Guerilla: The Makaum War: Book Two

by Mel Odom

  Three down. Zhoh kept count, then moved that total up to four when the warrior guarding the elevator let him know another guard had gone down beneath his weapon.

  As Zhoh walked through the rooms filled with exotic goods from hundreds of worlds set on shelves and display cases, he cursed the extravagance. So many races were weak, trying to hold on to things they didn’t need, wandering through life with no reason for being except accumulation.

  One of the things he’d respected about the Makaum when he’d first arrived onplanet was that they had lived simple lives with modest pursuits. In those days, the Makaum had continued to gather in the town square to trade and feast and sing. Now many of them were as bad as the Terrans and the Hoblei and all of the others. They filled the bars and pleasure places chasing fantasies and momentary luxuries. Zhoh had no mercy for them now, but they were a resource he wanted to preserve. Slave labor was invaluable.

  “Five are down,” Mato said.

  Zhoh tracked his warriors through the overlay and saw that Mato was two rooms away. One Hoblei female lived here alone with all her treasures to impress others.

  He stepped into another room, this one whose walls were covered in brocaded fabric and skins from large creatures that he could not identify. He smelled the faint trace of blood that hadn’t been able to be removed from the skins. Vases filled with flowers and plants and spices sat around the room on small tables.

  The Hoblei female lay on her side on a large couch in front of a fireplace on one wall. She was mammalian, with four breasts instead of two because Hoblei had multiple births, which explained why they spread through space like a virus. A golden coat of fine hair covered her curvaceous body and lay sculpted around her face.

  Hoblei females were legendary lovers, and fetched high prices as slaves for races who wanted that kind of conquest. This one wore red clothing that barely covered her genitals. She held a glass of greenish liquid in one hand. As Zhoh watched, a small ingokel surfaced in the glass for a moment, then swam back down to join two of its fellows, kicking with its tiny arms and legs.

  The creature was smaller than the Hoblei female’s smallest talon and as black as space. The ingokel were native to Ratorenth but had spread to a number of planets that wanted them for the narcotic pleasure they gave when devoured whole. Some said that the ingokel were intelligent because they had limited tool application, and that eating them went against several protection-­of-­species acts. Trading in them was illegal on most planets.

  “I suppose you’re to blame for why my comm system has gone down?” the female asked in a low, unperturbed voice. She spoke the trade language, which Zhoh understood. She waved her free hand at the large holo screen covering the wall opposite the fireplace. A PAD lay on the couch beside her.

  The holo screen had frozen in mid-­refreshing, showing stocks on one side and comm channels with six ­people in a two by three block on the other side.

  Zhoh didn’t answer her as he swept back his cloak. “You are Sazuma.” She looked like the image Mato had shown him, but many of these beings all looked the same.

  “You interrupted an important trade talk,” Sazuma told him. “I’ve been negotiating this particular deal for the last three months and I had it to the point of culmination. I was set to make a fortune. A small fortune, but a fortune nonetheless.”

  Despite the fact that he was in her home, that nearly all of her guards were dead, and that he held a weapon on her, Zhoh couldn’t smell the fear stink on her. It was possible that she was too intoxicated to feel afraid, but he thought maybe it was because the Hoblei as a species believed there was no problem they couldn’t deal their way out of.

  “I came to talk to you,” Zhoh said.

  The Hoblei female smiled and the effort looked far too predatory. “If you went to all this trouble to see me, there must be something I have that must be worth a lot to you. I don’t mind making a profit, but I confess I have no idea what you have come here seeking.”

  “The most valuable thing in all the worlds,” Zhoh answered.

  Sazuma’s eyes opened in mock surprise. “And what might that be?”

  “Information.”

  Sazuma shook her head. “You’ll have to find someone else for that. I trade only in goods. Information is much too dangerous because you can sell it to one person, then another person you don’t know can track you down and kill you for that. I’m not interested.” She drank from the glass, caught one of the ingokel in her tiny, sharp teeth and bit down. The small creature ruptured with a tiny shriek and a bright blossom of pale pink blood stained the Hoblei female’s teeth and lips. She swallowed, then licked the residue away with a narrow black tongue.

  “You have the information I seek,” Zhoh told her, “and you will give it to me.”

  A red haze fogged through the trader’s eyes as the narcotic from the ingokel fired through her brain. She seemed more removed from things, but she remained cognizant. “You’ve stated what you want, but what do I get out of this transaction?”

  “A faster death.”

  That caught her attention and some of the euphoria she was feeling cleared away. “I see no bargain here.”

  “Have you ever seen someone take days to die?”

  Sazuma’s pointed ears dropped and curled in submissively. “If you are going to kill me, I will not tell you what you wish to know.”

  “You will. Once you are broken, you will tell everything you know.”

  The Hoblei female drew up into a tight ball on the couch, no longer feigning disinterest. Zhoh smelled the fear in her then, and it was as thick and cloying as a thing dead for days.

  Mato called over the comm. “We have searched the rest of the rooms. The remaining guard isn’t here. We’re coming to you.”

  “You are doing business with a Phrenorian general by the name of Rangha,” Zhoh said.

