The Return: The Conglomerate Trilogy (Volume 1)

by William S Frisbee Jr

  Stepping into the first one he snaked his arm up behind the attacker’s club arm and leapt to the right, placing his feet and then throwing the first attacker over his hip intending to make it land on its head, but the attacker grabbed hold, taking Luke off balance. Luke landed on his back, the wind knocked from him, his first attacker still partially wrapped around Luke’s arm. Luke pulled his arm free just in time as the second attacker swung the staff at Luke’s head. The first attacker rolled away to regain its feet. With his free hand Luke grabbed the staff and pulled, yanking the second attacker off balance and Luke swung around kicking at the second attacker’s head while it was off balance. A loud crack echoed through the chamber. The damage read out scrolled across Luke’s vision and his InnerBuddy released localized pain killers, it had been one of his toes. Damn Musashi. At least the kick appeared to have broken the second attacker’s neck.

  The second attacker fell backwards and Luke tried to roll to his feet, failing miserable and just falling on his side with a curse. He managed to roll to his knees but the first attacker was already on his feet and moving to attack.

  He had not let go of the staff and held it in his left hand while holding the shinai in the right. The first attacker came at him raising the club high. Luke raised the staff to block the club and swung back the shinai but the rag doll kicked him in the gut knocking his wind out. Powerless Luke collapsed and the rag doll tapped him gently on the head. Musashi walked over to him, lying there on the floor trying to figure out what hurt the least and how he could recover more quickly.

  “You lose,” Musashi said. “I still have one rag doll left and I haven’t even opened the closet.”

  “Can I help?” Brita said moving forward, her body loose and ready. Luke was willing to bet she had never seen training like this.

  “No,” Musashi said savagely, brooking no argument. “He lost, he is dead now, and he has not suffered enough.”

  Luke managed to give Musashi the finger.

  The rag doll kicked Luke, and Luke gave Musashi both fingers. Now it felt like a rib was broken. Breathing felt near impossible and was only possible in short desperate gasps. There was murder in Brita’s eyes as she approached Musashi, her body falling into a combat stance.

  Luke held up his hand to her, and she paused.

  “Good,” Musashi said looking at Luke before he came over to slap a pink pain killer patch on Luke’s arm. It was for minor pains, like headaches and would be near worthless with the injuries Luke was feeling.

  It was a joke because it was pink. Luke wondered where he had gotten it from. Musashi had probably been carrying it for years to use in a situation like this.

  “Thanks,” Luke said sarcastically with a forced exhale.

  “No problem, wouldn’t want you to look like a whimpering sissy,” Musashi whispered, but loud enough for Brita to hear.

  Luke looked at Brita and pushed himself to his feet, using the shinai as a crutch. The second he was up Musashi grabbed the crutch and Luke almost fell. Musashi went over to place it on the rack, Luke contemplated using the staff he was still holding, but Musashi was watching Luke’s every move through the mirrors, cameras, and the fallen, and still semi-functional, rag dolls. Luke tried to put a smile on his face but it came out as a grimace.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m done if you want to get in your workout. Might want to give Musashi some time to clean up though.”

  Brita’s smile had no warmth as she stood there looking at the carnage. It was not a happy smile, more full of pity than mirth. “Are your workouts always this intense?”

  “Usually he works harder in the morning,” Musashi said, placing the shinai in its place. “This morning he slept in. I suspect he is letting his age catch up with him.”

  “Thanks metal head,” Luke said.

  “My pleasure, meat sack,” Musashi said with a smile holding out his hand for the staff Luke wanted to use as a crutch. Knowing the alternative would be worse, Luke threw it to Musashi who caught with a smile.

  “Are all your droids like this?” Brita asked looking at Musashi.

  “Assholes with abrasive personalities?” Luke asked.

  “With tough guy personalities,” she said with a smile. “Nelson seems the most mellow, but even he has a sharp, focused intensity. They have more personality than most humans I know.”

  Luke shrugged and tested to see if his ankle was ready for some weight. His implants and internal damage control seemed to be too conservative sometimes. “I spend a lot of time with them,” Luke said. “Keeps me sane and helps them develop those personalities.”

  “Why not hire a regular crew?” she asked.

  Luke scowled. “Too much drama, too many complications.”

  Luke turned away to head to the sauna. “And too many memories,” he said under his breath forgetting Brita had enhanced senses as well.

  “Hand to hand today Brita?” Musashi asked with a smile. To Luke, the smile looked like a cat’s smile as it was about to play with its next meal.

  “I think I’ll just do cardio,” she said looking back at the carnage.

  “Great! A nice leisurely run at Mach five is just the way to start the day!” Musashi replied and Luke heard Brita groan. He would set the pace for her and it would not be slow.

  Luke chuckled as he entered the sauna and sank into the pool with a sigh of relief. The lights were dim, but the pool was well lit and had plenty of jets. The water wasn’t really all water but most people wouldn’t be able to tell without a microscope. Microscopic robots entered his cells and blood stream to repair the damage while other microscopic robots dulled the pain.

