Master Sergeant

by Mel Odom

  Still, he did not want to argue with Mato when the other was being supportive of him. So Zhoh nodded. “Lannig changes everything.” He signaled to a server and pierced that young female with his fierce visage, silently ordering her to attend him.

  She took their order for more drinks, then hurried in retreat. By the time she returned, Zhoh noticed the Terran sergeant striding across the open floor of the club with the large bundle over his shoulder. Despite the alcohol brewing in his system, Zhoh’s mind cleared and his focus sharpened.

  He knew the man from the briefings in the daily reports the Phrenorian intelligence services provided. He was the new sergeant, the one who was said to replace Terracina. Zhoh did not know the man’s name or his background, but he recognized in the man a sense of purpose and a disregard for rules.

  Zhoh sat up straighter and watched in anticipation, sensing the almost out-of-control anger swirling within the man. In this moment, they were almost kindred spirits. The lannig opened him up to the emotions of others for a short time and he let himself be consumed by the familiar and welcome rage.

  SURPRISED THAT HE had walked across the club floor without being challenged, Sage didn’t break stride. He knew that Velesko Kos had made that call to allow him to walk without being stopped, and that the DawnStar bashhound leader obviously thought he could take care of himself.

  Kos came to the edge of the raised area of the floor and blocked any attempt Sage might have made to step up into the private area. Kos had claimed the high ground for himself.

  Sage stopped at the bottom of the steps, choosing to remain on solid footing.

  “Sergeant Sage.” Kos’s cybered eyes glittered and his body stood taut, all of his amped abilities online. “This is . . . unexpected.”

  Sage kept his anger under tight control, feeling it squirming and trying to burst out of him. There were a dozen DawnStar bashhounds at his back. If things went badly, all of them would be gunning for him.

  “I came to return something to you.” Sage spoke in a level voice and he knew that every eye in the Nelumbo was watching him. “Call it a down payment on more yet to come.”

  “I don’t need—”

  Sage threw the body bagged corpse on the steps, pulled a combat knife from his boot, and slit the bag from top to bottom. When he stood, he yanked on the bag and the contents spilled from within.

  The dead man, burned and torn, lay stiffly on the steps.

  Several people yelped and cried out, shocked at the brutality revealed before them. The reaction further irritated Sage. Soldiers had died out in the jungle and the clientele inside the club acted as if those events never happened.

  The sight closed Kos’s mouth.

  “This one’s yours.” Sage stepped back from the corpse, wishing he had his helmet because he missed the 360-view right now and he felt the coldness of sniper eyes between his shoulder blades. “His name’s Shannon Andresik, but I figure you already knew that, because he worked for the same corp you do.”

  Kos shook his head slowly, but his mouth was a hard, firm line. “I don’t know this man.”

  “Yeah, you do. I saw him with you that night at the Azure Mist.”

  “If that’s true, if this man worked for DawnStar, then you have a history of attacking corp personnel and charges will be leveled.”

  “I didn’t kill this man. I would have been glad to. He was part of the ambush that killed several fine soldiers last night. Men and women who laid their lives on the line to stand against criminals who hope to gut this sprawl.” Sage grew conscious of the bashhounds moving behind him. His hand itched for the .500 Magnum, but he refrained. He hadn’t come here to initiate a shootout in a public place. He’d come to draw a line, to serve notice, and to validate himself.

  “I think you’re mistaken, Sergeant Sage.” Kos smiled. “This man doesn’t work for DawnStar.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.” Kos flicked his fingers and a holo jumped out from the wristcomm he wore. The flat image of the dead man rendered in blues took shape in the air between them. “This man used to work for DawnStar, but the corp terminated his contract nine days ago.”

  Sage didn’t bother reading the script. DawnStar had written it either two days ago or just now. “Say what you want, Kos, but Shannon Andresik’s contract with DawnStar was terminated last night, courtesy of the Terran Army. And I’m here to let you know I’m just getting started. While I’m on Makaum, I’m going to shut down every one of your illegal operations out in the jungle that I find. You let your people know they’re taking their lives in their hands working for DawnStar at those labs.”

