Blood World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 8)

by B. V. Larson

  “I’m going to kill Claver,” I said with certainty. “Maybe Winslade, too.”

  The two women exchanged worried glances.

  “It isn’t time for killing,” Floramel told me. “Not now.”

  “What’s our situation, ladies?” I asked.

  “You’re on the run,” Evelyn said. “If we’re caught in your company, we’ll be arrested and put up on charges.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “We do. Follow me.”

  Thompson led, I followed, and Floramel brought up the rear of our group.

  We were still aboard Nostrum, I could tell that much at least. Checking my tapper, I caught up on more vital information. It was the middle of the night, ship’s time. I’d been dead for perhaps a dozen hours.

  “I take it I’m not supposed to be revived,” I said.

  “Hush,” Evelyn said gently. “We’ll tell you more soon. Just keep moving.”

  I glanced at Floramel. She looked troubled, but that could have meant anything. After all, I could only assume I was an accused killer in her eyes.

  We made our way aft, to Engineering. Floramel worked her magic on the hatchways. They were secure—but she was a tech.

  We passed several bored crewmen, but they did nothing more than give us a curious glance. My stern eyes and the centurion’s red crest on my shoulder kept their gaze from lingering.

  Whatever slander Winslade had put out about me, it seemed like it hadn’t included an all-points bulletin. After all, why warn people about a dangerous madman after he was conveniently dead? It could only cause uncomfortable questions to be asked.

  When we reached the machine shop, I frowned.

  “What’s back here, besides the gateway posts?”

  They looked at me. The light went on in my fridge.

  “You want me to go somewhere? To get out of your hair?”

  “You have to go back to Earth, James,” Evelyn said. “You have to warn them. Deech is dead. We think Winslade did it, but—”

  “It wasn’t him. It was Claver. They’re working together.”

  Specialist Thompson’s eyes widened. “He’s back? He’s aboard this ship?”

  “Yes. Winslade and Claver cut some kind of deal concerning Earth’s ownership of Blood World. This contest to show mastery—it’s a sham.”

  “Not entirely,” Evelyn told me. “The Blood Worlder’s really do respect this process. Ever since the Cephalopods were taken down by us, they’ve been lost. Three billion warrior slaves in search of new masters.”

  I frowned. “Uh… how do you know all that?”

  She shrugged and looked down. “Well… as you must know, I’ve had dealings with Imperator Turov for years.”

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to figure a few things out.

  “You’re still working for her, aren’t you?” I demanded.

  Evelyn wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Yes,” she said.

  “So… this whole romance-thing we’ve been having? That was all a setup? A way to keep tabs on old McGill?”

  Specialist Thompson shrugged. Her face had reddened a little.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I hated you before, remember? But you did charm me, over time.”

  “Oh, that’s nice! Shit…”

  Floramel watched the two of us having this conversation, but she wasn’t saying anything. That told me a lot.

  “You’re in on this too, aren’t you?” I asked her. “Are you working for Turov too?”

  “No,” she said, “but Specialist Thompson told me about it. She needed my help to get your data copied out of the core. I didn’t want to do it—until she explained the true nature of her relationship with you.”

  My mouth hung open. It was a thing that just happened to me in moments like this.

  Sure, I’d been surprised when Claver and Winslade had gone off the rails and pinned Deech’s murder on me. But this was personal.

  “You’re telling me your feelings for me are real, not manufactured like miss prissy-pants over here?”

  “James…” Evelyn said. “We’re wasting time. For what it’s worth—I don’t hate you anymore.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “That’s really cool.”

  Floramel had set up the gateway posts. They’d never been powered-up before to my knowledge. I was surprised they weren’t under guard—but I guess the techs figured they were safe enough down here.

  “We’ll have to tap the main engines to get enough power,” Floramel said. “The jump to Earth is a long one.”

  “Why don’t you gate home, Evelyn?” I asked with a hint of bitterness.

  “I have other missions to perform. You don’t.”

  “That’s cold,” I said. “Ice cold—but all right. I’ll go back home. I’m not sure why I would bother coming back, but—”

  “You probably won’t have to,” Specialist Thompson said. “Just get Turov on the deep-link. She can talk to Winslade and the crew. If Winslade understands that his secret dealings are public knowledge back home, he won’t be able to complete his plans.”

  “I don’t entirely get it,” I said. “What’s so incredibly valuable about Blood World anyway? I know they’ve got troops, but—”

  “Think, James,” Thompson told me. She touched my cheek with the back of her hand, but I pulled away. “How many credits would it take to train and equip three billion ground troops?”

  I stared at her for a long moment. “A whole lot,” I admitted.

  “Exactly. Floramel? Are we ready?”

  Floramel watched the two of us. I felt a pang. I’d ditched her, and it now seemed I’d made the wrong choice.

  On impulse, I leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss. She looked startled, but she didn’t dodge.

  The gateway posts began to thrum. They were active.

  “Where do I come out?” I asked, looking at the glowing poles dubiously.

  “Central, probably,” Thompson said.

  “Probably…” I echoed.

  Setting my beret at an appropriate angle, I stepped forward—and vanished.

