The Black Guard: Book II: Evolution (Black Guard Series 2)

by C. R. Daems

  "What about Hada's father, Jian?" I asked. He had spent most of his youth in the Guard.

  "He's a good Buddhist and teacher, but he is torn in too many ways to become enlightened. In the military he tried to convince himself killing was all right if it wasn't done in hate, or enjoyed or for revenge. In retirement he is distracted by family."

  "But I kill—"

  "But you aren't compromising. You have no conflict. You willingly kill to save innocent lives. That may violate the Percept about not killing but that doesn't create the same conflict it does for others. Maybe your path is as a monk," he said, which was the last thing I would have expected, yet somehow I wasn't shocked. "If you ever decide that is your path, I would gladly take you as my disciple."

  * * *

  When I returned to Sasser Mountain, I was informed that Wexler wanted to see me, so I went directly to his office and was ushered in.

  After my traditional low bow, he waved me to sit.

  "I have what appears to be a relatively traditional assignment for you but with significant ramifications. The Draco Alliance is having its biannual Draco War Games next month. Although the games are not violent, hundreds of billions of credits are wagered on the results and accidental and non-accidental deaths are common. In fact, they were so frequent two decades ago that the rules were changed. Now, if a contestant is killed, all wagers on that contestant are forfeit to the Draco War Gaming Commission, WGC, until the guilty party can be determined. If it can't be determined, the WGC keeps the money. The purpose is to ensure that the guilty party isn't rewarded for its action. Of course, that doesn't guarantee the guilty party doesn't benefit, but there is little else they can do. And they have initiated strict security measures over the years, but deaths still occur—although with less frequency. In desperation, they have asked for the Black Guard to provide the security for the XLVIII Draco War Games."

  "That could be embarrassing," I said, thinking an event like that, which was approaching a hundred-year anniversary, attracts contestants and wagers from the other inhabitable sectors and creates unprecedented visibility.

  "Yes, like all of them, this is a contract that could enhance or destroy our reputation," Wexler said, confirming my previous thoughts. "Look this proposal over and then we'll discuss it. The JCC wants an answer by the end of the week. Here is the Draco War Games official manual, which describes the selection criteria and game rules as well as providing information about the facility. Get back with me when you feel ready to discuss a contract. The JCC wants us to write the initial draft for them."

  * * *

  The War Games were a very advanced game like chess—if you substituted cruisers, marines, and planets for the current pieces and made the game four-dimensional. Sixty-four contestants were selected based on ratings earned at local competitions during the intermediate year. The competition was in the form of an Olympic system tournament where the loser of each bracket was immediately eliminated—six rounds to produce a winner. The contestants were housed in a secure facility. Each contestant could have three people in their party: usually a trainer, servant, and security guard. Staff at the facility included cooks, servers, security guards, and referees.

  After reviewing the material, I felt it was obvious why the WGC was unable to provide adequate security. The question was how could the Black Guard? I estimated the facility would house almost four hundred people, any one of which could be a potential assassin.

  I decided to ignore the problem and instead spent the next two days helping with the third and fourth phase candidates and reading.

  On the third day, Wexler send word he wanted to see me.

  I bowed low when I entered.

  "At ease, Sapir. Get something to drink, since I suspect this will take some time."

  "Yes, sir." I made a cup of hot tea from the sideboard as he watched me in silence.

  "You don't seem to be interested in this assignment, judging from your activities over the past two days," he said, frowning. He didn't sound in a good mood.

  "The odds of success are zero even if Draco were willing to pay for a hundred Guard. If the JCC has to accept, then I'd state we would arrive for the start but would not accept responsibility for the contestants until after the second round, and we would need a minimum of thirty-six Guard," I said. That had been my initial conclusion, and two days to mull it over hadn't changed my mind. "We could guard eight designated contestants until the end of the second round."

  "Interesting. That could cut the number of people in the facility by two-thirds. Still a nasty problem but certainly easier to manage." He nodded. "I wonder if not thinking about the problem for days is a dragon thing or whether that would work for me?"

  "I find stepping away from the problem sometimes helps my mind to organize my thoughts, whereas obsessing on the problem tends to focus on the problem rather than the solution."

  "Alright, let's put a draft together for the JCC and tentatively select the team members.

  * * *

  I boarded the War Horse with the largest team I had ever commanded: Lieutenants Elijah and Ceder; four senior sergeants, Mintz, Judt, Catz, and Cerff; and four nine-person teams. Yet, I couldn't help but feel I had too few for the task at hand. There would still be close to one hundred fifty people, including staff, to watch, and any one could be a paid assassin, including the contestants.

  When I exited the shuttle, a lieutenant came to attention and saluted. "Captain Sapir, Colonel Wolfson sends his regards. Quarters have been arranged for you and you troops. Sergeant Phillips will escort your enlisted troops and I will take you and your two lieutenants. Colonel Wolfson would like to invite you to have dinner tonight with him and Captain Hwang."

  "Tell the colonel I'd be honored." I said, knowing it was a business meeting but dinner would make it feel more like a family meeting and an honor, because both men's ranks were more compatible with Commander Wexler's.

