he said slowly. “Tell the Adjutant I’ll report to him first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, Peacemaker,” the lieutenant said, a hint of doubt in his voice. “And good hunting.”

  Hr’ent nodded and turned away. He marched out the door and saw the med-tech helping a barely conscious Su’mar up onto the gurney.

  Hr’ent turned right and walked quickly down the sidewalk that ran in front of the ER and the main admin building. He passed the admin building, passed the edge of the station’s perimeter, then turned around the corner of the perimeter fencing.

  He broke into a jog, feeling his blood start to flow. It felt good to run. He wasn’t running away from what had just happened so much as running toward the unknown. He would never be a Peacemaker now. Great gods, he would probably end up in prison for what he’d done, especially now that he was running away from the scene with no intention of going back.

  A strange surge of what he thought of as freedom coursed along his body. He broke into a run just as he passed into the edge of the forest. He increased his pace, racing between the trees like a wild animal. He let all of his energy—all of his rage and shame and pride and frustration and everything that had been tearing at him for months—drive his pounding feet. His mind cleared of everything until there was only the sound of the trees swishing by and the thudding of his feet.

  He didn’t know how far he’d run, or for how long, but he was reasonably confident he’d entered a Feral sector.

  He didn’t care.

  When his breath was ragged in his chest and his legs burned to the point of nearly giving out beneath him, he came upon a wide clearing that exposed double moons glowing half full in a black, star-filled sky. He slowed his pace and came to a stop beneath the bole of a massive tree that stretched so far up toward the stars, he would have sworn they had cleared the atmosphere.

  He pulled off his rucksack, amazed that nobody had grabbed it during the fight, then put his back to the tree. He sank down to the ground with a groan, realizing his body hurt in a number of places. That didn’t matter. What mattered was what he would do next. He had no idea, and he didn’t know where to begin. Maybe he would go back and turn himself in. Maybe he would keep running through the forest and see what lay just beyond the next hill. His paw fell on his rucksack, and he felt the thick copy of the Koduzai’Vahsh beneath it.

  Opening the rucksack, he pulled the book out and stared at it in the bit of moonlight that made it to the ground beneath the tree. The book called to him, but there certainly wasn’t enough light to read by. Still curious, he opened the cover. Grabbing his slate from his pack, he activated it and used its light to look at the first page.

  There, written in a rough hand, was the following:

  At the dawn of the world, when the moon was fresh from the womb, the great clan lord Korvokai rose from the mists of Aldra’Tur, whole and hungry…

  Hr’ent lifted his eyes to the sky as he closed the book. He turned off his slate and pondered what might lie within those pages.

  “In the morning,” he said, slipping the book back into the rucksack. He leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard the faint sound of thunder in the distance.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  Uuwato

  Sylph’Harah Forest, Edge of Feral Territory

  The dark, damp forests of Uuwato weren’t all that unlike a host of other worlds in the Galactic Union. While lacking the ferocious predators of Khatash or the full summer heat of Weqq’s jungles, it was still a dangerous and verdant world. Hak-Chet smiled as he moved through the thick fauna. For a winged, but flightless, species, the Sidar were notoriously light on their feet. He was wary of those indigenous species that could do him harm, of which there were plenty, but he was enjoying himself.

  The pattering rainfall in the dark night covered his sounds and cooled everything it touched, making anything hunting with infrared senses powerless to find, much less attack, their prey. Yet, for Hak-Chet, sound gave him sight. Every sound created waves which Sidar could use as limited, but effective, echolocation. His race had developed the ability as hunters when they could still fly. Much like that ability, their internal sonar wasn’t infallible, but it gave them an advantage their prey would not have.

  He’d expected it to be slightly more difficult to find Hr’ent, and when he came upon the big Oogar, he was almost disappointed.

  Hr’ent sat at the base of a massive tree, exposed to the rain and the sounds which gave Hak-Chet sight. Hak-Chet stopped at the edge of a thick clump of ferns and watched for several minutes, listening carefully. Hr’ent made no sounds as he sat with his massive head buried in his equally massive paws. Slumped forward with his elbows touching his upper knees, he was the very definition of misery. Hak-Chet resisted smiling, though the temptation was great. Everything had gone perfectly, from suggesting the governor give Hr’ent the Silver Claw to clearing Sv’rha’s corporate calendar for the party to paying off Hr’ent’s friends by appealing to their mercenary instincts. He’d even been able to pay off the ex-girlfriend and gotten her to lie about her situation and fawn all over an Oogar she apparently hated. Everything had been carefully constructed for just this moment. Pushed to his limits, questioning the very fabric of his own existence, Hr’ent was finally ready for their conversation.

