Call of Destiny

by Adams, P R

  Quil hopped up to the raised area and took the can from her, crumpling it as he glided into the kitchen. “At least it is free.”

  Lightning flashed over the harbor, and the giant window shuddered with the echoing boom of thunder a moment later.

  No more delays. Riyun straightened in his chair and shook out his shoulders. “Okay, let’s get this over with.” He waved them in unsteadily. “Come on—I know you want to hear this.”

  Most of them wandered up to the table, Hirvok taking the end seat to the right and the Lonar the seat to Riyun’s left, which groaned under the huge man’s weight. Only Symbra stayed in the living room area, watching over her shoulder, arms crossed.

  Javika settled at the end of the table opposite Hirvok. She spared a second to glance at Symbra, then turned to Riyun. “How long do we have?”

  Typically blunt. “That’s what we’re talking about.” Riyun rapped a knuckle on the table. “How long.”

  The team stared at him, or at least it seemed that way. He was having a hard time focusing on them. His eyelids were heavy, and when he blinked, it felt like they were made of sandpaper. He needed a nap. He needed to take a long break from all the madness.

  You weren’t cut out for this. You’re just a stupid farmer, in way over his head. These bastards have been running rings around you from the moment you thought you could lead a team.

  Lonar drove an elbow into Riyun’s arm. “Hey. You falling asleep?”

  “Nah. Just getting the words straight.” But the words weren’t going to come straight. He couldn’t look at these people—his team, his family—and not see the pain he’d caused. His throat tightened. “All right, here’s how it goes. Option one: We liquidate our most expensive assets and work our way down to the cheapest assets. I’ve already got offers on those grav packs we used.”

  Javika’s features hardened.

  “Not yours. I know. Anyway, we call in favors. We take whatever work we can find. And we wait out this protest.”

  Hirvok snorted. “That protest isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Doesn’t make sense to sell our weapons and hope for a miracle. How long you figure we could live like that? A month? Two?”

  “Three. Way I figure it.”

  “So what’s option two?”

  “Option two is, I release you all from your contracts, and you try to find employment somewhere on your own. There’re a lot of units that would hire you in a second.”

  Riyun was tipsy, but he still managed to catch the look in Javika’s eyes: pain, disappointment, anger. And she wasn’t the only one. The heat coming off Lonar was like an open flame.

  Muscles bunched in the big man’s neck. “You need an option three.”

  Hirvok held up a hand. “Wait a second, big guy. Those two options are plenty.”

  “Says you. I don’t like either one. I’m not selling my gear. And I’m not quitting—not from this team, anyhow. So we need an option three.”

  “Look, I get it.” The sergeant shrugged. “You like what you got here.”

  “You bet I do.”

  “We all do. The lieutenant’s done everything he can to take care of us, but screwing up the deal with Gryphon—”

  The big man pushed up from his chair. “The lieutenant did exactly what needed to be done.”

  Hirvok was an athletic man, intimidating in his own way. His warm olive skin was darker than normal, tanned by the weeks in service in the field. Maybe that hid his blushing. But his pale brown eyes squinted, a warning to Lonar that his size wasn’t going to intimidate this particular person into silence. “Hold up. All I’m saying is, the reason we’re in this situation is because of what happened with Major Kozmut. You don’t have to like that. It’s still true.”

  Riyun grunted and squeezed Lonar’s beefy forearm. “He’s right. I got us into this situation. That’s why I’m offering option two. For all of you…”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Hirvok looked around the room at the others. “Or for just any one of us. Like me.”

  “There’s no reason you should be dragged down with me.”

  Javika turned to Quil, who still stood in the kitchen. “Do you think the lieutenant screwed up, Quil?”

  The pseudo shrugged. “While I appreciate still being alive, the major was simply following operational standards. My comrades and I were pirates, technically. By the established practices and policies, it would have been right to execute all of us—me included.”

  Hirvok pointed at the pseudo. “See. Right there. What he said. The right thing to do would have been to let the major get his rocks off and look the other way.”

  Lonar shook off Riyun’s hand. “I don’t know how you can sleep with yourself. Letting some kid get his head cut off because he was following orders…?”

  “I didn’t say I liked it. It’s just the way the business is. You let morons like Kozmut get a little bit of power, and you end up with a shitty situation like that. But that’s the difference between a successful mercenary team and what we’ve got.”

  Riyun could only hope no one saw the color in his cheeks. “Okay. Point taken. So, we’ve got a choice to make.”

  Symbra leaned against the couch closest to the window, nearly pressing her face against the huge glass pane. “Option one. For me.”

  Javika’s eyes tracked over to Hirvok. “Option one.”

  The sergeant ran fingers through his black hair. “Don’t make this about me.”

  “Did someone?”

  “Like I’m not supposed to hear the tone in your voice?” He turned to Lonar. “Go ahead, big guy.”

  Lonar rolled his shoulders. “Option one.”

  Hirvok threw his hands up in disbelief. “Seriously? And I already know what the pseudo’s going to say.”

  Quil’s strange, gray eyes blinked slowly. “As you point out, I am a pseudo. I do not have a say.”

