Might Makes Right (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 18)

by Michael Anderle

  Two humans had entered. One was a young male, and the other was the one they called Ranger One. Barnabas.

  The young man was asking him questions, and the Ranger was smiling and nodding in agreement.

  —

  “I can have something?” Johnny asked Barnabas, looking at the menu the lady behind the bar had provided him.

  “Yes, provided it isn’t illegal or inadvisable for you to eat.”

  “What about a shake?” Johnny asked, looking at Barnabas where he sat on a barstool from the corner of his eye.

  “That’s fine,” Barnabas answered.

  “With Coke,” Johnny added.

  “Ok,” Barnabas agreed.

  “And chocolate.”

  “That’s just disgusting.” Barnabas frowned at the child.

  Johnny paused, a look of concentration on his face. “Um, does that mean it is inadvisabubble?”

  “Inadvisable,” Barnabas corrected. “And no, but it should be illegal. It’s a lot of sugar, and your mother will tear a strip from my skin for allowing you to eat so much it will make you bounce off the walls.”

  Johnny ordered his Coke float before turning back to Barnabas. “She wouldn’t say anything ugly to you.”

  Barnabas smiled. “Maybe not around you, but I’d get one of those looks that tells me I messed up, and maybe next time I offered to take you out, she wouldn’t let us go.”

  “Oh.” Johnny frowned. “Sorry, I won’t ask for chocolate next time.”

  “See that you don’t,” Barnabas answered.

  —

  X’telent watched the two of them until the child finished the treat the Ranger had ordered him. Barnabas had his back to X’telent the whole time, and didn’t seem to care who was in the establishment.

  The two finished and Barnabas paid, and they left. Moments later, X’telent settled his own bill, exited the bar, and turned in the opposite direction. He would go back to his rooms via a circuitous route.

  —

  “Hi, Mom!” Johnny waved to his mother and dashed past her as she looked up from her desk, which faced the seventh level of the open court.

  She turned to see only his back as he ran down their little hall. She slowly turned to look at Barnabas, who was smiling at her.

  “How’d it go?”

  “You should be proud.” He nodded to Sarah. “He acted exactly as he needed to.”

  “So, like a young boy getting a treat from his idol?”

  “No, like a young Ranger on his first adventure,” Barnabas answered, face deadpan before winking at her. “Exactly like a young boy getting a Coke float.”

  Sarah blinked at Barnabas a moment before her eyes opened in concern. “You didn’t!”

  He nodded, affirming that he had indeed.

  “Oh, God!” Sarah got up. “You owe me!” she called over her shoulder as she raced down the hall to see what Johnny was up to.

  A few minutes later, after admonishing Johnny that he couldn’t use colors and draw on his tablet, she found a handwritten note on her monitor asking if Barnabas could make it up to her by taking her to dinner the night after next.

  Sarah smiled and took the note off as she whispered, “You rat bastard.”

  —

  Three floors farther down Barnabas walked along the concourse, subvocalizing to ADAM, “No, I don’t know what information he extracted. What? Because the spy himself doesn’t know,” Barnabas clarified. “He doesn’t review stolen data, in order to limit the possibility of getting caught sniffing data packets.”

  A few moments later, Barnabas nodded. “Yes, I’ll take that task on personally. I’ll ‘tag and bag him,’ as Tabitha would say. I’m going to switch over to Meredith and find out where he is at this moment.”

  —

  X’telent took a left turn at the next intersection and walked toward his rented abode. As he got close, he glanced at the door frame and saw that the little hair he had put there when he left was still in place.

  The old ways to make sure no one had been in your room still worked. He pressed the tips of his fingers against the plate to the left of his door and provided a word in his own language that was conglomeration of three words that didn’t work together.

  The door slid open and he glanced around the space, then entered far enough that the door closed behind him.

  He locked the door and glanced at the furnishings, a long piece they called a “couch” and a narrow place to sit called a “chair.” He walked into the bedroom and pulled off his outside robe, choosing to go without a drape inside his own domicile.

