Target: Earth (Extinction Wars Book 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

After that, Rollo won the next three hands.

  There was another big boy at the table, but this guy seemed to be all muscle. He obviously used steroids, but not of the 68 variety. He might have even been taller than Rollo, which would make him huge.

  Mr. Muscles must have been in his late twenties or early thirties. He had dark hair, a leather jacket with silver studs on the neck and cuffs, and an arrogant sneer to his lips.

  “You cheating?” the kid asked Rollo.

  My old friend ignored the barb, saying, “Raise,” as he tossed two 25-dollar chips onto the table.

  The next two men folded.

  The kid—he wasn’t really a kid, as I’ve said, but he sure seemed like one compared to the bear called Rollo.

  “I asked you a question,” the muscular kid said.

  Rollo just sat there.

  “He can’t have won fairly four times in a row,” the kid told the others.

  “It’s your call,” the dealer said quietly.

  “I know it’s my call,” the kid said. “I asked him a question, though.”

  The dealer glanced at Rollo before regarding the kid. “I don’t think he wants to talk to you.”

  “Hey, doofus,” the kid said. “Are you so drunk you can’t hear me?”

  Rollo picked up his glass, rattling the ice cubes, finally lifting the glass to his lips and sliding an ice cube into his mouth. He began to crunch it methodically.

  “This is bull,” the kid said. “I’m all in.” He pushed his pile of chips into the middle of the table.

  “I’m out,” the next man said.

  Everyone else folded until it was back to Rollo. He looked up at the kid, who was glaring at him in a challenging way.

  “You’re not going to cheat your way out of this one,” the kid said.

  Rollo set his glass on the table, studied the kid’s chips, and counted out the same amount from his larger pile. It left him with about two hundred chips. With one meaty paw, Rollo pushed enough chips into the pot to match the all-in.

  “What do you got?” the kid said.

  Rollo kept staring at him, saying nothing.

  The dealer cleared her throat.

  Rollo did not move. He just kept staring at the muscular kid.

  “Deal the flop,” the kid said.

  The lady did no such thing. She kept looking at Rollo.

  Slowly, the big bear of a former First Admiral nodded.

  The dealer dealt three cards, flipping them over. It was an ace of hearts and two nines, one clubs and the other diamonds.

  The kid laughed harshly. “I’ve got you now, cheater.”

  The dealer dealt another card, a queen of diamonds, waited and finally put down the river card, a two of clubs.

  Rollo turned over his cards. They were two aces.

  The kid turned over his cards, two nines.

  “Yeah,” the kid said, reaching out with both hands.

  Quick as a cobra, Rollo grabbed one of the kid’s wrists.

  “Hey,” the kid said, looking up. “You want to mess with me, old man?”

  Rollo didn’t say a thing, although his grip tightened.

  The kid screamed and tried to jerk his wrist free. The arm would not budge. The kid howled and levered up onto the table, coming over it at Rollo.

  The ex-First Admiral threw a left-handed punch against the kid’s looming face. I heard something pop, and the kid dropped onto the table, out cold, with blood pouring from his broken nose.

  Rollo let go of the kid’s wrist and sat back. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

  Several of the men had jumped up from the table. They stared at Rollo. The dealer, from her chair, looked over at him.

  “He called me a cheater,” Rollo told her. “I don’t cheat.”

  “Obviously not,” I said, stepping up. “Otherwise, you would have taken his money and saved him a broken nose and a probable concussion.”

  Men whipped around to stare at me.

  “Creed!” Rollo shouted. “You’re back.” He got up slowly, ponderously, and came around the table.

  I held out my right hand. He ignored it and crushed me in a bear hug. I had to brace myself, otherwise I might have lost my breath as he tried to squeeze it out of me.

  “You old bastard,” he said, thumping my back. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Sir,” the dealer said.

  “Hey,” I said, poking the monster man in the belly.

  Rollo gave me a look.

  I pointed at the dealer.

  “Oh,” Rollo said. He faced her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take him to the infirmary. Have someone bring him his money.”

  The dealer nodded.

  Rollo easily lifted the huge kid and draped him over a shoulder.

  “Come on,” he told me.

  We climbed the stairs. Rollo immediately went left, walking with the kid over his shoulder. People got out of his way. One well-dressed man hurried near. He was obviously security.

  “Is there a problem, sir?” he asked Rollo.

  “I’m taking care of it,” the ex-First Admiral said.

  “He seems to know you,” I said, as we left the security honcho behind, watching us.

  “He should,” Rollo said.

  “You cause a lot of grief here?”

  Rollo stopped and looked at me. “Is that what you think?”

  I shrugged. “What else should I think? Spencer told me you fight in the cage a lot.”

  “I do. So what?”

  “You drink a lot.”

  “Yeah. Does that matter?”

  I shook my head. “I give up. What’s the deal?”

  “No, deal,” Rollo said. “But I own the casino. What this Spencer didn’t tell you was that I’ve made a mint in the cage and through some clever betting.”

  For once, my friend shocked me. “How come you’ve gained so much weight, then?”

  Rollo grinned slyly. “I learned from the best. You. Most of this fat is pseudo-skin. I wear it for show. If people saw what I really looked like, they’d never enter the cage with me.”