  -43-

  I’ve taken many teleportation trips before. Usually, I’d done it with the aid of a protective suit. Long jumps tended to burn the traveler with radiation and friction created by various manipulated fields.

  But the gateway posts worked differently. Unlike teleportation suits, they didn’t cast a man adrift in the cosmos like a one-man starship. Instead, they connect two points in space together, linking them via some trick of entanglement.

  The result was that my trip from Epsilon Leporis to Earth took mere seconds to complete. I saw no stars, and I experienced no sensations on this long journey. Over three hundred lightyears were crossed in the time it took to breathe a few puffs of air.

  Only, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move at all. I felt as if I’d been stuck in stasis. That had been my lot in the past, watching the world move with great rapidity while I was stuck crawling through time at a very different pace.

  To me, it seemed like my mind wasn’t in synch with my body. My body was frozen, but my mind was racing. It was quite disturbing. It was like being paralyzed but aware.

  Then, not a moment too soon, it ended. My sharp walking pace had turned into a stumble, and I put my hands on my knees while the world swam around me. I gasped like a fish on land. Psychologically, I felt like I’d been suffocated—even though it was all an illusion.

  “Who the fuck are you?” demanded a voice.

  Looking up and regaining control of my breathing, I realized I was inside some kind of glass box. The glass looked thick and tough. It was probably ballistic glass, bullet proof.

  Beyond the glass, I saw a group of hogs. They were noncoms, mostly, with a centurion in charge. All of them were armed, and they held their rifles at their shoulders.

  “I’m Centurion James McGill,” I said, slapping my legion patch. “Legion Varus.”

  They relaxed a little. “What are you doing here, McGill?” the
officer asked. “No one is due to come out of there for days.”

  “Something’s gone wrong,” I said. “The mission is in trouble. I’m supposed to report to Imperator Turov.”

  The hog immediately began working his tapper.

  “Who are you contacting?” I asked.

  “The Equestrian’s office,” he said. “If anything happens down here, I’m—”

  “Hold on, Centurion,” I said. “When I said something’s gone wrong, I’m talking about treachery.”

  He stopped tapping at his arm and looked at me. “Are you saying that Drusus has gone bad? Didn’t he run your legion originally?”

  “Are you contacting Equestrian Drusus directly?” I asked him. “Because if you are, I’m all for it.”

  He snorted. “Are you kidding? He’s serious brass. I’m calling his staff.”

  “That’s when it becomes a problem.”

  His expression shifted to a frown again. “His staff? His staff is compromised?”

  I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him flatly.

  Normally, this kind of tactic might not have worked. But there had been many bouts of strange shenanigans in Central in previous years. No hog officer could be unaware of that fact.

  One thing about hogs that made them easier to manipulate than a star-faring legionnaire was their natural tendency to play it safe. After all, if they’d been born with real balls, they wouldn’t have signed with the biggest, most boring service of them all.

  The hog opened his mouth to say more, but he never got the chance. I lifted my tapper. My fingers had been working just as quickly as theirs had.

  Imperator Turov’s sly face looked out of the tiny screen.

  “Gentlemen,” she said. “Please let Centurion McGill out of the protective enclosure. I would appreciate it if you’ll escort him directly to my office.”

  None of them were about to disobey a direct order from someone of Turov’s rank. Drusus was one notch higher—but he wasn’t watching right now.

  Grumbling a bit, they let me out of the glass cage. Half of them rode up several hundred floors with me.

  They didn’t look at me much, and they said even less. I could tell they wanted to unload me and the stink of misconduct I represented ASAP.

  On Earth, it was a fine sunny morning. My tapper updated and said it was 10:20 am. Right away, I began feeling cheery. I’d missed Earth. Blood World sucked in comparison.

  Turov didn’t let me into her office right away. She summoned her own squadron of hogs to surround me first.

  Without so much as a statement of intent, a hog noncom began searching me. I spread my hands and legs—but suddenly, he was on his back on the deck. I’d swept his feet from under him when he was off-balance.

  “Oh hey,” I said, with simulated concern. “Let me help you up, big guy.”

  Growling, he grabbed my hand and squeezed. He did have an iron grip. I was almost impressed. A twist of the wrist, however, allowed me to gain control of his hand with one of mine. Humans have several weak points in their skeletal structure, and having been a veteran myself for some years in one of the meanest legions in Earth history, I knew them all.

  Hissing in pain and doing a little spin, the hog found himself face down on the deck again.

  “Damn, boy!” I shouted in his ear. “Have you got a case of vertigo, or something?”

  Another trooper put a rifle up against my spine about then. I had a plan all ready for him—but there was an interruption.

  “Don’t shoot him,” Turov said, standing in her open doorway. “I know you really, really want to—but don’t.”

  The gun barrel in my back retreated. I straightened up and smiled at the man at my feet.

  “No hard feelings, hog,” I said.

  He got to his feet, glaring and showing me a lot of teeth. I smiled back, knowing I’d made another friend.

  “Get in here, McGill,” Turov ordered.

  “Imperator,” said the man who’d been enjoying the floor so much. “You can’t trust that man. You shouldn’t be alone with him.”

