Might Makes Right

by Michael Anderle

  At that moment, Kael-ven heard a Yollin coming up the stairs. When the Yollin entered the room, his eyes showed surprise, then elation, and finally confusion. “Kiel?” He walked toward the Yollin mercenary. “I thought you would never quit the Empress’ force.” He reached out to shake hands human-style with his old friend. “What happened?”

  “Who says I had a choice?” Kiel laughed, tossing a nod to the Admiral. “Bethany Anne called me two hours ago and asked if I might wish to work with the Navy. I told her my oath was to her.”

  Kael-ven tilted his head slightly to the left and asked, “So what happened?”

  “She fired me on the spot.” Kiel made a slashing motion with his hand. “Told me to move my shit and come over here to interview for a position she needed me in.”

  Kael-ven looked at the Admiral. “Does he not know?” Thomas shook his head. Kael-ven turned back and pointed to Kiel, then to himself. “It seems the Empress wants you and me to build a Yollin fleet. Me on the ships, you on the Marines.”

  Kiel snapped into attention, his smile wide. “Reporting for duty, sir!”

  Kael-ven’s smile was open and honest, excitement alight in his eyes. He started to say something but stopped, then just shrugged. “I’ve missed you.”

  Thomas lifted his whisky and sloshed it around in the glass, whispering to himself as the two friends caught up for a few moments, “Those Leath don’t have a fucking clue what it feels like to have a Yollin foot so far up their ass that Yollin toes will tickle their tonsils,” he took a sip, “but they will.” He blinked twice before looking out the window into space and asked himself, “Do Leath even have tonsils?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Planet Shrillex, North Continent, Terrel Mountains

  The Shrillexian fumbled with the food bowl, grabbing it with his one hand and pulling on the sealed top. “Damned pain in the ass,” he grunted as he considered just ripping it off.

  Unfortunately, he already knew what would happen if he succumbed to his frustration. The result would be food all over the countertop and the floor, and just last night he had noticed the piece of vegetable that had gotten stuck in the corner of the ceiling and dried there. He had bitched about that piece for a full five minutes, since he had to find his little ladder and unfold it with his one arm to remove it.

  But he was alive.

  Death had come for him. Kraaz had replayed both his original fight with his Shrillexian contact and the ruinous, aborted attack on the hotel. Bocklans had been killed later for his part in the project and the remaining mercenaries had decided to fold the company.

  It was rumored that the Etheric Empire still intended to track the mercenary company through the different systems it had scattered to, and Kraaz wouldn’t put it past them. Those aliens didn’t seem like the live-and-let-live type to him.

  Except…he was alive.

  He exhaled and stepped to the side to pull out a drawer and grab eating utensils.

  It was plain to him that the Shrillexian he had met on Gerrand’s Asteroid had been working with the Etheric Empire. That he had given Kraaz a warning was enough to provide the clues he needed, but nothing he would understand until after the fact.

  Now he was armless, company-less, and damned near without any family.

  Oh, he had a twice-distant cousin somewhere in the South Continent, but their two groups had always ignored each other at family reunions, and Kraaz didn’t care to display his infirmity anyway.

  Once the company had been dissolved he didn’t have a place to go, so he had just returned to the family homestead. The house had been locked up by his younger brother before he left for space, after their mom passed away. The key had been hidden in the hole in the old tree. Kraaz hadn’t even needed to ask where his brother Mih’took had placed it.

  It was the same place Kraaz had hidden toys from his brother so many years ago.

  There was a short beep from the alarm system. Kraaz looked at the monitor, but it showed nothing. Still, there might be a few who would wish him truly dead after the fights his company had been a part of.

  He pushed the bowl of vegetables away and looked up as the light receded. It was as if clouds had just covered the sun, but it had been a completely cloudless day so far.

  He noticed vibrations shaking the surface of his drink, and a very hard-to-hear hum.

  He opened a drawer to his right and, reaching underneath it, he touched a button. A piece of the wall to his left opened, revealing two blasters and a rifle. He grabbed a pistol. Flicking through the settings one-handed, he thumbed it off safe and walked to the kitchen door leading to the porch.

