The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4)

by Chris Kennedy

  “I’m not going to die?” Sommerkorn asked, his mouth falling open.

  “No, you’re not going to die, and if you hurry, you may be able to keep most of the other mercenary forces from dying too. We already knew everyone else had it, and Operations has put out a worldwide announcement on the paint and how to stop it from functioning, but I want you to call every single merc outfit on the planet and personally warn them. You can also apologize to them quickly. You probably won’t get it done in time, so you’re going to have to explain the procedure for using the medkits to cure the infections.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sommerkorn said, standing a little taller. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “It’s not going to save everyone,” Sansar added, “and Blue Sky help any of the companies currently off-planet—they’re probably going to die horrible deaths—but we will save the ones we can. Get going.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sommerkorn said. He saluted and turned to go.

  “Lieutenant Sommerkorn?” Sansar asked, and the Lieutenant turned back. “Come see me when you’re done with that,” she added. “I want to talk to you about the latest operational program that’s installed in our CASPers.”

  Computer Operations, Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “Hi Colonel Enkh, First Sergeant Enkh,” Major Good said as the two women walked into the operations center. “How was the trip?”

  “Frustrating,” Sansar said. “I met with the Secretary of the General Assembly of Earth, and she wasn’t interested in discussing anything that’s going on. ‘Too busy,’ she said, and ‘We don’t want to make waves at this critical juncture, right when we’re about to be admitted as full members.’ She didn’t even want to talk to me—I had to threaten her administrative assistant with physical violence to get him to even announce me. He called security, but they took one look at the folks I had with me and decided it might just be easier for everyone involved if the assistant found a way to insert me into the Secretary’s schedule.”

  “SOGA? SO Goddamn Awful, that’s what we ought to call her,” Sergeant Homan muttered from one of the nearby consoles.

  “You can’t be serious!” Major Good said, ignoring the soldier.

  “Unfortunately, I am,” Sansar replied. “On the other hand, the meeting with the other Horsemen went well. Even though I didn’t have much time with them, I was at least able to pass along the information on New Warsaw.”

  “That’s good,” Good said. “It’s been busy here, too. We must be getting close to what’s going on—someone sent a Depik assassin after me.”

  “A Depik assassin? How is it you’re still here?”

  “Lucky, mostly. A good security system helped, but it was mostly luck.”

  “We’ve got to get you out of here until we can work this out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Depik assassins don’t work as single agents; contracts are handled through a planetary organization. If an assassin fails to make the kill, which happens so rarely as to not be statistically significant, they send someone else.”

  The color drained from Good’s face. “There’s…um…going to be more?”

  “Yes, there will be another assassin. They’ll probably send two or three next time to make sure.”

  “I won’t leave this facility if that’s the case.”

  “That won’t be good enough. I don’t want those little bitches running around my HQ. They’ll figure out a way to get in here—if they got into your apartment, they can get in here; there are just too many entrances to secure them all. We may have to send you to New Warsaw until this can be resolved.” She hated to lose him with everything going on, but better to lose him for a little while than to lose him permanently.

  “Whatever you think is best,” Good replied, looking far less confident than when she had walked in. “I forgot to mention earlier, but I have something for you that is…different.”

  “Oh? Different how?”

  “We just got a request from someone to meet with you.”

  “Who is it from?” Sansar asked.

  “Unknown, ma’am,” the Intel officer replied. “It just appeared in our system; no one has any idea where it originated from, or who sent it.”

  “I thought we had the best hackers money can buy,” Sansar said. “I know I pay an awful lot of money to have them.”

  “We do have the best hackers we can find. Apparently, though, there’s someone out there who is better.”

  “So if we don’t know anything about the invitation, how am I supposed to know where to meet my host?”

  “The message specified a virtual reality bar.”

  “So I at least get a drink out of this?”