  “I know that,” she said resignedly.

  She closed the door in his face.

  Turning around with her hands on her shapely hips, she gave me an acid stare of rebuke.

  In return, I ogled her. Damn, I’d forgotten how good a superior officer could look after hanging around Tribune Deech for months. Now, don’t get me wrong, Deech was fine and decent woman. But Turov? She was like a doll possessed by an evil spirit.

  “Still looking good, Galina,” I said.

  The Imperator and I had shared many inappropriate moments in the past. Because of that, I’d always felt a certain familiarity with her when we were alone. Sometimes, that went fine with her—but this clearly wasn’t one of those times.

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. Her eyes were full of suspicion. “Dare I ask the most basic of questions?”

  “Fire away, sir.”

  “What the hell are you doing on Earth?”

  “Well now, that’s a funny thing. I found these goal posts in the basement aboard Nostrum, and—”

  “Cut the shit, McGill. Who sent you?”

  “Your sneaky honeypot agent did.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Specialist Thompson?”

  At those words, I felt a twinge. Her instant recognition confirmed my worst fears. Thompson had played me like a fiddle.

  If there was one thing Galina Turov wasn’t, it was dumb. She caught the shift in my expression. Her voice lowered.

  “Is she still alive, James?”

  “Yeah, sure... Last I checked.”

  “You didn’t perm her or anything, did you?”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  We eyed one another. After studying my face, she relaxed a little.

  “All right,” she said. “Thompson wouldn’t have sent you unless the situation was critical. Brief me.”

  I did so, with only a very few key reservations. I even threw in a few details from my sexual escapades with Thompson for good measure. Turov rolled her pretty eyes when I did that.

  Naturally, I left out anything that reflected badly on me, such as when I’d murdered Claver out of turn. I also failed to mention much about Floramel’s involvement in the rampant scheming. I figured I’d already broken that girl’s heart, so why make it worse by putting her on Turov’s radar?

  Galina began to pace when I’d finished, so I helped myself to her liquor cabinet. It was a testament to how hard she was thinking that she didn’t admonish me for taking liberties.

  “Hmm…” she said. “This is complicated, and it feels incomplete. I can only surmise you’re holding back critical information for your own purposes.”

  People often divined all sorts of deep thoughts, sinister plans and semi-amazing powers due to simple gaps in my knowledge. I’d found over the years it was best to let them do so.

  “That’s not just a lie, sir,” I said. “It’s a damned lie!”

  I’d spoken with such false vehemence, she appeared to be convinced.

  “Of course it is…” she said thoughtfully, not believing me for a second. “I can’t tell you how upset your information has made me, McGill. None of this was supposed to happen—not like this.”

  “Uh… how was it all supposed to go down?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Armel was supposed to win at the end. When your legions fight in the final contest, Earth can’t lose. Either one legion will win, or the other will. In my estimation, it should be a simple matter for Germanica to defeat Varus. That’s why Varus was chosen to face them in the first place.”

  I blinked. I tried to stop that reaction, but I didn’t manage to do it in time.

  Fortunately, Galina was strutting around and fuming so much that she didn’t notice my shocked response.

  Armel? The tribune of Legion Germanica? As far as I knew, he wasn’t even out there at Blood World. I was confused, but I kept pretending I knew what was going on. Tu
rov was letting gems of wisdom fall on the floor at random.

  To cover my mood, I drank a shot of her scotch, made a face, and then poured another. When she walked by, I absently pressed the tiny glass into her hand.

  She paused, looking at it in confusion for a second, then threw it down her throat and handed the glass back. I went back to pouring.

  “The plan was foolproof,” she said. “We sent out a legion to impress the Blood Worlders. They need new masters, and we require countless slaves willing to die.”

  “A match made in Heaven,” I said, toasting the air.

  “Exactly. To make certain we won, we sent two legions. One was representing Earth directly, and the other was supposedly hired on by a third party. In the end, of course, that would turn out to be Earth as well, or someone under our control.”

  I was beginning at long last to grasp the nature of her scheme. It sounded evil, underhanded, and thus highly likely to succeed. By having two players in the contest, the odds we’d win were much improved.

  “So then,” I said thoughtfully, “why is Thompson so convinced things are going wrong?”

  “That should be obvious. Claver wasn’t supposed to be leading saurian troops in any battles. Winslade wasn’t supposed to be shooting Deech, either.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Winslade is a puppet,” she continued, “so it all comes down to Claver… I don’t know what he has in mind, but I don’t trust him at all. That’s why Thompson sent you to inform me of the situation. She’s there to keep an eye on the operation.”

  Her words troubled me. They shouldn’t have, but they did. I’d kind of liked Evelyn, and it hurt a little to know her passions for me had been bought and paid for.

  I poured another shot, slipped it into Galina’s hand, and she downed it absently.

  “I was a fool to let Claver get involved at all!” she said, waving her hands around angrily.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, sipping more scotch.

  We were drinking the good stuff, and it went down smoothly. However, as I was fresh from the revival chamber with an empty stomach, I soon felt a rumble deep inside. I fished some stale chips out of her cabinets and munched on them.