The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12)

by Ian J. Malone

“Human!” a gravelly voice called with a lot more volume than Taylor would’ve liked. “Human! Over here!”

  The Goka who’d spotted Taylor earlier was summoning him to a cage in the next section.

  “You come, now!” the alien said with a snarl.

  Taylor rolled his eyes and trotted over, hoping at the very least to keep the alien quiet.

  “You take me, now,” the Goka snapped.

  “We don’t have time,” Taylor whispered. “We’ll send someone back for you. I promise.”

  “No,” the creature snapped. “You take me now. Or I tell the KzSha. Then you too will suffer. And your people.”

  Taylor muttered a curse. “Gimme a second.”

  “Chief Van Zant?” another voice asked, audibly surprised.

  Taylor glanced up to see a group of Sumatozou huddled near the back of the Goka’s cage. Much like the River Hawks, the aliens looked like they’d been there a while, as evidenced by the tattered shape of their skin and clothes.

  “Haju?” Taylor’s jaw fell open.

  Earth’s gate master stepped forward, sporting a vicious gash on his massive forehead, plus bruises on his trunks, and fresh whip marks on his back and shoulders. He looked like hell compared to the other species in his cell. All the Sumatozou did.

  “That’s it. Let’s roll!” Jack called.

  “Van Zant, please,” Haju said. “I know we have had our differences over the years, but I am begging you. Please…please take us with you.”

  In all the years Taylor had known Haju, he’d never once known the elephant to say please for anything. On the contrary, Haju’s behavior had always epitomized Sumatozou arrogance. Yet there stood the massive alien, not just asking, but pleading for assistance.

  The Goka’s gonna dime us out anyway, so what’s a few more faces in the crowd? Taylor signaled Jack over to Haju’s cage. “Do it.”

  The cowboy’s lips formed a line, but he didn’t hesitate. He produced his tools and went to work on the cage lock. Half a minute later, the entryway swung open, and the captives inside joined the humans out in the open.

  “We’ve got less than two minutes until those guards reach our position,” Stan said. “We need to go, now.”

  “What’s the rush?” a familiar voice asked in a casual tone.

  The hums of laser weapons charging spun the group in their tracks.

  “You just got here,” Genovese said with two dozen armed KzSha behind him. “It’d be downright rude to leave the party now without meetin’ the host.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 15: Caught in the Act

  “What is this, Mike?” Torrio asked.

  “What does it look like?” Genovese huffed. “This is me bein’ one step ahead of the game, just like always.”

  “One step ah…” Torrio’s gaze widened then narrowed abruptly. “Wait…did you set us up on Emza?”

  “No, you idiot,” Genovese snapped. “What I did was cut a deal with a superior fighting force to ease off our necks while I got 200 innocent people back to safety from the shitstorm your arrogance got us into.”

  Torrio shook his head.

  “I practically begged you not to take the Zuparti deal, remember?” Genovese continued. “I told you the Hawks weren’t ready and it was too big a job. But you wouldn’t listen. You were so hellbent on stickin’ it to the company who took away your path to Ron Carnegie’s chair that you couldn’t see straight. And how did that end? With a whole bunch of dead troopers lyin’ face-down in the sand while their buffoon CO slings rocks under a dome on this freezer of a planet called Droxis. That’s on you, pal. Not me. It’s all on you.”

  Torrio opened his mouth to speak, but paused, silver eyebrows pulling together. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Yeah, you had some objections at the start, and I noted those. When the Bills signed on for support, though, we both agreed the Zuparti contract was doable.”

  “No, you agreed.” Genovese stabbed out a finger. “I told you Emza was a suicide mission. But you’re the boss, and the boss is always right, aye Paulie?”

  Torrio glared at his XO with the heat of molten lava as four KzSha pushed a lone Buma in restraints toward the humans.

  “Sorry, Chief,” Frank said on his way by. “I tried like hell to stay hidden, but the damn wasps found me anyway.”

  “Don’t sweat it, brother.” Taylor patted the pilot’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

  The Buma’s gloomy expression didn’t waver as he fell into line with the others.

