A Fistful of Credits: Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 5)

by Chris Kennedy

  “We are in our wetskins for many years until it is time to become,” Bob explained in a hushed, awe-inspired whisper. “We are unsuited for becoming until we shed the wetskin. Then we become.”

  “She…became?” Mulbah asked, his reverie broken by Bob’s voice.

  “Yes.”

  Thunder rolled louder in the distance. Lightning began to strike random trees as the storm moved closer. A deep sense of dread began to form in a cold part of Mulbah’s soul. There was something brewing, something darker than the coming storm.

  “Antonius,” Mulbah switched to his secure comms and woke up their last man, who had been on overwatch the night before and had only been asleep for a few hours. “Something’s not right. I need you in your suit.”

  “This is one bad storm, boss,” Samson said as the booms grew louder and closer. The alien who became was looking around, partly in confusion and partly in fear. The beautiful features were twisted in agony, and a primal terror enveloped it. Mulbah might not have been one of the aliens, but even he recognized fear.

  “I don’t think that’s a storm, Samson,” Mulbah replied. The sky went almost completely black as the thick cloud cover blocked out the sun. A few fat drops of rain splashed against his mecha as the storm finally moved over them.

  “They come,” Bob said as thunder and lightning crackled across the sky, ripping through the clouds and creating ghastly shadows with every flash.

  All eyes, alien and Human alike, looked skyward now as the thunder continued to rip through the thick clouds. It rolled continuously, without end, and Mulbah started to wonder if it was thunder he was hearing or something far worse. To the naked eye there was nothing to be seen. He activated his scanner to see what was really out there. He managed not to gasp in horror and shock as the HUD began to display everything the LIDAR, his Light Detection and Ranging system, was picking up.

  Hundreds of…things were descending on their position at a rapid rate. The little blips on his LIDAR were homing in directly on the patch where the females gathered with their newborn. The females formed a defensive circle around the newly become, but experience told Mulbah that outside of growling and trying to block the raiders, there was little the females could do to protect their youngling.

  Realization dawned on him. Bob had been reticent as to why they needed protecting during a special time. It had not made sense a month ago, but now it was perfectly clear. They weren’t there to protect the aliens from predators or resources from rival mercs while they mated. They were there to protect the sole child from slavers.

  Rage boiled up from deep within his heart. He had seen the evils of slavery first hand, having grown up in Liberia, when hundreds of rescued children from Ghana were transported through Monrovia on their way to various nations to begin new lives. He had seen the emptiness in their eyes and the scars, both physical and emotional. His own childhood, while a happy one, had the dark stains of what his people had done to one another over the millennia.

  Being Liberian, he understood tribal relations and family. Being American as well, though, had shown him that children were a precious and irreplaceable commodity for family, community, and a species as a whole.

  He swore the only way the raiders would get the newly become was over his dead body.

  “Paint the sky,” Mulbah ordered, and he started firing upwards at the oncoming raiders, his dual MACs pouring an amazing number of rounds into the descending mass. The others followed his lead and began to fire as well, their suits tracking targets and eliminating them as quickly as they locked on. What had started as thousands of attackers began to rapidly decline as the systems of the mecha tracked and eliminated the raider threat.

  As quickly as the blips had appeared en masse they were now scattering, trying to run from the unholy amount of firepower that was now directed and focused upon them. Mulbah could only imagine what was going through the invaders’ heads as they faced armed opposition for the first time. They moved east of Mulbah’s position and tried to regroup, but he didn’t give them the opportunity. He continued to pour fire into the unseen aliens, relying on his instruments. The others spread out in a half-circle, their concerted fire unrelenting as they continued to shift targets with each eliminated enemy. The alien raiders clustered about a kilometer away before they disappeared from his sensors.

  “Cease fire!” Mulbah called out. His men stopped attacking and waited for additional orders. He waited for a moment, uncertain. He had anticipated the enemy breaking and fleeing from the overwhelming amount of fire; he had not expected them to go to ground.

