Hr’ent put on a burst of speed, increasing his pace to match his initial speed. His legs, however, burned, and his breathing was ragged and pained. He pushed through the pain, going as hard as his body would allow, and when he passed between the pylons, he came to a slow stop directly in front of Hak.
His breathing was labored, and he knew he was close to his limits, but he stood up straight in front of the Deputy Selector, unwilling to show any weakness.
“You made it,” Hak said, sounding moderately impressed. “And in 13:42.”
“That,” Hr’ent said between breaths, “was a hell of a lot worse than any gauntlet I ever heard of.”
“Think of it like a fine suit, Peacemaker.” Hak’s beak-like face split into the Sidar version of a grin. “Tailor made to fit.”
“I thought you said I was an Enforcer.” Hr’ent felt his breathing slow, and his heart rate coming down. His legs still burned, but he knew they weren’t completely spent.
“Mm-mmm,” Hak replied, shaking his head. “Not just yet…although your performance was better than I anticipated. There’s one more test, but I’m saving that for later. I want it to be a surprise.”
Hr’ent rolled his eyes and sighed. And then something occurred to him.
“Was this real?” He eyed Hak. “I mean, I know it was a sim. I could actually tell the difference after what you did to me, but how close to real was…this?” He held out his arms and gave his own body a once-over.
“Real enough,” Hak replied. “The system was re-calibrated to test what we expect you to be once we’re out in the world.”
“What you expect?” Hr’ent asked, dubious.
“I figure it’s about 15 percent, plus or minus. That includes strength, speed, agility …all of it.”
Hr’ent nodded, and a wicked smile split his face. Even at the low end, he was a wrecking machine. He doubted anyone could come even close to beating him in single combat. Sure, he hadn’t faced anyone with a ranged weapon in the sim, and there hadn’t been grenades or other explosives, but he had no doubt he would make a formidable opponent for anyone Hak pointed him at.
“Fair enough.” He cocked his head to the side, trying to gauge what Hak might have in store for him. There was something about Hak he was forgetting…a memory he couldn’t put his finger on. He shook his head, trying to dislodge it from his recollection, but nothing came. “So, uhh…what’s next?”
“First, you meet your support team.” Hak took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Then we’ll get you settled in. After that, your final exam…” Hak gave him a mischievous grin. “And if you survive that, we drop you into your ‘meat grinder’ to see what comes out the other side.”
“Great,” Hr’ent said.
“It is.” Hak sounded particularly pleased with himself. He glanced at the sky. “Okay, doc,” he said. “Pull us out.”
The world faded quickly. The buzz of the sim went with it. Moments later, Hr’ent opened his eyes and saw Hak-Chet sitting in a chair across from him with a SimLib headset covering his pointed cranium. Beside him, monitoring a bank of displays and a large computer console, was the Sidar he vaguely remembered from the shuttle when they’d knocked him out. Lieutenant Emonk stood beside the Sidar as they reviewed something on the monitor. He was surprised to also see Graa’vaa off to the side. The expression on her face was unreadable, but he saw something in her eyes that made him uncomfortable.
They were all in the cargo bay of the Peacemaker shuttle, and there was no gravity. He looked up and saw that his arms and legs had been strapped to a wall of cargo netting that lined both sides of the hold. A SimLib headset was strapped to his furry skull, and his naked body—save for a tight-fitting pair of compression shorts—was wrapped in the stimulator body suit.
“Hr’ent,” Hak said, pulling the SimLib rig off his head, “Do you remember Graa’vaa?”
Hr’ent nodded. “On the shuttle coming out of Ocono.”
“Good.” Hak glanced at her. “She’s your intelligence officer until I say otherwise. She’s the best there is, and that includes me. And you saw Lieutenant Emonk when you boarded.”
“I believe the phrase you want is, ‘were drugged and dragged on,’” Hr’ent said, sounding irritated. “Now, would someone like to cut me loose. I’d rather not spend the rest of this trip tied to a fucking wall.” He felt a surge of the Feral. It reared its head at the thought of being restrained, but Hr’ent showed no outward sign. He pushed the Feral back and let out a long breath.