  “So.” Taylor shifted. “Now we know why you missed your magnet hookup with the truck convoy outside the dome.”

  “Yeah, my apologies for that,” Genovese said. “I needed a way to get free of you hillbillies so I could alert the KzSha to our arrival. FYI, the original plan was to grab you topside in the warehouse, but the hotfoot through the snow back to the dome took me longer than anticipated.”

  “Sorry to take a dump on your arrangements,” Jack muttered.

  “Ah, it all worked out,” Genovese said with a wave. “After all, had I not been delayed outside, we might not have all gotten the chance to share in this wonderful little Earth reunion of ours.” He motioned to the River Hawks. “I mean, I don’t know about you all, but I’m touched. Am I right?”

  No one answered.

  “Tough crowd.” Genovese scratched his head, then faced the KzSha. “Lock up the elephants and the cockroach, but bring the humans with us. He wants to meet them.”

  He who? Taylor caught matching looks from Jack and Stan. Apparently they were wondering the same thing.

  “Understood,” the lead KzSha said in the synthetic voice of its translator. Afterward, it turned to its comrades and blinked out a series of flashes with its antenna lights. The other wasps responded in kind, then formed up into groups and began shoving the other aliens back into their cages.

  “Proceed with caution, Van Zant,” Haju said. “If my suspicions are correct, you’ll soon learn—as we did—that nothing here is as it seems.”

  “Shut it, Tubs,” Genovese snapped. “This don’t concern you.”

  Haju answered the captain’s warning with a glower as the metal door to the cage slammed shut in front of his trunks with a clang.

  “Right this way, rednecks.” Genovese waved.

  The Eagles and River Hawks were fitted with restraints, then herded through the confinement area to the terminus, where they boarded one of the open-air train cars. From there, the group was transported via rail into the next cavern over. It was here that Taylor got his first real look at the actual mine. The place was 300 yards wide, and that was just the mouth. Lord only knew how deep the actual pit went.

  Another truck convoy paused alongside the rail line ahead, and Taylor craned his neck for a look at their contents. It was no use. All he got was a faint glimpse of what looked like storage bins in the vehicles’ cargo beds. Whatever they contained, it must’ve been hauled up from below ground via the crane on the cavern’s left side. That whole area was swarming with aliens.

  “I knew I should’ve killed your ass when I had the chance,” Frank grumbled from the bench seat up front. “Every instinct in me screamed red flags about you, but like an idiot, I never acted on them.”

  “Chirp all you want, Brooklyn,” Genovese said from the back next to Taylor and Torrio. “It’s not gonna change anything. And besides, it ain’t like you had a choice. Your boy scout CO here gave you explicit instructions to bring me along on this little rescue mission, so you were pretty much under orders.” He glanced at Taylor. “I appreciate that, by the way. Both me and my bank account are in your debt.”

  Taylor grunted. “The KzSha must’ve offered you a helluva payday to turn on your own species like this, much less get shot up the way you were when you got back to Earth.”

  “What can I say?” Genovese flipped up a palm. “I understand now why the slave trade rivals prostitution as Creation’s oldest profession. Fortunately for me, the wasps are good sho
ts. They made my injuries legit enough that everybody would buy my story, but not so significant that I wouldn’t recover in time to rope you suckers into coming out here.”

  “How’d you know we’d take the bait?” Taylor asked.

  Genovese shrugged. “I figured if I played enough on your overdeveloped sense of loyalty to your fellow Jacksonville hicks, you’d sign on. Even still, I didn’t want to risk it, so I bribed one of the nurses to hold off on calling Ms. Torrio until you’d had time to reach the hospital. I knew once that old broad got there, full of tears, sob stories, and hysterics, you’d bite. You couldn’t not.”

  “How do you figure that?” Taylor asked.

  “Seriously, Van Zant, do I have to spell it out for you?” Genovese snorted. “Every merc in the Milky Way knows your story. The long-haired country boy from Jax, North Florida who singlehandedly resurrected his legendary dead brother’s merc outfit to save his little ole gray-haired ma from a debilitating neurodegenerative disease his family was otherwise too poor to treat? Shit, man. They write songs about that stuff in Nashville, for Heaven’s sake.”

