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

by Chris Kennedy

  Jessica laughed in his ears. “You couldn’t see that for yourself? There’s a thinner crowd of Oogar at about 060 from our position. That’s where we should charge.”

  <> Lucille answered.

  He looked at Jessica beaming in the auxiliary gunner’s chair. Her cool nickname came from the troopers. She could see tactical advantages in everything and always knew when not to do something. He’d been lucky to have her, but there was no way he could have kept her. She was simply too good.

  “Fine.” Marc strapped himself to the commander’s chair and verified his weapons were charged. “Marauders up. Standby to charge.”

  <>

  “Move out!” Marc called. “Driver, go! Go!”

  The Mark Nine roared to life and spun toward what had been the weakest point in the ring of the enemy. The Oogar screamed as one and ran toward them. Each of the beasts carried some type of expedient weapon. The tank rocked from side-to-side with a dozen impacts. Marc fired the first beehive round at point-blank range and, as soon as the auto-loader cycled, he fired again. The auxiliary laser cannon cut swathes through the Oogar, but the empty holes filled just as quickly with more. The tank pitched forward suddenly.

  <>

  In a flash, Marc watched his optic relays fail. Unable to see outside, he fired the beehive rounds blindly. “Driver, can you see?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Lucille, you have movement control.”

  <>

  The auxiliary cannon whipped to one side and flung Jessica across the main gun assembly. As the tank rocked from side to side, the gun mount and a hefty portion of the vehicle’s armor was torn away. The gigantic black-purple Oogar roared and reached a long-clawed hand into the turret. Jessica came up with a pistol and fired six quick shots into the bear-thing’s face and, save for a taloned paw clinging to the opening in the hull, it disappeared.

  Jessica fumbled for a new clip of ammunition. Her left upper arm was bleeding. “Reload,” she said. “Marc! I need your help!”

  Marc reached for his pistol as the massive Oogar snarled its way into the jagged opening. Marc fired into the thing’s face and chest. With a roar, it snatched Johnson from his position and tore the young man in two. Marc aimed the pistol again and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  Sonuvabitch!

  The hand of a CASPer reached in and grabbed the Oogar by the neck. In a flash, the thing was gone. He could see the legs of the CASPer firmly attached to their tank.

  “You okay, Hammer?” Hex asked. “Keep pushing! I can see the river!”

  <>

  Marc glanced at the display. Only one tank was still green and moving—his. Another tank reported amber status and was still firing, but not moving. Ghost Two’s icon, attached to the trailing tank, winked out. “Maya! Hex we have to get Maya!”

  Jessica swung the auxiliary cannon to the left. “She’s gone, Marc.”

  Marc looked back at the still firing tank. Five Oogar, maybe more, clung to its turret and tore at the skin. A chunk of hull flew off and the tank stopped firing.

  Dammit.

  “Where’s the pad?” Jessica yelled at him over the rush of wind through the turret.

  Marc looked up and saw it hovering almost directly above them. “It’s here. Driver, gun it for the river.”

  Thirty seconds later, they broke through the line of Oogar and charged into the river. Water pushed through the hull in a dozen places. “We’re taking on water,” Marc called. “Driver, get out!”

  There was no response. Water rushed up through the turret floor. Jessica unbuckled from her seat and tapped on her wrist slate. “Hex! Jump up to the pad and drop a safety line! Come on, Hammer!”

  Marc looked up to see the landing pad hovering no more than two feet above his hatch. Slapping his chest, he disengaged his combat harness and stood in his seat. He found the emergency belt and carabiner and held it in one hand as he climbed out of the hatch. Snapping the carabiner onto the pad, he felt water lapping at his boots as the tank sank beneath him. The pad lifted above the surface of the wide river, and he caught Jessica looking at him.

  There were tears on her face.

  * * *

  The pad landed twelve kilometers away from the Raknar shrine on a wide, grassy plain. In near total darkness, they quietly gathered themselves. Hex and his CASPer were badly damaged. The young man’s left arm required a hefty dose of liquid tourniquet before he started to stabilize. The kid had never said a thing, just kept fighting.