Hak chuckled as he pulled a short combat knife from the back of his belt and stepped forward.
“We’ll have you off there in no time.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eighteen
Transit to Godannii 2 (15 Hours Remaining)
Peacemaker Blue Flight
“So, what’s this all about, Hak?” Hr’ent asked as he weightlessly pulled himself through the hatch to another ship attached to the Thrustcore. He’d already been assigned a bunk, taken a much-needed shower, and even gotten about seven hours of coma-like sleep. During the remaining time, he’d delved into his father’s Koduzai’Vahsh. He didn’t know what to make of the book yet. It read almost like fantasy fiction, but he knew it represented the roots of his Feral culture. There were tidbits of philosophy, stories of survival in a primeval forest, and even some instruction on Feral combat disciplines, but little that was specific or useful. He’d know more once he was able to read the whole thing.
As he looked up, he found himself under the watchful eye of two stern-looking Besquith troopers in prison fatigues just inside the hatch. Two more rather ferocious specimens stood watch at the far end of the docking collar. They were a head shorter than he was, with dark fur and long muzzles that were actually more fearsome than an Oogar’s. He’d always wondered what it would be like to go up against one of them. They all had pistols strapped to their hips and heavy-duty stun batons dangled from straps around their wrists. Hr’ent recognized the batons immediately. They were the most potent model made, and he knew they could actually kill a number of the smaller species. They were meant to stop races like Oogar, Besquith, Lumar, and GenSha dead in their tracks. All four of the guards had adhered themselves to the docking collar walls with, presumably, magnetic boots.
Prison Guards? Hr’ent thought as he passed between them and drifted toward the far hatch. What the fuck are we doing on a prison ship?
“I told you,” Hak replied a bit flippantly. “You’re final exam. If you pass it, you truly will be an Enforcer. If you don’t—” Hak’s voice went as cold as ice, “—you’ll be as dead as your ancestors.”
Hr’ent froze mid-air, gripping a handhold along the wide shaft of the docking collar. He twisted in mid-air and turned to face Hak, who was drifting along with gentle sweeps of his wings. He drew up short with a quick flap, then grasped a nearby handhold.
“What’d you say?” Hr’ent asked as a cold chill ran up his spine.
Hak looked at the Besquith guards.
“Not here,” he said, nodding toward the hatch ahead of them. “Let’s get through there, shall we?”
Suspicions of every flavor ran through Hr’ent’s mind. He thought he’d passed the gauntlet test with flying colors. But what if he’d failed? What if Hak now wanted to make him a prisoner for being too dangerous…for being nothing more than a Feral with extreme strength, speed, and agility? He stared into Hak’s eyes, looking for any sign of betrayal, but all he found was a sort of anxious anticipation.
“Hr’ent,” Hak said smoothly, “I give you my word that this is the last test, and if you pass it, I predict you will be an Enforcer for a very long time.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I’m lying to you, you can kill me first.” Hak let go of the wall and removed his combat vest. Turning in mid-air, he threw it at one of the Besquith guards at the hatch they’d just come through. “Hang on to that, would you?”
The Besquith reached out, grabbed it, and gave Hak a single nod.
“There,”
Hak said. “I’ll even make it easy for you.”
“A vest wouldn’t make any difference, Hak,” Hr’ent said. It wasn’t a warning. It was a simple statement of fact, and he suspected Hak knew that. He appreciated the intention, though. Confident Hak wasn’t pulling a fast one, Hr’ent yanked on the handhold and sailed down the last four meters of the docking collar.
When he reached the hatch, one of the guards ran a scanner over his body to ensure he had no weapons. He nodded at the other guard who hit a palm-lock, and the hatch opened with a hiss of atmo and the whine of servos. Hr’ent pulled himself through. Hak was searched for weapons, then he sailed through the hatch after Hr’ent.
