Don't Cross This Line (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 14)

by Michael Anderle

  “The government has cut orders to take you hostage against TQB for some reason, you need to clear everyone out of here!”

  “Who?”

  “The government!” Shun was getting exasperated. Usually, you mention the state, and it got someone to show their face quickly, and their backs as they ran away, soon after. He looked back at Zhu who shrugged. He turned back to the crack in the door, “May we come in? The three of us need to get out of sight.”

  The door opened, and Shun’s mouth dropped open.

  It wasn’t a countryman standing at the door, but a European who was smiling.

  And his eyes seemed to glow red.

  Hands reached out and grabbed all three men quickly, pulling them into the building and the door shut, the light outside flickered, then burnt out leaving the back door in darkness.

  —

  Shun, Zhu, and Jian stood looking at those standing in front of them.

  “I am Stephen, from TQB. We appreciate your warning but as you can see,” he swept his hand towards the large manufacturing floor, “There is no one working tonight.”

  Jian spoke first, “You knew.”

  Stephen nodded, “Yes, we knew. We have been at odds with governments for years, now. They have been holding people hostage, trying to force the Queen’s hand. Although this is the first time we have no interest in a company and the Government is attacking.”

  “Why then?” Zhu asked, “We were told this building was owned by TQB.”

  “Oh, it is a TQB, just not us,” Stephen admitted. “Either paperwork snafu, or perhaps someone hoping the government shuts their competition down.”

  “Then why are you here?” Shun asked.

  “Because my Queen doesn’t want innocents hurt and she is particularly perturbed by the Chinese Government,” Stephen admitted, “those who worked here took maybe three to four minutes to clear out.”

  Shun looked at his watch, “You have maybe fifteen minutes before those who followed us could get here, probably closer to thirty or forty-five. You can leave.”

  “Where would the fun be in that?” A young American man asked behind Stephen.

  Stephen turned towards the young man, “Peter, not everyone enjoys a fight nearly as much as you.”

  “I’m getting rusty, it’s been a little while since our last good fight,” Peter answered.

  “It’s been what, four weeks?” Stephen asked him.

  “Five weeks, three days and,” he looked at his wrist, “three hours.”

  Stephen turned back to Shun, “So, you can see we have some anxious fighters wishing to make sure the Brass get the idea that messing with TQB, whether the right or wrong TQB, is a bad idea.”

  “But, some of you will be killed,” Shun admonished.

  “No,” Jian interrupted looking at the men, “they won’t.”

  Shun and Zhu turned towards their friend, “Why not?”

  “These are similar to those we chased in the forest,” Jian admitted.

  Stephen smiled, “Ah, I was wondering why you smelled familiar. You are Baô, are you not?”

  Jian’s eyes darted back to his friends, and he tried to catch Stephen’s eyes and shake his head, but it was too late.

  Shun asked, “Is it true, Jian? Are you part of the Sacred Clan?”

  Jian shook his head, his shoulders dropping, “No.” He straightened up and looked his two friends in the eyes, “My family, my parents, left the clan in the night, scared the Sacred Clan would track them down and take what was most precious to them,” Jian pointed a thumb at himself, “me.”

  Zhu asked, “Why?”

  Jian shrugged, “I’m not sure. My parents were very silent about what they knew. I think I was supposed to be a female child for the Clan’s plans, and the leaders had planned to kill me so my parents could have another child without upsetting the government. My mother found out about my sex early, and together they spirited me away in the night.”

  “They want to kill the males?” Shun asked, “That’s…”

  “Backward, yes,” Jian admitted, “It had to do with a prophecy. I’ve pieced together the story over the years.”

  “You still have the smell, Jian,” Stephen interrupted the three friends, “Can you change?” Jian shook his head. “I imagine you might be able to, but you have never been taught, and the ability is not strong enough to work on its own unless you get highly emotional.”

  Zhu snorted, “Well, that closes the discussion then, Jian never gets emotional.”

  Jian shrugged when everyone looked back at him for an answer.

  “Ok, let me ask the three of you, one more question,” Stephen started. When he had their attention, he continued, “Do you want to stay in China, or are you done?”

  Jian shrugged, “My parents.”

  “Can be grabbed safely, if you will tell me their address and go with a team to fetch them quickly.” Jian nodded his agreement. “Ok,” Stephen turned to Shun, “You?”

  Shun hesitated only a moment before nodding, “I’m done with a government that would take their own people, hostage.”

  “No family?” Stephen asked Shun shook his head.

  Stephen turned to Zhu, “You?”

  “I’ll go, my parents will stay. They are in the backcountry and haven’t seen me in three years. I never gave the Government my real address or name. I’ve sent my parents enough money over the years, my brothers and sisters can deal with caring for them. If I can provide a last letter?”