  I waved the lieutenants to me.

  "Elijah, Ceder, tomorrow morning I want a meeting with you and the senior sergeants. The trip to Draco will take more than five days. In that time, I'd like to consider various options for protecting the contestants."

  I liked getting the troops involved, as it was part of grooming them for the next rank and for me to consider alternative approaches—there was no guarantee I had the best solution or that a combination of two solutions wasn't better than either alone.

  Although space was tight, I had been assigned a single room with its own restroom—quarters reserved for senior officers. Even I was confused, so I shouldn't have been surprised other people also were. I took orders from no one except Wexler and the JCC, but I commanded only small details one would expect of a senior lieutenant or captain in the army or major in the marines—they had no captain rank—or a lieutenant commander in the navy. I didn't plan on complaining and enjoyed a hot shower and a short rest with reading material I had loaded on my Mfi.

  The same lieutenant knocked on my door a few minutes before nineteen hundred hours and led me down the hall to the captain's dining room. Inside, the lieutenant led me to a tall thin man with long black hair tied with a rope. His eyes evaluated me as I approached.

  "Captain Hwang, this is Captain Sapir of the Black Guard," the lieutenant said, appearing ill at ease calling me captain.

  I gave a moderately low bow out of respect.

  Hwang returned my bow.

  "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Captain Sapir. One hears your name mentioned often. Outside of the Jax you are called cold, ruthless, and heartless; however, within the Jax you're well liked."

  "To many people, my actions are cold and ruthless—and even heartless," I said.

  "You agree?" A small smile played on his lips.

  "If I kill your son or father or another person close to you, isn't that cold and heartless?" I asked. An interesting question to a captain to was probably responsible for hundreds of deaths.

  "Yes, Dragon Sapir, we kill in the name of duty, but t
hat does not negate the fact that we took another's life and impacted still others in the process." He pointed to a middle-aged petty officer. "Carlson will get you whatever you want to drink."

  "Hot tea please, Petty Officer."

  "I believe you already know Colonel Wolfson from your assignment on Halo," Hwang continued as Carlson disappeared to get my tea.

  I bowed to Wolfson. "Yes, Colonel Wolfson and I have met, although it has been some time."

  "Yes, several years. You appear to be the JCC's troubleshooter. A position I do not envy you."

  "Nor I," I said with feeling. Those assignments seemed to require too much killing.

  "Draco like the Angels of Death on Nizara are the type of contracts the JCC should refuse but can't without losing credibility," Hwang said, sipping from his tea cup with its old Chinese dragons and calligraphy. "We have been directed to support you, although it is not part of the contract." It wasn't a question but I sensed—how—hung unsaid.

  "By knowing we have family orbiting overhead, wishing us fair winds and calm seas, and ready to help if they can." I said.

  Hwang raised his cup and Wolfson his glass in salute.

  * * *

  Every day, I met with my detail and discussed the upcoming assignment, reviewing the information we had been given about the facility, contestants, staff, and rules of the game. Most evenings, I ate with Hwang and Wolfson, discussing assignments we'd had over the years. In the end, I was happy to be in the Black Guard, where I felt I had better control over the exposure of my troops. And my nights I spent reading material Abhaya had given me. More and more, I found my life compatible with the Buddhist way and at peace.

  * * *

  When we landed, we were given a tour of the War Cathedral, the facility where the games where held. It was really three buildings, each with its own entrance and no access to the others, although a high-speed rail car circled the campus and stopped at each entrance. Our tour started in the War Games building, where the contestants and their party were housed and where the actual competition took place. The building had all the facilities of a luxury resort including restaurants, spa, and luxury four-bedroom units. The second building was available for spectators with elaborate rooms and lounges. Monitors hung on every wall and even the ceiling—each alive with live scenery, advertising, and scenes from other systems. When the games started they would show the actual games, betting odds, interviews with contestants, and other game-related news. The third building held the people and machines that kept track of the betting—which had started months ago—and the staff that managed selecting the contestants and hiring staff and security for the games.

  Afterward, we were led to a large conference room where three people sat waiting.

  "Welcome, Captain Sapir, I am Chairman Goebel. Along with my colleagues, Mr. Trahan and Ms. Cabral, I manage the Draco War Games. Mr. Trahan manages the wagering component, Ms. Cabral the Games and contestants, and I handle visitors, staff, and security. Collectively, we evolve the rules, policies, and procedures." He stopped to scan the Black Guard sitting around the table. "Mr. Trahan and Ms. Cabral have given exemplary performances, whereas I have had lapses in security which detract from the games' integrity—"

  "That's not fair—" Mrs. Cabral began.

  "Fair or not, Almeta, it's a fact." He smiled in her direction. "The War Games attract wagers approaching a trillion credits. Consequently, the unscrupulous are willing to pay for an advantage. I have experimented with security over the years but nothing I've tried has worked. I'm hoping you're the answer."

  "You understand that the Black Guard does not arrest people for a variety of reasons relating to the safety of the people we guard. If we perceive someone is a danger to a client, in this case a contestant, we shoot him or her. And from what I understand, that may conceivably be another contestant." I said to ensure they understood the potential consequences of having the Guard for security.