“This way,” Hak said as the hatch closed behind them. He flapped past Hr’ent along a short corridor of gray steel as a hint of gravity began to pull at their bodies. The further away from the Thrustcore they got, the stronger the pull would be. “It’s not far.”
“Tell me, Hak.” Hr’ent froze in place. “I’m not going another meter until you tell me what’s going on. What is this final exam?”
Hak stopped his forward momentum and turned. He hesitated just a moment, as if he were deciding whether or not to tell Hr’ent the truth.
“No Izlian shit, Hak,” Hr’ent warned. “I mean it.”
Hak reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim stack of folded documents. He handed them over, and Hr’ent grabbed them, a confused look on his face.
“It’s an execution,” Hak said, and there was a layer of concern in his voice. “Five of them, actually…” He locked eyes with Hr’ent. “And you’re the executioner, assuming you survive.”
Hr’ent’s blood chilled. He stared at Hak, searching for something to say, but words failed him.
“I need to know you can do this,” Hak said with a strange intensity. “You need to know you can do this.”
“Judge, jury, and—”
“Executioner,” Hak finished for him, nodding.
“You’re serious,” Hr’ent said. “This isn’t a game you’re playing.”
“Deadly serious,” Hak said. “I won’t lie to you. In fact, I’ll never lie to you from this day forward. Asking what I’m asking of you deserves some sort of compensation, and as hard as it is for me, I owe you that. The job—your job—requires it of me.” Hak’s eyes drifted away from Hr’ent for a moment, and he had a deeply troubled look on his face. “I’ve always been an advocate for due process, Hr’ent. But I’ve come to realize that reality sometimes makes due process an affront to justice. It’s one of the reasons you exist—why I’ve gone to such lengths to create the perfect Enforcer.” He locked eyes with Hr’ent again. “You are due process…When the circumstances are such that due process would only see evil beings inflicting themselves on the galaxy, then it’s time to call on you to mete out the most extremely prejudiced justice of all.”
“So, you want an assassin.”
“No,” Hak replied, and there was a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he dreaded his words. “I want an executioner when we can’t get someone into the legal system, or when they’d beat that system no matter how much evidence there is. Can you do that?” He searched Hr’ent’s eyes with what could only be described as near desperation. “Can you become that?”
Hr’ent thought about what Hak was asking of him. Execution or assassination was a matter of semantics. But they both knew perfectly well that guilty beings often went free. Sometimes it was money that got them off. Sometimes it was power or connections. But there were times the guilty escaped the gears of the legal system, or they were so far away from its grasp that they’d never feel the bite of handcuffs. That reality had always chafed at Hr’ent’s sense of justice.
He glanced down at the stack of papers in his paws. He thumbed through them, scanning each document quickly. He discovered that his ability to read and process information was also considerably enhanced. Each of the five documents was a death warrant signed by a different judge. They were also signed by Guild Master Breka, Selector Grektch, and Deputy Selector Hak-Chet. Each list of crimes represented a mixture of slavery, murder, rape, and in two cases, genocide, on top of a litany of war crimes. There was a special clause at the bottom that caught his eye. A slim smile crossed his mouth. That last bit, considering what he suspected was ahead of him, satisfied his sense of honor. He raised steely eyes to Hak.
“I’ll be your executioner, Deputy Selector, but only on one condition,” Hr’ent finally said.
“Name it,” Hak said.
“If you ever use me to kill an innocent person, or one who doesn’t deserve the death penalty, you’ll be the next on the list.” He stared into Hak’s eyes with a cold, calculating certainty that he meant what he said. There could be no misunderstanding between them.
“Done,” Hak said immediately.
Hr’ent nodded slowly.
“You just swore a blood oath to me, Hak,” Hr’ent said. “One which I have every intention of holding you to. Now let’s get this over with.” He handed the death warrants back to Hak and motioned for the Deputy Selector to lead the way.
Hak slipped them back into his jacket, twisted mid-air, and led them down a short corridor to a lift.