  Grabbing his tablet, he returned to the outer room and his four legs took him over to the couch, one of them reaching down to grab the edge of what the humans called a “coffee table.” Using it as a brace, he settled straight down to compose himself.

  He was logging into his tablet when everything went dark for a moment. He suddenly felt as if he had just woken up and his mind was trying to make sense of where he was. Fear rushed through him when he realized he couldn’t move anything below his neck.

  Turning his head, he clacked his mandibles.

  “Hello,” the figure sitting on his chair greeted him. “I know you know who I am, X’telent. However, since we have never been formally introduced, I should tell you my name is Barnabas. You are hereby detained for spying on the Etheric Empire. You are a prisoner of war, not a criminal.”

  “You’re a Ranger!” X’telent spoke up. “That’s police business.”

  “Oh, I’m a Ranger most of the time,” Barnabas agreed. “However—” he was interrupted when the door opened and another human male walked in. “Oh, good.” Barnabas nodded to the new person. “Let me introduce Stephen. He is the one I’m currently working for.”

  “Hello, X’telent.” Stephen nodded. “I’m in charge of miscellaneous projects for the Empress, including counter-spying.” His eyes glowed red. “Let’s see what you know, shall we?” His hands reached for X’telent’s skull. “Sorry, I can’t guarantee this isn’t going to hurt.”

  X’telent was frozen, unable to move, his mind racing with the realization that the humans would be able to read his thoughts.

  “A lot,” Stephen finished.

  X’telent’s mental scream seemed to go on forever.

  QBBS Meredith Reynolds, Military-side Airlocks

  “All aboard who’s going aboard,” Bobcat called over his shoulder, before he turned and kissed Yelena. “We will be back in three days.”

  “See that you are,” she replied, then kissed him back and biting his lower lip. “Or Momma is going to be upset.”

  “Momma?” Bobcat asked, a squeak in his voice.

  “It’s a figure of speech, you big scary-cat!” She laughed. “I know how to keep the bread from rising, worrywart.”

  “Well, I’ve heard the stories from Eric. You’d think he was a regular human again. Those twins are killing him! And it’s ‘scaredy,’ not ‘scary.’”

  “Eric’s just working it for sympathy, and good—scary didn’t make much sense to me either,” she admitted. “My first batch of Bitch’s Pale Lager is going to uncork in two nights.”

  He kissed her one more time. “Good luck.”

  She shook her head as William walked by the two of them. Slapping Bobcat on the back, William laughed and said, “You two need to get over it. It’s only for three days.”

  Yelena leaned around Bobcat and called after William, “Doing who knows what!”

  “That’s the point.” Marcus headed for the Pod. “Don’t know anything, can’t share anything, and everyone knows you and Bobcat…” his voice trailed off as Tina went by.

  “Are you doing the boom-boom?” she asked them.

  “That the best you got?” Bobcat asked, turning to watch Tina enter the twelve-seat Executive Pod.

  She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

  Bobcat smiled. “Go for it, young padawan.”

  Marcus stuck his head around the door. “Oh, I got to hear this.”
/>
  William stepped around Marcus. “Go Tina, go Tina, go!”

  “You got this!” Marcus encouraged her.

  “No less than twenty,” Bobcat warned.

  Tina’s eyes narrowed.

  “And no help.” He touched the side of his head. “That’s cheating.”

  “Hmphh, wouldn’t have done that. I know the rules,” she answered, and jerked a thumb behind her.

  “Ok, give it your best shot,” Bobcat encouraged.

  “What’re the stakes?” she asked.

  “First brew choice to the winner.”

  “Ok, I can live with that,” she said, then sucked in a deep breath and started spitting out her best, “Aggressive cuddling, bam-bam in the ham, balling, bandicooting, four-legged foxtrot, jerking it while she’s twerking it, nailing, naffling, nobbling, plooking, plonking, pole-varnishing, shampooing the wookie—”

  Marcus turned his head to William. “Oh, that’s a good one.” William nodded in agreement.