  "I actually hadn't thought of that …"

  "The fact that we are assuming responsibility after the second round should minimize that possibility, since the contestants at that point should be legitimate contenders, but that is speculation."

  "We will need to cover that possibility in an addendum to the rules, Harold," Trahan said, looking off into space in thought.

  "The current head of security, Colonel Kesslar, has been briefed. You will have full access from the start of the games, and he understands his team will leave with the losers of the second round. They aren't happy with you replacing them. Consequently, I wouldn't be surprised if their presence during the first two rounds doesn't lead to trouble."

  "I understand. You may want to warn them that the Black Guard has a very low level of tolerance to interference."

  When I thought about it later, I realized I should have said zero tolerance.

  * * *

  We were the last people allowed to enter the War Games building. Four security guards were stationed at the entrance, dressed in a gray and black camouflage uniform with a shield-shaped patch on their left breast depicting a white skull on a red background with a banner over and underneath the skull, which had Kesslar and Security. Their uniforms had standard red chevrons for rank on their sleeves.

  A tall muscular man stood off to one side, glaring at me. The three skull-pips on his collar probably meant he was the group's commander, Colonel Kesslar. He didn't look happy to see me.

  "Well, well. A freaking woman commands the legendary Black Guard. Proves you can't trust rumors. I was expecting real kick-ass men, not pansies taking orders from a woman." Kesslar's voice was almost a shout and dripping with scorn. His troops were all smiles, but then so were the Guards.

  "I'm sorry you're disappointed in the Black Guard, Colonel Kesslar. As I understand, the first games won't start for two days, so I'd like to begin identifying everyone, but first we need to assume responsibility for the eight contestants on my list." I said, enjoying the introduction banter. Kesslar had something to prove—I didn't.

  "Who the hell do you think you are, girly?" he roared, his face red with anger.

  "Colonel, you know who we are, you know the instructions you were given, and you've let me know you are unhappy with the current arrangements. But I'm afraid it's lost on my detail and me. We are soldiers who have been given an assignment by our superiors. We didn't get to vote on it, and neither you nor I can change it. So, I'd appreciate being taken to the eight individuals without further delay," I said in a normal voice. He wanted a confrontation—I didn't.

  He didn't like it, but he knew he wasn't going to get the fight he was looking for, so he waved and began walking, with us following. He used the stairs to reach the second floor, and then stopped about half way around the curved hallway, which circled the building.

  "Rooms 205, 6, 7, 11, 12, 13, 17, and 20," Kessler said as he walked off.

  I knocked on the door with the number 205 and the name Lacroix below it and waited. At my nod, Elijah dispatched Judt and Catz's troops to guard each of the other doors.

  "What do you want?" An eight-foot monster of a man stood blocking the doorway. His left hand held a hooked sword with a crescent shaped knife, which acted as a guard for his hand. He didn't look happy.

  "I'm Captain Sapir of the Black Guard to see Ms. Lacroix."

  "What if she doesn't want to see you?" His knife rose pointing at my chest.

  "Then I guess she will be disqualified from the War Games—"

  "Hermine, let him in," said a high soprano voice.

  Hermine moved to the side and I entered the large luxury room, which could easily accommodate ten individuals and had doors to four additional rooms, bedrooms from the diagram I had been shown.

  A young woman sat stretched out on a couch in a long silver gown that hugged her long thin body. "I'm contestant Lacroix, and you are this year's security," she said while evaluating me. "These games are getting to be more about avoiding accidents and assassination than the actual War Games. And Colonel Kess
lar is as always more concerned with his authority than our wellbeing. What about you, Captain?"

  "You will get what you're asking for." I couldn't help an amused smile. "But you may not like what it takes to provide what you ask."

  "What's that?" She looked past me to where Sergeant Mintz and two Guards stood.

  "Senior Sergeant Mintz will be responsible for you. He will assign two Guards to you, one of which will accompany you wherever you go. He or she will have you in their sight at all times except when you are in a room with only one entrance.

  "What about Hermine?"

  "He may accompany you, but please instruct him to stay out of our way. You are our only concern. We will kill anyone that gets in the way of us protecting you. That would include Hermine or anyone else in your party."

  "Fair enough. If you can keep me from worrying about having an accident or being killed, maybe I can concentrate on winning."

  I left as Mintz was collecting identification information from each individual: eye scan, fingerprints, DNA, and face and full body pictures.

  * * *

  The contestant in Room 206 was a middle-aged man named Amador. He was grossly overweight from head to foot. He sat sprawled on a couch, dressed in loose-fitting silks of yellows and purples.

  "I've heard much about the Black Guard. You're called on when the client can't solve the problem or doesn't want his hands soiled—loved when hired and hated when you leave. And you, Captain Sapir, have a reputation for being the most ruthless of the Black Guard, judging by Halo and most recently Blackwood."

  "As you say, Mr. Amador, loved when hired but hated when we leave. But better to be alive to hate us than dead and unable," I said, enjoying the banter. I had recently come to terms with the impressions my actions caused.

  Amador laughed. "As is true of many things, it depends on one's vantage point—client or assassin. Are the women as good as the men?"