by JP Raymond
“You may believe whatever you wish, human,” Kairee said. “The facts are these: I have a problem. Your arrival presents me with a unique opportunity to solve it. You need something from me. Therefore, I propose you solve my problem in exchange for me solving yours. If that’s unacceptable to you, you can decline. I wish you luck in finding a Myollnar Crystal elsewhere on the station.”
JaQuan scowled. The bastard had them over a barrel, and he knew it. They were being manipulated.
“Your Eminence,” Rorgun said, “surely you can appreciate our position. This is a highly risky service you’re asking my crewmembers to perform. They’ve already been treated with severe suspicion and bigotry since their arrival. Forbidding Rischa and I from assisting them puts them in considerable and unnecessary extra danger.”
“On the contrary, Rorgun,” Kairee said, “I am removing an element of risk. If they are identified as my agents, they will surely come under fire. By making certain you are not seen with them, I reduce the chances for their patronage to be known. I am protecting your crew in a way you cannot.”
“The only thing you’re protecting is your own position,” Rischa said.
“I am sorry you feel that way,” Kairee said. “I have made my final offer.”
JaQuan wanted to shoot the Graur terrorist, burn the look of triumph out of his eyes. But he knew there was no choice. Kairee wouldn’t be insisting on such a high price if he had any competition. Short of breaking into another ship and stealing its crystal, the only way to get what they wanted here was to play Mutakh Kairee’s game.
“Fine,” JaQuan said.
“What?” Alan said, his voice high and his eyes wide.
“We’ll do it,” JaQuan went on. “You put that crystal in Rorgun’s hand while we’re gone.”
“JaQuan, are you sure?” Rorgun asked.
“We don’t have a choice, Rorgun,” JaQuan replied. “You led us to this demon. Now, we have to pay his fee. Just get the damned crystal and be ready to get the hell out of here when we get back.
“All right, Kairee, what do we have to do?”
GWEN’S PATIENCE WAS REWARDED. Static cut through her monitor as though someone were jamming the signal. When the picture returned, the two humans were moving away from the door. Each was carrying a silver case. The Graur were not with them.
Her relief turned instantly to panic. What the hell was going on? Had the humans gotten what they needed? Why had they ditched the Graur? What was in those cases? Where were they going?
She watched them for several seconds. They seemed headed back to the landing bay. Damn it! What were they doing?
Before she could contemplate the question further, they turned away from the landing bay. They were going somewhere else in the station.
“Shit,” she whispered.
Something was going on. Gwen had no idea what it was, but her instincts were screaming at her to do something about it. Sitting in her ship wasn’t getting her any answers.
Her mind made up, she tapped commands into the comms unit on her wrist, downloading the security feed. That way she’d be able to track them. Then she stood up and strapped her beamer back on.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Gwen,” she said.
She was sure she didn’t. But it didn’t matter. Something was happening, and it bore closer investigation.
Striding purposefully, she left her ship and set off in search of the only other two humans aboard The Outpost.
SWEAT BEADED ON JAQUAN’S SCALP AS the two Elohim thugs scrutinized Alan and him. Dressed in shimmering, gold shifts and black cloaks, the guards looked ridiculous. They wore beamer pistols on their right hips and swords on their left. Between the outrageous clothes, their willowy, white bodies, and turquoise hair they looked like they belonged at some sort of comic book convention.
But despite their nonthreatening appearance, JaQuan had no doubts they were deadly with both weapons. One of them talked into a comm link on his wrist, reinforcing the idea that they could bring plenty of help should they need it.
Alan’s skin was so pale with fear, he almost looked white. Like JaQuan, he was sweating profusely. He might have been younger, a bit more naïve than JaQuan, but he understood they were in great danger and that a single mistake could be deadly.
The Elohiman who’d been talking into the comm link, lowered his wrist and stared at JaQuan.
“Mr. Sil was not informed of your coming,” he said. “He desires some authentication of your mission.”
JaQuan bit his lip to avoid screaming. More evidence this was a setup. What the hell was Kairee up to?
Don’ ever let a man see you freak, his old mentor, Lucky Latiel used to say. You keep your face flat, empty. Don’ let him know you even there. He thinks he got you scared? You ain’ got no chance. Make him wonder. Make him worry.
“Authentication?” JaQuan said. “What the fuck does he think this is? Does he think the Kwin Faan issue ID cards? Maybe he’s hoping we can pull out the Empire’s Most Wanted list and point to our names?”
