Kenos rested his paws on his stomach and settled back into the Tchrt One’s command chair. Alone on the flight deck, he imagined the ship racing through space as it had in his youth. His mother and father prohibited joining a mercenary force so he started out in the family’s business right out of secondary schooling. The urge to pick up a weapon and race into combat faded with time, but his deep-seated desire to fly returned from time to time. Cooler senses prevailed, as usual, and the urge to fly as fast and as far as he could faded with the promise of fortune.
Due to their reprehensible behavior, the Altar colony stood to forfeit their six billion credit deposit for the Dream World. After his expenses, pocketing four billion seemed likely. If he were to cause the forfeiture of another claim, by the loser of a prolonged conflict, then another several billion credits would default into his possession. That would be enough to go to the end of the galaxy, if he wanted. He had a ship and a trustworthy crew. All it took was money. The universe revolved on the power of credits, not the information present in the Aethernet or the trust of species working together for any type of common good. The only common good was profit. It if meant destroying the whole damned “Dream World” concept to let him leave it all behind, so be it.
Kenos sat forward and switched on the multiple Tri-V screens as he enabled the Tchrt One’s secure communications pod and set to work. Preprogrammed routines ran through the Consortium’s servers on Araf, and across the galaxy, to ensure that all monitoring stations switched to ill-timed maintenance failures according to the plan. Certain aspects of the planet’s management he allowed to remain functional. Positioning satellites would remain in operation and a few of the more “primitive” communications satellites would continue to function in their decaying orbits. Depending on the outcome, deorbiting them would be an easy, effective way to ensure incriminating data would not find its way off the world.
He hesitated over the execute command for a heartbeat and pressed it. If anyone found out that he let three colonies go to war over something as simple as water rights and the perception of value, the risk to his company would be great. His reputation did not matter. He’d long ago given up hope for any type of familial relationships. What mattered to him was the deep, dark black. His oldest brother died in the void chasing something bigger than himself. Something bigger than the whole Cochkala race could understand. Kenos had been little more than a pup when Tsoc died. Accidents happen, his parents had said. Tsoc died in an emergence point collision with a freighter from Earth, far from home. Mercenaries from one of the Four Horsemen companies brought him home in a steel casket, so the family could cremate him and say their goodbyes.
Tsoc wanted nothing more than to stare into the deep black. Kenos would honor his brother’s wish by proxy, and damn everyone and everything in his path.
* * * * *
Chapter Eleven
“You’re certain the Peacemaker is a human, Qamm?” T’Genn chewed for a moment, his brows wide in surprise. “This is an unusual development.”
Qamm stood in front of the GenSha leader’s dais with her paws clasped at her waist. Her nose twitched. “I heard her voice myself, and the computer classified it as a North American human female.”
“You are gathering information on her, I presume?”
“Administrator Kenos has a shabbily-constructed security system on his Aethernet servers.” Qamm smiled. They both knew it was a purposeful lack of security. The Consortium’s theory of thick veins of gold deep beneath the Altar colony had far reaching implications. First, there was enough to destabilize the economies of every gold-based system in the galaxy, of which there were more than three thousand. Second, the Consortium’s lack of protection included a lack of security forces designed to protect assets discovered on Dream Worlds. Enough gold to finance his own little wars gained T’Genn’s full attention.
“We’re certain of the target?” T’Genn asked. He knew the answer, but his mercenary commander’s valuable opinion backed his critical decisions. “And am I to purposely allow my people to be targeted again?”
Qamm tilted her head to one side. “You have the full backing of your people and your homeworld now. An atmosphere of terror is difficult to manage. By providing a ready-made target, you persuaded the vast majority of your citizens to go war. This is something to appreciate and take further advantage of, T’Genn.”
T’Genn stood slowly and stretched his curved, heavy back. He chuffed, “And how do we do that, Qamm?”
“A gesture of mutual goodwill.”
“To the Altar? Gods, no!”
Qamm shook her head. “No, to the Selroth.”
