Peace Talks (Adventures of the Starship Satori Book 12)

by Kevin McLaughlin

  “Please! A few disorganized humans shouldn't be that much trouble.”

  “That's what your people probably said when they ran into the Satori, too,” Hereford remarked.

  He had to admit, he enjoyed the banter. It had been quite a while since many people were willing to speak to him like this. Garul respected him and his rank, but he didn't let it get in his way even for a moment. It was like a breath of fresh air. The sergeant came back over holding another Naga rifle and an armored vest.

  “Thank you,” Hereford said, taking the equipment. He slung the body armor on with practiced ease. It might have been a while since he'd last worn the stuff, but it was like riding the proverbial bicycle. All the old muscle memories were kicking in. He buckled the straps into place on the vest, then checked out the rifle. Full charge. One advantage to these Naga guns - you never had to bring extra ammo with you. They were powered from within. Hereford turned and saw Garul staring at him.

  “General, are you sure you should be putting yourself in harm's way?” Garul asked.

  Captain Jenkins chimed in from beside the Naga. “I'm with him, sir. Frankly, you're a liability out there, not an asset. How long since you've been in the field?”

  “Oh, a few years,” Hereford said. Then he snapped the Naga rifle up to his shoulder with a practiced ease that made even him smile. “But I think I've still got a little fight in me. This is my base, Captain. At least while Colonel Foster is away. Someone tried to kill a guest of mine. I'm not sitting this one out.”

  Jenkins didn't look happy, but he'd worked with Hereford for a year now. He knew better than to push back on this. He simply nodded. “Very well, sir. Just don't get shot. It'll look shitty on my next review.”

  “Noted,” Hereford said. He glanced around the room. The entire platoon was suited up and ready to rock. But this wasn't his operation to call the shots. Hereford knew damned well that Jenkins was the right person to be in charge of his men. All Hereford would do if he started issuing orders was mess up the chain of command. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. Not a lot of time to set up an ambush.

  But Jenkins was aware of the time crunch. “Move out, troops! Double time.”

  The security force rushed up the stairs two abreast. Garul and Hereford followed in their wake. They set a damned good pace. Hereford found himself huffing a little by the time they were all outside, but he kept his legs pounding the pavement anyway. He'd signed up for this. It wouldn't look too good if he suddenly showed he wasn't capable of keeping up after all. He just ground his teeth together and told his protesting knees to shut the hell up and do what they were told.

  He'd pay for that, later. Tomorrow was going to suck. But he wasn't missing this bit of action. Song lyrics came to mind, something about being ‘not as good as I once was, but as good once as I ever was’. He felt that familiar fire burning in his veins as they moved out to combat. It had been a long time, but not that long.

  The gate was dead ahead. Hereford watched Jenkins slot his people into hidden positions along the road. These were experienced soldiers. They all knew their jobs well and needed little instruction, but Jenkins was there giving just enough guidance. Hereford had no doubt these men and women would be able to stop the incursion. He only hoped they could do so with minimal loss of life.

  When he'd finished going down the line, Captain Jenkins returned to crouch beside Hereford and Garul. “Sirs, I want you to take up a position back there with Sergeant Dean.”

  He pointed at a place a short distance up the road where a soldier hid behind a pair of concrete barriers. It was a good, safe position. He couldn't fault the man for not wanting a senior officer anywhere that he was likely to get shot. It would do.

  “Come on,” Hereford told Garul. “We need to get into position.”

  The Naga hesitated only a moment before taking off toward the barrier at a fast, loping pace Hereford couldn't help but envy.

  Thirteen

  Owen hopped out of the back of the pickup, tucking his knees to absorb the impact as he hit the ground. They'd parked only a few hundred meters from the gate, but it was far enough that he doubted anyone inside would have heard the engine noise. He scanned the sky, pretty sure there would be eyes up there. Hereford would have sent up drones, at least, maybe more. But he didn't see signs of anything. Wherever they were, they were keeping quiet.