  “Is that a threat?” The holo blanked and Kos’s face turned hard, like it had been lasered out of titanium.

  “That’s a promise,” Sage replied. “Come on out to the jungle and see for yourself.”

  “You don’t just threaten me and walk away.” Kos remained standing where he was, but the bashhounds behind Sage closed in another step or two.

  Sage remained focused on Kos. “If one of your people puts a hand on me or points a weapon in my direction, I’ll kill you.”

  Anger flickered in Kos’s metallic eyes. “Now that is a threat, and since this club is under DawnStar’s protective services, I’m required to act in its best interests. You’re under arrest, Sergeant Sage. Hand over your weapon.”

  “Come take it.”

  Kos shook his head. “No, I have people who do that for me.” He gestured to the bashhounds behind Sage. “Take him alive.”

  Sage turned toward the bashhounds, dividing his attention between them and Kos. Although he’d known the situation was going to get tense, Sage hadn’t figured things were going to get to this point so quickly.

  Or that Kos would order his men to take him alive. Sage was comfortable risking his life. He’d known he was doing that the instant he’d picked up the body at the morgue. He hadn’t thought Kos would escalate the situation to the point of bloodshed. Delivering the body was supposed to put Kos, and DawnStar, on notice.

  Several of Nelumbo’s patrons scattered, clearing the immediate vicinity around Sage, Kos, and the approaching bashhounds.

  Sage cursed, uncertain how to proceed. Standing against the bashhounds wasn’t going to do more than delay the inevitable. The odds were against him. And he doubted he’d survive being taken into custody after his performance. DawnStar would want to send a message of its own.

  He’d made a mistake, and it rankled him that he’d brushed off one of the basic tenets in military ops in hostile territory: never go anywhere alone. He had acted just as green as a recruit, complacent in his own safety.

  But he’d also been unwilling to risk anyone else’s life.

  The unmistakable high-pitched whine of an energy weapon powering up froze the bashhounds in place. That was immediately followed by a half dozen other weapons powering up or clacking into readiness as safeties were flicked off, and that initiated another wave of energy weapons.

  SEVENTEEN

  Nelumbo

  Makaum Sprawl

  0039 Hours Zulu Time

  Gut churning, his mind whirling, trying to make sense of everything that was going on, Sage watched, perplexed, as the events unfolded around him. He stood still, knowing the balance between calm and violence was a fragile thing.

  The bashhounds turned around slowly, suddenly realizing they were on dangerous ground as well. Beyond them, several Phrenorians stood with hot weps, ready to rock and roll, but none of those weapons were directly pointed at anyone. All around them, several club bashhounds were powering up arms as well.

  Kos stood his ground and stared at the Phrenorians. “Put down those guns.”

  One of the Phrenorians laughed, and the sound was cold and harsh. “No.”

  “Do you want to start a bloodbath?”

  The Phrenorian laughed again. “If I had, I would have already blasted your ugly head from your too-thin shoulders, human. You would never have seen what happened after tha
t.”

  Kos’s hands stayed within millimeters of his weapons. “What do you want?”

  Tail flipping languidly, the Phrenorian tilted his head slightly and his chelicerae twitched. “I would like all of you offal-eating creatures offplanet. Since that’s not going to be so easily accomplished, I want Sergeant Sage not in your custody.”

  Kos looked at Sage.

  Sage returned the man’s gaze and hid his own surprise at the Sting-Tails who had stood to back him. They were the enemy. Nothing was going to change that. Then he recognized the lead Phrenorian as the warrior he and Terracina had encountered in the street during his first night on Makaum. Zhoh GhiCemid.

  So what was going on?

  “What business do you have with Sergeant Sage?” Kos maintained his stance, but Sage knew the man’s mind was working, sorting through the odds.

  Sage was doing the same thing, and he didn’t like how they kept coming up.