T’Genn laughed. “They hate us as much as the Altar do, Qamm. Our need to farm the land takes away their precious water. What we use and return to the ecology, to them, is contaminated beyond safe use or consumption for their citizens. What could they possibly want that we could provide?” T’Genn realized the answer before the last words stopped reverberating around his circular office.
Qamm merely smiled. “Two colonies controlling this well-resourced continent. One has the land, one has the sea. Split the gold, fix their climate generator, and then drive the Consortium from the world. I like the sound of that, T’Genn.”
T’Genn stroked his broad chin and smirked. “How do we maintain the peace? The Selroth would bring in more forces to take the land from us.”
“You have to spend money to make money, to quote a human maxim.” Qamm said. She stroked the white fur near her face as if she was thinking. “You’ll have the resources to hire the best mercenary forces in the galaxy.”
“I thought we’d done that.”
Qamm nodded. “There are others who would like to play in this conflict, most certainly. What matters is that they are not here, and the Wandering Death has the proprietary rights to support your claim. We are prepared to execute our contract to support your colony. As your military advisor, I recommend a discussion with the Selroth. We have a certain number of hours to make this happen.”
“Kenos expects us to attack. We should not let him down.” T’Genn said. The Administrator’s disdain for the Altar and their hampering his efforts to produce a sizable shift in the extraction of metals was the cause for most of the hostilities. Part of it was poor political relationships. Colonies on their own in a strange new world tended to approach life as a “snatch and grab” event. Resources of all sizes and shapes were the first to be fought over. Given Araf’s failed weather systems and climactic assurances, water was at the top of the list. “Can you repair the weather systems?”
Qamm laughed, clutching her belly with both paws. “No. I doubt the entire Science Guild could get the Consortium’s half-witted systems working.” Her mirth evaporated under T’Genn’s steady gaze. Contracts, after all, were contracts. “My best programmers continue to work on the system, T’Genn. There is nothing they can definitively point to as the cause of the failures, aside from nature itself.”
T’Genn snorted. “Civilizations have controlled the weather for hundreds of years. Lengthening the sun-soaked months and adding to the rainy seasons by artificial means is nothing new. The Consortium holds out on us. They’ve put us in a position where we have to either oust the Altar from their granted lands by violence, or set up mutually assured-to-fail relationships both tenuous and dangerous in nature. The Selroth are not to be trusted.” T’Genn knew from experience that the aquatic bastards felt the same way about the GenSha. The Altar would be a mutual enemy, but once they were gone, the Selroth’s need for perfectly clean water would force his colony into famine or all-out war.
“I’m not going to argue about the weather, T’Genn. It’s pointless and beyond understanding. If the system can be brought under control, my team will do so. Right now, I’m asking for your permission to speak with the Selroth and their mercenary forces.”
T’Genn turned his back to the Veetanho leader, and could feel imaginary lasers from her eyes cutting into him as he feigned thinking about her
request. The answer was simple, really. Even a mediocre student of tactics knew that there was safety in numbers, and partnering with the Selroth could be beneficial, provided the right precautions were negotiated. “What are you prepared to give them?”
“The river south of your expected dam site with a promise that your emissions from farming will not exceed what is tolerable for the fish species the Selroth harvest downstream. We will install a million acres of wetlands to disperse the water.”
T’Genn turned back to her, interrupting the mercenary. “This assumes you get the rest of the climatological system in order, and you’ve told me you have made no progress toward that.”
“The Selroth don’t need to know that, T’Genn,” Qamm said. “I would speak with them inside of an hour, given your permission. Given the dispersion of their forces, we can jointly attack the Altar by nightfall.”
“You know their commander?”
“Leeto? He’s a Sidar and a competent commander. He fancies himself more of an air warrior—deploys flyers and levitating gunnery platforms that are somewhat effective. He’s a greedy fuck, though, and will gladly play for a chance at the gold. Can you persuade the Selroth leader, Ooren?”