  His homestead was on a large plot of land on the side of the mountain. They had a goodly amount of grass a couple hundred steps away that was flat, and they had used it to winter the herbivores before taking them down into the valley to fatten up.

  He squinted in worry as he stepped onto the porch. It was entirely too dark. His eyes searched the tree line, but he felt nothing there. He stepped off the porch and looked up.

  His mouth opened in surprise. There was a massive ship blocking the sun, so damned close it looked like he could touch it. He could certainly shoot it if he had half a mind to be a complete idiot, but he was armless, not bistok-shit crazy.

  At least, not yet.

  He turned to the back of the ship and realized that while it was a good size, it looked bigger because it was so close.

  The ship moved sideways, and Kraaz saw an open hatch. Inside the hatch was a figure, Shrillexian if he had to guess, in some sort of black armor. He had nothing in his hands, one of which was holding onto the side of the hatch.

  The bastard jumped out of the hatch and fell toward the ground, but about halfway down he slowed. By the time he reached the ground he was moving slowly enough that he just walked toward Kraaz, who was squinting at his uninvited guest.

  “You know,” the helmeted and armored person walked up close enough and then stopped, “my boss would appreciate it if you would holster the weapon before I take off this helmet.”

  Kraaz eyed the suited interloper. “Do I need to shoot you?”

  “No.”

  “On your honor?” Kraaz asked.

  “On my personal honor, I will not offer you harm unless I am protecting myself,” he told him, “or my family.”

  Kraaz turned his head, recognizing that inflection, “Shi-tan?” he asked, as his thumb reached to put the pistol’s safety on. He turned and stepped back onto the porch, placing the pistol on a chair. “I’m not sure if I should hate you or damn you.”

  Shi-tan took off his helmet. “Sorry, boss’s orders. He figured you might be a little upset by how life had turned out.”

  “Yeah, she was Death, all right,” Kraaz admitted. He stepped straight up to Shi-tan and put his hand out in recognition of a fellow countryman. Shi-tan responded in kind and the two walked toward the porch. Kraaz went up first and pointed to another chair, leaving the chair with the pistol unoccupied.

  Shi-tan leaned back against one of the rock posts that held up the porch’s overhang. “Oh, Bethany Anne isn’t my boss. Nathan is, but she’s Nathan’s direct boss.”

  “Well, she is some scary bistok-shit. She and her two guards went through our people like they were made of cloth.” Kraaz unconsciously scratched his arm’s stub. “When she looked down at me after blowing my arm off, I didn’t even flinch. Just remembered your words and figured I was done.”

  “What happened next?” Shi-tan asked. “I fought her once, but she wasn’t using any of her major powers.”

  “You fought her?” Kraaz asked, surprised.

  “Well, all I remember is working to get hit fewer times, but I woke up the next morning in my ship, ass so thoroughly beaten I didn’t remember much of anything, and there was a document indicating I’d signed up with her.”

  Kraaz grunted. “For a non-Shrillexian, it was amazing how my blood sang when she walked down that hall.” He shrugged. “It was a shame I was on the o
ther team, but we gave our word, and word is blood.”

  Shi-tan looked from the front yard to the valley below, then at the mountain peak in the distance. “What happened to your mercenary company?”

  “You don’t know?” Kraaz asked, but Shi-tan continued gazing into the distance. “Leader Bocklans, a Tulet, was fired for such a monumental screw-up, and the few of us who finally got back to the meeting place a month later voted to break up the company. Some figured if we stayed together, the Etheric Empire would put a price on our heads.”

  “Well,” Shi-tan turned back to look at Kraaz, “it wouldn’t have been a price on your heads. She would have sent the Guardians, or a Bitch or two. Either way, the mercenary company would have been dissolved.”

  “She’s that way? That isn’t right.” Kraaz thought about it. “Mercenary companies wouldn’t come after her.”

