Peacemaker (The Revelations Cycle Book 6)

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “Missiles inbound!”

  Through the last of the brush, Klatk broke out onto the clearer terrain and accelerated toward the colony. When she reached the gate, she saw almost every position manned along the northern wall. Alarms continued to bray, and she could hear the chittering announcements in her native tongue.

  “Unknown patrols to the southeast. Prepare to defend the colony. Weapons to hold. I repeat, weapons to hold.”

  Through the gate, she sped into the center of the colony and found her executive officer waiting. “Ma’am! We’re at 94 percent defensive strength. The GenSha have employed mercenary forces, unit and designation unknown. The inbound missiles will impact away from the main colony. It’s a warning, at best.”

  Klatk stood on her hind legs and surveyed the scene. The last few Altar scattered from the tunnel complex and took up their assigned defensive positions. A knot in her abdomen twisted. “If they fire again, prepare to defend the brood.”

  “They’ll attack our children?” Tracha recoiled. “They can’t!”

  Klatk pushed past her second in command. “Those missiles were a show of force. They’ll fire again and target us where it hurts.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Tracha! Missiles don’t miss the colony on their own. It was meant to show us the GenSha have given their mercenaries complete control of the tactical situation. They will—”

  “Missiles Inbound! Missiles Inbound!”

  Klatk scrambled toward the southeast wall, but made it no farther than 100 meters before the first explosion rippled through the colony behind her. Flung to her face in the dust, she closed her eyes and flinched, expecting the worst. As the detonation washed over her, she turned and looked at the damage. A full section of the brood, at least 10 percent of their next generation, was gone. Her abdomen clenched in rage and she fought to maintain her balance on her hind legs in the stress. Through the sudden, blinding loss, a tiny fire burned inside.

  “Get the brood below!” she ordered. Looking back at Tracha, she pointed with her forearms. “Run the power couplings from the Raknar to keep the incubators powered throughout. We cannot lose anymore!”

  “Every 100 meters of cable results in a loss of delivered power. We could lose 15 percent of the brood.” Tracha said.

  “We have no choice, Tracha. Get the brood underground!”

  “Yes, Klatk,” Tracha said and sped away chittering orders as she went.

  Klatk watched a full third of her combat power move to the brood and hoist the incubator cells toward the mine openings. “Internal perimeter. Stand-off weapons are free.”

  “Firing!” one of her gunnery commanders called. His call was stepped on by five others as all six missile batteries roared to life and rained steel over the approaching mercenary forces.

  “Sustain your maximum rate of fire,” Klatk called. “Keep them away from direct fire range until the brood is below ground!”

  She turned and saw the stream of Altar carrying the brood scurry into the mine entrances. How much longer? In their best simulations, they’d pushed the brood into viable tunnels within four minutes. She consulted her slate and relayed the information from the security cameras mounted on the main masthead. Scrolling with her clawed hands took a moment, but she had the data she needed in the first swipe. The second was simply confirmation.

  Five minutes ETA. We have time!

  As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Klatk knew it wasn’t enough. Time was subjective—a finite resource that could be manipulated by a bevy of unforeseen consequences. The only way to ensure their tentative victory was audacity. Klatk rushed through the walled compound and mounted the wall just as the first bursts of direct fire crashed into the barriers. Her slate beeped and she blinked up the message.

  “Klatk? The brood is 70 percent secured in Level Two tunnels.”

  “There’s no time to move them deeper,” she replied. “Standby to return fire. Observers? Report.”

  “Northeast post, ma’am. No contacts—we’re maintaining air guard at this time. No viable targets in range.”

  “Southeast tower. Approximately 12 vehicles with lasers and direct fire weapons crossed the river and are three kilometers from our forward positions. Estimated time of arrival is one minute, 12 seconds. The other group has slowed southeast of the colony and is at standoff distance. We believe this is where the missiles have come from.”

  Klatk tapped the side of her jaw with a pincer. Overwatch position and support by fire. Half of their combat power is waiting for something to happen on the offensive.

  “All stations, standby to attack.”

  There was silence on the network for 10 seconds. “Ma’am? Say again?”

  Klatk looked over the wall and into the advancing prongs of the mercenary attack. The support by fire position was clear. A roll of the terrain protected the paused vehicles from taking direct fire from the colony. A smart move, to be sure, but one that could be nullified by a swift offensive action. She thought for a second, no more, and determined the course of action that would best allow her people to delay the enemy’s assaulting their position or destroying their power couplings to the fallen Raknar. The massive mecha essentially protected one half of her perimeter from direct fire, and that further limited the GenSha’s mercenary forces.

  Her slate beeped with an incoming radio transmission. She routed it to her headset with a twitch. “Klatk.”

  “Honored Queen, this is Qamm of the Wandering Death with terms for your surrender.”

  Klatk chuckled. At least we know what they want.

  “Qamm. Be advised, the Altar do not surrender. Our lands are guaranteed under the Dream World agreements, and we’ll defend as necessary.” Klatk snapped off the connection and picked up a laser rifle, cleared it, and seated a magazine to fire. “All stations, prepare to charge.”