  “Orders?” Samson asked, his voice supernaturally calm. If Mulbah had not known any better he would have assumed the massive former mechanic was far away in a safe location.

  “Not sure what we’re dealing with,” Mulbah replied. “Anyone get any good readings?”

  “Power signatures are too low to be Zuul,” Khean answered almost immediately. “Whoever this is, their mass is very small since those engines don’t have a lot of power.”

  “Or they are extremely efficient,” Samson countered. Mulbah nodded.

  “They’ve gone to ground, which means they’ve given up the one advantage they had over us,” he said. He motioned at the aliens, who were huddled together and watching the Humans silently. “We need to protect these people at all cost.”

  “No idea who or what we are dealing with?” Zion asked, nervous.

  “There are thirty-six other mercenary races out there,” Mulbah said as he cycled through his MACs and reloaded them. “So, who knows? Quite frankly, I don’t care. The Union has no rules on slavery.”

  “This is legal?” Khean asked, his shocked tone carrying easily through the comms.

  “It’s not genocide, so why not?” Mulbah growled as his anger and rage began to bubble forth. This time, though, he did not hold it back but instead used it to fuel him. His mind raced as he analyzed the situation. “Watch the north and south for flanking maneuvers. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, but if they are typical pirates they won’t come straight at us.”

  The group waited in stony silence as the storm abated, the calm disquieting to each man. It was deathly silent in the swampy area, save for the raucous noise caused by the mechas’ movements. It was strange, but Mulbah, having grown used to the noise of the CASPers, managed to tune them out and listen to his surroundings.

  Khean, who was on the far right of the group, screamed suddenly and was abruptly cut off. His suit dropped off Mulbah’s HUD as quickly as the scream ended. Mulbah whirled but saw no sign of the suit or of Khean. It was as if ghosts from the swamp had taken the young mercenary.

  “Anybody see it?” Mulbah asked with a hint of nervousness in his tone. He had expected an ambush, but not one where a suit could be taken out without a sound being made. Did the raiders have technology which allowed them to go toe-to-toe with the CASPers? He shivered despite every effort not to.

  “Nothing, boss,” Samson said in a calm, collected voice. “Khean? Answer me. Are you hurt?”

  “I’m up,” Antonius suddenly announced. “Pursuing you now, boss. Be there in a minute.”

  “What took so long?” Mulbah asked as he turned to look around the swamp. There was still no sign of Khean but he knew that eventually, if the young man was dead, the emergency transponder would go active for suit recovery.

  “Just one of the perks of being a mercenary,” Mulbah whispered as he silently prayed for his fallen battle brother. He hoped for the best but knew, deep down, the young mechanic was more than likely dead.

  “Goddamn suit,” Antonius growled as he finally joined them. “Sorry boss. Had to readjust.”

  “Ammo check?” Mulbah asked.

  “Green,” Antonius replied instantly. His voice was cold and distant. A result, Mulbah guessed, from hearing Khean fall. “Full loads with tracers.”

  Mulbah blanched. “Tracers?”

  “My own concoction,” Antonius admitted. “I like the visuals, and most al
iens, from what I hear, haven’t dealt with tracers before. If they use their eyes to fight, it’s going to terrify them.”

  “If they don’t?” Mulbah asked.

  “Then it burns when it hits,” Antonius said off-handedly. “Either way, someone else feels a lot of pain.”

  Mulbah could not fault the man for that.

  “Contact,” Samson called out as he began to fire. Mulbah turned slightly and tracked the target as Samson killed it. More shadows flitted away from them, remaining out of sight. Mulbah quickly designated the targets as what they were looking for on his HUD and the LIDAR began to track them as it identified the alien raiders.

  Samson strode over to one he had managed to kill and picked it up with one hand. He brought it over for Mulbah to investigate.