  It took me a second. Then, I laughed. Rollo had always been a meatball. It looked like he’d finally learned to use his brains, too, and not just at computer games.

  “How about that,” I said. “You might not want to join me, then.”

  “Join you in a military strike?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Would I be the First Admiral?”

  “If you wanted,” I said.

  He grinned toothily. “I’ve gotten so bored these past few years, you wouldn’t believe it. You bet. I’m totally in for some action like the old days. When do we leave?”

  Yeah. That was the question. We had to get out of here soon, or winning wasn’t going to make any difference.

  -29-

  It took a week before I found all fifty assault troopers and scrounged-up enough symbiotic second skins, or living skins, or bio suits to armor them.

  We all had to practice with second skin again. It had been a long time since we’d done this. Just like always, the bio suit started as a big black blob that one took out of a container. The blob felt like gelatin and quivered when I plopped it onto the floor. I stepped onto it next, and the warm substance began to ooze up my naked legs until it had coated me to just under my chin.

  The second skin fed off intense sunlight and a man’s sweat. In return, it amplified his strength, could give him energy, help heal some damage and harden its outer surface like flexible armor. It could also stop most radiation from reaching its human.

  Once, the bio skins had secreted drugs into a trooper, turning him into a joyful berserker. We’d modified that feature a long time ago, so a wearer could think normally.

  I’d chosen former assault troopers for several reasons. One, as I said, I trusted my old comrades. Two, they’d all taken steroid 68, making them stronger than ordinary. The surgically implanted neural fibers also gave each of them heightened reflexes. That meant assault troop
ers were faster than ordinary people.

  Rollo had shown some of that at the poker table. The kid hadn’t had a chance against him.

  Three, I felt I could trust assault troopers because I’d worked with them in the past. Four, I had a feeling many of the old gang hankered to return to the fold and rejoin their comrades.

  When the call had gone out, two hundred and fourteen assault troopers had shown up. From those, just like Gideon, I winnowed them down until I had the chosen fifty.

  We practiced in Wyoming, near former Cheyenne, pounding around, firing our new weapons and learning the old call signs and commands.

  After another week passed, I hurried to a comm shack one afternoon around two p.m. The shack was halfway up a steep wooded slope, with the troopers spread out below going through maneuvers. Ella had informed me that I had a call from the Prime Minister.

  I squeezed into the main room, now packed with field equipment, removing my helmet. Black second skin covered the rest of me, although I wore combat boots like we had used to do.

  Ella moved aside from a computer screen. Diana stared out of it.

  “Creed,” Diana said, pausing, letting her eyes rove over me. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you like that. It brings back memories.”

  “Don’t it just,” I said. “What’s up?”

  Diana hesitated just a moment, and it almost seemed as if a guilty look passed through her eyes. That vanished as she said, “I need to speak to you.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  “Speak to you back at the capital,” she said.

  I hid my frown by keeping my features blank. “Is our line tapped?”

  Diana ignored the question, saying, “I’d appreciate it if you could make it here by four. Oh, and you’d better come alone.”

  “Why the rush?”

  “You plan to leave Earth soon, isn’t that right?”

  I nodded.

  “There’s the reason,” she said, becoming cryptic.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll see you in two hours.”

  Diana nodded stiffly, and the connection ended.

  “Something’s wrong,” Ella said. She leaned against a nearby table, having obviously watched the exchange. She was still wearing her living skin. It made her look like a superhero from one of the old movies. It also made her look hot. Her helmet and various armaments were on the table behind her.

  I waited for her to clarify the remark.

  “You shouldn’t go alone to New Denver,” she said.

  I snorted. “You think fifty assault troopers can buck Earth Defense?”

  Ella shook her head. “But why stick your head in a noose? That’s why Diana wants you in New Denver alone. Have N7 land the GEV, we pile in and off we go.”

  “No. Later, we’re going to need Diana, her generals, admirals and particularly her troops if we’re going to beat the Plutonians in their side dimension. Before that, we’re going to need regular space marines in the six cruisers so they can help us on Acheron.”

  “Fifty assault troopers can capture six Lokhar cruisers?”

  “Technically, no,” I said, “but with a few of my special toys, yes.”

  “You’re allowed to use those in our backward Civilizational Zone?”

  “The Forerunner artifacts used to live here,” I said. “So did the Jelks. My point is that a lot of beings have broken those rules.”

  “So the rule is meaningless?”

  “I didn’t say that. But rules are bendable, sometimes. Look. If I can solve the problems with Jennifer and the Plutonians with a minimum of fuss, my bending of a few tech rules shouldn’t matter much, especially as we, the Lokhars and some of the others like the Ilk and Gitan use stolen Karg technology.”

  “Shouldn’t matter much?” Ella asked.

  I shrugged.

  She ran a handful of fingers through her hair. I liked it better long like this. It was more becoming on her.

  “I still say it’s a mistake for you to go alone to New Denver,” Ella said. “Do you remember the last time you were on Earth?”

  “Are you referring to the control discs that Abu Hawkblood used?”