  “She doesn’t care. It’s a message that might makes right. For the longest time, no one came after mercenary companies because other mercs would aid them in a fight, and who would want a bunch of mercenary companies pursuing them?”

  “Well, apparently she doesn’t care.”

  “She is after much bigger fish. She is a live-and-let-live type of person. You chose to not let-live and she returns the favor.”

  Kraaz eyed Shi-tan. “How did she beat the assassins?”

  “One almost got her, but she was warned by a guard just before he was hit.”

  “Taken out by us?” Kraaz asked.

  “Not out—he healed in the hospital. But he is now a believer in armor. He happened to trip across one of your teams just as you started the operation. It was just enough to have her friends take action.”

  Shi-tan understood Kraaz’ need to know how things had gone so wrong, so he continued explaining a few after-action items. “The first assassin was killed by Bethany Anne. They didn’t trip the second assassin until some of her Guardians had changed forms. One of the Guardians, Peter, smelled and heard the second assassin. He punched through some metal, grabbed the assassin who was hiding inside, and ripped him back out. The assassin punched two slugs into Peter’s gut and got his head ripped off for his efforts.”

  “Peter died?” Kraaz asked.

  “No, he’s a Pricolici,” Shi-tan replied. “They heal fast. I’m told he bitched for a while because the shots put him on the ground with his guts everywhere. The armor stopped it from being worse, but it’s hard to protect against a blast when the barrel is at point-blank range.”

  “I have no idea what a Pricolici is, but healing fast would be nice.” Kraaz took a moment to look around. “I wouldn’t have listened to your warning if you had told me straight out, so I can’t bitch when I’m here without an arm.”

  “Too many of our people wouldn’t be here at all. You had to eat your pride to do it,” Shi-tan pointed out.

  Kraaz looked at Shi-tan, “Have you seen her when she is Death, coming for you?” Shi-tan shook his head, and it was Kraaz’ turn to look at the mountain in the distance. “Well, let me tell you, fear is plentiful. It was like she was pushing it ahead of her. It made it very difficult to think, much less return fire.”

  There was a pause as both Shrillexians were lost in their own thoughts. “Regrets?” Shi-tan asked finally.

  “It took a few weeks,” Kraaz admitted, “but now I don’t have any. We were outmanned, outplayed, and frankly outclassed. The Leath have got some damned good PR people spinning it like crazy, that they aren’t the ones who hired the whole hit in the first place.” His eyes narrowed. “Why hasn’t the Etheric Empire pointed their fingers at the Leath?”

  “I’m not part of that group,” Shi-tan admitted, “so I don’t have a clue. What are you planning to do next?”

  Kraaz narrowed his eyes. “I’m not staying here. I’m not fit to be a rancher or a farmer, or frankly to stay here at all.” He nodded to the ship above them. “I don’t know who might want me, but I’ll get fitted for an arm and I’ll do something. I’m too young to die here on our planet. Just, next time I’ll make sure to vet the company I’m with a little better.” He chuckled for a moment, a little glint of humor in his eyes. “Make sure they have the right attitude when it comes to taking on Death.”

  Shi-tan smiled, then nodded to himself when he got the command in his ear’s receiver. “So, about that… I know a company that might want to interview you.”

  Kraaz looked at him. “Is it a good company?”

  Shi-tan chuckled. “Oh, it’s a very Bad Company. But,” he nodded to him, “it is the best family you will ever join. I personally guarantee that, on my family’s honor.”

  Kraaz looked around, taking in the sights: his family’s home, the valley, and the trees. He looked back at Shi-tan. “On your family’s honor?”

  “My personal honor,” Shi-tan confirmed. “My boss is on a bit of a Shrillexian hiring spree.”

  “But you said it is a bad company,” Kraaz returned, eyes inquiring.

  “That’s actually the name of the company. Bad Company. Consider us good guys who wear black.”

  Kraaz stared at him blankly for a moment.

  Shi-tan sighed, “Apparently I need to show you a few of the human movies they call Westerns before that will make any sense to you. We’re the good guys, but the laws are a bit nebulous for us at times.”