  That was for the best. If they wanted to take this entire band at once, they needed to sweep them up quickly where they couldn't flee. Out in the open like this there would be too many opportunities for one or two to slip away. Once they were inside the base it would be a very different story. That's where Owen was betting Hereford would lay his trap.

  That didn't keep him from sweating bullets even in the cool night air. If this went badly he was going to be in the shit, deep. Worst case, he'd be a hostage for these people to use. Best case, he'd be dead. It's never a good day when you figure the best-case scenario was one where you were pushing up daisies, but he couldn't allow these people to use him as a weapon against his friends. Owen had a feeling Garul wouldn't hesitate to surrender himself if it would save him. He couldn't allow that to happen.

  A tap on his shoulder got Owen's attention.

  “You good?” Eric whispered.

  Owen gave a thumbs-up signal and checked his pistol for what felt like the hundredth time. Not that he was planning to use the thing if he could help it. The little surprise Garul handed him was still safe in his pocket. It was a much better tool for this sort of fighting.

  Once everyone was out of the truck Eric raised a hand and pointed toward the base. They all took off at a light jog. It was open terrain, but a moonless night, which meant they were nearly invisible in their dark clothes. Owen raised a hand in a fist, hoping at least some of the group would understand military hand-and-arm signals. He exhaled a long gust of air when they stopped moving forward and gathered around him. It wasn't quite what he had in mind; that raised fist meant “freeze”. But it would do.

  “I need to go in first once we reach the gate,” Owen whispered. “The rest of you hide by those stones just outside.”

  He pointed at a pile of rocks that had once been some sort of memorial. The base was only recently back in military hands, and it was nowhere near fully operational yet. That spot would keep them obscured from view well enough for a few moments.

  “Why you?” Larissa asked.

  “Because I'm the only one of us who's supposed to be in there,” Owen said, pointing at the gate. “If the guard is still there, I won't cause an alarm. But if all of you walk up to the gate...”

  “We get it. Signal us when it's clear?” Eric asked.

  Owen pulled out his phone. “I'll flash the flashlight. Come quickly when you see the light.”

  He escorted the group to the rocks. Once they were well-hidden, Owen stood up and started ambling toward the gate like he didn't have a care in the world. A breeze rushed against his face, chilling the beads of sweat on his brow. He let his eyes dance from one side of the road to the other, looking for any sign of the soldiers he knew had to be out there. If they were, they were nearly invisible. He couldn't see any sign of them.

  “You'd better be out there,” Owen whispered to himself.

  His phone buzzed. Owen pulled it from his pocket and held it close to his chest so the light didn't show. It was a text message from Hereford.

  Bring them in. We're here and ready.

  He might be ready, but Owen felt anything but. He swallowed hard and kept walking until he reached the gate shack with it's railroad-style barrier dropped across the road. Owen peeked inside the little wood hut. Three soldiers huddled inside, each of them armed with Naga rifles. That helped him relax a bit. Hereford had taken him seriously when he'd asked for non-lethal measures. The Naga weapons would knock their targets out, not kill them. They'd wake up bruised and sore, but alive.

  Owen turned toward where the gang of wannabe terrorists were waiting. Moment of truth time. He held u
p his phone and flashed the light.

  They came in at a slow run. Just slow enough to remain mostly silent, but fast enough that they would reach the gate shack in under a minute. Owen still had the pistol holstered at his side, but he didn't want to kill these people. He couldn't imagine leaving those kids back in the camp without parents. Both their mother and father were out there. If there was anything he could do that would keep those kids from becoming orphans, he would.

  But that didn't mean he was unarmed. Owen slid the pen-shaped object Garul had given him out of his jacket. He checked the device over again to be certain it was still in operational condition. A tiny green tell-tale light flashed for him on the butt of the little weapon. It would fire. He wouldn't have many shots, but this thing was a shrunk-down version of the Naga rifle these soldiers carried. This one had relatively little charge, and the energy pellets it fired were only the low-power stunning type. It was useless against an armored opponent and wouldn't kill at all. That made it perfect for his purposes. He palmed the weapon in his hand, thumb ready on the firing stud.

