The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12)

by Ian J. Malone

  I wonder…

  Once the Osyrys returned to Earth five days later, Genovese was let go, while Akoya was transferred to a holding cell on the Eagles’ main campus in Jacksonville. From there, Taylor leaked word through his contacts around town that his company had returned from Droxis with a high value target whose real name and species hadn’t been identified.

  And now we wait.

  * * *

  It was a rainy Duval morning in August two weeks later, when Taylor finally got his answer. Weather wise, it was the kind of day that caused a lot of the area’s transplants to rethink their decision about moving South. All anyone ever saw from the North Florida tourism ads were the white sandy beaches and pristine emerald waters crashing ashore in front of endless rows of palm trees beneath a clear, blue Dixie sky. The ads never mentioned how wickedly hot it got during the dog days of summer or the humidity that made a man’s skin slick just walking to his mailbox. If they had, a lot of those same folks might’ve forfeited two-thirds of their income via state taxes to live in California or Oregon instead.

  Home, sweet home. Taylor was sitting at the desk in his office, watching the rain through his bay window, when the call came in from the front security gate.

  “Chief Van Zant?” Curt asked. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  Taylor didn’t bother asking for a name. He was pretty sure he already knew. “Let him through.”

  A few minutes passed while the newcomer made the slow taxi up the main drive into the Eagles’ campus, then pulled to a stop outside the clubhouse. Shortly thereafter, a set of large knuckles rapped at Taylor’s office door.

  “It’s open,” Taylor said.

  The entrance swung open, and a massive form filled the doorframe.

  “Hello, Van Zant,” a baritone voice said. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes it has, Japhara. Come on in.”

  Japhara Hylune, a senior member of the Cartography Guild’s most elite group, the Latura Corps, entered the room and closed the door. He was alone.

  “Can I get you anything?” Taylor asked. “Coffee? Sweet tea? Intel on the KzSha, maybe?”

  Japhara winced. “I see Captain Genovese was feeling chatty during your transition back from Droxis.”

  “He kinda didn’t have much choice,” Taylor said. “I locked him in my brig, along with somebody else I understand you’re interested to meet.”

  Japhara eased down onto the stool Taylor kept for larger visitors. “So it’s true, then. You have custody of Akoya Vello.”

  Taylor gave a slow nod. “He is why you came here, ain’t he? I’m just glad you got my message.”

  “Huh.” Japhara grunted. “And what a subtle message it was. First, the Flatar I hired to save you returned with a piece of an ear that checked out as belonging to Vello. Then, low and behold, Swamp Eagle Security returns to Earth shortly thereafter holding a high value asset, codenamed Vincent Van Gogh.” He cocked his head. “I must confess, Van Zant. I never pegged you as an art lover.”

  “Oh, I’m full of surprises,” Taylor said. “But you know that already.”

  Japhara nodded. “So, where do we go from here?”

  “I figure it’s pretty simple, really,” Taylor said. “I wanna know why you sent me to Droxis.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Cut the shit, Japhara.” Taylor leaned forward. “You sent me to Droxis because you wanted me to face Akoya. Everything points to that. Your deal with Genovese, your knowledge of the Vuhov clan and their circumstances on Emza, the Tortantula. Everything. The only question left is why?”

  The skies outside Taylor’s office turned a darker shade of gray as the rain taps against the window intensified.

  “The Latura Corps has been aware for quite some time that members of our gate master ranks had gone missing, many of them Sumatozou,” Japhara began. “For months, we searched for answers as to who was responsible and why, but to no avail.”

  “Why didn’t you take this to your bosses on the Vergola Council?” Taylor asked. “They’re as connected as anyone in major Guild circles. If anyone could’ve figured out who was abducting your people, I’d expect it would’ve been them.”

  “Indeed,” Japhara grumbled. “The Council could have helped.”

  Taylor arched an eyebrow. “You mean they wouldn’t?”

  Japhara shook his head. “I and several of the other Sumatozou gate masters took our case to the Council, as you suggested. Alas, it was not worth their time.”

