Kurrang’s gleeful face faded. “I destroyed all the components you had with you. I did not want an enemy to track your electromagnetic signature.”
Damn. Jessica shrugged. “It’s okay. We’ll go on without it.”
The loss of a more-or-less constant companion hurt, but not having a connection to Lucille wasn’t life-altering. There was little Lucille could do outside a system. Unsettling and damaging the mercenaries through asymmetric attacks and pure fear was up to her as a Human being. History said Jessica didn’t need a shred of technology to do that.
Kurrang nodded. “It’s sunset. We’ll move in fifteen units—what you call a minute.” Kurrang turned to a wooden chest along the far wall of the room and opened it. He withdrew two wide belts and slung them over one shoulder. Jessica squinted at them and realized each belt contained tiny clips of ammunition.
“Do you have any other weapons in there?”
“No. Nurr forbids us to have weapons outside of those in the council chambers. Some of the weapons in the assassin’s cache, as well as your laser rifle and a few MinSha ones, will accept this ammunition. All we have to do is get through the jungle tonight.”
Jessica nodded. “You’ve done that before, right?”
“No,” Kurrang stared at her, and her blood chilled. “Nothing survives alone in the jungle at night.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eighteen
Weqq
MinSha Compound
Raleigh paced along the north wall of the compound between the CASPers who stood watch in two-hour shifts. Their first iteration was just about complete. Twelve CASPers, their sensors and weapons aimed at the raw jungle, surrounded the hexagonal structure. Inside the compound walls sat eight unmanned ones. They ranged from Mk 3s to Mk 6s. His newer Mk 7s were destroyed in the MinSha’s hastily-constructed minefields. The only Mk 8 in his company belonged to Tara Mason. Raleigh snorted and spat over the wall. When Mason returned, maybe he’d get rid of her and take her ride for himself or auction it off to one of the smarter mercenaries in his company. Maybe he’d take back a little of the money he’d paid them for their work over the years. They’d had good days in the past, and more than their fair share of bad ones. While the overall purse for completing this mission was more than enough to pay his expenses, he wanted more.
Every mission in his thirty-year career, from the time he was a wet-behind-the-ears ammunition bearer for Mk 2 CASPers, had an element of profit. He’d learned early that being a mercenary and fighting someone else’s wars was damned profitable work, but what he took away from the mission through pillage or plunder was even more profitable. His forces looted from every operation. Yet, the work didn’t dry up as some people might have guessed. There was always a job for someone willing to do anything for credits. Some commanders simply did more than others. Raleigh Reilly figured the top of that list was the place to be. Experience taught him to craft hideouts for his forces all over the galaxy and maintain the best logistical operations under the cover of legitimate shipping. He owned half a dozen businesses on Earth and Luna, but the urge to retire and sit back doing nothing every day wasn’t there, so he stayed in the void.
Around the unmanned CASPers, the pilots gathered in groups of two or three, smoking and joking. Doing nothing. They’d been ordered to search the compound for anything usable. Other than the usual computers, weapons, and power components, there was nothing. While the MinSha had many talents and were proficient in the sciences, they wouldn’t have chosen this humid, train wreck of a planet to live on. There were reasons they were on this planet. There was a mission.
There was always a mission.
Raleigh stomped to the nearest ladder and slid down, his hands and feet on the outside of the alien-built contraption. When his feet hit the decking of the central compound, he thumbed off the safety release on his pistol. He stared straight ahead and felt the eyes of his troops on him. They wanted action, and he didn’t want them to have idle time during an operation. Strange things happened when hands were idle. Mutinies and insurrections took down some of the best-equipped and most-talented mercenary companies in the days of the Alpha Contracts. There would be nothing of the sort on his watch.
He stepped into the compound’s walls on the northern edge, near the MinSha barracks. The damned things bunked together in close-grouped hammocks like something he’d seen in an old movie about navies during the Napoleonic era. As such, they all fit into one large room. While their bodies didn’t put off the heat Human bodies did, the presence of more than a hundred aliens in a tight space seemed to spike the already high temperature. Not only that, the MinSha also carried a scent that smelled like the inside of a tall stem of grass peeled down to expose the sweet, white interior. Raleigh hated it.