  Taylor’s momentary daydream of ripping the captain’s lungs out through his throat was cut short by the scratch of brakes and grinding metal as the train car ground to a stop at the mine cavern’s terminus.

  “Move,” one of the KzSha said.

  Taylor exited the transport car with Torrio and the others, then was escorted down the wooden platform steps into the main complex, which was bustling with activity. All around, scores of aliens were hard at work, unloading ore from dusty conveyers, then piling it into metal bins, which were hoisted via chains onto trucks bound for the refineries above.

  Taylor wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead as one of the Pendal he’d seen earlier guided a front loader into the mine’s far-right ventricle. It wasn’t long afterward that the group was halted outside a shack that looked more like an office than part of the labor facility.

  “I made it,” Genovese said to the KzSha guard out front. “Tell him I’m here, and my mission was a success.”

  Taylor surmised the “him” Genovese referenced was the same person the captain had mentioned back in the confinement cavern.

  Three more KzSha appeared from the office and joined their comrade on the office steps. One of them—a slightly larger wasp with a lean build, blue-black wings, and an odd-shaped growth atop its head—appeared to be the one in charge.

  The Queen?

  The KzSha leaned in to inspect her new arrivals but didn’t speak.

  “What’s the matter?” Jack muttered to the guards. “Pesticides got your boss’s tongue?”

  “She don’t have a tongue,” a baritone voice boomed from inside the shack. “Nor is she in charge. I am.”

  Taylor held his ground as a massive shadow darkened the doorway inside the building. A moment later, its owner emerged onto the porch outside.

  What the hell?

  “You seem surprised.” The Sumatozou cocked his head. “Tell me. Why is that?”

  Taylor wasn’t sure how to answer, so he defaulted to his usual sarcasm when lost for words. “Honestly? I’m surprised by you. Everyone in the Union knows the Sumatozou are pricks. But to sell your own kind into bondage along with Lord only knows how many others?” He huffed. “Brother, that takes prickdom to a whole new level of narcissistic, if you ask me.”

  The Sumatozou heaved a sigh. “Humans. Defiant to the last.” He turned to Genovese. “I must confess, Captain, I wasn’t entirely sure you’d honor the terms of our deal after the KzSha let you go on Emza. Your efforts and their ends are to be commended.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Genovese said. “Pay me what I’m owned so I can get the hell off this ice cube and be on my way.”

  “Of course.” The Sumatozou nodded to one of the KzSha guards, who began tapping at a slate.

  “So that’s it, then,” Torrio said. “Just like that. You sold us out on Emza, and now you’re doin’ the same thing to Van Zant and his crew.” He snorted. “You’re unreal, man. After everything my family did for you after Al’s trial—after everything we sacrificed to bring you South. This is how you repay our loyalty?”

  Genovese kept his eyes on the wasp with the slate.

  “Answer me, you little shit!” Torrio demanded.

  “You talk about family as if it means something,” Genovese said with a growl. “Lest we forget, friend, there were a lot of folks besides you back home who felt it after Tony’s death. These were people who cared about you, Paulie, who wanted to stand with you in your time of need. And how did you repay their loyalty, huh? By slippin’ out of town in the dead of night like a little bitch to throw in with these clowns in Hicktown, USA.”

  Torrio muttered a curse. “Like you’re one to lecture me about runnin’.”

  “Think whatever you want,” Genovese said flatly. “At the end of the day, it’s a dog-eat-dog Union out there, boys, and credits are all that matters. Hell, you’re mercs for cryin’ out loud. If you haven’t figured that out by now, you’re all in the wrong damn business.”

  Torrio’s cheeks flashed red as he took a step forward. “You’ll burn in hell for this, Mike. I swear it on Tony’s grave. I’ll kill you for doing this to me.”

  “See, that right there is your problem, Paulie,” Genovese said as two wasps caught his flanks. “You always think everything is about you, even when it’s not.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Paulie snarled.