  Stephen nodded, “Very good then, Peter?”

  Peter turned and called over his shoulder, “Karen, Timmons.”

  Those in front could hear a female cursing as two people came forward, “Sir?” the woman said. Apparently, she was able to get over her frustration at not being here for the fight before she made it up to the front.

  “Help Jian here with his parents. Take transport three. When you get there, it will stay with you. The ArchAngel just released another transport for us down here. When you finish, you will take Jian and his family to the Angel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Stephen spoke again, “All three of you should go, you don’t need to be here when the PLA gets here.”

  “How bad is it going to be?” Shun asked.

  “For the PLA?” Stephen asked, and Shun nodded. “Not bad, well, except for their transport.” Shun nodded his understanding, then followed Jian and Zhu out the door behind the Karen and Thomas. Both of the TQB personnel walked with a hunter’s grace.

  “Now people,” Peter spoke, cracking his knuckles, “get yourself prepared and Thomas,” he yelled.

  “Sir?”

  “Take care of the lights,” Peter finished his command and smiled, thinking about the fun to come.

  CHAPTER TEN

  All Guns Blazing, Outer Docks - QBBS Merideth Reynolds

  The bar was deceptively big.

  Bobcat, William, and Marcus had started out with a plan, open the first bar in outer space. Then, they decided they wanted the best bar in outer space.

  Finally, they decided they wanted a place where adults could mingle with adults, but the children of their friends could come in, as well.

  That required some interesting ways to change up the architecture. The issue was more of form follows function. The guys thought long and hard about what was needed in a bar and who would probably come and visit.

  First, you had solo drinkers looking for a place to enjoy a drink around people, but not necessarily be part of a crowd.

  Then you had different sized groups of drinkers. Also, there were those that wanted to dance or blow off steam. Maybe play darts, hook up, or other games that came up.

  That all took room.

  Then, you needed a place that children could join in which meant a separate area. Not for the children, William argued, but for the adults who wanted to drink without worrying if a child was going to see them, and then they would be guilty of creating the next generation of alcoholics. Bobcat thought that odd but Marcu
s agreed with them.

  “Look,” William told Bobcat, “You would start drinking in the morning if you could get away with it.”

  “What do you mean?” Bobcat answered, “I use vodka and cinnamon to gargle with every morning.”

  “I’m sorry,” Marcus interrupted, “You use what?”

  Bobcat turned to his friend, surprised his two buddies didn’t know this trick, “Vodka, the recipe is one cup vodka and nine tablespoons of cinnamon. Put them both in an airtight container after mixing them together and store it for two weeks to let the flavor’s combine. Then, gargle.” He looked at his two friends, “What? It fixes halitosis.”

  Marcus’s eyes opened wide, and he turned to William, “I’m shocked.”

  William shrugged, “I’m not. The fact that Bobcat knows how to mix his liquor so he can drink in the morning is perhaps a little surprising, but it doesn’t rise to the shocked level.”

  “No,” Marcus shook his head and pointed to Bobcat, whose head was pivoting back and forth between the two guys, “Not that he drinks in the morning, but that he knows the term halitosis.”

  William’s face split into a huge grin and reached over to fist-bump the scientist who winked to Bobcat.

  Bobcat looked at William and put up his left middle finger, “You’re friend number one,” and put his other hand up with the middle finger extended to Marcus and looked at him, “And so are you.” Bobcat pulled his left hand around and put both hands, middle fingers extended up towards Marcus, “Actually, YOU get to be friend number eleven.”

  “Yes!” Marcus crowed, hands raised in the air, “I get turned up to eleven!” He turned to William, lowering his arms, “That’s the joke, right? Turn something up past ten?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” William agreed to chuckles all around. “But, it makes my point, Bobcat. You are fine with alcohol twenty-four hours a day. Not everyone thinks that is acceptable.”

  “Especially around children,” Marcus added.

  “I blame your inability to have a hangover,” William commented, “It makes you less sensitive to the evils of drinking.”

  “Just because I don’t suffer myself, doesn’t mean I don’t suffer in quiet sympathy with you poor schmucks,” Bobcat replied, “You should know your limits. My limits happen to be superior to most men.”

  “You mean every man,” Marcus said. “I’ve seen Wechselbalg who have trouble keeping up with you.”

  “Why do you think I gargle each morning?” Bobcat grinned, “Training is the most important part of any good regimen.”

  William’s face went blank, a perplexing look on his face before turning to Marcus, “Could that be right?”

  Marcus turned, “What? Are you asking the rocket scientist if gargling alcohol would help one’s ability to not have hangovers?”

  “Uh, yeah.” William agreed.

  Marcus shrugged, “I’ve no idea. I’d have to set up research to figure this out.”

  Bobcat raised his hand, “I’ll volunteer!”