  Taylor found that hard to believe. “How come?”

  “Do you have any idea how many species in the Galactic Union aspire to be gate masters?” Japhara asked. “And not just Sumatozou, mind you, but members of all races? They are legion. The Council knows this. As such, rather than conduct a proper investigation, the Vergola found it more cost-effective to simply install new gate masters to the vacated posts and continue on with their grander operations.”

  Taylor slumped back in his seat. “Translation: your people weren’t worth the Council’s time or money.”

  “We are assets to the Vergola,” Japhara said. “No more, no less.”

  A long pause settled over the room as Taylor processed the other’s meaning and body language, dejected as they were. This was a far cry from the Japhara Taylor had encountered on Rukoria a year earlier. Back then, Japhara had been the picture of a noble soldier for the Vergola Council—always loyal, always fighting to defend the honor of his Guild and its cause. Taylor wasn’t sure what had become of that proud Sumatozou. He only knew the Japhara sitting across the desk from him now was a very conflicted person.

  “It’s rather ironic when you get right down to it,” Japhara said quietly, eyes fixed on the rain. “For centuries, the Sumatozou have faithfully served the Vergola Council as its most ardent supporters and allies. That’s after the Krulig betrayed the Council, you’ll recall. And what do we receive for that loyalty in our darkest hour when we need the Council most?” He snorted. “Not a godsdamned thing.”

  Taylor’s anger from earlier began to subside. “I take it when the Vergola turned you down, you took it upon yourself to investigate the abductions on your own.”

  “Correct,” Japhara said. “One of the major upsides to serving in the Latura Corps is the mobility of the occupation. Whereas gate masters are assigned to stationary posts in one specific region, latura travel the Union, serving the Council’s interests wherever they are needed.”

  “So what you’re saying is, you know people,” Taylor said.

  “Yes,” Japhara said. “I spent months leveraging every contact I had, from Boontar to Piquaw, and every system in between, for answers. Eventually, I began to see a pattern. Our people weren’t being taken arbitrarily. There was a method to it, a purpose…a pattern. This was the work of professionals.”

  “The KzSha,” Taylor said.

  “Correct,” Japhara said. “The KzSha are an elusive race running an illegal operation. This made tracking their movements difficult, but not impossible for someone with the right intelligence network. In time, I learned of the Vuhov clan and their plight on Emza.” The elephant cocked his head. “Imagine my surprise when not one but two human merc companies emerged as the frontrunners to land the Vuhov contract—and both from Jacksonville, North Florida, no less.”

  Taylor shifted in his seat. “Is that when your Buma friend contacted Genovese?”

  “It is,” Japhara said. “I knew the Zuparti would never contract with the Eagles after the mishap on the Ytara contract, and Genovese seemed like the logical choice to be our eyes and ears on-site at Emza after doing our research. So we reached out to him to gauge his interest in signing on.”

  “Gauge his interest.” Taylor huffed. “Don’t get me wrong, Japhara. I can appreciate that the Sumatozou were in a tough spot, but let’s call a spade a spade here. You exploited Mike’s situation so you could use him for your own purposes, just like you used me.”

  “Being a merc is a high-risk occupation,” Japha
ra said simply. “If you haven’t figured that out yet after all that’s happened, then you’re not nearly as intelligent as I give you credit for being.”

  Taylor wasn’t sure how to take that.

  “Genovese knew what he was getting into,” Japhara said. “He had a need. I met that need in exchange for his services. It was as fair a deal as one can expect in your business.”

  A fresh swell of red flashed across Taylor’s cheeks. “You used that man’s sick sister to get him to do your dirty work. Then you threatened to pull the plug on her if Mike didn’t take me to Akoya. Rationalize that however you want, but where I come from, we call that a dick move, bigtime.”

  The Sumatozou averted his gaze. “For what it’s worth, I never had any intention of denying the girl her treatments. You must understand. I needed Genovese to fall in line so I could get to Akoya, and threatening the girl’s health was the only leverage I had to get him to do that.”