  “Newsflash, paisano. You were never the target. None of you were.” Genovese pointed to Taylor. “He was.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 16: Forgotten Histories

  “What?” Taylor blinked. “Why me?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ll find that out soon enough.” Genovese looked up when a chime sounded from the KzSha’s slate.

  “Transfer complete,” the wasp said.

  Genovese fished a slate from his vest to confirm the transaction. “And so it is. I presume you’ve made arrangements to get me offworld?”

  “We have,” the Sumatozou said. “We’ve contracted with a Dutya freighter to take you across the system to Newtep. You can make your own way from there.”

  Taylor thought of the Osyrys. Keep your head down, Ruiz.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Genovese pocketed his device and turned to go. “It’s been fun, gents. It really has. Alas, to borrow a line from one of those old songs I heard at the Hell House, it’s time for me to fly.”

  Taylor chewed his lip as the captain turned to go. “So what now? Back to Queens to reclaim your family’s mob legacy?”

  “Screw that.” Genovese snorted. “I meant what I said back in your galley. I’ve seen where that life leads, and I want zero part of it. Nope. By this time next month, I’ll be layin’ on a beach in the Pacific Ocean with an umbrella drink in one hand, and a Tahitian beauty half my age in the other, earning 20 percent. And all because of southern hospitality.” The River Hawks’ XO smiled and tipped a goodbye wave. “Ciao, fellas. I’ll see ya in the next life.”

  Taylor watched as Genovese vanished into the cavern, then was gone in the crowd.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this moment, Chief Van Zant,” the Sumatozou said. “A very, very long time.”

  Something in the alien’s tone didn’t sit right in Taylor’s gut. “You seem to know a lot about me. Given that the Hawks’ XO there has been on Earth or with us this whole time, I take it I have Haju to thank for that?”

  “Not at all,” the Sumatozou said. “In point of fact, it was only recently brought to my attention that Master Haju presided over Earth’s stargate. I did press him for information, of course. However, his allegiance to the Cartography Guild superseded his desire to speak, despite our best efforts at persuading him to do so.”

  Taylor recalled the myriad scars and lacerations on Haju’s face. So much for loyalty to one’s own kind. He shifted his stance. “Okay, fine. How do you know me, then, if not through Haju or Genovese?”
>
  The Sumatozou crossed his arms as if weighing his answer. “All in good time, Chief Van Zant. All in good time. First, allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed his head. “My name is Akoya Vello. I serve as the senior site director overseeing production at this facility.”

  “Sounds important.” Taylor noted the lack of an ownership reference in the alien’s title. “How does a Sumatozou come to be named director over a minin’ outfit with this large a work force?”

  “Sumatozou oversee the daily operation of stargates for entire regions throughout the Galactic Union,” Akoya said. “I’d think managing a single mine, therefore, would seem like child’s play by comparison.”

  “That may be so,” Taylor said. “Difference is, you can hole up in your office on a stargate and conduct your affairs in complete isolation. Based on what I’ve seen so far of this place, that’s not a luxury you get to enjoy out here. Takin’ the lead over any project requires people skills, and let’s face it. That ain’t exactly a strong suit for your species.”

  “A valid point.” Akoya chuckled. “Fortunately for me, my benefactors require neither social skills nor extensive face-to-face interaction for my role in this operation. Only efficiency, performance, and results.”

  So he does work for somebody else.

  “As for labor issues,” Akoya continued, “I leave those to the KzSha, since procuring and maintaining our work force falls under their purview.”

  Taylor nodded. “I take it the KzSha work for your benefactors, too, then?”

  “They do not,” Akoya said. “The wasps work for me directly. Think of them as subcontractors tasked with recruiting laborers for our cause.”

  “Subcontractors, huh.” Taylor stifled a snort at the euphemism. “I’d wager help of that sort costs a pretty penny to retain.”

  “Not at all,” Akoya said. “On the contrary, the KzSha work for me free of charge.”

  Taylor wrinkled his nose.

  “It’s true,” Akoya said. “Not all the KzSha’s culling efforts are meant for this facility. Some are, naturally. Others are meant for different clients with other interests in other parts of the Union. It is those transactions which earn the wasps their profits.”