  Marc sat on the pad next to the cargo container and wrapped his arms around his knees. His creditors were going to be livid. A promising mercenary force devastated in combat with a feral species they should have butchered. Jessica slid her back down the container and sat next to him.

  “The Victory Twelve is on its way down. Should be forty-two minutes.”

  Marc didn’t look up. He stared at an oily spot on the pad’s deck. “How’s Hex?”

  “He’ll live.” Jessica said. “What’s in this container, Marc?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You took a mission where you--”

  His head snapped up. “Yes! I took a mission where I didn’t know what the package was, okay? This was a 60-million credit mission, and I needed the money to make payroll and pay off my creditors.”

  “Creditors?” Jessica’s eyebrows rose. “How long have you been running in the red?”

  “18 months,” Marc said. The sinking feeling in his stomach came back with a vengeance. She’d been so much better at the whole business than he had. Since their divorce, things had spiraled almost out of control. “This was going to be what got me back on track. Guess I fucked that up, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You did.”

  “Aren’t you a beacon of compassion,” Marc chuckled humorlessly.

  Jessica stood up. “I’m going to find out what this thing is before I load it in my ship. At this rate, it could be a big damned bomb, and I’m not prepared to take that risk.”

  “Who says it’s going on your ship?” Marc looked up at her. “My ship is—”

  “No, it’s not. Your ship boosted for Karma about 10 minutes ago. I’ve reported them for mutiny, if it helps.”

  Marc shook his head. Nothing like being a worthless commander and business man. Then...why did Ch’tek come to me?

  He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then looked up at her. “Ch’tek came after me because I needed money and had an expendable force.”

  “Humans are expendable to the rest of the galaxy. He dangled a lot of credits in your face, and you did what all Humans do. We’re expendable for that reason.” Jessica said. From the thigh pocket of her outfit, she removed the quick torch. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  At the keypad, Jessica cut through and found a manual release that caused one side panel of the container to open with a whoosh of stale, pressurized air. An opaque privacy screen shrouded the cargo. Jessica found its edges and shoved it aside. The bottom of the container was filled with partially rotted straw. Jessica knelt down. “This isn’t an Earth grass.”

  Marc looked down. “No. See the red buds on the end? It’s all around us. It was packed here. Ch’tek had it waiting for us.”

  “Makes sense.” Jessica played with the controls on the quick torch and snapped on a bright, white light. As she swept it toward the far end of the container, a very large and very black object rested on the straw. It was a long, smooth ovoid and it glittered like obsidian. Below it a small console read 192.54.55, and it was ticking down.

  “Oh, Hammer,” Jessica said. “You really did it this time.”

  Marc frowned. “It’s just an egg. What’s the big deal, Jess?”

  “Where are you supposed to take this?”

  Marc sighed, “Sol emergence point and then to Luna. I’m to be met by representativ
es from the Buma. This is a gift for Earth’s Council.”

  She laughed. “I doubt this was the gift. I think Ch’tek stole their shipment, sent the container here, and staged it for you to take this back to Earth. Once it got there, the Buma would undoubtedly want a presentation ceremony. By then it would be too late.”

  “Too late for what?” Marc asked

  “Hammer, you idiot, this is a viable Canavar egg.” Jessica frowned, and for a long moment she didn’t say anything.

  “How in the hell do you know that?”

  Jessica shrugged and said, “The Besquith Archives.”

  Marc blinked. “How in the hell did you...forget it. Why would Ch’tek want to give a Canavar egg to the Buma to give to Earth? That doesn’t make any sense.” Marc sighed, “Unless he wanted to piss off the Buma and kill a few billion Humans.”

  “Unless that’s exactly what he intended.” Jessica said. “Let’s get this ready to load onto Victory Twelve.”

  “We’re still taking it with us?” Marc asked.