  All hell was about to break loose. Owen's could feet his heart actually slowing down as the adrenaline kicked in. He took deep, controlled breaths. It was always worst just before the action started, for him at least. Once a fight had begun he found a calm space in the center of himself every time. But the moments just before were terrifying every time.

  The band was close enough now that the ambush would probably work out OK. Owen could just dive into the guard shack for cover, or even sprint to the concrete barriers twenty meters away. Those would give him plenty of cover from the firefight. He just couldn't bring himself to do those things, though. How could he face himself in the mirror if he let other people take all the risks for him? How would he keep Garul's respect? No, he'd picked this fight. He was staying in it.

  Larissa was at the front of the pack with James. Neil was right behind them. That had to be Eric bringing up the rear. The scoped rifle slung across his back stuck out like a sore thumb. They were almost to the guard post. As soon as they arrived the soldiers inside would be revealed. They'd have to open up fire at that point. Owen held one hand out, palm facing the raiders. If he could slow the ones in front down a bit, the ones further behind might catch up and be easier to snare.

  James' eyebrows came together in confusion, but he slowed his pace some, enough for Neil to catch up. They were almost on top of Owen. There wasn't time to wait any longer. He needed to act.

  He raised the hand clasping the Naga weapon, aimed it at James, and pressed the firing stud.

  The device made a short whining noise and then a loud crack. Blue light spat from the tiny barrel as it blasted a ball of coherent energy toward his target. Owen's aim was solid. The ball slammed into James, tossing him backward onto the pavement. The other raiders stopped in their tracks, all of them raising their weapons. He was their target, now.

  “He shot James!” Larissa shouted. She aimed her pistol at Owen's head and fired, but the shot went wide. Owen dove for the ground and fired a second shot toward her but also missed. Everything was moving too fast!

  Blasts of blue light streamed from both sides of the road as men in black uniforms stormed forward, Naga rifles blazing. Another raider went down. The remaining ones knew they were outnumbered and outgunned. They began to retreat away from the guard shack as quickly as they could, but they were dropping like flies under the heavy fire.

  Fourteen

  Eric ducked a ball of blue-white light as it flashed by his head. Damn, that was closer than he liked. He didn't know what sort of fancy toys they were shooting at him, but from the looks of it they were effective. James was on the ground, laid out flat. Didn’t know if he was dead or alive, but either way there wasn’t much he could do to help his friend, which sucked. Everything was going to hell, and it was all that kid's fault.

  No, if Eric were being honest with himself, it was his fault. He was the one who'd brought McInness to the group. He'd led the spy right into their camp and then they'd all followed him right into this trap. McInness was there, just a dozen or so feet ahead, shooting some sort of tiny pistol. The kid had already gunned down James. Eric wanted nothing more than to take the kid out. He'd earned it, by God! But there was weird gunfire coming from both sides, a crossfire that left him certain he was going to be taken out himself if he didn't find some cover.

  He dove under another bolt of bluish-white light and hit the ground. Neil went down beside him, struck by another of those weird bolts. Ray guns. Holy shit! Were they under attack by Naga? He didn't think so. Although their attackers were mostly hidden in shadow, the glimpses he'd caught looked human enough. He rolled behind Neil's body and swung his rifle free. With a little luck, maybe they could get out of this yet. He fired off a round at one of the soldiers, but it went wide.

  Eric shook his head to clear it and then peered into the scope again. There was a target! He squeezed the trigger slowly, easing it back. The rifle bucked, and the man he'd been aiming at went down. A little thrill of satisfaction ran through him. That would teach the assholes!

  He squeezed off another round and made another hit, but the guy he shot was still moving. He was down on his back, but definitely not dead. They were wearing some kind of body armor. This fight wasn't even close to fair. He kept up a steady series of bullets flying toward the soldiers trying to help their downed buddy and managed to wing another one. But there were so many of them!