The doors opened immediately, and Hr’ent noticed a camera set above the door. Someone must be watching and giving them deeper access to the prison ship. They stepped inside and both grabbed handholds set into the walls. The lift “descended” slowly at first to keep them from slamming into the ceiling, but as the rotational gravity pulled at them, they found themselves standing on the floor. When they came to a stop, Hr’ent estimated the gravity was about the same as on Ocono.
The doors opened, and they walked through with Hak in the lead. He turned right and moved down another corridor of gray steel. At the far end stood a lone Besquith guard in a prison officer’s uniform. He was two and a half meters of corded muscle wrapped in a black fur hide, all of it topped by a muzzle full of teeth and a perma-snarl that made it clear he hated everyone and everything. As they approached, the guard nodded curtly. He stood before a single door along the hallway, with a single portal of thick glass set as his eye level.
“Deputy Selector,” the guard said in a gravelly voice as menacing as Hr’ent’s. “I must inform you that, per our orders, this door will be sealed until there is only one being standing, regardless of who it is. The others will enter from the far side shortly after this door is secure.” He eyed Hr’ent but didn’t ask for a name. “Do you both understand?”
Hak nodded, and Hr’ent’s guts suddenly started churning. He looked through the portal and saw a large, empty room with more gray steel walls. On the far end was another door and a similar portal. He could not see anything beyond, because the interior surface of the portal was mirrored. He assumed the portal he looked through was also a two-way mirror.
Am I really going to do this?
The civilized part of him riled against what was about to happen. It struck against his sense of decency, even for an Oogar. What would his mother think? But both the rational and Feral parts of him riled against flaccid decency in favor of titanium justice. He’d read the death warrants, and those warrants were duly executed by four different members of law enforcement. There was nothing that felt even remotely illegal or immoral. He was an instrument of execution, and he would behave as such.
Hr’ent looked at the prison officer and gave one curt nod. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Open it,” he said.
The guard gave him a dubious look, then palmed the lock. There were two loud clanks within the wall, and the door slid open. Hr’ent stepped inside several steps and watched the door close behind him. He caught Hak-Chet staring at him, a confident look on his leathery face.
Hak gave him a nod of encouragement.
“Make it quick,” he said.
The door closed.
* * *
As the locks clanked into place, the Besquith turned to Hak-Chet.
“Deputy Selector
,” he started but then paused. A dubious look marred his fearsome features for several heartbeats. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He narrowed his eyes and then glanced at Hr’ent through the portal. Looking back at Hak-Chet, he shook his head. “Sure, I’d buy that he could take two of those scumbags…maybe even three…but five cold-blooded killers? Armed? And in armor?” He shook his head. “They’re going to murder that poor, dumb, Oogar bastard.”
“You might think so,” Hak replied smoothly. “Are you having second thoughts?” He raised an eyebrow. “The orders are valid.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt the orders,” the officer said. “And don’t get me wrong. Every one of those vile fuckers deserves a slow and painful death for what they’ve done. But I just don’t think a single Oogar, no matter what his training, could possibly beat all of them. And you know what happens if he goes down…one of those malevolent hellraisers goes free. I mean, that’s the deal, right?”
Hak smiled, and it was an almost predatory grin.
“Trust me,” he said. He held up a 1,000 credit chit. “I’ll give you five to one odds that the Oogar comes through that door in under three minutes from the time of the first blow.”
The prison guard’s eyes went wide, and he started salivating as if he were sitting down before a raw steak dinner.
“You’re on,” the guard said eagerly. He reached into his coveralls and pulled out two 100-credit chits, then raised his chronometer, setting it to a countdown of three minutes.
* * *
Hr’ent heard the locks drop into place. He still had a queasy feeling in his guts, but there was no turning back now. What have I gotten myself into? he thought. Five murderers…all skilled killers, and two of them Besquith. His mind started racing. They’d probably come at him all at once and then settle up with each other after. That was the deal—the special clause in the death warrants. Only one being could walk out of that room. The rest would be carried. If it wasn’t Hr’ent, then the surviving prisoner would be pardoned and go free…back into the galaxy.
Enforcer Page 21