Two of his full body-armored guards stood at the passageway entrance. They came to a rough approximation of attention and swung open the door. Two more guards stood inside. He recognized the nearest one from the red chevrons painted on the guard’s bulbous shoulder armor.
“They say anything, Antoine?”
Antoine was a massive Nigerian mercenary. He was taller than any of the others in the company and weighed more than two or three men combined. Despite his size, Antoine was the epitome of the soldiers Raleigh cherished and almost trusted. He would do whatever he was asked. “Nah, Boss. They’re quiet bugs.”
Good.
Raleigh stepped into the room and cleared his throat quietly. “Where is Captain Tirr? His services are needed, immediately.”
In the right rear corner of the room, someone stirred. A nervous chitter in a language Raleigh didn’t understand reverberated off the walls. Antoine yelled at them to shut the hell up and the voices, if that’s was what they were, quieted. Out of the hammock-like sacs, Captain Tirr emerged. His blue tunic caught the dim lights of the barracks, making the small, gold badge of the MinSha guards glint. Tirr moved toward the front of the room, his head and eyes up. He avoided looking at any of the other MinSha. His posture was alert but relaxed and at a level that most soldiers never reached. The captain of the guard impressed Raleigh.
Raleigh smiled. “Captain Tirr. Sorry to disturb you,” he lied.
“What can I do for you, Commander Reilly?”
“I’d love to chat about your compound, your people, and your mission a little more, if you have the time.” That was more sarcasm, of course, but it was lost on the MinSha.
“I am at your service,” Tirr replied. That the MinSha ever amounted to anything in a galaxy full of more assertive and aggressive species must have been because of their scientific talents and capabilities.
Raleigh glanced at Antoine, who swung open the security door. He stepped toward the door and paused. “Actually, Captain Tirr, there’s only one question I need answered. We’ve been through the basics of your personnel and facilities, but a very important piece of information continues to elude me. That may be by your choice, and if that’s the case, I’d like you to rectify that before we proceed any further.”
“Yes, Commander?”
“Why are you here?” Raleigh leaned toward the taller MinSha, a feral grin on his face. “You’re here for a specific reason, a mission with clear and understandable objectives. I want to know what it is.”
Tirr said nothing for a moment. His antennae twitched as he cocked his lower jaw to one side. “We’re here for scientific observation, Commander. As I said before, we are searching for unique compounds that could—”
Raleigh drew his pistol and placed it under Tirr’s chin. “No. That’s not it. I suggest you try again.”
“Killing me serves no purpose, Commander. I’ve told you the truth and have been more than compliant with the wishes of your soldiers.” Tirr said.
He was right, of course. As the captain of the guard, he was the second in command after Psymrr’s untimely, purposeful death. The MinSha did everything properly, with the confident air of a professional. But he seemed young, and the young could be manipulated by unthinkable
fear.
Raleigh withdrew the pistol from under Tirr’s chin and aimed at a nearby sac. He fired three times in rapid succession. Screams tore through the room before the last echoes of the pistol’s report ceased. Everyone in the room panicked, save for Tirr. He stood his ground, staring at Raleigh, but there was an unmistakable tremble in his upper arms.
Raleigh’s guards stepped forward, charging their rifles, and the chittering MinSha shrank back in collective fear and silence. He glanced one more time at the sac, now limp, dripping the MinSha’s murky blue blood on the barracks floor. Satisfied with the chaos he’d created, he turned to Tirr and raised his eyebrows. “Are you ready to talk now, Captain Tirr?”
“Yes, as long as there are no more threats. Our people are not your enemy, despite what your contract may say.”
Raleigh swung the pistol to the sac next to his original target and fired four more rounds. There was no shattering scream or collective panic. Their fear permeated the air around him, and he sucked it in with greedy breaths. He looked at Tirr and saw the captain step back with one leg. It was a small concession, but the MinSha’s resolve had begun weakening. It was time to press the advantage.