  Sazuma hesitated, then she nodded weakly. “I am. He came to me months ago. It’s not often I conduct trade with a Phrenorian. Usually your kind remains so virtuous that doing any kind of illegal business is impossible.”

  Zhoh took some pride in that, but also felt excited as he wondered who else the Hoblei female had done business with. “What have you been doing with Rangha?”

  Before she could reply, the sixth Dra’cerian slid down from his hiding spot in the chimney. Hanging upside down, framed in the fireplace, the bodyguard aimed and fired two shots. Both rounds hit Zhoh in the chest and caused him to stumble backward, but he pointed the Kimer and fired.

  The particle beam blasted the Dra’cerian’s head into blood and bone splinters and ruined flesh. Twitching in death spasms, the guard dropped from the chimney and landed in a loose-­limbed heap in the fireplace.

  Sazuma leaped from the couch and tried to run, but Zhoh caught her by the scruff of her neck with his primary and lifted her from the ground. The drink spilled from her hand and the ingokel that survived hopped madly on the thick carpet.

  Zhoh held her in his primary so that her feet dangled centimeters from the floor. He brought his tail up and stopped the sharp point ten centimeters from her face.

  “We are going to talk, and you are going to tell me all that I want to know about General Rangha. If I believe you, I will grant you a simple, painless death.”

  “Why can’t you let me go?” she pleaded.

  “As you said, information is a dangerous thing.” Zhoh thrust his face into hers and shoved his chelicerae into her features, then released enough poison to cause her sharp-­etched pain, but not enough to render her unconscious. “Now start talking. The agony only increases from this point on.”

  TWENTY

  The Home of Quass Leghef

  “Old” Makaum

  2150 Hours Zulu Time

  Let me assure you that we’re not here to make things worse for your ­people, Quass Leghef,” Colonel Halladay said. “We’re trying to b
ring some balance in these troubled times.”

  Halladay’s words sounded weak even to Sage, but he didn’t know any other way to state their reasons for being there. Fort York had been built on Makaum with the intention of helping the local populace. Also to potentially keep the Phrenorians at bay. But they were there to help.

  “Perhaps you’d like to point out where I have erred in my summation,” the Quass countered.

  Halladay reddened a little. Despite all the maneuvering he was used to in the Army, this one little woman was throwing his game off. Sage was impressed, and equally grateful he wasn’t the one under fire.

  “Before we get to that,” the Quass said, “perhaps it might be better if we got to know each other a little more. After all, you are in my home as my guests. I would be remiss were I not to extend some courtesy.”

  “Yes, Quass,” Halladay said, looking like he’d just been granted a stay of execution. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Except that they didn’t have time for playing games, Sage thought. They needed to be moving now. The ­people who attacked the fort could be disappearing as they spoke. Besides that, he didn’t trust the old woman to lighten up. More like she had a whole minefield planned for the colonel.

  “Where were you born?” Leghef asked.

  The question caught Halladay by surprise. “I was born in London, Quass, but my father was an officer in the Terran Army. I grew up in a lot of places. Mostly military bases on different worlds.”

  “So change has always been a part of your life.”

  “Yes. We moved every two or three years. My mother got used to it and looked forward to decorating our new home each time we moved.”

  “Then you might not know what it means to put down roots.” The Quass switched her attention to Sage. “What about you, Sergeant?”

  “I grew up in a village, ma’am. A little place called Sombra de la Montána. The name is Spanish, a Terran language.”

  Interest glimmered in Leghef’s eyes. “What was growing up in Sombra de la Montána like, if I may ask?” The Spanish words came out twisted but she made it through them okay.

  “Life was simple there. The ­people hunted for food in the jungle. Game and fruits and nuts. Other things. They gardened. They built their own homes near a stream that provided fresh water.”

  “No technology?”

  “No, ma’am. It wasn’t needed and it was too expensive. Some of the ­people had a few things, but life was hard there. Everybody had to work to get by.”

  “You two came from the same world, but you lived such different lives.”

  Halladay let Sage answer since the Quass was focusing on him.

  “Yes, ma’am, I guess so. Despite everything you might see on holo ads on the comm, Terra is not one huge world filled with technology. There are still places where ­people have to do a lot of manual labor just to survive.”

  “What did you do there in that village?”

  Sage grinned a little, thinking he could deflect the question, become uninteresting. “I was a kid, ma’am. I hunted, I fished, I tried to get out of chores every time I could. But when it came time something needed to be done, I was there. My mother made sure of it.”

  “You must have a very good mother.”

  “I did, ma’am.”

  The Quass sat a little straighter and took a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to bring up painful memories.” Her discomfort and embarrassment were small things, but they were there.

  “No, ma’am. The memories are good ones. What happened in the end wasn’t so good. The Colombians, ­people who lived south of Sombra de la Montána, were at war with Mexico, ­people who lived north of my village. For a long time, the war stayed away from the mountain because the country was hard and it wasn’t easy to travel, which is why not many other ­people lived there. But one day the Colombians invaded our village and killed most of my mother’s ­people before they could escape.”