  “Evidence, Marc.” Jessica tilted her head to one side and half-smiled at him. “At this point it’s all we’ve got.”

  “What about the timer?”

  Jessica walked over and turned it off and carefully removed two long strips of clear sensor tape. “This would have broken the outer shell open. Once the inner shell senses nitrogen, there is no stopping the Canavar from hatching. Without these, as long as we don’t break the outer shell, it will be stable and can be transported back to Earth. Then we’ll find Ch’tek and have him meet us; say there’s a problem with the package. When he shows up and opens it, we get an explanation or a confession, whichever works best.”

  Sol Emergence Point, Leonov Station

  Eight Days Later

  Ch’tek stormed into Hanger 157 at Armstrong Base exactly as Marc thought he would. The little alien saw the scarred, torn container on the deck outside the Victory Twelve and immediately launched into a tirade.

  “What in the hell have you done to the package?” Ch’tek pointed a claw at Marc and snarled, “I said it was to be undamaged!”

  “You also failed to mention twelve thousand feral Oogars who would do anything to defend the Raknar wreckage this was hidden inside,” Marc said. “You cost me lives, Ch’tek. Not to mention several million credits worth of equipment.”

  “Is the internal package unharmed?” Ch’tek asked.

  “The panel was damaged, but we couldn’t get inside to release the doors to check the contents.” Jessica shrugged and held her hand. “Too big.”

  Ch’tek pushed past them and walked directly to the damaged panel. Reconstructing it had taken very little time, and while Hex damaged the outside with his CASPer, Marc and Jessica closed the hatch and made it so that Ch’tek would be the one to open it. A simple modification to the mechanism meant the internal privacy door would open as well.

  “I’ll do it,” Ch’tek said. “Once the outer door is open, you will leave.”

  “Once we’re paid.” Marc said.

  Ch’tek tapped his wrist slate. “The transaction is underway.”

  “I’m not leaving until the credits are in my account.”

  “Fine.” Ch’tek lay down on the deck and paused for a split second before reaching into the small hole with a paw. The outer door slid open with a whoosh. Ch’tek rolled away from the container. He stood, wiped his paws in a very Human way, and turned to them. “Now, get...” His small jaw fell open.

  Marc turned and saw Jessica holding a very large pistol at Ch’tek’s head. “What are you—”

  “Ch’tek,” Jessica said. “By the laws of the Union, you are under arrest for the unlawful removal and possession of a Canavar egg, deceitful employment of a registered mercenary force, and coercion.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ch’tek laughed. “That’s not what’s in—”

  Marc pointed at the open container door. The small Zuparti turned and fell silent. The internal privacy door had opened with the outer hatch revealing the Canavar egg. After a moment, Ch’tek turned back to Jessica and grinned. “How much to forget this unfortunate incident? Commander Lemieux? Miss Francis? You’re a bounty hunter and cannot arrest—”

  Marc watched Jessica pull out a thin black sleeve. On it was a platinum shield with a blue tree. The seal of the Peacemakers. “That’s Peacemaker, not bounty hunter. On my authority, Ch’tek, you are under arrest.” She raised her voice. “Bay Control? Authorization Zulu Four Zero.”

  Large hangar doors opened. Marc watched a squad of Peacemakers enter the space with their weapons trained on Ch’tek and the Canavar egg. A dozen other officers of varying species filed past them and surrounded the Zuparti trader. Shackles placed on Ch’tek’s arms and legs left the small alien looking defeated as Jessica continued: “By Union Laws, you are under arrest. You will be held until such time as you can be placed before a Peacemaker tribunal. Your rights of redress and citizenship are suspended until released or acquitted. You cannot complete or enter into any contracts with the sole exception of legal representation. You are entitled to obtain said representation, if possible. Credit will be extended to you if you cannot afford said representation. Do you have any questions?”

  Ch’tek shook his head and looked away. His eyes narrowed and Marc followed his gaze to a pair of Buma diplomats entering the hangar.

  “Peacemaker Francis?” the nearest one said. “Are these allegations true?”