The guard blinked twice at JaQuan. An expression JaQuan thought might be confusion set up on his face.
“I do not understand,” he said.
JaQuan sighed. Clearly this idiot didn’t comprehend human sarcasm.
“Look,” he said, “my partner and I are freelancers hired by Mutakh Kairee to deliver a package to your boss and collect payment. If he’s not interested in completing the transaction, we’ll happily take the merchandise back to His Eminence and forget the whole thing.”
Silently, JaQuan willed the bluff to work. He’d been telling the truth, after a fashion, about them being freelancers. So it should be easy to sell, and Alan couldn’t say anything that would refute it.
But did the enigmatic Mr. Sil want the goods badly enough to play along?
The guard blinked again with that unnerving sideways blink of his Elohim anatomy. JaQuan smiled unpleasantly, hoping to convince the thugs he was perfectly willing to walk away.
After a moment, the Elohiman raised the comm link to his mouth again and spoke in his native tongue. An answer came back after several seconds.
“If you try anything, you will be killed,” he said.
“I’d expect nothing less,” JaQuan replied.
The guard with the comm link turned and pressed a switch on the wall, while his partner stared cautiously at JaQuan and Alan. The door slid open.
“This way,” the talker said.
He led them through the door, down a short hallway, and then a right turn that led to another door. Tapping in a code on the wall panel, he opened it, and gestured for them to enter.
“Thanks,” JaQuan said, pretending everything was perfectly fine.
He and Alan entered a large room with a table in the center. Five Elohim dressed exactly the same as the guards stood on the opposite side. JaQuan resisted the urge to laugh. Each had their arms crossed, and they stood in a chevron, as though this were some military formation.
Behind JaQuan and Alan, the door shut. They both turned. The guard hadn’t entered. They were locked in with the five Elohim. JaQuan tried to believe this wasn’t a trap. He didn’t succeed.
“Are you, Mr. Sil?” he said, addressing the Elohiman in the center.
“I am,” he said. “Who are you?”
“JaQuan Jones. This is my partner, Alan Park.”
“Whussup?” Alan managed, his voice a little higher than usual.
“How did you come to be in the employ of Mutakh Kairee?” Sil asked.
“He’s a friend of a friend,” JaQuan said, once again relying on a vague version of the truth to bluff. “My understanding is your merchandise attracts the wrong kind of attention and His Eminence is the only known supplier. He contracted with us to make delivery, so all the nasty complications could be avoided.”
Sil stared at JaQuan as impassively as the guard had. The other four Elohim all stood perfectly still, like statues. Two gazed threateningly on JaQuan. The other two d
id the same to Alan.
“I will need to authenticate the merchandise before paying,” Sil said at last.
“Of course,” JaQuan said.
He came forward and set his case on the table. The Elohiman to Sil’s left, pulled out a hand scanner, tapped a command into its board, and ran it over the case. He scrutinized the reading for several seconds, then turned to Sil and nodded.
“Are they dormant?” Sil asked.
JaQuan tried not to panic. Dormant? What the fuck was he talking about?
He tried to decide what to answer. He had no idea whether he was supposed to deliver whatever it was dormant or not.
Don’ never give a man information, Lucky would say. Anything he know, he can use against you.
“I don’t what you mean,” JaQuan said.
“I detect no movement,” the Elohiman with the hand scanner said. “I believe we are safe.”
“Open the case,” Sil said to JaQuan.
He swallowed hard. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but he feared things were about to get really bad.
Trying to keep his hand from trembling, he reached over and keyed in the code to unlock the case. The red light on the control panel turned green. He laid the case on its bottom, touched the open key, and spun it around to face Sil. Then he lifted the lid.
The Elohim all jumped back, and two of them drew beamers. After a second, though, they relaxed. JaQuan could see strange, green light glowing from inside the case. Sil stepped forward and peered into it. A wicked smile slid up his face.
“Let me see the other one,” he said.
“Payment first,” JaQuan countered.
Sil looked up and met his eyes. JaQuan closed the case on the table.
“Sorry,” he said. “His Eminence was explicit that you transfer the funds before the goods are delivered.”
“And how do I know you will not double-cross me?” Sil asked.
“Why would I?” JaQuan said. “I got no skin in this game. I’m just a delivery mule.”
For a moment, JaQuan thought the Elohiman wasn’t going to bend. JaQuan wasn’t sure what he would do if that were the case. They were outnumbered, and they had no leverage.
“Bring the other case here, so we may scan it,” Sil said. “If the readings are the same, I will make payment.”