  * * *

  Luke was still there an hour later, dozing, when Brita walked in.

  “Musashi is a sadist,” she said taking off all her clothes. Luke averted his eyes and closed them, wanting to watch but preferring to appear indifferent. The sauna was big enough for eight and had fake wood paneling. Luke was not sure whose idea it was to model it this way, but he liked it. Elena would have liked it.

  “You just met him,” Luke said running an internal diagnostic routine with his InnerBuddy. Almost fully repaired. “Sadist is such a mild description and woefully short of the mark.”

  “Why don’t you get him reprogrammed or something,” she asked slipping into the water, oblivious to Luke’s discomfort at her nakedness.

  “It’s complicated, but let’s say he keeps me on my toes,” he said. “He’s a damned good personal trainer, training more than just the body of a warrior. He is also a fanatical bodyguard.”

  “Oh, this feels good,” Brita said sinking up to her neck. “You don’t pinch pennies, do you?”

  Luke glanced at her, careful to keep his eyes above her shoulders. “It’s not just a comfort, it has nanites in it that relax and repair a human body. Considering what Musashi puts me through I think it was a necessary expense.”

  “Musashi said your brutal workouts are usually when you have had a bad dream?” Brita asked.

  “He talks too much,” Luke said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, trying to forget how Brita had been in his dream. He tried to relax and enjoy the soak, but a naked woman nearby made it difficult. It brought back too many memories and thoughts. Some cultures had taboos against nudity, which was how Luke had been raised. The space colonies did not have those taboos. With controlled climates, less clothing meant less laundry and fewer resources were required. Washing clothes with soap and water used resources which were usually in short supply. Luke was from the United States originally, and running around nude was not natural, even in a climate controlled environment.

  “He said they were frequent, but wouldn’t tell me what the dreams were about.”

  “Neither will I,” Luke said. ‘Oh, hell no’ he thought and mentally ordered his implants to better control his physical reactions. He was wearing pants, but they were getting tight.

  “So why do you do it?” she asked staring at him.

  “Do what?” Luke
asked wanting a safer subject, it was getting hard to conceal his discomfort and his pretense of calm relaxation.

  “Mercenary work,” she said. “You are the best you know, based on income and results, and you bring in quite a bit of cash for New Alamo.”

  “I’m good at it and New Alamo can use the cash.”

  “Prime Minister Harrison called you an anti-social maniac with a death wish,” she said.

  An interesting tidbit, Luke thought, she hobnobs with the Prime Minister.

  “If you fight like you are already dead, then you can be unstoppable, fear holds you back, slows you down as you decide the least risky path instead of the most efficient one,” Luke said.

  “He said you still mourn for Elena,” she said and Luke heard the uncertainty in her voice. Was she trying to piss him off or get some reaction from him?

  Luke was silent. Trying to think of a response. Lie or tell the truth. What would end this conversation the quickest and prevent it from coming up. Pulling rank obviously, but Luke preferred not to do so when he could because it could become a bad habit. So was lying since this wasn’t combat and she wasn’t the enemy.

  “So?” Luke said. “She called me her soul mate. She completed me and we were one in the same. She was my better half, when she died so did the better part of me. Nobody can fill the void in my soul where she was. We were warriors, lovers, friends, and we fought side by side for over seventy years. With her in my life, I never felt more complete or loved. We emigrated from Earth together during the final days of the United States. She gave my life value and focus.”

  “No children?” Brita asked.

  Luke was silent. He did not want to cry here or lose his composure.

  “No,” Luke said. When he thought he had the control, his control failed him and his body was locked in the pretense of relaxation, but wound tighter than a coiled spring. “America was not the place to raise children. Hasn’t been for a long time. We would have children when New Alamo escaped and we could raise them in peace.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never knew Earth since I was born on a colony.”

  “That is a good thing,” Luke said. “It was a nasty place. Fanatical Islam was spreading like a disease. There is no such thing as a moderate Muslim anymore. Moderates were only accused of being infidels and executed by a Jihadi. I’m not sure if there ever were moderate Muslims. Pacifism only works against people who are at least partially reluctant to use violence.”

  “They can’t all be bad,” Brita said.

  Luke smirked. “You should study the Koran,” he said. “Study the history and learn about their prophet.”

  “So why did you immigrate?” Brita asked.

  “When Elena and I left the violence toward non-Muslims was bad. Elena lost her job because she would not wear a hijab and spoke back to the Muslim head librarian, who was a man.

  Brita shook her head. “What do you think it is like now?”

  “I suspect the Jupiter Alliance is holding out and will do so for a very long time. Space is vast and Muslims can be skilled fighters but space is deadly and requires a lot of discipline to survive. The Islamic outlook on life is… ‘unique’ and not conducive to high technology or technological discipline.”

  “How do you mean? I fought against Janissaries on Mars and they were pretty damned good fighters,” Brita said.