  “Of course they’re true,” Ch’tek snarled. “The Union did not need this pathetic species!”

  Jessica looked at two officers standing close by. “Please remove the accused.” Ch’tek disappeared behind a group of white-coated scientists rushing to the Canavar egg.

  Jessica nodded to the Buma. “Please relay my gratitude to the Besquith, Cael Doontal.”

  “Well done, Peacemaker.” The Buma bowed and retreated from them. Marc looked at her for a moment and smiled, but it froze on his face.

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Marc, you are an accessory to this.”

  “The hell I am!” Marc replied. “My contract was violated. I’m no party to anything. If anyone’s an accessory, you are! You took it onboard your ship!”

  “I told you that was for evidence, don’t you remember?” Jessica smirked. “I’m still trying to decide if I should charge you with anything. I’m sure I could find a few things in your records.”

  Marc snorted. “Bounty hunter was your cover, right?”

  “I never said I was a bounty hunter, Marc. But you’re getting there.”

  “And the egg? You knew it was there, didn’t you?”

  Jessica shook her head. “Peacemaker business, Marc. It’s classified. Give me Elly and you walk away.”

  “Fine.” Marc said. He bent down and carefully unzipped the lower leg pocket of his coveralls and withdrew a small box. “Your mother left explicit instructions—”

  “—that I should never get it?” Jessica asked with a chuckle. “I knew she sent it to you. For whatever reason, she went to her grave thinking you were a wonderful man and would try to look out for me. That’s code for putting me off to the side and taking me for granted, by the way.”

  Marc flushed. “That’s what you think of our time together?”

  “Pretty much.” She took the offered box and opened it. Inside was a small, porcelain elephant statuette that easily fit in the palm of her hand. “She’s as pretty as I remember.”

  “I didn’t realize it meant that much to you.”

  “You never realized a lot of things, Marc.” She glanced at him with hard, cold eyes. “The guild will pay your fee for this operation on one condition: You are to pay your soldiers and your creditors. With the remaining balance you are to retire, preferably somewhere far from the trade routes. Stop playing mercenary commander; you’re simply not fit for it.”

  The words stung, but he took a long, slow breath of realization. She’s right.

  Marc sighed. “Fine. I’m retired. Ar
e you happy, Jess?”

  “Peacemaker pays better than being a merc or a bounty hunter,” she said.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Marc replied, his anger building. “You always get what you want! You’ve taken everything from--”

  Marc froze as Jessica dropped the statuette. Elly, supposedly her most prized possession, fell in slow motion. It shattered into a handful of pieces that surrounded something rectangular and black. Jessica bent down and retrieved it quickly. As she stood, she rotated it in her palm and he could see it was a computer chipset with the tiny word “Snowman” printed in bright orange on the dull black surface.

  “What the hell is that? Why does it have your father’s call sign on it?” Marc asked.

  Jessica winked and walked away. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  # # # # #

  Mark’s Introduction to:

  LOST AND FOUND by Jon Del Arroz

  Jon began his writing career in high school, providing book reviews and the occasional article for a local news magazine. From there, he went on to write a weekly web comic, “Flying Sparks,” which has been hailed by Comic Book Resources as “the kind of stuff that made me fall in love with early Marvel comics.” He has several published short stories and his debut novel, “Star Realms: Rescue Run,” went on to become a top-10 bestselling Amazon Space Opera. His latest novel, “For Steam And Country” marks his first foray into steampunk fantasy. Jon himself is a big fan of mecha, which puts him in good company for this book, and he professes his undying love of all things that go “pew, pew.”

  Jon’s contribution, “Lost and Found,” delves further into alien societies within the Galactic Union, and conjures up images of shared nightmares. Thousands of years ago a race unleashed monsters called Canavar, and the fear that they might return haunts the dreams of all. When a simple merc contract uncovers the possibility of the monsters’ return, terror is on the menu.

  Find out more about Jon at http://delarroz.com/.