  Taylor shook his head. “Well, congratulations. Your plan worked. That still doesn’t explain why you sent me to face Akoya in your stead.”

  “I needed a merc I could trust to stay calm,” Japhara said. “Someone who would view the situation through all possible angles then make logical choices. What I did not need, as is commonplace these days on Karma, was a wildcard gunslinger who would get my people killed.”

  “What a crock of horse shit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” Taylor said. “I’ve always known your kind are jerks, Japhara. That’s one of the worst kept secrets in the Union. What I didn’t know was that in addition to being jerks, you’re also cowards.”

  The alien’s nostrils flared through his trunks. “How dare you!”

  “How dare you, Japhara!” Taylor shouted back. “You used me, man! You used all of us! What’s worse is, it didn’t have to be that way! We’ve got history, you and me. I would’ve helped you if you’d only come to me first and asked.”

  Japhara shook his head. “I couldn’t risk that you’d say no.”

  “Bullshit,” Taylor snapped. “You were too chicken, and a good man paid the price for it with his life. A good man with a family who’ll miss him like hell now that he’s gone. We all will. And for what? So the Cartography Guild could quell some decades-old internal beef with a renegade gate master?” He spat. “Go to hell, Japhara.”

  The massive alien launched to his feet. “He had my daughter!”

  Taylor did a double take. “What?”

  “He had…my daughter, Van Zant.” Japhara settled back onto his stool, still shaking. “She was part of a crew that was taken prisoner in the Dynar system three months ago.”

  Taylor swallowed. “Was she…”

  “Yes.” Japhara finished the other’s thought. “She was among the refugees you brought back with Master Haju on the Osyrys.”

  Taylor was speechless. “I’m sorry, Japhara. I had no idea you were a parent.”

  “No one does,” Japhara said. “Nalah’s mother and I have kept her true parentage a secret for quite some time now.”

  “But…why?” Taylor asked.

  “You’re good at connecting the dots of a situation,” Japhara said. “Here’s a hint. Nalah had just celebrated her 16th birthday when she was abducted.”

  Sixteen. Taylor ran the math using what little he knew of the Sumatozou reproductive process, which took years instead of months. His eyes widened. “She was born after the Krulig took you prisoner to get the transit atlas.”

  Japhara acknowledged with a look. “The night before I deployed for Kash-Kah, my mate, Zendala, saw fit to bless me with the greatest news of my life, that she was with child. I was going to be a father, Van Zant. Me.” He paused, smiling briefly at the memory. “After my abduction, Zendala searched the Union to find me, but without success. Eventually, the Vergola Council notified her that I’d officially been designated as ‘killed in action’ and she was free to proceed with my memorial service. She had no idea I was alive until last year, when you and I returned from Rukoria.”

  Taylor chewed is lip. “Your mate moved on with another Sumatozou.”

  Japhara gave a small nod. “Raynoth is a good man. He’s taken exquisite care of Zendala in my absence, and he took it upon himself to raise Nalah as his own daughter.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not his daughter,” Taylor said. “She’s yours. Take it from a guy who lost his own father at 10. She’s got a right to know you.”

  “This is true,” Japhara said, “and in time, perhaps she will. Nevertheless, Nalah has already lost one iteration of her family, whether she knows it or not. I will not be responsible for ruining this one as well by making her circumstances any more complicated than they already are.”

  Taylor blew out a sigh and clasped his hands on top of his desk. “So what now? Akoya’s been captured, the abductions have stopped. Where do we go from here?”

  “Back to the Cartography Guild, I expect,” Japhara said. “I must report my findings to the Council so they know the threat to their gate masters has ended.”

  “I thought you said they don’t care,” Taylor noted.

  “I said they didn’t care enough to investigate my people’s disappearances,” Japhara said. “I’m still a grand latura. There are protocols to follow.”

  Taylor grunted. “So just like that, it’s back to business as usual, huh?”

  “And the wheels on the bus go round and round,” Japhara said. “For now.”