  “Well, about that, ma’am, there’s sort of a problem…the address starts with 666…it’s part of the dark VR net. I don’t know that I would drink, eat, or in any other way ingest anything while I was on the dark net. I don’t think it would be very…healthy…for you.”

  “Did they say when I was supposed to meet them?”

  “It said to come when you were available, and they’d meet you there. The tech asked how they’d know, and she was told, ‘Don’t worry about that; we’ll know.’”

  “Well, that’s pretty spooky,” Sansar said. She looked at Mun. “Want to go to a bar?”

  “Not to one on the dark net, but I’m definitely not letting you go alone.”

  “You doing anything for the next hour?”

  “I guess I’m going to a bar to meet a phantom.”

  “Good to have you along,” Sansar said. She turned back to Major Good. “Wire us up.”

  Visual Reality, Dark Net

  “Well, at least it’s a friendly place,” Mun said, looking at the sign outside the bar that read, “The Amiable Alien.”

  Sansar Enkh wrinkled her nose. “In my experience, the only amiable alien is one that wants something from you—usually your money, sometimes your life. I don’t know why our contact picked it, maybe he or she thought it was a joke, but the name of the bar alone is a pretty inauspicious start to our meeting.”

  The bar itself looked like any number of seedy dive bars Sansar had patronized early in her mercenary career. Even junior troopers made more credits than most other occupations on Earth, so there was always someone looking to separate junior—that is, unsophisticated—troopers from their money. In bars like this, troopers could usually get a reasonably priced drink…assuming they went in with a big enough group for their own protection. Especially the women—despite various crackdowns, the sex slave trade still existed in central Asia.

  As a senior officer, Sansar had pulled her troopers out of worse, and she was prepared for nearly any outcome awaiting her inside. She rolled her shoulders to release some tension. “Let’s go,” she said, and she pushed through the heavy door.

  The inside of the bar was dark, and the women waited with their backs against the door for their eyes to adjust. “Not sure why it has to be this dark,” Mun said. “That’s another strike against them.” She kept her voice low. Unlike most bars, there was no music blaring, and barely any background noise. After a few seconds, she wrinkled her nose. “They do, however, have a most authentic smell of piss.”

  After a couple of minutes, they could see most of the interior, except the corners, which appeared to be intentionally dark. A bar waited across the room from them with several patrons already gathered around it. At one end of the bar, two fish were talking to what appeared to be a large banana. The two fish appeared to be trying to pick up the banana; they were rubbing opposite sides of it. Sansar decided she really didn’t want to know.

  “I don’t see anyone who appears to be waiting for us,” Sansar said. “Do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” Mun replied. She nodded to a table furthest from the light. “Why don’t we go sit down and see if he or she shows up.”

  The two walked over to table and sat where they could both survey the bar. After a couple of minutes a pillar of smoke carrying a tray a
nd a note pad floated over to their table. “Can I get you something?” it asked, its voice deep and low. Yellow eyes flashed in the center of the smoke. “A nice wine…maybe a Shirazi? You’ll want to get one soon; I hear they’re getting to be in short supply.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sansar said, her voice also low. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

  “No, there is nothing funny about it. I am told that Nigel is the only remaining Shirazi of age. I’m told the Cartwright’s have had a similar level of…attrition. It is getting to be rather dangerous to be a Horseman these days.”

  “Can I help you?” Sansar asked, already tired of the game. “You obviously know who we are; why don’t you tell us a little more about yourself?”

  “Ah…what is there to tell? Where there’s fire, there’s me.” Before Sansar could say anything, it added in a louder voice, “I’ll be right back with your drinks, ladies,” turned, and retreated to the bar.

  “I’m obviously missing something,” Mun said. “Can you please fill me in on what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know either,” Sansar said. “All I know is this is pissing me off. I’ve got an enormous number of tasks needing to be done, right now, and wasting my time here is not one of them. I’m—”

  Sansar cut herself off as Mun waved a hand. “Here comes Smokey,” the senior enlisted said, nodding toward the bar.