T’Genn sighed. “Unknown. He and I have differed on almost every issue in the last three years. If he reaches out, I will do my best. Perhaps this is best resolved at the mercenary level.”
Qamm tittered. “You won’t tell Ooren about the gold?”
“Oh, he knows about the gold, Qamm.” T’Genn smiled. “His people are quietly mining what they can reach from the water. Given half the chance, he’d love to come inland to get more.”
Qamm nodded. “Incentive for another is a good thing until it crosses your personal intent.”
T’Genn snorted. “What matters is that all we have to do is dangle the possibility in front of Ooren’s gills, and he’ll bite. He’ll send as many troops as he can to take the Altar’s mines from the ocean. There are two viable underground streams where his teams could infiltrate.”
“The Altar certainly have them defended. At the very least, they’re mined for passive defense.”
T’Genn waved it off. “I don’t care about the defenses and how many Selroth will die. Tell them to attack the mines and the Raknar from the water, and you’ll hit the colony walls from the the land side. Have them bring their flyers in, too. One large attack may be enough for the Altar to cut and run.”
Qamm nodded and bowed slightly at her waist. “I will make the arrangements, T’Genn. We will attack two hours before sundown.”
T’Genn turned away. Ears intent, he heard the Veetanho mercenary skitter out of his chambers, and he smiled. For a mercenary, Qamm set a new standard for competence, but her lack of vision bothered him. Clearly, the Altar would mine the underground avenues of approach and maintain a layered defense of their mines and the colony itself. Klatk was a tactical genius. The Selroth casualty rates would skyrocket and that would further enrage Ooren. His previous attack on the Raknar obviously failed, undoubtedly killing a selection of his finest troops in the process. Another failure or two would drive him to the point of reckless abandon. When the Selroth over-committed and succumbed to Ooren’s mistakes, T’Genn and his forces would be there to clean things up. If Qamm and the opposing Sidar mercenary leader could come to an arrangement, there was a possibility for complete and total victory.
Qamm bore watching, though. After all, she was a mercenary and a damned good one at that. Few Peacemakers would stand a chance against a mercenary like Qamm, much less a human. The Altar would withdraw or be annihilated by the following dawn, of that he was certain. As such, T’Genn walked a familiar path through his chambers as he planned.
* * *
Hak-Chet moved through the Peacemaker Hall silently. The lunar night gave the sky an unparalleled darkness of a new Earth. Countless stars and nebulae shimmered in the distance. He’d seen many of them in his years, and there were many still to see before he joined the sky. Wide marble halls empty, the guild’s enclave on Luna felt like a mausoleum. More than 400 of the special halls existed in the galaxy, each laid out exactly as this one. One day, he believed, a statue of himself as Selector would reside in the halls for as long as they stood. Many of his pupils, living and dead, gazed back at him from their permanent positions. Amidst the statuary of the famous and infamous, Hak-Chet made his way to the Guildmaster’s chambers. Past the statuary hall and into the observatory with its clear dome a full 20 meters overhead, there was more than enough starlight to navigate by. His eyes followed the astrographs in the floor and an imaginary line back to his home planet, Cielo, and beyond. There was nothing there for him, though, and memory would serve him poorly in its nostalgic lenses.
A voice from one of the deep couches in the center of the room snapped his reverie. “Selector? Won’t you join me?”
Hak-Chet stopped and pivoted toward the Guildmaster. “You startled me, Master Rsach.”
There was a chuckle. “My apologies, Selector. I merely wanted to enjoy the darkness instead of my chambers. Would you permit our meeting to take place here?”
There wasn’t much choice. The Guildmaster always got what he wanted. Still, the confluence of the heavens above them welcomed him more than the stuffy offices in the official chambers. “Certainly, Master Rsach,” he hesitated slightly.
“If you’re worried about our conversation, old friend, we are alone and not to be disturbed. This conversation takes place outside of official duties. A discussion between a mentor and a friend.”