  That hurt Riyun even more than Hirvok’s scathing evaluation. At least what Hirvok said was something Riyun had control over. There had to be a way to put together enough money to buy Quil free of his classification as property.

  One day.

  “All right.” Riyun turned to Hirvok. “I’ll get the release contract done in the morning. For the rest of you, I’ll start negotiating with buyers after I sleep this off.”

  Lonar spun on a heel and sped through the kitchen. His giant feet slapped against the stairs all the way up.

  Another belch worked its way into Riyun’s throat, bringing tears to his eyes. At that moment, he just wanted to be alone. He wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity, but there was only so much you could do when you created a royal mess like he had.

  Maybe a good cry—

  Symbra crossed to the table and leaned against it. “I can make some calls. Some people might be willing to hire us on. Off the books. To do…”

  Questionable things. Riyun understood. “We’ll see. Sometimes your reputation prevents even that kind of work.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s always someone looking to eliminate a rival or acquire a scientist who could change the direction of the company. And if it happens at a discount—”

  “Off the books.” And without any protections from the Mercenary Guild when the operation was done.

  Although the guild had proven itself even more spineless the last few months. Were they doing anything for anyone, or were all mercenary teams being tossed to the dogs any time the corporations cried foul?

  “It’s better than just giving up.” The young woman forced a smile, knuckled a tear from an eye, then followed the big man up the stairs.

  Hirvok paced. “You didn’t even ask me for my vote.”

  Riyun twisted in his seat. “I thought—”

  “Yeah. You thought. How about you ask me next time?”

  “All right: one or two?”

  The younger man whipped around and glared. “One.”

  Riyun hadn’t expected that. “You sure?”


  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “It sounded like—”

  “I wanted everyone to be sure they understood what they were voting for. That’s all.”

  “And you’re sure you know what you’re voting for?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I always get the sense from you that you don’t quite like—”

  “You don’t know me. You got a lot to learn about leading, but until you get it right, there needs to be someone to protect the others.” Hirvok stormed through the kitchen, then up the stairs.

  Javika stared after him. “He is right. For once.”

  That was like another body blow. Riyun sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “No. Everyone needed to understand what they were voting for.”

  “You don’t think they knew?”

  “Knowing and speaking are two different things. They needed to hear. They needed to understand. This was a vote for you. It was a vote to deny Hirvok’s claims.”

  Riyun thought back to the way the others had reacted. Had they rejected what Hirvok had said, or was there something more? “I don’t think it was just about rejecting him.”

  “No. It was about accepting you. You have flaws. You must continue to learn. But you are a good man.”

  “Thanks.”

  She passed through the kitchen like the others, but she made no sound. It was as if her feet glided over the stone tile. He couldn’t help watching her until she disappeared, wondering the whole time what was in her head. A Biwali warrior never had the patience to stay with a specific unit, to follow, yet she was still with him years on.

  Why stay with someone so flawed? If she’d ever felt she owed him anything, it was long since paid.

  Quil shuffled up to the table, head down. “I feel almost embarrassed.”

  “Oh?”

  “To share…” The young man—barely a teenager—studied his hands. “I would have taken option two if I had a vote.”

  Riyun had to bite back a chuckle. How hypocritical was it to feel a twisted sense of vindication that the one person with the least sense of empathy and most obligation would have chosen to walk away if he could? “I’m sorry.”

  “You do not make the law.”

  “I know. It’s still terrible that you’re stuck with me, though. You should have a choice.”

  “I…am not sure such a thing will ever be possible, but I am willing to wait and see what you are able to do.”

  “I—”

  Ding!

  The battered tablet vibrated against Riyun’s thigh. He dug the device out, head cocked slightly. Was it Naru patched in, listening, sending a message—

  No. The message had come through from somewhere off-world.

  He opened it.

  [activate this link]

  Now that was odd: an encrypted link. Activating it would accept a call from someone—he had no idea who—on a completely different planet. It had to be someone with money to have an encrypted link like that, passing through the Golgar Portals.

  Someone looking for mercenaries.

  Riyun licked his lips.

  The pseudo stared down at the device. “Is everything all right?”

  “Maybe.” Riyun’s finger hovered over the link. “Only one way to find out.”

  He tapped the link, and the tablet vibrated. Through the magic of the portals, a connection was being established. The connection that could span thousands of light years—millions—in an instant. The portals connected all of the worlds of the Inner and Outer Spheres.

  And someone on one of the connected worlds was waiting.

  The tablet vibrated again, and an image appeared on its display. A middle-aged woman, dark hair, pretty, almost regal. She didn’t look like she’d had significant work done on her, as if she felt she was above that and the genes she’d been blessed with were just fine, thank you.

  And why not? She was an Onath, like Symbra, probably a Silver. Blessed from birth. It was in the face, the posture, the clothes…

  After a second, the image became video. A sadness drained some of the vitality from the woman’s face. “Lieutenant Riyun Molliro?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. And you are…?”

  “Yola Tromon, although who I am isn’t really important.”