  “While Muslims have their own technological advances, a lot of times those technologies have been stolen from conquered peoples. Technology is not as revered by Muslims as it is for Christians because technology is derived from understanding the world around us. Mohammad, the ‘perfect man’ stated you cannot understand Allah, he cannot be defined and to do so is heretical, so, science is not revered and that mentality seeps into other aspects of their society. ‘If Allah wills this plane to break down it will do so, no amount of maintenance can defy the will of Allah but if he wills it to work, it will do so.’ Plus, they aren’t real interested in robotics and people screw up too often.”

  Brita nodded.

  “That explains some of the battles on Mars,” she said. “I never fought space forces, but they did real stupid things in our fights.”

  “Don’t underestimate them though.”

  “Well,” Brita said. “That is Earth, half a galaxy away. What can you tell me about the Bronkaw?”

  Luke smiled; this was a much more pleasant topic in his mind. Earth and her history were depressing. “The Bronkaw are big, oversized bad asses, twice as tall as us, smart and just plain massive. They are what happen on a planet where the dinosaurs don’t die off. I hear there are races that are bigger and just as violent but I haven’t encountered any.

  “The Bronkaw are ruled by a military directorate,” Luke continued, “and they have a massive superiority complex that can be used against them.”

  “Like the battle wagon?” Brita asked and Luke wondered how much she knew.

  “Correct,” Luke said. “They never expected a small-scale infantry assault. Would you expect a small team of midget weaklings to try to invade New Alamo?”

  Brita shook her head, watching Luke intently. He could talk for hours about this subject and Luke suspected her goal was to keep him talking. Why?

  “That was their weakness,” Luke said. “They see themselves as big and strong, not something the lesser races would want to go face to face and toe to toe with because it would be suicide.”

  “Was their weakness?” Brita asked.

  “Probably won’t work again,” Luke said. “Besides the fact quality weapons can pierce their armor and kill them, they make big easy targets while we are small, fast, lethal ones. Inside their vessels we can concentrate our fire more quickly and easily then they can.”

  Brita watched Luke closely. “What will you do next time?”

  “Not sure. Probably something very sneaky and underhanded. Every situation is different. If you find yourself in a fair fight then your tactics suck.”

  “Whatever means necessary?” she asked.

  Luke sighed, and he didn’t bother holding back his scowl.

  “No,” Luke whispered. “You have to be able to live with yourself afterwards and if the cost of victory is so high, maybe it isn’t worth fighting for. Sometimes it is better to retreat and try again.”

  “And if you can’t,” Brita asked, not taking the hint to change the subject.

  “You have nightmares and wish for death,” Luke said, it was time to get out of here and be alone. This was enough socializing for the week. “I’m done. I’ll see you on the CIC in an hour. Today we will do combat drills. We have a month before we arrive and I want this to be a well drilled team.”

  “Aye, aye commander,” Brita said standing up as is the tradition when a senior officer leaves, Luke chalked up the disappointment in her voice to imagination. Luke wanted to look at her but forced himself not to as he made a hasty retreat before his body could betray him again.

  How the hell did men live and walk around nude on those space stations when they could see naked beautiful women?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Escape

  “Missiles inbound,” the Lieutenant said, unmasked fear in his voice. Smoke in the CIC made it impossible to breathe without a helmet on. The red battle lights gave the smoke the appearance of a bloody mist. All the helmets had their own networked communication system so even if the lights and systems flickered like they were doing now; communications would be unhindered, unlike everything else. Their suits were supposed to be yellow and white but now they were dirty and soot covered, almost black. The suits of the dead and living were also covered with spots of red. Bloody drops and bits of plastic and metal splattered the floor where the deceleration pinned everything down.

  Leonessa checked the board and punched in some numbers. It would be close. Too damned close but only if they were lucky.

  “Drop shields, life support, everything but the wormhole generator and engines. All power to engines, max them out. Burn them out
if you must. We need to decelerate!”

  It was hard to look across the room with the smoke. The fires had been put out but life support was overworked or malfunctioning and there was no place for the smoke to go. There was not enough air in the reserves to vent what remained into space. Even tainted air could be recycled and re-used.

  Half the bridge crew was dead, thrown about or killed in their seat. The Captain was dead, leaving Leonessa in command. She had been the third officer. Just like training, she told herself. Lights will come on in a minute and she will be graded. She just had to concentrate on saving the most people right now. Concentrate on the now, worry about the future later if it was still there. Now and the next few moments were all that counted. Just a little longer. Breathe in, breath out and repeat. Focus!

  “We aren’t going to make it,” the sensor operator said. Leonessa kept forgetting his name as the sensor operator was always called “Eyes” and she did not mix with him off duty. He was not her type.

  “Fiddle Sticks,” Leonessa said. Just a little more. She watched the two ship killer missiles closing. The Caliphate cruisers that had launched them were confident they would not need more. They had seen the damage to the rear of the ship, the shattered point defense turrets, and leaking atmosphere. The JAS Shrike had so few options. It was a miracle her wormhole drive and engines were still functional, but the wormhole drive was on the front of the ship, not the back. The engines were built tough and still worked despite the damage. Those missiles would remove all options.