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

by Chris Kennedy

  Jonah buried his hatchet in the exposed throat of one creature as it turned his way, mouth open in shock. He ripped the hatchet out, killing it instantly. He aimed his pistol at the head of the next in line, squeezing the trigger and putting the round straight between its eyes where he figured the brain was most likely to be.

  Ivan had taken out another one, and there was only a squeak from further up the trail where the trio of followers had killed their victims. Jonah looked over the dead, hoping they didn’t get off an alert. He couldn’t see how, but it never hurt to be cautious.

  As he was thinking, the rain started coming down again. It hadn’t rained much the day before, but now the jungle was living up to the name ‘rain forest.’

  “We need to move, now,” he told the others. “Wave the rest of the company forward.”

  They were within a kilometer of the target, and it would be difficult for the enemy to pick them up in the rain. But there was no telling if they had electronic surveillance out here. Nothing was showing on their passive sensors; then again, it wouldn’t until they got very close.

  The company moved forward in crouching steps, passive sensors on the lookout. They found some sensors, worked their way around them, and continued on.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have taken out their patrol,” Jonah told Charley as they moved forward.

  “They were in our way,” said Charley, a cold smile on his face. “We would either have had to kill them there or kill them at the target. And if they hadn’t moved we would have been out of luck, so don’t second guess yourself.”

  Jonah nodded, then turned his attention forward again. They were almost to the small clearing in front of the rocks. Contact could occur at any moment. He just hoped it didn’t occur until they could get to the hostage.

  * * *

  “We’re ready to move, Boss,” said the group leader over the comm to his superior Besquith.

  “The transport will be waiting for you at the river,” came the reply. “Make sure you stay near the banks on the way out.”

  The Besquith growled his acknowledgement. The banks along the river were overhung with the branches of trees, and if they kept the boats under there, they wouldn’t be spotted from the air.

  “And make sure the factor makes it out alive. It does us no good to have another dead Caroon on our hands.”

  The Besquith growled lightly at that. He wasn’t sure they would ever get a ransom from that damned company; it seemed more willing to pay a higher amount for mercenaries than it would for ransom. He knew what they were thinking—if they paid once they could expect to have to pay again—so they were taking the hard line, and his group was taking the risk they would cave. He didn’t think so, but his superior didn’t care what he thought. If he had a way to reenter the society of his people on his own, he would have taken it. But he didn’t, so this was it.

  “Are we ready to move?” he asked the senior of the little aliens.

  “We are ready. We’re just waiting for our patrol to return. They are running late.”

  The fur on the Besquith’s back stood up. “What did you say?” He stalked over to the little alien, towering over it, frightening teeth showing in its snarl.

  “I said they were late reporting back,” stammered the alien.

  The Besquith backhanded the creature across the room, slamming it against the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he screamed.

  The creature didn’t answer, nor would it; its spine had been crushed against the stone wall of the chamber. The Besquith cursed the foolish creature and his temper that had killed it, just when he needed it to command the others.

  “Sound the alarm,” he shouted as he left the chamber. “We are under attack.”

  * * *

  “What the hell is that?” whispered Ivan, once again on point with Jonah, who prided himself on being the stealthiest of the bunch. In the background, a faint buzzing sounded.

  “We’ve been made,” said Jonah, standing and waving everyone toward him. “Turn on your comms,” he said in a carrying voice. Moments later they were all on the net, even the pilots in the gunships with the supporting squads.

  “They know we’re here,” said the leader over the net. “I doubt they know exactly where we are, but knowing we’re near is bad enough. So we go with plan Delta. Get into your assault groups and move to the target.”

  “Sandra,” he said, turning toward his sniper. “I want you on some high ground covering the area. Any sign of that Besquith, put a round through his head. And try to keep the hostage alive.”

  “I’m kind of leery about getting into any of those trees,” answered the woman. She looked at the guide. “Any suggestions?”

  The guide pointed and started off, the woman right behind him, configuring her rifle for long range, precision fire.

  “We need to take this one alive,” said Charley, releasing a small disc shaped drone into the air to weave its way through the canopy. Now that they were no longer worried about the enemy knowing they were here, they could deploy their electronic assets, giving them eyes and ears in the sky and a complete comm net.

  “We don’t need to lose most of our people doing it,” cautioned Jonah. “I want the full payoff as much as you, but we have a responsibility to our people.”

  Charley nodded, a frown on his face, then ran off to lead the left hand squad, while Jonah waited for his squad to gather around him. He looked into the visors of the 20 men and women who would follow him, sending information into their HUDs.

  “Let’s move.”

  The first fire team ran forward, weapons at close carry, while the second knelt and aimed, providing overwatch. As soon as the first team got fifty meters ahead, they knelt, and the second team ran past and into the clearing, this time looking for cover, since concealment was no longer the priority. Jonah came down behind a log, his head and rifle pointed around the side so he didn’t present as much of a target. As soon as they were set, first team started forward. The sound of an explosion to the north, on their left flank, stopped everyone in their tracks for a moment, but all knew that to stand still in the open was to ask for death, and in an instant they were going forward again.