  “Forgive me for asking, but is that how you lost your mother? In that attack?”

  “No, ma’am. My father and I lost her to sickness a few years later. My father was a soldier. He and his group got us safely off the mountain and to the United States.”

  “Your father was not from the village?”

  “No, ma’am. He was a soldier from the United States. He’d been assigned as part of a deep insertion team in the area. A guerilla. Someone who operates behind enemy lines.”

  “He met your mother there.”

  “Yes, ma’am. He stayed on throughout the war when he could have walked away or rotated out.”

  “It sounds like he loved your mother very much.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and that made the Colombian War even more personal to him.”

  “So you and the colonel both have a legacy you follow.”

  “I suppose that’s right, ma’am.”

  “Your father is not an officer?”

  “No, ma’am. He was a sergeant. A good soldier.”

  “ ‘Was’?”

  “He died in battle against the Phrenorians only a short time after I enlisted in the Terran Army. He chose to be a soldier all his life.” Sage could still see the death notification in his mind. It was permanently recorded there, as were the doctor’s words about his mother’s passing.

  “I’m sorry for that loss as well.” Leghef regarded him in quiet speculation. “You have experienced all of this, being caught in the middle of opposing forces, and losing family because of it, and now you’re here to advise me to allow you to arrest some of my ­people, knowing the hard feelings and distrust such an action will set into motion.”

  “Ma’am,” Sage said, wishing the Quass had never gotten him to talking, wishing he could have remained invisible, “I think the colonel can make a better case for what we’re proposing.”

  “You came here together, so I’m assuming you both agree on a course of action.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we do.” Sage wasn’t going to leave Halladay swinging in the wind. “Those ­people who attacked the fort have to be made an object lesson of so that we can continue to push for peace.”

  “Then I want to hear your proposal from you. Explain to me why I should allow you to arrest the ­people you think are responsible for the attack on your fort.”

  “I don’t just think those ­people attacked the fort,” Sage said. “Noojin identified them.”

  Concern flickered in the Quass’s eyes. “Is she all right?” Accusation turned her words into jagged shards that bit.

  “She’s fine, ma’am.”

  “Then why didn’t she come with you?”

  “She feels like she betrayed her ­people. She’s not ready to deal with that guilt yet, and I don’t think she was ready to face you. I think she would have liked to speak to you before she answered my questions.”

  “Yes, I think she would have wanted to do that. She’s young. This whole experience has been a hardship for her.”

  Sage didn’t say anything. The Quass was also accountable for the situation Noojin had been left in, and everyone in that room knew that.

  “I only have your word that Noojin has been treated well.”

  Sage looked at Halladay, but the colonel shook his head, leaving the discussion in Sage’s hands. Feeling a little uncomfortable, Sage continued. “I can let you talk to her over the comm, ma’am. Noojin is with Sergeant Kiwanuka. I can call the sergeant and get a connection for you.”

  “Is this sergeant holding Noojin prisoner?” The Quass’s voice tightened and her gaze became steely.

  “No, ma’am. Noojin is with Sergeant Kiwanuka for her own protection.”

  “From your soldiers?”

  “No, ma’am. There are civilians working at the fort. We thought it was possible that some of the ­people behind the attack might want to keep Noojin from talking. It isn’t ha
rd to think maybe someone might have wanted to harm her.”

  The Quass shook her head in dismay. “This is what we have come to? That my ­people will now kill each other?”

  “To be honest, ma’am, yes.” Sage held his gaze steady on the old woman. “That’s why Colonel Halladay has had soldiers placed around you all day. In case someone tried to hurt your granddaughter.”

  “Telilu?” The Quass glanced at Pekoz.

  “Telilu is fine, Quass,” Pekoz stated. “I checked on her as I was making tea. She’s sleeping.”

  Looking a little relieved, but angry at the same time, Leghef returned her attention to Sage. “I have seen no soldiers.”

  “No, ma’am, you weren’t supposed to. They’re dressed like civilians but they’re armed to the teeth. We’ve rotated them in and out so the same faces aren’t out there all the time.”

  “You think the men who attacked your fort will try to attack my family?”

  “The attack this morning changed things, ma’am. I know you stopped the violence this morning, but the ­people who did this, they’ll get more and more brave the longer they get away with this. Other ­people will see that those attackers are unpunished and may decide they’re unhappy enough to strike out at the fort too. Or at a soldier who’s in the sprawl on duty or on leave.”

  “You could keep them at the fort.”

  Sage nodded. “We could, but then we wouldn’t be doing the job we’ve been sent here to do. So far no one has been killed, but once that happens, all bets are off.” He paused for a moment. “You can feel the tension ratcheting up in this sprawl. I can feel it. Since I’ve been on Makaum, your ­people have been torn about whether or not they want offworlders here.”

  “Many of us would like to return to the life we knew before you offworlders found us.”

  “Ma’am, all due respect, but that’s not a decision anyone gets to make anymore. If the Terran Army pulled out tomorrow, you ­people will be left to the mercy of the corps and the Phrenorians, and it won’t take the Sting-­Tails long to send the corps packing, then the Sting-­Tails would own you.”