“So, Captain Tirr. Are you familiar with the term ultimatum?”
Tirr nodded once, never taking his bright, ruby eyes off Raleigh’s. “Yes.”
“Good. For every time I have to ask the question, I will kill one MinSha. If you continue to refuse to answer, I’ll butcher your entire staff, one after the other.” Raleigh pointed the pistol squarely at the captain’s face. “Or, I’ll kill you and pick people at random until I find someone who will tell me exactly what it is you’re doing here.”
There was a scuffle in the rear of the room, and a voice called out, “I’ll show you.”
Raleigh glanced in the voice’s direction but saw nothing. “Come forward, whoever you are. You can give me the answer and save Captain Tirr’s life and your own, or you’ll be my next target. Please, as we say on Earth, come on down!”
A female MinSha wearing a badge with the insignia of a medical staffer on her chiton stepped forward slowly. She trembled as she closed the distance. Her eyes never left Captain Tirr’s and, for a crazy second, Raleigh wondered if they were communicating telepathically.
“Who are you?”
The female stopped in front of him, to Tirr’s right. “I am Fuul, the compound’s lead physician.”
Raleigh studied her badge for a moment then pointed the pistol at her head. “No, you’re not the lead physician. Your badge has a red gem, not a blue one. Stop trying to fool me. Humans are not stupid.”
Fuul raised her front claw-hands. “Our lead physician was Tumree. He was killed by the Urrtam—the black bird-like creatures in the jungle—shortly after our arrival. His death is the reason Psymrr never let us venture outside the immediate area. It is why our mission stalled.”
Raleigh nodded. “What is your mission?”
“As Tirr said, it was a research mission, until we found something else that—”
“No more, Fuul.” Tirr growled at her. “We’re bound by MinSha law not to reveal anything about our mission or our findings.”
Fuul looked at him. “The MinSha home world is a hundred light years away. By the time our people learn about our noble sacrifice in the name of secrets, it would be all over the galaxy. If you want to die, Tirr, go ahead. Commander Reilly’s gun is pointed at my head, though, and I’m willing to share everything about what we found.”
Tirr looked down, defeated. “I will note this in my report.”
“I understand,” Fuul replied.
“And I don’t fucking care.” Raleigh laughed. “You have something to show me, Doctor? I suggest you show me right now, or I will have the best target practice in recorded history.”
Fuul nodded. “Captain Tirr will have to unlock the vault. I require his assistance.”
Raleigh grinned. Of course she’d say that. The captain of the guard was undoubtedly good in a fight, and there was a good chance she’d communicated a plan for the two of them to escape or subdue him. Neither were going to happen, that was for damned sure.
“Certainly,” Raleigh said. “I’ll make sure my guards assist us.”
Fuul nodded silently, but she and Tirr again shared a long look. Fresh rage boiled up in his stomach. The idea of someone, alien or not, communicating when he couldn’t hear them pushed his volatile temper even higher than normal. He looked at Antoine for a moment.
“Get me first platoon, second squad, on the double.” He turned to Tirr and Fuul. “I don’t know if you’re talking behind my back, but if you look at each other like that again, I’ll drop you both and kill every fucking bug in this compound, before I tear it apart. Do you understand?”
Tirr bowed his head. “We are not talking, Commander. The MinSha don’t have the ability to do so.”
Raleigh glanced at both of them again and decided to play along a little more. They were good theater, if nothing else, and he loved putting on a show for his soldiers. He heard running footsteps outside the barracks. The squad leader, Timmons, appeared at the door. “Standard armed escort posture.”
The young, redheaded squad leader positioned his team around the door. They trained their weapons on the MinSha as they exited the room. Raleigh was the last to leave. He turned around and drank in the fear, one more time. He raised his voice so they could all hear him. “If this fails to satisfy me, I’m coming for the rest of you.” He spun on his heel, teetering slightly as he completed the about-face maneuver, and snapped at Timmons. “Let’s go.”