  “I’ve never met Sergeant Sage, but I like the way he delivers messages.” Zhoh pointed one of his large claw hands at the corpse lying on the steps in front of Kos. The Sting-Tail laughed again, and the sound was inhuman in the club.

  “You’re Zhoh GhiCemid, captain of the Brown Spyrl.” Kos advanced slowly, stepping over the dead man. “We have an arrangement with your people.”

  “You do. But only if you’re representing DawnStar. If you’re representing the illegal labs out in the jungle, we don’t have an agreement with you. I will kill you just as surely as Sergeant Sage has promised.” Zhoh’s chelicerae coiled and uncoiled restlessly. “If DawnStar represents the criminal organizations on this planet, then our agreement with that entity is also null and void. So what is it to be? Is this dead man one of yours? Do you wish to claim your property and your guilt?”

  The question hung in the air. Most of the club’s patrons were down on the floor now, seeking shelter wherever they could.

  Sage’s mouth was dry. He wasn’t afraid. Years of combat had taught him to put all emotion aside during an engagement, and this was most definitely an engagement. He just didn’t like thinking of all the collateral damage that might result. He hadn’t intended that.

  Kos spoke without taking his eyes from the Phrenorian. “Let the sergeant go.”

  Slowly, the bashhounds stepped back. They had their weapons in their hands, but nobody raised them.

  Sage stood there.

  “It’s your move, Sergeant.” Kos’s voice was cold and distant. “You’re the one who brought this storm into the club. How do you want this to end?”

  Without a word, Sage headed for the door. Getting others—innocents—killed wasn’t part of the plan. He walked with his eyes forward, but the skin across his back was tight, expecting a bullet or a beam or a blast. When it didn’t happen and he was once more outside the building in the cool night air carrying scents of dozens of trees and bushes, he was surprised.

  Someone had released the three bashhounds that had been captured by the tangler grenade. They stood with their weapons ready, but they weren’t pointing them at him. Evidently Kos had broadcast his orders to allow Sage passage.

  One of the bashhounds spat at Sage’s boots, missing by centimeters. “You’re lucky, army boy. Make sure you watch your back from now on. Doesn’t matter, though. We’ll find a grave for you.”

  Sage started for the crawler he’d driven to the club. Other military vehicles, these packing armor, raced up to him and soldiers in AKTIVsuits debarked, moving out into position with Roleys at the ready.

  “Stand down from that vehicle, Sergeant.” The command was given in Terran and carried an officer’s crisp authority.

  Sage stood down.

  An AKTIVsuited man walked toward him from the crowd of soldiers and the swagger was pure officer. The man was tall and good-looking, clean shaven, but his features held a hint of las-surgery, which had smoothed them out and made them too perfect. His black hair lay neatly in place. He wore his helmet strapped to his hip. He was a guy used to being looked at, and he enjoyed the attention.

  “Major Anthony Finkley,” the man announced.

  Sage snapped to and held a salute. “Sir.”

  Finkley didn’t respond in kind. He simply looked at Sage, then at the club behind the sergeant. “Had yourself quite the night, eh, Sergeant?”

  Sage knew there was no way to correctly answer that, but he said, “Yes sir.”

  “Well, it’s over now.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Finkley strode past Sage and headed for the club. “Surrender your weapon, soldier.”

  “Yes sir.” Sage took the .500 Magnum from its holster and handed it, cylinder popped out, to one of the two soldiers who approached him. One of them relieved him of his weapon while the other pulled his arms behind his back and locked restraints onto his wrists. Then they pulled him toward one of the crawlers and stuffed him into an improvised rear cargo deck.

  Sage sat on the narrow bench inside the cargo area. There wasn’t enough room to sit up straight. He slumped forward, feet spread, to take up his weight. Hours of prolonged fatigue crashed down on him like hammers. The cargo doors slammed shut and he was alone in the darkness. He sat and he breathed. Sometimes that was all a soldier could do. One way or another, he had changed the status quo.

  He was also lucky no one had gotten killed.