  A laser struck the log Jonah was sheltering behind, the pop of wet wood exploding the only warning that a light amp weapon was in use. The rain had stopped, but there was still a fine mist in the air, and he spotted another beam going overhead. Fortunately, the other mercs saw it as well and started directing automatic fire at the enemy shooter. Rounds cracked through the air, hitting rock, and a smattering of stone chips flew through the air.

  More lasers entered the fray, and the life signs of a merc spiked for a moment, then faded. Another shouted out, and Jonah’s HUD showed he had lost another man. He raised his weapon and took a reading on the position of the enemy. The merc leader fired a grenade, and the 30-millimeter projectile flew toward the enemy and detonated, taking out the shooter. He fired again and cursed as his grenade exploded in midair halfway there. The enemy was using a radar-aimed laser system that, while it wouldn’t do much to the solid rounds of the rifles, would detonate any explosive devices that came their way. It took away one of their most potent weapons.

  Damn, we’re pinned down, thought the leader as another life sign fell off his HUD. He hated losing people, and he hated even more getting his ass kicked by a bunch of wussy aliens. If they were Besquith it would be one thing, but these little furry bastards? No way.

  One of the little aliens screamed, a high-pitched blast of sound that went silent in an instant. It was soon followed by another, and it looked as if the fight was not going all their way. There were more of the enemy, though, and fire superiority was still on the enemy’s side.

  “We’re getting slaughtered here,” yelled Charley over the comm.

  “Great,” replied Jonah. “So I guess you’re not going to come to our rescue, huh?”

  “Not likely. I’ve got three down.”

  “Doing better than me,” said Jo
nah as the life signs from another member of his team blinked out. I guess it’s lucky we aren’t facing a bunch of Besquith, he thought, though he couldn’t see how it could be any worse.

  A shot cracked overhead, and another of the aliens screamed just before it died. Sandra had entered the fight, though her first shot hadn’t been her best as the alien had time to scream. Her next shot hit the mark, and a laser rifle fell from the rocks without a sound from the wielder.

  A pair of lasers flew out from the enemy position, aimed at the sniper.

  “I’m hit,” yelled Sandra.

  “How bad?”

  “I’ll live. But I’ve got a bad burn on my left arm, so I won’t be a steady shot for the rest of this mission.”

  “Take cover. We’ll handle it from here.” Jonah wasn’t sure how they were going to handle it, but he was determined they would.

  The rains started again. This was a real downpour, double the volume of the ones that had come before. Lightning flashed in the sky, followed seconds later by the rumble of thunder.

  Lasers flashed through the rain, vaporizing liquid droplets, and losing their focus as they were dispersed by the tiny prisms that filled the air.

  “Yes,” shouted Jonah, raising his rifle and sending a stream of grenades into the rock outcropping. Small flashes burst through the rocks, the sounds of their explosions drowned out by the rain. “Don’t just lie there,” he yelled over the comm. “Let’s get them while we have the advantage.”

  Battle cries sounded over the comm as the mercenaries got to their feet and charged the rocks, weapons firing at their maximum cyclic rate. There were a few magazine changes along the way, since the two hundred round pellet stores emptied quickly on full auto. The little aliens were braver than Jonah would have thought. They stood their ground while the larger Humans charged them, even though their weapons weren’t working. The rain stopped suddenly, but the Humans were already in among the enemy, and it was close combat, something the mercenaries excelled at.

  Jonah checked his unit on his HUD and cursed under his breath. Five dead, six wounded, leaving him with only three quarters of his group still combat effective. And they still hadn’t found the target, if he was alive.

  They quickly searched the cavern, finding nothing except some evidence that the factor had been there.

  “Dammit,” shouted Jonah, throwing a glass to the floor. This was a disaster. Since some of the kidnappers had gotten away with their victim, there would be no payment, and it had cost him people for no gain.

  “One of the drones picked them up,” called Charley. “I’m about to head after them.”

  “I’m coming with you,” growled Jonah. “I want the scalp of that Besquith.”

  “Something your ancestors were into, I guess,” said Charley, whose Gurkha ancestors were more into taking the entire head.

  Jonah was happy to settle for the revenge his Apache ancestors preferred.

  * * *

  The Besquith pushed the factor along, growing angry that the being was not able to move faster. He would have ordered his last soldier to carry the being, but the little alien was incapable. And he was not about to lower his guard with only one soldier at his back.

  “Move,” he growled at the factor. “Unless you want to end up as tonight’s main course.”

  The factor shouted as the big paw hit his shoulder.

  “Quiet,” hissed the Besquith. “I will not allow you to be taken alive. So you had best hope they don’t find us. Now move, you worthless sack of meat.”

  * * *

  Jonah hadn’t grown up in the jungle, but in the American Southwest, while Charley had been raised within driving distance of the Southeast Asian rain forest. Although Charley might have seemed better-suited for this job, Jonah had worked in the Amazon rain forest for years, and, even though this was a different jungle, the rules of tracking were still the same. He was also pursuing creatures which either weren’t as good as he was, like the Besquith, or who had no interest in covering his tracks, like the factor. There were footprints along the path and broken twigs along the side; there was plenty of evidence for even a blind man to follow, much less someone of Jonah’s abilities.