  “Sinking the pink, tube-snake boogie—”

  “A little ZZTop,” William commented. “I play that all the time.”

  Bobcat had already lifted through ten fingers, closed both hands again, and now had one fist of fingers open, indicating Tina had five more to go.

  “Mingling limbs, humping,” her eyes narrowed when he didn’t give her credit for that offering, “gland-to-gland combat, going balls deep with one’s Twinkie in the bearded clam.”

  Bobcat gave her two fingers’ worth of credit as she squeaked out the last one, her voice about spent. “Tromboning!”

  Bobcat looked at William and Marcus, a question on his face. “No cheating, Marcus!” he called. “I’m waffling on tromboning. That’s a very common—”

  “Nope.” William shook his head as Marcus looked back at him. “Not for someone her age, so it counts.”

  Marcus turned back to Bobcat and pointed at William. “What he said.”

  “Yeah,” Bobcat scratched his chin, “good point.” He turned and kissed Yelena one last time before stepping toward the ship. “C’mon, rookie.” Bobcat passed her on the stairs. “You get first beer choice at our new research digs.”

  Waving to Yelena, Tina turned and boarded the Pod. She was moving toward her destiny as the newest member of Team BMW.

  Ahz Sector, Deep Space, Gerrand’s Asteroid, Krollin’s Restaurant

  Kraaz walked into the restaurant after pausing in the reception area to allow his eyes to adjust. He saw that four other tables were occupied, and raised an eyebrow when he noticed a lone Shrillexian in a booth at the opposite end of the restaurant from his leader and the Leath he was meeting.

  He would keep an eye on that one. He didn’t have any obvious scars on his face or arms, so he was probably untrained in real combat. Maybe he’d talk to him after the leader’s conversation.

  He finished his sweep and clicked the transmitter attached to his belt. A moment later the leader of their mercenary company strode in, and Kraaz preceded him to the meeting.

  P’kert, a Tulet, was stationed behind them and would cover any attacks from the rear. Once they arrived at the table, Kraaz stepped aside and allowed the leader to take over. Their leader, another Tulet named Bocklans, ran Darkness for Hire. It wasn’t a very good company name, Kraaz thought, but they had a reputation both for being successful and taking high-risk assignments.

  And since they had been contacted for this gig, it was pretty much guaranteed to be dangerous.

  —

  Bocklans pulled his hand away from his belt when the Leath kept both hands on the table. Since they had called the meeting he didn’t expect a double-cross, but one needed to be careful. Darkness for Hire hadn’t taken any assignments against the Leath so far as he knew. Hell, practically no one had taken any action against the Leath.

  They just weren’t around much.

  It was only since the news about the war between the Etheric Empire and the Leath got out that the Leath started sending more groups out to the core systems.

  And the rumor was, most of the contacts had twice as many meetings with those on the dark side as with the official political representatives.

  Interesting times indeed.

  The Leath opened his tusked mouth. “Greetings, Leader Bocklans.” He turned and got the attention of a waiter. “Drink?”

  “Of course, provided you are paying.” Bocklans chuckled. “This is a more expensive restaurant than I normally frequent, you understand.”

  The waiter came over and took their orders. “Of course,” the Leath agreed, “but I understand this location prides itself on keeping private conversations private.”

  Bocklans made a motion with his arm. “Perhaps,” he answered. “But I wouldn’t trust it too much unless I had support.”

  “And do you?” The Leath asked.

  “A moment,” Bocklans answered and turned his head. “Kraaz?” The Shrillexian looked at his boss. “Give me a distorter.”

  Kraaz reached into a pouch attached to his belt and handed a small electronic device to Bocklans.

  “Appreciated,” he replied, and placed the unit in the middle of the table. “This will distort our communication outside the table area. Are we in agreement? Can I turn it on?”

  After receiving permission, Bocklans turned the device on.

  Bocklans called again, “Kraaz?”