“We need to go to the infirmary,” Tirr said. “Down the blue corridor.”
As they moved down the tight passageway following the blue blazes on the walls, it was all Raleigh could do to suppress his giggles. The procession resembled something out of a prison movie where the condemned slowly marched down the hall toward the electric chair or other device of death.
All we need is a priest reading from a Bible and praying to make it perfect.
The infirmary looked suspiciously like a Human hospital ward. There were contraptions that looked like a combination of a bed and iron lung along both walls. He’d seen something like them before, during his last hospital visit. The elSha-built beds could be arranged to accommodate any level of care or any condition, from water births to hermetic isolation. In the rear of the room was a single workstation with two GalNet terminals. Next to it was a small room, sealed off from the rest of the infirmary by transparent doors.
Fuul turned and looked at him. “May I open the isolation chamber? To do so, I must use the terminals at the workstation.”
“Do it,” Raleigh said with a grunt. “Timmons, set up your squad to maintain security on the hatch behind us, our hosts, and whatever is in that room.”
The six armored squad members shifted around the room, readying their weapons. None of them placed their fingers in the trigger housings, which was a major reason why he’d called Timmons and his well-trained, if young, squad. The kid knew trigger discipline and would make a hell of a mercenary in about ten years. The rest of his squad was too young to know. They did what Timmons told them, and that was enough for Raleigh.
“Set,” Timmons said quietly.
Raleigh turned to Fuul. “Do what you need to, Doctor. Captain? You stand really fucking still, do you understand?”
Tirr nodded, and Fuul moved to the workstation. For the first time, Raleigh noticed there were no chairs or stools. The physician simply lowered herself onto her haunches and rapidly worked the clumsy-looking keyboard. With a whirr, the isolation room doors slid open. Almost immediately, a wet-dog smell hit Raleigh’s nose, and he stepped forward. Inside the room was a single piece of equipment that looked like a very large crib. Raleigh stepped forward and looked inside.
The creature lay on its side. The length of its forearms and the structure of its body looked like those of a gorilla, but its head was elongated and flared like a dinosaur’s. He’d love
d the Triceratops as a child, and the appearance of the alien almost made him smile.
“What is this?” Raleigh stared at the big hands and the gangly body. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. “Where is it from?”
Fuul appeared on the other side of the crib with Tirr standing behind her and to her left. She pointed at the creature. “This is a TriRusk.”
“A what?” Raleigh laughed. “Tri for its horns, right? Like a triceratops?”
Fuul’s lower jaw worked for a moment. “The protrusions on the skull are hardly horns, but yes, there are three major ones. There are two protrusions on the sides perpendicular to the jaw and one from the chin. The ones around the skull flare are not considered major. They are for self-defense.”
The TriRusk opened its eyes and looked up at Raleigh for a moment, and he looked into the sad, pink eyes as the alien whined. Raleigh blinked in shock as a memory of Buddy, his Border Collie-mix from childhood, surfaced. They’d brought Buddy home to the farm from a shelter. The little black and white pup had looked up and whined, and that was all it took for a little boy to fall in love. Raleigh shook off the memory and blinked several times.
“What’s so special about it?” Raleigh tried to get his mind working again. The TriRusk’s pink eyes closed, and Raleigh could see how fair its skin was in the bright light. “Is it an albino?”
Fuul glanced up at him with surprise twitching through her antenna. “Yes, that is the proper term in Human language and understanding. There are a relatively small percentage of TriRusk born with this condition. It usually subsides by the age of twelve.”
“Where did the TriRusk come from?”
“We found it on this planet,” Tirr said. “But it shouldn’t be here.”
Raleigh looked up. “What did you say?”
Tirr glanced at Fuul. “It’s a long story. The TriRusk are considered an extinct species in the Galactic Union. They disappeared roughly three hundred years ago from their home world in the Jesc system. One moment they were a productive, up-and-coming species in the Union, the next, they disappeared. All of them. No one knows where they went. There were no records of gate passages, colonization requests, and no sightings beyond the date they disappeared.”
Honor the Threat Page 20