  He cautioned himself to patience, even though there was the risk they would get away, but running into an ambush would not get him what he wanted. There were several mercenaries behind him, and they were not able to keep up with their leader. The smart thing to do would be to wait for them, but the smart thing might lead to the quarry escaping.

  Jonah heard voices ahead, including a growling snarl that could only be the Besquith. I need to take that bastard out fast, he thought. He didn’t relish the prospect of fighting one of the creatures hand to hand. His attention was so focused on the Besquith, he didn’t notice the smaller one until it jumped out of the brush and tackled him.

  His rifle went flying away, and Jonah cursed himself for not having the strap around his neck. The little alien tried to bring a knife into play, but Jonah was able to overpower it. He needed to finish it quickly, before the Besquith got into the action. A quick grab and a wrench of the neck, and the creature was dead.

  A roar of anger foretold the charge of the Besquith. Its kind thought of Humans as helpless prey, and this one displayed the same attitude as it came at him with its claws extended. It was more than a match for most Humans, but Jonah had been a warrior all his life. He ducked under the claws and pushed his knife into the thigh of the Besquith, pulling on the handle to set the barbs, then moved away, leaving the blade in the muscle of the alien.

  “I will destroy you, puny creature,” roared the Besquith, hand going to his thigh. He tried to pull the blade out, but the barbs caught and ripped through more of his muscle until he stopped. “I will rip your head off,” the creature screamed, stumbling forward, claws reaching for Jonah.

  Jonah glanced at his rifle, quickly deciding that he would be caught before he got to it, and instead ran backward, hand pulling his hatchet from its harness. The Besquith laughed when it saw the weapon and lurched after him.

  “Laugh at this,” Jonah roared as he swung the hatchet at the left paw of the Besquith, slicing deep between the digits. The creature jerked its hand back, and Jonah struck again like lightning, slicing into the Besquith’s other forearm. He pulled the hatchet out and hit again, then ran backward to get out of reach of the creature.

  The Besquith came forward, claws ready, but held its arms close to its body, unwilling to take a hit if it could help it. Jonah swung again at the injured paw, trying to disable it completely. The hatchet head hit, slicing in, and almost severed a digit. The Besquith roared again, closed its fingers around the head of the hatchet and jerked its hand back, pulling it out of Jonah’s grasp.

  The mercenary tried to pull his pistol, his last weapon, and the one he should have been using. His arm was still coming up as the Besquith struck; its heavy paw hit his forearm, and one claw actually penetrated his armor. The pistol flew away, and a sharp pain shot through his forearm. Before he could think, another paw came down on his shoulder and knocked him to his knees.

  The Besquith looked down at his victim, and Jonah looked up at death. The creature reached up with it paw, readying the killing stroke, and Jonah voiced a silent prayer that his afterlife would be pleasant, though he doubted that would be his reward. The paw was still coming down when the forehead of the creature blew outward, splattering the Human with brains and blood. The paw hit, but all it had behind it now was weight and no strength. Jonah still fell forward, and the heavy body of the Besquith fell on top of him.

  “You okay, partner?” Charley asked, working with the other mercs to pull the Besquith off Jonah.

  “I thought I was dead.”

  “Hell, I couldn’t let you die,” said a smiling Charley. “I don’t know how to cook the books like you do.”

  “And how’s the hostage?”

  “He looks mad as hell,” said Charley, looking over at the factor, who was busy kicking the body of
the Besquith while screaming at it. “But I think he’ll be good, and we have a payday coming.”

  “I think my forearm’s broken,” said Jonah through gritted teeth. “Get Doc over here. And I need to take care of something. Can you lend me your knife? I need to take a scalp.”

  It felt to Jonah like his collarbone was also broken, but it would heal, and having money in the bank would help. Now, if only they could figure out a way to get around the taxes Earth was going to levy on their bounty.

  # # # # #

  Chris’ Introduction to:

  DEAD OR ALIVE by PP Corcoran

  Like Doug Dandridge, I’m still looking forward to sitting down with Paul Corcoran over a beer. Unfortunately, he keeps telling me that it’s supposed to be a warm one, which is a continuing point of contention.

  I’ve known Paul several years, though, and we have had fairly similar careers, having gone from the military to becoming authors to expanding into the publishing business. Neither of us know which was the bigger surprise—surviving a career in the military or unexpectedly becoming an Amazon bestselling author, like he did with his Saiph series of novels.

  I’m happy I reached out to him for a cross-promotional deal several years ago—it worked well at the time and introduced me to a great guy—and I have been able to keep up with his career ever since, including appearing with him in the anthology “Explorations: First Contact.”

  Some time, we’re going to have that beer (and I greatly hope it’ll be a cold one.)

  Paul is a great guy and an outstanding author, and I’m excited to bring you his story, “Dead or Alive.” Want to know more about PP Corcoran? You can find him here: http://www.ppcorcoran.com.

  DEAD OR ALIVE by PP Corcoran