  In a different place and time, Taylor might’ve been dumbfounded by the other’s use of such a human expression. Today, however, it was the cryptic nature of the Sumatozou’s last statement that had Taylor’s attention.

  “Well, then.” Japhara rose from his stool to go.

  “There’s just one more thing I need to know,” Taylor added. “Akoya made it pretty clear on Droxis that somebody else was behind the mine. I don’t suppose your expansive network of contacts knows who that is?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Couldn’t or won’t?”

  “Why does it matter?” Japhara asked. “You and your people are home now. Akoya’s employers are not your concern. Not yet, anyway.”

  Taylor’s gaze narrowed. “Me and my company just put our asses on the line to clean up your people’s mess…again. I don’t give a damn if this concerns me or not. I’ve got a right to know. Indulge me.”

  Japhara took a long moment to consider the request. “We won’t know for certain until we’ve interrogated Akoya, but all signs seem to suggest the Merchant Guild was bankrolling the red diamond mine on Droxis.”

  Taylor’s jaw would’ve hit the floor had it not been attached to his face. Holy fargin shit.

  “My ship departs for the stargate in just under two hours,” Japhara said. “With your permission, I will collect Master Vello from Eagles’ custody and be on my way.”

  Taylor nodded. “I’ll see to it that Commander Bowyer has the prisoner prepped and ready to move by the time you meet him at the security checkpoint.”

  “Thank you.” Japhara bowed his head, then turned for the door.

  “Hey, Japhara?” Taylor added. “Do us both a favor. The next time you need me for something? Pick up a comm and call first.”

  The alien chuckled. “Take care of yourself, Van Zant. As it seems is becoming habit, the Sumatozou are in your debt.”

  Taylor reclined in his seat and returned his focus to the rain once his visitor had departed the clubhouse. Shortly thereafter, someone else knocked at his door. “It’s open.”

  Billy Dawson entered the room, having returned a few days earlier from the Eagles’ mission with the Duplato. “So the mystery man behind the curtain turned out to be Japhara after all. How’d it go?”

  Taylor kept his eyes on the rain. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

  * * * * *

  Epilogue

  In a less than fortunate twist for beachgoers, the rain shower that had drenched Japhara’s visit to the Eagles’ campus in
Jax hadn’t been a one-morning affair. It was more like 23 mornings on account of a major tropical system that had rolled through off the Atlantic Ocean and squatted on the American Southeast like a fat man on a toilet.

  On one particularly gloomy morning about three weeks in, Taylor had had his fill of being stuck in his office, watching for animals walking two by two into a boat. So he handed off command to Billy for the day, boarded the pickup truck he kept out back of the clubhouse, and headed for Cocktail Junction to blow off some steam.

  “Wait, don’t tell me,” Rex said upon seeing Taylor enter the Hell House. “A burger all the way with fries—mustard on the side—and a frozen 22-ounce mug of Long Branch Light piss water.”

  “Who needs psychic hookers when I’ve got you, Rex?” Taylor grinned and nabbed a seat at the bar.

  “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just compare me to a prostitute,” Rex said with a frown.

  Taylor shared a chuckle with his friend then watched him vanish into the kitchen to put in the burger order.

  Always good to be back. Taylor traded ‘hey, bud’ waves with Normitt as the latter headed for the jukebox to make his usual selection.

  “Sometimes you wanna go,” the singer began.

  Meet me outside.

  Taylor narrowed his gaze at the strange line of text in the lower-right of his field of vision. Someone was speaking with him via pinplants. Who is this? Taylor asked with a thought.

  Outside, the text repeated. Back alley. Now.

  Taylor glanced around the bar. All he saw were regulars and a pair of Cochkala shooting pool in the back. He asked again, Who is this? This time, he got no response.

  Figuring if someone meant him harm they probably wouldn’t have called first, Taylor decided to satisfy his curiosity and find out who wanted to talk. On my way.

  A trio of flyers streaked the slate-gray sky overhead as Taylor exited the Hell House’s back entrance, then trotted through the rain into the alley, seeking shelter.