Hak-Chet nodded and weaved through the opulent chairs and lounges. Rsach lay back on a couch, his eyes staring toward Spica. Hak-Chet sat across from him and leaned forward as much because of his age as for comfort. “We’ve never had a conversation between a mentor and friend, Master Rsach. There is no reason that we would do so now.”
Rsach chuckled. “Selector, you are most impressive. Do you ever let your guard down?”
Hak-Chet sighed and let his mouth turn up in a slight grin. “It’s been a very long time, Master Rsach. What are we to discuss?”
Rsach half rolled to face him. “The Victory Twelve, Selector. Hex Alison in command, with four tanks and twelve CASPers crewed by humans fresh from the Pan-Pacific CASPer pilot’s course. Do you happen to recall that?”
“Of course, I do,” he said and locked eyes with the Guildmaster. “And you know why I sent them.”
Rsach nodded, but he sighed heavily. “We cannot interfere in any test of a Peacemaker, Selector. Even the first human. I understand that Peacemaker Francis earning her commission is a great honor for you, but we cannot—”
“It’s not about my honors and distinctions, Rsach! You know as well as anyone that she cannot succeed with any negotiation on Araf because of the Dream World Consortium. There are already two mercenary forces on the ground there supporting two of the three factions. Jessica will ground herself with the Altar and determine her next move.”
“Listen to you, Selector,” Rsach chuckled. “Jessica will ground herself...you are emotionally involved in this human’s attempt to commission.”
Hak-Chet rocked back slightly. “I won’t deny that I am, Rsach. I am quite fond of her and her abilities. She is one of the best candidates we’ve seen in decades. Her status as a Peacemaker is vital to Earth’s continued position in the Union.”
“I don’t deny that, Selector.” Rsach rolled up to a sitting position and turned to face Hak-Chet’s. They were inches apart and the Master’s voice was low. “But we cannot interfere. What did you tell Alison?”
Hak-Chet relaxed. He may be in trouble, but the threat from Rsach was low. “He’s his father’s son, Rsach. He knew what was going on without my telling him a thing. He filed a flight plan to deliver the Peacemaker’s ship to her at Araf and enjoy a vacation. What better place for that than a Dream World?”
Rsach snorted and openly laughed. “And the cargo?”
“Simple hauling. I’ve arranged a dummy transport to meet
them at Araf,” Hak-Chet said. “This is not the first time I’ve assisted an operation from afar, Master Rsach. You yourself have benefitted from the Selector’s discretion from time to time, have you not?”
Rsach crossed several sets of arms in from of him and growled. “I have, Hak-Chet. You’ve assisted a great many of our best and brightest. I should have expected nothing different.”
“No, you should not have,” Hak-Chet said. “Her status as Earth’s best candidate ever is beyond reproach, and I know you agree with me despite your sending her to Araf to fail.”
Rsach recoiled as if slapped. “How...how did you know that was my intent?”
“You’ve been interested in her ever since her initial Peacemaker assessments two years ago. You saw them, and you wanted to test her.”
“More than just I want her to fail,” Rsach said after a moment. “I’m told the Speaker of the Mercenary Guild wants her to fail, too. She has, however, exceeded every test and situation thrown at her since the completion of her academic training. Her mission to bring in Ch’tek and a gods-damned Canavar egg? There was no way I could have imagined she’d bring in the egg unscathed and incriminate Ch’tek in one fell swoop. It was an incredible performance.”
“And yet she believes she failed.”
Rsach looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Remember how she was once a part of Lemieux’s Marauders? She knew most of that company by name, and lost several good friends in the process of recovering the egg and completing her mission. She and Hex Alison were the only ones besides Lemieux to escape with their lives. That she accomplished her objective under such circumstances is far more than incredible, Master Rsach. It proved that she has the skills to succeed in an impossible situation.”
Rsach leaned back against the couch again and regarded the stars. Hak-Chet studied his eyes and their path from Arcturus to Spica. “How will she handle this, Selector? Will she maintain a diplomatic focus or charge blindly into the situation with her guns blazing?”
Peacemaker (The Revelations Cycle Book 6) Page 13