  It was definitely not native, Mulbah decided as he inspected the dead raider. It was over two feet in length, not counting the tail, and resembled a gecko from back on Earth. The scales were a deep gray color, and the belly of the dead lizard alien was a lighter shade. It blended perfectly with the hazy gray that permeated the swampy area. It had a stumpy tail and was fairly muscular. It even had a sort of body armor, though that had obviously been worthless when faced with the Human weaponry.

  The rest of the mercs drew closer together as they turned their attention back towards the swamp. Mulbah took one last look at the lizard before he tossed it into the muck, to eventually be devoured by the creatures who were native to the planet. The ooze and the insects would eventually turn the corpse into liquid, and then it would be fully acclimated into the world.

  Mulbah was determined to keep the rest of his men from sharing the same fate.

  “Weapons?” He growled as he rotated his suit and angled to cover the rear.

  “Swords of some sort, boss,” Samson replied. “Some kind of glowing thing. Almost as big as they are. Turned off when dropped. They also got some kind of blue war paint or something. Looks strange.”

  “More hostiles incoming,” Mulbah said as his LIDAR picked up a large group of lizards gathering at the base of a large rock formation.

  “Mob rules,” Antonius said.

  “Never seen anything like that before,” Zion spoke for the first time in days. Mulbah had almost forgotten what the bursar had sounded like.

  “You don’t get out enough,” Mulbah commented as hundreds of the lizard aliens gathered around the large rock outcropping.

  One lizard, bigger than all the others, lifted a glowing weapon that was as big as the two-foot lizard and shrieked in challenge. Mulbah looked closer and saw that what Samson had originally thought was blue paint on the raiders was flapping loosely due to the winds of the storm. Mulbah frowned and had his display zoom in. He could now see that it looked more like an animal skin than a piece of clothing. It also had the same faint blue glow that the newly become had.

  Mulbah’s stomach dropped to the pit of Hell as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. The aliens weren’t kidnapping Bob’s people to force them into slavery. Bob’s people—the smart, industrious, and caring aliens—were nothing more than hunting trophies.

  Black rage bubbled up and obscured his vision. A dark and primal scream tore at his throat. The MACs came up and seemingly aimed of their own volition at the leader of the raiding party. The two MACs spewed forth hundreds of rounds in mere seconds. The sustained fire shredded the lizard, and most of its body simply evaporated from the intense fire.

  He did not hesitate a moment as he continued to pour fire into the raiders, whose armor was no match for the gunfire of the MACs. Even with Khean and his suit down, the remaining mecha were more than a match for the raiders, who had not expected any resistance. Why should they, Mulbah asked himself as he waded deeper into the muck, eliminating lizards left and right as fast as they appeared. They’ve never been challenged before.

  The lizards finally realized they were outmatched and tried to retreat the way they had come. Kakata Korps refused to let them. What had been hundreds of raiders were now down to maybe two dozen, and the lizards were in full flight as Mulbah and his men chased them through the muck and water. One by one, the lizards met their demise at the hands of the newest Human mercenary company.

  Mulbah was merciless in his execution of the few remaining survivors. The Union had no laws regarding slavery, but the laws of how a member could treat non-members was black and white. He would harbor no surrender or parleys with the creatures. They were vermin in need of extermination.

  Mulbah checked his LIDAR; the only returns were his four remaining suits and Bob’s people. He took a deep, shuddering breath and turned back. He began to slowly trudge to where he had left Bob and the others behind.

  It took him over an hour to reach the small area where he had last seen them. He checked his clock and blinked, surprised. He had been out hunting the raiders for almost six hours. No wonder he was so exhausted.

  “Contract is fulfilled,” Mulbah gasped as he knelt down next to Bob and the alien who had become. He did a quick head count and saw that every single member of Bob’s people had survived. He smiled in spite of his weariness. The contract called for the protection of the tribe, with a small bonus for ensuring every single member of the tribe survived. He had fulfilled it to the letter.