  “Actually, I’m afraid it is. If you’re looking to hire me.”

  “I am, Mr. Molliro.” The woman rubbed her brow. “Lieutenant. I’m sorry.”

  “That only matters within the guild, Miss—” What had she said her name was? “Ma’am.”

  “Call me Yola.”

  “And you can call me Riyun.”

  “I understand you’re particularly selective at this moment about what sort of work you’ll take on.”

  Was this Symbra’s doing? Already? “That depends. Everyone has their limits, Miss—Yola.”

  “That’s nice to know. I hope you’ll understand if I say I don’t have any limits. Not when it comes to Zabila.”

  “Zabila?”

  “My daughter.”

  “Your…?”

  “Someone’s taken her from me, and I want her back. I’ll do anything. You understand, Mr. Molliro?”

  “I—” Did he? Could someone who’d never had a child understand the depths of despair of a parent who’d lost one? “I do. What can I do for you?”

  “Find her. Find my daughter, and bring her back to me. That’s what you can do for me.”

  Riyun felt stupid and slow. The alcohol was like a heavy weight dragging each thought down. “Would you be better off hiring an investigator?”

  “I have. Four of them. None of them could bring her back to me. I need someone like you.”

  “I-I have a team. I run a squad. I’ll have to charge you for them.”

  “Money doesn’t matter. Name your price, Mr. Molliro.”

  Name your price. It was crazy. It was just what he needed. All it required was finding an Onath’s kid? How could he say no?

  And yet… It did seem crazy. “Do you know where she last…?”

  The woman nodded. “Here. On Kamiyan. She was living in an apartment.”

  Kamiyan. The Inner Sphere. Expensive. Exclusive. “I can have my team there—”

  “I’ve already arranged for your transport, Mr. Molliro. You’ll leave in the morning. Every second counts. Details will follow soon. I’ll forward you a retainer to cover your costs.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  The connection died, and a moment later, the tablet vibrated again.

  Ding!

  The retainer. The details. Enough to cover for a platoon. A company.

  What was he getting into? What had he gotten his people into? Who was this Yola Tromon?

  He had to find out soon.

  6

  Travel through the Golgar Portals affected everyone differently. Some became sick, racked with nausea and pain. Some became disoriented and were left with gaps in their memories, holes that would never be filled. Some were said to dream of things and places, times and ideas that were alien and terrifying.

  For Riyun, the portals opened his eyes.

  He hated the ancient alien devices for that, but they were the only way to travel between the worlds unless you wanted to spend a lifetime in space.

  Huge, jet black tubes of a glistening material that could have been solidified oil if not for being almost impervious to damage, they hung in space near the various colonized planets and the first world of Yurov. From the side, they could disappear into space, but straight-on and activated, they gave the appearance of night shrinking down to a single point of oblivion.

  Yola Tromon had spared no expense to get the team to Kamiyan. There had been a shuttle waiting at the Jiven starport. Luxuriously appointed, with a bright and polished interior and atmosphere that smelled like a springtime woodland meadow, its seats had cushions that seemed to absorb them. The entire flight, they were treated to the soothing sound of a bubbling brook.

  Most considered the cru
shing acceleration of liftoff the worst of the trip, but for Riyun that was the peace before the memories of his opened eyes. Passing through the portals was all but instantaneous.

  But the memories dug in deep and burned like white phosphorus.

  There was no fighting the memories, so he surrendered instead.

  Twangy, droning Ruodir music floated somewhere in the broad, squat house. Riyun sat before a roaring fire, taking in its warmth and the comforting smell of the smoke. Outside, the winter winds howled, battering the structure and blasting the windows with sand. The golden light of the flames drew him deeper into speculation. Could he build a house like his father’s? Run a farm as well as the old man? Satisfy and protect Monisa, the woman of any young man’s dreams?

  She studied Riyun from the red stone hearth, amber eyes reflecting the embers. Sometimes, it seemed that he could see a fire all her own in the depths of those eyes, an intensity and heat that he wanted dearly to hold against him. Her beauty was more than he could have ever dreamed, more than he deserved.

  His father Faxal’s voice—deep and somber—rumbled in the kitchen, where earthy spices permeated the enclosed stone cooking space.

  And there was another voice: raspy, world-weary. Govon, his father’s brother. The black sheep of the family.

  “It’s time you settle down, Govon.” Riyun’s father coughed. “There’s farms aplenty here. Womenfolk looking for husbands.”

  A raspy laugh answered. “I’ll not be settling down.”

  “You waste away your life. You’re not getting younger, and the work of the field has its demands on the body.”

  “I make more in a week breaking other bodies than you do in a year breaking your own.”

  “This is honest work, Govon. It’s work you can respect yourself for.”

  “You can take that respect to your grave…and it’s all you’ll have.”

  “That’s possible. Is it so bad?”

  Riyun’s uncle laughed again, but this time it seemed gentler. “Don’t be so ashamed about me. We’re different, is all.”

  “The boy looks up to you. He values the lessons you teach more than mine.”

  “His fists are like bricks, and he’s fast. He could make a good living.”