  “Exactly,” Ella said. “I wonder if Diana ever found the main stash of discs.”

  “Has Diana really gotten that bad?”

  “Gotten?” Ella asked. “Don’t you remember Diana like she used to be?”

  “Sure, I remember.”

  “Well,” Ella said. “Now, she has the power she’s always craved. Spencer has been like a drug to her, and he mainlines her more and more all the time.”

  “You don’t like the Police Proconsul, do you?”

  Ella shook her head.

  “Do you think he’s bugged our comm shack?”

  “I know he has.”

  That was a surprise. My equipment must have been faulty, because I’d tested for bugs a week ago and hadn’t found any.

  “I know it,” Ella said, “because I already found and removed the listening devices he installed.”

  “You really think Spencer’s people are going to try to plant a control disc onto me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what they’re going to try. I just know that you should be careful. Look. You’re tough, Creed. No one denies that. You are or were the Galactic Effectuator. You have special tech. But that doesn’t mean you’re immune to trouble, especially if you’re alone and your enemies know your strengths. You know the old saying, pride goes before the fall.”

  Ella had a point. It’s when a person thought he was invincible that he lost the quickest.

  “Diana told you to hurry to New Denver, right?” Ella asked.

  I nodded.

  “That means she doesn’t want you to think about it. Fortunately, I’ve done your thinking for you. Take us with you just to make sure they don’t try something funny.”

  “All fifty troopers?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I studied Ella Timoshenko. She looked serious. She’d grown up in the old Soviet Union when it had been a communist state. She might have grown up paranoid about police power because of that, but that didn’t mean she was wrong.

  “All right,” I said. “Summon the troopers. We’re going to take a little jaunt to New Denver before we head upstairs to the GEV.”

  “Diana’s not going to like it,” Ella said.

  “Changing your mind already?”

  “No. I’m just giving you a heads-up about what to expect.”

  I smiled.

  “You already knew all that?” Ella asked.

  “No. The smile is because it’s good to be among my own kind again. I’m starting to feel more comfortable all the time.”

  -30-

  The fifty chosen troopers landed at the New Denver spaceport in an old 747, a leftover from the old world. Just like the last time I’d landed alone in my flitter, a horde of siren-blaring hovers raced out to greet us.

  We exited the plane like the U.S. Olympic Hockey Team that had beaten the Russians back in 1980, loaded for bear. Some of the troopers carried their tubular containers that held their bio suits. Others had holstered sidearms.

  The armored hovers landed on the tarmac. Bay doors swung open, and marines in combat armor jumped out. They aimed pulse rifles at us and advanced quickly, soon surrounding us with approximately four hundred space marines.

  “We should have already put on our second skins,” Rollo grumbled as he stood beside me.

  The newly reinstated Rollo looked quite a bit different from his poker-room guise. He no longer had splotchy skin, but normal tight skin on a broad face. He was bigger than me, thicker, and looked like an escaped zoo gorilla. Rollo kept a monster .55 hand cannon strapped to his leg.

  I happened to have my Magnum .44, not that it would do much good against the armored marines. After I’d made the deal with Diana, Spencer’s people had returned my old sidearm.

  “Who’s in charge here?” I asked the marines.

  Another armored hover l
anded. This one vomited red-suited security people. They had weapons drawn, escorting Police Proconsul Spencer.

  The small, uniformed policeman approached me. “Commander Creed,” Spencer said, holding out his right hand.

  I shook hands with Spencer, and I indicated with my chin the force assembled against us.

  “Would you come with me, Commander?” Spencer asked.

  “Where to?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter where?”

  “Yup.”

  “Are you sure about this, Commander?”

  I laughed in a good-natured way. “I wouldn’t have said it unless I’m sure. You have a problem with my people being here?”

  “Commander, do you happen to notice the space marines surrounding your small—?”

  I cut his speech short by grabbing him by the front of his uniform and hoisting him so he had to stand on his tippy-toes. “Listen up, Spencer, I don’t like strong-armed tactics used against me.”

  He tried to act cool, but it was hard to do that up on his toes like that. He frowned down at my hand as if his displeasure would bother me. Finally, he looked up into my eyes.

  “You’d better release me,” he said quietly.

  I’ll give him this. Spencer had composure and self-confidence. I liked that about him.

  “Why did the Prime Minister summon me and tell me to come alone?” I asked.

  He said nothing, simply waited for me to release him.

  “Suit yourself, Police Proconsul,” I said. One-handed, I lifted him off his feet and pitched him back to Rollo.

  My old friend passed him back until Spencer stood in the middle of the assault troopers.

  “Get the Prime Minister on the horn,” I shouted to the marines. “Until you do, I’m holing up in the jet.”

  I turned to leave—

  An armored marine stepped forward, poking me in the side with the barrel of his pulse rifle. “No, you don’t,” he said through his helmet speakers.

  I whirled around, plucked the pulse rifle from his exoskeleton grip and bent the barrel, ruining his weapon.

  His visor whirred down, and General Briggs stared at me in disbelief.

  “Get the Prime Minister on the horn,” I told him.

  “You can’t—”

  “I already have,” I said, interrupting him. “So save the speech. I’m not interested.”