  “I agree,” Bob nodded as two of the other males moved towards them. “We will reclaim the dead. Your payment has been made. We thank you for accepting the contract and wish to offer you another contract in the future.”

  “I don’t think those lizards are going to mess with you anymore,” Mulbah said confidently. He then reconsidered his future business plans and smiled. “But Kakata Korps would happily accept any contracts you may need. We can even offer a discount for a long-term contract to give us exclusivity.”

  “This is joyous news,” Bob burbled as his form jiggled happily. “In ten cycles the becoming process shall begin anew and we will be in need of your services once more. At less cost? Splendid!”

  “Wait. Cycles?” Mulbah asked, confused. “You mean, like lunar cycles?”

  “Oh no, that is too soon,” Bob laughed as his eyes shifted from the front of his “face” to about where his stomach would be. “We become faster than most members of the Union, but primitive species outpace us. I meant solar cycles. Ten years is the term you would use.”

  “Son of a bitch…”

  * * *

  “Khean’s family will be well taken care of,” Mulbah promised as he looked at the partially-destroyed CASPer as it was loaded into the holding bay of the MinSha transport. The aliens were respectful and stayed out of their way, possibly surprised the five-man company had succeeded. Four-man now that Khean was gone, Mulbah mentally corrected himself as he watched Samson and Zion struggle to move Antonius’ damaged suit on board. The mouthy bastard had been knocked around quite a bit in the battle, but he had managed to pop out of his suit relatively unscathed.

  “His family will sing his praises and paint the sky with his memory,” Antonius agreed as he watched the two men move his suit. Once it was secured in the bay the others moved their own suits into position. They were quickly tied down and secured firmly in place before the men exited their suits. Extraction in a non-emergency could be a slow process, but the mechanics knew the machines better than most pilots and had it down to an art form. They were cleaned up and ready for the trip back home in less than ten minutes. Antonius continued, “They will share tales in the bush of his heroism and use the stars to tell his story. And they will use the insurance money to take care of themselves for generations.”

  Paint the sky…Mulbah had not heard that term in years, not since he had left the land of his birth and journeyed to the land of opportunity. He had found much in America, more than he had thought he ever would. He had been given an education, a chance, and a hope for the future. His ties to his homeland were stronger still, though, giving him purpose and drive. His father and his grandparents had both taught him that hard work could overcome anything.

&n
bsp; However, it was on a piss-ball world at the ass end of the universe where he had truly found himself.

  “I was going to use ‘The Lion Roars’ as our motto,” Mulbah said as Zion and Samson joined them. He looked at each man; all were nodding. “But after this mission, I decided on something else. Something more…us.”

  “You are going to use something weird, right boss?” Samson asked with a restrained sigh. Mulbah’s smile was wide and amused.

  “Of course I am.”

  “I knew it.”

  “Paint the sky?” Antonius asked.

  The other men nodded. Mulbah grinned. It was all right, in the end.

  “Let’s paint the sky then.”

  # # # # #

  Mark’s Introduction to:

  SURF AND TURF by Jon R. Osborne

  To say I’ve known Jon “Oz” Osborne a long time is to say the day is long. I first met Oz nearly 30 years ago in Indianapolis, back when I just called myself a writer but was really a courier/pizza driver. Now there’s an ocean of time and experience we’ve shared. Though we moved apart, our friendship never ended. Jon’s been writing as long as I have, but unlike myself he never quite got that push to get out there and get published. I needed to give back on this one, so I pushed. And here you have his first printed work, and I think it’s a darned fine one. (Note from Chris—I agree!)

  Jon presents us a story of a merc unit operating on one of the thousands of worlds in the Galactic Union, a planet inhabited by many races. The leader is the heir to a small but prestigious merc company, who like many of us, had no interest in the family business. Earth draws its fortunes from the merc trade, but many still are not interested in that life. Here we meet one such man, and how the universe doesn’t always listen to our wishes, but rather our destiny. We’re going to see more of Jon.