  Both men turned to Bobcat and barked,” No!”

  —

  Now, All Guns Blazing had the kitchen designed to be in the middle, splitting the more family friendly bar and grill from the more adult bar and recreation area. Both sides of the kitchen had a bar with stools, but one side had tables and booths for eating, and the other had high tables, a dance floor, darker booths for private conversations and an area for darts and other games.

  There were a dozen private rooms on two levels that could be rented for either business meetings or parties.

  Or both.

  The docks area, a large area on the Merideth Reynolds, was growing. Storage, warehousing, housing, and businesses were built to handle all of the externally focused roles and activities. There were two high-speed magnetic trams which delivered people back and forth between the Docks, and In-world.

  One of the main features of All Guns Blazing was the large viewing deck with a window twenty feet high and sixty feet long that allowed everyone to see out into space. The deck, reached by stairs from either side, was the premier draw for the bar and it took Team BMW weeks to finally provide a design that passed the engineering and defense teams approval processes.

  It was a quieter area, usually. The view of space caused most to stand, or sit, and drink in the splendor of the Universe.

  Except for tonight.

  Tonight, All Guns Blazing was hosting a get together of some old hands celebrating the Anniversary of the Battle in the Everglades.

  It was only one of the many times each year the teams got together to try and pass along the stories from the beginning.

  The beginning that started five unique people down the path to saving the Earth.

  South of Zhengzhou, Henan Province - China

  Stephen stood in the shadows, on the roof of the two-story building, enjoying the crisp air. Beside him, Peter kept his hands in his pockets. Both men watched as two PLA transport trucks turned onto the street heading in their direction.

  One of the trucks missed a gear change, the grinding noise easily heard by the two, before the driver was able to slam the gear home and continued on their way to the parking lot, below.

  Todd and his Guardian Marines were downstairs, behind the Wechselbalg who were hiding in the shadows of the machines.

  “You know,” Peter said, “I’m getting pretty tired of just humiliating these people.”

  Stephen looked over to the young man, “Desiring more blood, young Wechselbalg?”

  Peter’s eyes flicked over to Stephen, “Not what I meant, at least not that way.” Peter replied, “I mean I’m tired of keeping the gloves on Stephen. Each time we do this, we keep the carnage to a minimum. It isn’t slowing down the efforts.”

  “This,” Stephen said, pointing towards the two trucks about to pull into the lot below, “isn’t about them. It’s about us.”

  “Oh?” Peter asked, curious, “How so? I get that we are trying to make sure others aren’t hurt by attacks against us, but how is this about us rather than them? If we attacked and made it hurt more, perhaps they wouldn’t try so damned often.”

  “Think about the future, Peter. Think about twenty, or thirty years from now. You will have how much alien blood on your hands? It is going to mess with your mind. I don’t think we need to go out there with years of human blood on our hands, as well.”

  The trucks disgorged troops. The two men could hear the shouts of commands and then the door, which they had locked, was forced open, and boots were flowing into the room below.

  “ADAM, drop the null-communications shield,” Stephen said.

  “What if they do something that hurts Bethany Anne, what then?” Peter asked as he got undressed, then the two of them walked to the edge of the building.

  “Well, then there will be no gloves,” Stephen admitted as he stepped off the edge and dropped behind the troops below.

  The roar of the Pricolici transfixed the men as two monsters fell from the sky right into their midst.

  —

  Private First Class Chung was the third man entering the door, into a dark warehouse. He turned to the left and aimed his QBZ-95. The man couldn’t see anything, but his gut was telling him to run. He swept the area again.

  Two of the men had lowered their weapons. Chung hissed at them. He’d been out in the forest for a small tour, and he still trusted his gut.

  “What are you hissing for?” the first asked and rolled his eyes. “There isn’t anyone to fight. This isn’t the wilds, and you need to stop blaming your time there fighting the cats when you jump at shadows!”

  He had barely got out his comment when a primal roar from outside startled everyone. Men twisted around, aiming back at the door as fear rolled in from that direction, forcing them to fight the urge to run further into the warehouse.

  Chung never stopped looking into the building. He saw the wolf, its eyes flashing yellow, streak out from behind the nearby CNC lathe and leap. The animal’s jaws were coming str
aight for his throat, and he pressed his trigger in reactive fright. Two bullets slammed home into the wolf, throwing its trajectory off enough that it collided with him, but limiting its bite to his arm, not his neck.

  His gunfire was enough to warn those who had turned around to look back over their shoulders. But few bullets were fired as people, dressed in black slammed into their group, guns ripped out of their hands and growls joining the roars coming from outside.

  Chung screamed as the wolf’s jaw snapped his arm bones, his fingers releasing the gun to drop beside him as he landed on the floor. He tried to ignore the pain and reach for his knife.