  Hak-Chet pushed through the ferns and walked closer, stopping three meters away and folding his arms across his chest. He noticed the corner of a book sticking out of Hr’ent’s rucksack. His eyes picked up a single symbol on the corner of the cover, and he had to smile. Even that was perfect—unanticipated, but perfect. He wondered if Hr’ent had started to read it.

  “This is hardly how I imagined I’d find you, Hr’ent.”

  Hr’ent raised his eyes slowly, realized who it was, and got a disgusted look on his face.

  “Go away, Hak. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  “Oh, I think you do.” Hak-Chet moved one step closer. “You want bigger things, and you know I can give them to you.”

  Hr’ent stared at him, eyes wide as the rain mixed with his tears. The big Oogar growled. “I nearly killed my friend. What kind of Peacemaker am I?”

  “That’s just it, Hr’ent. You didn’t kill your friend. In fact, you saved him. That makes you the perfect candidate for this procedure. The Enforcer program must evolve and change. I believe it starts with you.”

  Hr’ent shook his head.

  “I’m just the big, dumb Oogar everyone says I am. I could have more credits than I know what to do with and an impossibly soft life. All I have to do is ask for it. Or I could join the mercenaries and make my own riches—or die in the attempt.”

  “And you’d regret either decision for the rest of your life.” Hak-Chet stepped closer. He was now two meters from the Oogar and within striking distance of Hr’ent’s lethal claws. “This is your chance, Hr’ent. Your chance to be more than anyone ever expected of you. This procedure will give you enhanced reflexes and strength. You’ll be better, stronger, and faster than any Oogar before you. You are perfect for this.”

  Hr’ent shook his head. “I am a disgusting half-breed, Hak. Remember?” He placed a paw on the book beside him.

  “There is nothing disgusting about you, Hr’ent. You proved that with your acceptance of the Pushtal mantle of First Claw. Tell me, what would Clan Roxtador think of you right now? Sitting here in the rain, crying about the misgivings and challenges of life as a Peacemaker? Considering going to turn in your badge? Giving up three years of training, not to mention a damned fine commissioning mission performance? What would little Magnus think?

  Hr’ent shot to his feet, his muzzle lifted in a snarl. “Fuck you, Hak! Leave him out of this.”

  “You want to quit the Peacemakers, Hr’ent, but there’s no one else capable of protecting the Fangmaster like you can.” Hak-Chet glared up into the
Oogar’s face. “You try explaining that to him.”

  “You don’t understand,” Hr’ent sagged. “Raw’wna and I go back to our cub days together. I…I nearly killed him, Hak. All I wanted to do at that moment was rip his throat out and stomp on his remains. My vision was red. There was no logic in my brain. All I wanted was death and—”

  “And what? You stopped.” Hak-Chet raised a clawed hand and pointed at the Oogar’s face. “You didn’t kill him, and you took him for medical attention. That shows restraint and an unbelievable amount of compassion for someone who did what he did, particularly considering everything you’ve been going through.”

  “What happens when the local authorities show up, Hak? They’re going to arrest me and—”

  “That’s being taken care of.”

  Hr’ent gaped. “Taken care of? The last time I checked, a Peacemaker can’t just maul anyone they choose without consequences. What about Raw’wna’s rights? What about justice and the law?”

  “I said it’s being taken care of, Hr’ent. You’re forgetting they started it. It was Raw’wna who drew first blood,” Hak-Chet said. “Have you dealt with any Humans?”

  The question caught Hr’ent off guard.

  “No.” The Oogar shook his head, flinging water droplets in all directions. “But I do not trust them.”

  “Prudent, but they have a saying that encapsulates many of their situations. It’s that there is an exception to every rule. In this particular case, you have to trust me that the situation has been handled by your guild at a level much higher than you are cleared to understand. More precisely, and something you should remember for the rest of your career, is that extreme jobs sometimes require operating outside the law. Sometimes, the greater good requires it of us, of a very select few. And sometimes, just sometimes, the ends do justify the means.”