“Alan,” JaQuan said, not taking his eyes off the Elohim criminal. “Bring the man his goods.”
Alan came forward and set his case on the table just as JaQuan had. He didn’t let go of the handle.
The Elohiman with the scanner repeated the process with Alan’s case. After a moment, he looked at Sil and nodded again.
JaQuan reached into his jacket and pulled an electronic pad out of the inside pocket. He put it on the table in front of Sil, who reached down and tapped in several commands. They waited.
After several seconds, the pad chimed. JaQuan checked the screen. The sum of three hundred thousand sovereigns had been transferred to Kairee’s account.
“Very good,” JaQuan said, taking the pad back and stuffing it in his jacket. “I believe that concludes our business.”
He turned and started across the room, with Alan quickly falling in step.
“Just a moment,” Sil said. JaQuan turned back, trying again not to panic. “I need the lock code for the case.”
“Oh, yes,” JaQuan said. “I’m sorry. It’s four-three-two-three-zero.”
Sil tapped the numbers into the keypad. A second later he opened the case.
The sound of flesh tearing ripped through the air. Something flew out of the case, struck Sil in the face, and latched on. He started screaming, and blood gushed in every direction.
JaQuan had just enough time to realize the thing on Sil’s face was a living creature and that it was eating him alive before more of the things rocketed out of the case and swarmed the other Elohim.
The creatures were approximately a foot long and half a foot wide at the front. Their bodies were brown, segmented, and almost entirely flat, tapering to a point at the end. They had two tiny arms at the front, and they flew by no means JaQuan could detect.
“Holy shit!” Alan cried.
In seconds, twenty of the monsters were in the air. Several flew towards JaQuan and Alan, arms outstretched and horrific mouths with hundreds of teeth open. He realized he was about to die.
S OMETIMES, I WISH I’D HAVE DIED at The Outpost. I wouldn’t have been able to make the mistakes that wrought all this horror. I wouldn’t have lived to see Grakur being bombarded with mass drivers. Wouldn’t have witnessed the galaxy tearing itself apart.
But that wasn’t my fate. I was unlucky enough to survive.
Maybe I was supposed to. Maybe my destiny is to see all this and record it for future generations.
Future generations? Who the hell is going to live long enough to ever read this record?
I’m a damned fool. The only possible explanation is that God is punishing me – showing me just how stupid being too smart is – before he kills me along with all the rest.
I deserve it.
Can JaQuan and Alan survive the strange, alien insects?
Did Mutakh Kairee betray them all?
Will Gwen find them in time?
Find out in the next thrilling episode of Empire’s End, “No Place to Hide”!
Available now!
Author’s Note
HEY, Y’ALL! THANKS FOR BUYING AND READING Episode 2 of Empire’s End. I hope you’re liking it. The Outpost is a hell of a place, huh?
One of the things I notice happens to indie authors is they can get a review on the first book in their series, but they struggle to get them for subsequent books, even from readers who dig the series enough to read every book in it. That can make it hard to advertise more than the first book, and it could make Amazon think the series isn’t any good, just the first book so why recommend beyond that if all?
So, again, if you liked Empire’s End, I’d be grateful if you could take a moment to review it. All you gotta do is tap the link below and rate it a number of stars you think it deserves and write a few words about why you liked it. You might not think so, but it really makes a difference to a book and its author.
Thanks so much. Appreciate you!
Tap here to review Empire’s End Episode 2.
Also, if you want to know more about Empire’s End, check out my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/empiresendserial. It has bonus material, release dates, sci-fi trivia, and other cool stuff.
-JP
Empire’s End
A Science Fiction Serial by:
JP Raymond
Episode 2:
The Outpost
Copyright 2018 JP Raymond
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by:
Fleur Camacho
About the Author
JP RAYMOND WAS TOTALLY BLOWN AWAY by Star Wars in 1977. He spent the rest of his youth in love with Princess Leia, obsessed with all things science fiction, and railing against the identity of a certain Jedi Knight’s father.
He eventually went to college, where he studied literature and got all sorts of ideas about writing about the human condition and penning the Great American Novel into his head.
These days, he’s finally managed to author his own space opera saga. Empire’s End is his first foray into traditional science fiction, and he’s having a blast with it. He credits George Lucas for lighting the fire that got him here, but he refuses to accept Darth Vader as Luke’s father.
Send JP a subspace communication at [email protected] and tell him what you think of Empire’s End. He’ll reply.
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