  “Klatk? Say again?” Tracha called from the opposite wall. “You want to charge?”

  “Secure the colony. Once they’re underground, seal the doors and prepare to engage. Pray that our request for a Peacemaker is answered soon.”

  * * *

  Hex sat on the open hold of the Victory Twelve as the last of the Peacemakers swept and cleared the ship for any additional evidence. Elbows on his knees, the young man cradled his head in his hands and tousled his short blonde hair.

  “We’re done. You can collect your gear now and move along.” A burly Lumari Peacemaker looked down at him and stepped off the decking. Hex watched the massive alien clomp through the hangar and caught sight of Jessica moving his way. He stood slowly and straightened the gig line of his coveralls, avoiding eye contact with her.

  “Hey,” she said. “You doing okay?”

  No.

  He shook off the thought. “I don’t have a unit, a job, any friends. Yeah, I think I’m good.”

  Jessica frowned. “Sorry about the inspection. These guys like to check everything twice.”

  “It’s okay. Not like I have anything but a CASPer to my name,” Hex winced. “Will I even get paid my fee?”

  “That’s up to Hammer,” Jessica said. “I’ll make sure the Guild follows up and gets him to pay.”

  “Thank you,” Hex said. “Might be enough money for me to rebuild the Marauders.”

  Jessica looked away. “There’s no Marauders, Hex. Marc has been forcibly retired. Go your own way.”

  “And how I am supposed to do that?”

  “You are your father’s son,” Jessica touched his arm. “You can do anything you choose to do.”

  Hex flushed. “Jessica, thank you. But I—”

  She raised a palm to him. “Yes. You can.”

  Hex looked away, not wanting his eyes to soften up. Maya often told him the same thing. Being Sergeant Major Robert Alison’s son didn’t matter to anyone, he would tell her. She would say he was right. That being himself was all the mattered. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “A starting point isn’t what you think it is, Hex. You have you and a
CASPer. You can build from there,’ Jessica said. “I had the Guild secure you a room for as many nights as you need to get your shit together. You’re in the Grand’s inner ring.”

  Hex felt fresh tears form in his eyes and his vision blurred. “What if I can’t get my shit together, Jessica. Then what?”

  “You will,” Jessica said. “For no other reason than the fact that there will come a day when I need your help, Hex. Whether you have your own crew or not won’t matter. We’ve been through far too much, even before this botched mission. Get your gear and take a break for a few days. Formulate a plan and move forward.”

  Hex nodded and held back a sob in his throat. “Maya wanted to leave a year ago. I should have let her go. She’d be alive and—”

  Jessica stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders. “Enough, Hex. You can’t change the past. Don’t try. Don’t look for it in the bottom of a glass either. Get some rest, some food, and spend some time getting your head on straight. If you want to lead a team, lead one. If you want to pack it up and go home, go. Nobody is going to judge you.”

  Hex looked up and saw the intensity in her eyes. “I understand.”

  “You think you do, but you don’t. Not yet.” Jessica half-smiled at him then took a breath. “Now, your CASPer is going to be moved back up here and loaded aboard the Victory Twelve. I have another mission, and I’m not going to pay for my ship to sit in mothballs collecting dust. I’m loaning it to you.”

  Hex blinked. “I can’t take your ship, Jessica. It costs more than all my assets together.”

  “I’m loaning her to you. Nothing operational. Use her to find work, if you have to. Go home. Whatever you want.”

  “Don’t you need it?”

  Jessica smirked. “The Guild is sending me on another confirmation mission. I’ll be gone a few weeks, that’s all. I figured you could use a break.”

  “They’re sending you on a second mission? They can do that?”

  Jessica shrugged and stepped into the Victory Twelve’s cargo bay. She pulled something black from her pocket and placed it in an analysis station. “They can and they did.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re concerned I am not as diplomatic as a Peacemaker should be.”

  Hex chuckled. “You do prefer a fight, Jess.”

  She grinned over her shoulder at him. “Playing to your strengths isn’t a bad thing, Hex.”

  Hex snorted. “I’ve been running ops for two years straight. Without a unit, I don’t know what to do. What are you working on?”

  “Seeing if I can access this old chipset,” Jessica said. The analyzer panel beeped and chimed. A series of lights flashed green and then turned red – a null report. “Looks like a bust, though. It will have to wait until I get back. I’ll have some leave time.” Her voice trailed off and for the first time in a while, he could hear fatigue in her voice. She needed time off, and there was none in sight.

  A break sounded good. He and Maya spoke often about the Gold Coast of Australia and wanting to see the Great Barrier Reef. Going there didn’t seem right, but the thought of going home banged his heart.

  Mom would love to see me.

  “I might go.”

  Jessica nodded. “Then take my ship. I’ll call Lucille if I need you.”

  “Lucille? She belongs to Marc.” The statement he thought was fact became a question as he saw Jessica’s eyebrows raise. “You have her?”

  “She’s a program, Hex. A very good one, and almost illegal, but she’s a program. I scripted her a long time ago—so I’ve always had her, in a way.” Jessica cocked her head to one side. “Marc never understood her true potential anyway. She was built to fly my ship, and he took a copy of her thinking she’d be good in a tank.”