  The Shrillexian didn’t turn back to the table.

  Bocklans smiled. “I believe we can speak now.”

  “My name is irrelevant, but my rank is high in our intelligence branch. I have been sent on a…purchasing and talent-acquisition mission. What assurance can you provide that our request will be kept confidential?”

  “I would be surprised if you haven’t researched Darkness for Hire, and not in a good way,” Bocklans replied.

  “I have, but I am asking for additional assurance so that I understand your methods. It is hard to fathom how you keep secrets.” There was a pause. “Given your organization…type.”

  “What you mean is, as a group for hire which you do not respect.” Bocklans put up a hand. “I don’t care about your opinion of us. In our long history, we have had to kill only two leaders who leaked information that we as a group felt was detrimental to our company. You need to understand, this isn’t my mercenary group. I’ve been elected leader, and I could be fired or quit. If I were fired I wouldn’t know, since I’d be dead. If I were to quit, I would have to undergo the surgical insertion of a device which monitors if I am revealing company secrets.”

  “Why would you do this to yourself?” the Leath asked.

  “Why do we do anything? For the challenge, of course. Many of us don’t expect to live to old age. Only two of our leaders have retired. One committed suicide in a bar brawl he started with some thugs from a mercenary group he hated. The other lived another twenty turns in his own solar system. The rest of us die on assignment.”

  “Why do you take assignments?”

  “We have a system. For each job we accept, we throw the dice during the operational planning meeting. If the dice come up red, the leader must be a part of the forward deployment during the planned op; that way all operations have the chance of being headed by the leader. If we make bad calls on jobs, eventually we get killed.”

  “It seems,” the Leath scratched the base of one of his tusks inside his mouth, “that stupidity would get one killed eventually anyway.”

  “It does, but leaders don’t necessarily survive even good planning.”

  “Is this how it works for all mercenary companies?”

  “Some, but not all,” Bocklans admitted. “Others have various methods. Some mercenary companies are truly businesses with owners. We happen to function as more of a cooperative model.”

  There was a pause before the Leath asked, “Why choose that model?”

  “Income,” Bocklans answered. “No sharing with upper management.”

  After this pronouncement, they waited in silence until the drinks had bee
n delivered and the server left.

  “Is there anything you would not do in relation to the Etheric Empire?” the Leath asked.

  “Straight to the point. That is nice in a business relationship,” Bocklans answered. “We will not attack their asteroid base or do any jobs inside it. Also, nothing on Yoll. Missions on other planets in the Empire will be determined by the job and the location.”

  “We are going to be suggesting that the Noel-ni planet Sertjal host a peace accord meeting for fifty of our people and fifty of theirs. During this meeting, we wish for it to be attacked, killing everyone at the event.”

  “Including the Leath participants?” Bocklans asked in surprise.

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “They will be killed for the greater benefit of the Leath race. They will not know this, of course.” He picked up his drink and took a sip.

  “Weapons?”

  “We request minimum armament,” the Leath said, putting down his glass. “Nothing heavy. Besides, the location is actually a floating hotel.”

  “I’m familiar with those,” Bocklans answered. “If an attack destroyed the engines, the whole thing would come crashing down.” He nodded. “Elegant.”

  “Unfortunately, the attack has to take place after those who are attending the meeting go through a rigorous search, so unless you can hide something in advance, you will have to make it happen with whatever you are allowed to bring in after the event is underway.”

  Bocklans took a sip of his drink, thinking. “How are we going to gain access to the hotel?”

  “There will be over a thousand people in its buildings at the time of the planned meeting, plus I’m sure there will be reporters. Figure it out.”

  The Tulet pursed his lips. “Won’t the Empress just bolt? I would imagine her ships would just come down and get her.”

  “We will succeed. And we plan on spinning the news our way, since we are getting killed in the public relations arena.” Bocklans raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be so surprised that we are aware of what is said in the news,” the Leath told him. “Where do you think all the negative reports about her being a monster originated?”