  Kraaz started to smile. “Like spying on secret meetings?” He reached up and rubbed his jaw with his hand. “How did you get that knowledge?”

  “Well,” Shi-tan grinned, “that’s the bad part. It’s what we did with it that makes it good.”

  “Action?” Kraaz asked.

  “How often do you want your ass kicked?” Shi-tan queried in return.

  Kraaz stood up and walked over to the pistol. “Give me a few minutes to lock this place down. I haven’t had a good ass kicking since…”

  Kraaz opened the door, his voice floating back from inside the house, “Death blew my arm off.”

  While Kraaz was inside the house, Shi-tan stepped off the porch and looked around his planet. It was damned beautiful in these mountains. Then he looked at the ship floating above him.

  But the planet wasn’t home, and it didn’t have family waiting for him to come back to them.

  QBBS Meredith Reynolds, All Guns Blazing

  Stephen walked past the long line of people waiting to get into the bar and nodded to the bouncer they had stationed up front. He didn’t really enjoy coming through the front, but when he walked through without waiting, those who asked “who the special one was” would find out he worked with the Empress.

  Directly.

  That would generally cause people in the line to start whispering about his importance, and it helped business. Stephen walked through the bar, stopping a couple of times to speak to people he recognized as being regulars and congratulating a few, dropping a few things he knew or remembered about them.

  On one occasion he had noticed an upset young female who normally would have been surrounded by friends. He glanced into her mind and realized she was lovesick over a male on her team. She was a Were, he was a Guardian Marine, and apparently her heart had gone in a direction her mind had never expected.

  He felt for her, but having your heart ripped out was part of growing up. Sometimes love didn’t care about the rules, but the rules didn’t get changed to fit your heart. Stephen had sent a message to Yelena to find another female Were to come say “hi” and hopefully help her.

  This time there weren’t any problems, just congratulations on a new child to be offered to one regular who was drinking with friends to celebrate.

  He finally made it to the kitchen, and from there into the small meeting room where Cheryl Lynn and Yelena were waiting for him. He smiled at both and sat down.

  “This has to be quick,” Cheryl Lynn started. “Bethany Anne isn’t happy the Leath are so quiet, and we have proof they are moving ships around. They are up to something, but we don’t know what.” She touched a button on her tablet. “Baghdad Bob i
s due to be on again in two hours, so I have to be there to refute his latest lies.”

  “Sorry,” Yelena asked, “Baghdad Bob?”

  “Um.” Cheryl Lynn explained. “That’s right, he was probably more of an American thing. Way back when the US was after Saddam Hussein, his Information Minister Saeed al-Sahaf would come on TV and say stuff so hilariously inaccurate that other countries accused then-President George W. Bush of hiring the guy during the war. He would say stuff like ‘the Americans are on the run,’ and yet you could see American tanks in the background of the video being shown to back his claims.” She shrugged. “So now anytime you have a mouthpiece for a government or company who is lying outrageously, we tend to call them Baghdad Bobs after Saeed al-Sahaf and his lies.”

  “You remember his name?” Yelena asked.

  “Only because I had to look it up to tell Peter the story two days ago,” she answered. “So, getting back on track, the plans are looking good.”

  Stephen nodded. “Team BMW is going to be stuck in R&D for at least a decade or more.” Yelena grimaced, and he turned to his left to face her. “It’s true. They are working on two projects, and neither one is a cake-walk.”

  “I know.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I get him for the weekends mostly, or I can go over there, but occasionally I’d like a big man-chest to rest my head on and he isn’t available.”

  “So what do you do?” Cheryl Lynn asked.

  “Bellatrix has to suffice,” Yelena answered. “Or I start thinking about a new beer recipe and tease him via video.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Only once,” she admitted. “But I think he only told me it did and was really here for something else.”

  “No, I’m aware of that story,” Stephen replied. “He was here for you, and made up the reason to come get the part.”

  “Awww,” the two ladies spoke at the same time.

  “So,” Stephen got them back to business, “new bars?”