  Eric was all for a target-rich environment, but this was ridiculous. He looked up from the scope and tried to see if there were any way out of this mess other than in a body-bag. It wasn't looking good.

  “Eric, we've got to get out of here!” Larissa screamed from a few feet ahead. She was using James' body for cover. Smart girl. It had kept her alive so far, anyway. But the soldiers were moving forward now, and near as Eric could tell they were the last two left fighting. She was right. It was way past time to go.

  “We need a distraction,” he hollered back.

  “One distraction coming right up,” Larissa replied. She reached into her back and withdrew two of her home-made specials.

  That would do the trick, all right. “Toss 'em at the soldiers, one at each side of the road. Then we move!”

  “I wasn't born yesterday!”

  The bombs turned end over end as they flew through the air, the light catching them briefly before they fell into shadows. One of the soldiers rushing toward them had the presence of mind to shout “Grenade!”

  Then the bombs went off, and nobody could hear much of anything for a few minutes. Eric managed to clap his hands over his ears in time, and even so, the shockwave left him stunned for a few seconds. He could only imagine how bad it must have been closer to the explosions, with no warning. Those bombs were loaded with little BBs. Anyone close to them when they went off probably got a face-full of shrapnel. If they were still in a fighting mood after that, the concussive force of the explosion should keep them down for long enough to escape.

  Larissa was already back on her feet, bag over her shoulder and a pistol in her hand, running toward the base exit. She fired a few shots toward the soldiers as she fled. Eric hauled himself up from the ground, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and bolted after her.

  His hearing started coming back about the time they reached the pile of rocks they'd sheltered at just a few minutes before. Cries of pain and calls for medical help were sweet music to his ears. They thought they could just mow his people down without any repercussions? Not hardly. They'd been bloodied by the bombs, but that was just for starters. He was damned sure going to make them pay for every person on his team that they'd killed.

  Eric winced at the thought of his fallen friends. He'd known James and Neil for a decade. Longer, maybe. They'd fished together, drank together, talked shit together... Now both men were dead, and Eric couldn't help but think their end was on his conscience. If only he hadn't taken McInness with them!

  “Come on, we need t
o get back to camp. We'll tell others what happened here,” Eric said. “When word gets out... We'll avenge them.”

  “I don't think they're dead,” Larissa said, her voice huffing from the run. “James was still breathing, at least. I couldn't drag him, though. I had to leave him.”

  They weren't dead? Eric wanted to rush back up and collect his friends. How could he leave them if they were still breathing? But the soldiers had already recovered from the shock of the bombs going off. Shouts echoed down the road toward their hiding spot. It wouldn't take them long to organize and come after him and Larissa. If they wanted to stay free, they had to run.

  “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

  Then he spotted movement. Someone sprinted down the road, making straight for him. It only took a moment to figure out who it was: McInness. Not enough that he'd led them all into a trap, now the kid had the gall to chase after him?

  That was fine. He pulled a holstered pistol from his belt. He had a little something for the kid who'd done this to his people.

  Fifteen

  Owen was crouched low near the guard shack when he spotted Larissa tossing something. There was only one thing she'd be throwing in the middle of a firefight - her bombs!

  “Grenade!” Owen rolled to better cover as he shouted, hoping someone would hear him over the noise of the battle.

  A moment later the bombs exploded. The force of the blast sent bits of metal pinging against the gatehouse with enough force to create a spiderweb of cracks all over the bulletproof glass. Owen lay on the gatehouse floor, stunned by the concussion. Holy shit, she'd packed a heavy boom into those little packages! He prayed the soldiers exposed outside were all right, but as his hearing returned and he heard the cries of the injured, he knew that wasn't so.

  Owen ground his teeth together and pushed himself upright. Throwing those bombs wasn't some last act of suicide. She'd thrown them to both sides of the road, right where the soldiers were hidden. That spelled distraction to him. She was making the security platoon hit the deck for long enough to try an escape.