  “She was good,” Hex said.

  “Not as good as she could have been.” Jessica patted his arm. “I have to get going. Take her. Take a run around the solar system if you have to. Get your head on straight.”

  Hex nodded, and words failed him. Tears filled his eyes and splashed onto his cheeks, and he let them come. Jessica said nothing, merely stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Head buried in his friend and former executive officer’s neck, Hex let out the sobs threatening to choke him. There would be a time to go and do exactly what he needed to do. The first step was to let it out. He knew Jessica would stay there as long as he needed her to.

  That only made him cry harder.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  Carrying a duffel bag of clothing and another of protective gear and weapons, Jessica strode into the main hangar deck in fresh olive drab coveralls with Peacemaker insignia on both shoulders. She’d never worn them before, and it felt really good. Her freshly trimmed auburn hair was down, brushing her collarbones above her suit’s chest pockets. The lack of human facilities on Araf was a consideration to cut off her long, but still regulation, braid, and somehow it felt right. A chapter of her life had closed and another was about to open. She’d had her morphogenic tattoo removed prior to taking the tests for Peacemaker because it hadn’t felt right. Her hair was easily changed, too. She wasn’t in the business of attracting any attention.

  Walking through the main hangar door changed that as more than a few heads turned. The human eyes stayed locked on her, and more than a few had incredulous looks on their faces. It took everything she had not to smile. As she walked with the heavy bags on her shoulders, their weight seemed to evaporate. Back straight and eyes level, she marched through the hangar toward the berth where the Dream World Consortium’s yacht waited. She rounded a stack of shipping containers. Selector Hak-Chet stood there with his short arms crossed under his ceremonial cape.

  “Peacemaker Francis,” he smiled with one corner of his mouth. “I believe you’ve caused a bit of a sensation in the hangar.”

  Jessica flushed slightly. “It’s an official mission. I thought it was—”

  “You misunderstand my tone.” The Sidar smiled fully, revealing his craggy teeth. The gesture, while all too human, looked purely evil on her mentor’s face. Like most humans, she’d loved dinosaurs as a child. Face to face with an alien that looked much like a pterodactyl capable of killing her in a microsecond, she knew better. “It looks good on you.”

  “Thank you, Selector.”

  “I imagine all these good people will be telling a few of their friends what they’ve seen today,” he said. “Earth’s first Peacemaker. It does have a nice ring to it.”

  “As you’ve said many times,” Jessica said. The day they’d met, the Sidar elder statesman looked at her with that same quizzical, amused look on his long face and said she would be the one. Engineering school had only been the start. She’d passed her voluntary off-world assessments with flying colors and, yet, the mercenaries did not come calling. VOWs scores, the dreaded Voluntary Off-World assessments, it turned out, weren’t everything the recruiters said they were. So, she’d chosen the most difficult program of study she could and gave it everything she had. Six months after graduation, magna cum laude from Rose-Hulman in electrical engineering, and still without a mercenary appointment, she’d signed up with one of the planetary militaries. Although unsatisfying due to the pitiable quality of her peers, it allowed her to hone her skills and distinguish herself from her competition. She finally made it to the stars when she was hired as an engineer by the Cartography Guild, and that had been a good job. But then she’d met Marc Lemieux.

  Their marriage lasted less than three years, and the first year of it had been good enough, but the second she’d seen his faults and inabilities. During the third year, she could not bear it any more and walked away. He’d done the shittiest thing he could and had run off without signing the divorce papers, leaving her in limbo for more than six years before she’d tracked him down. Still, his crappy mercenary unit was a mercenary unit and that gave her some credibility to enter the pits on Karma and fend for herself from contract to contract. At least until Hak-Chet found her and
thought she could be something more.

  “I meant it every single time.” Hak-Chet grinned again. “I’ve come to see you off on your last confirmation mission.”

  Jessica sighed. “I’d hoped for only one.”

  “The selection criteria were created to weed out candidates who do not meet the intense qualifications required of a Peacemaker. In some cases, additional missions are required.” Hak-Chet shrugged. His amusement with the situation made her feel slightly better. “It is something you must do, and in reality, something only you can do.”

  I hope you’re right.

  She nodded. “Thank you for believing in me, Selector.”

  “You are most welcome,” he said. “The Guild and I have many interests in common given your situation. Like me, they do not want you to fail. As such, they’ve sent you a mediator to assist with the diplomatic effort on Araf. You’ll meet him onboard. I cannot tell you much more about him, I’m afraid. I’ve never met him.”

  “His name?”

  “Taemin,” Hak-Chet said. “He is young, but highly recommended.”

  “I wish you could come along.”

  “And so do I. But it’s not to be. My days as a field operative are long past,” Hak-Chet said. He looked past her shoulder and nodded. “It’s time I introduce you to the planet’s administrator, and for you to be on your way. Many representatives strongly believe in you, Jessica. You do not understand what that means yet, and I believe this mission will teach you the one thing you need to be a Peacemaker.”

  “And that is?” Jessica fought a grin.

  “You’ve always looked out for yourself. That must change. A Peacemaker’s duty is to the citizens of the Union.”