  BLASTER IN HAND, Zhoh walked toward the club’s doorway. Mato was at his side and a dozen Phrenorian warriors followed in his wake. All of them were tense and ready for action. The spicy scent of their aggression hung in the still air.

  “What did you think you were doing back there when you interfered?” Mato asked.

  Zhoh watched the gathered Terran soldiers and the corp bashhounds circling each other warily. Violence thrummed between them and he knew it wouldn’t take much to set it all in motion. He was tempted but he set aside his own feelings and concentrated on staying alert.

  “What we were doing was taking advantage of the situation.” Zhoh walked down the steps to the aircar that had delivered them to the club. “The Terran military and the corps are at odds on this planet. They don’t like each other, but they’re trapped in a symbiotic relationship. The military needs the space station support, and the corps like the free security the military provides on this planet. They will never work together, but I would rather they work more aggressively against each other. That will serve our efforts and give us time to deal with our own agenda. By backing Sergeant Sage against DawnStar tonight, we drove a larger and deeper wedge between those two groups than the ambush did last night. We need to keep our enemies fragmented and at each other’s throats. That will make them more vulnerable to us. And it will allow us to move more freely to accomplish our own goals.”

  “Sage has been taken into custody by his own people.”

  Zhoh glanced at the transport where Sage had been taken in restraints. “Yes, but the wedge still exists. DawnStar made a mistake last night in killing this Sergeant Terracina.”

  “He was well-liked by his men and by the Makaum people.”

  “Yes. DawnStar obviously thought they were sending a message to the military and to the natives, and they were doing it in a manner that wouldn’t be for all to see. Terracina’s tactics had enjoyed limited success out in the jungle. The corps didn’t want to tolerate further any such activity. Terracina’s execution was supposed to scare the new sergeant and the new recruits, as well as the Makaum informants. This Sergeant Sage knew that as well.”

  “He could have gotten killed tonight.”

  “He knew that, and he was willing to accept the risks.” It was something Zhoh admired about the human. During the war, he had come to respect humans as an enemy. “He also came without anyone watching his back. He is without a spyrl. A being alone. Ultimately, he is doomed to failure. I believe he knows that.”

  “Then he is a fool for coming here.”

  Zhoh considered that, but he didn’t believe that was the truth. “No, this is a dangerous being. Whatever
drives him, it does not release him.”

  “DawnStar will seek him out and kill him.”

  “Perhaps. But until such time, we can use him.”

  “How?”

  “Sage is eager to strike against the corps. We have information about their activities out in the jungle. We can ensure that the locations of those operations reach Sage. We can keep him busy striking against our enemies, and they in turn will occupy the military.”

  Mato opened the aircar’s door. It was a long rectangular vehicle outfitted with heavy armor. The magnetic drives whined as they took on Zhoh’s extra weight, then Mato’s and the other Phrenorians.

  “You do realize that Sage may no longer be in a position to act on any information we can give him.” Mato settled into the seat and strapped in.

  “If Sage is permitted to continue doing the work he has undertaken, we will use him.” Zhoh watched through the bulletproof observation slit as the ground dropped away under the aircar. In seconds, the club was a small oasis of bright lights in the relative darkness of the tree-studded sprawl. “Have our intelligence teams find out everything they can about this sergeant.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Brig

  Charlie Company

  Fort York

  0713 Hours Zulu Time

  Sage occupied a private cell and sat on a cot screwed into the wall. Besides the bed, and that term was both doubtful and generous, the cell contained a toilet and a sink.

  After he’d been locked up, Sage had stripped down to his skivvies, turned off his mind, lain down, and slept, allowing all the fatigue to catch up with him in a rush that pulled him into blackness. This time he wasn’t a witness to Terracina’s recurring death and the ambush. Delivering the body to Velesko Kos hadn’t changed anything, but at least Sage felt as though he’d put the man and the corp on notice. He slept soundly for six hours, then awoke, bathed himself as best as he could in the sink, dressed, and waited.