  The pillar of smoke returned to the table, and two glasses of red wine floated down from its tray to the table. “Your drinks, ladies,” it said with a flourish of the tray.

  “Look,” Sansar said, leaning toward the waiter, “I don’t have much time. You were obviously expecting us, so you must be the person who invited us here. Why?”

  “I asked you here to warn you,” the entity said. “They are coming for you.”

  “They’re coming for me, or the Horsemen in general?” she asked. “Who’s coming? And why are they coming?

  “They’re coming for you, specifically,” the creature said. The creature’s eyes glowed yellow. “They know you uplifted the species on your last mission.”

  “Apparently you know it, too.”

  “It’s my job to know things,” the entity said. “You should flee, and you should take all the mercs with you.”

  “I’m not leaving. I can’t. There is too much to do.”

  “Then they are going to catch you.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I have a number of friends who will hide me, if necessary.”

  “It’s good to have friends; you will need all the ones you can find, and very soon.”

  Sansar’s eyes narrowed. “Are you my friend? If so, I would think you could at least give me your name or a race; something to identify you with.”

  “Perhaps I do not want to be identified. As far as being your friend, that is still to be determined, and there are many variables in play and many people who have to be convinced a relationship with you would be of benefit to us. One thing is certain, however; my people do not want to see the majority of your enemies succeed. Regardless of your status in our eyes, past history has shown them to be our adversaries.”

  “So they’re our enemies, and they’re your enemies. Doesn’t that make us friends?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my enemy’s enemy. No more. No less. You may, however, be someone with whom we can work. That is still to be determined.”

  “Based on what?”

  “Based on how things proceed, we may meet again. I think I would like that; you are…interesting. You put other people’s welfare before your own. That is…refreshing in a younger species. Unfortunately, it is time for me to leave, as I also have things to do.”

  The pillar began to spin, faster and faster, until it flew off in all directions and dissipated. The tray fell to the floor with a clatter.

  “That wasn’t much help,” Mun noted.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Sansar agreed. “C’mon, let’s see if the bartender can tell us anything about our ‘friend.’”

  She got up, and Mun followed her to the bar. Sansar flagged down the bartender. “We were talking with your waiter, and I just realized he or she left before I could tip. Can you give me your waiter’s name?”

  “Waiter?” the bartender asked. “I ain’t got no waiter; it’s just me here. D’you mean the pillar of smoke? It said it was with you. Paid your tab before it left, though.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 24

  Computer Operations, Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “Did you get anything from the bar?” Major Good asked.

  “I got annoyed,” Sansar said. “That’s about it. We met a pillar of smoke. It warned us someone was coming for me, said we might have something in common, and then it vanished. It didn’t tell us much beyond the fact that our enemies have other enemies. Unfortunately, we don’t really know who our enemies are, nor who their enemies might be, so we’ll just have to try and figure it out as we go along.”

  “Major!” the Space Ops technician called. “I’m monitoring the radars watching the stargate emergence point. Three large ships just transitioned in.”

  “Understood,” Major Good replied. “Is there something special about them?”

  “Yes, sir. They all declared Tashkent landings. It was weird though; one ship was talking for all three of them. The only formation flights I’ve ever seen are military, sir, but these three said they were freighters.”

  “What’s the monitoring station have to say?” Sansar asked.

  “I’m listening to that now, ma’am. Apparently, the ships are huge—bigger than any other transports or freighters the techs up there have ever seen. Not only that, the ships are shaped weird, too. The monitoring station is saying they’re not a standard shape or size. They came in as one big entity and then split into three separate ships.”

  Sansar took a deep breath and let it out. “What shape are they?” she asked, dreading the answer.

  “They have a large number of sides, but they are rotating too quickly for the monitoring station to get a good count. They are estimating somewhere in the upper teens or lower twenties.”

  “They’re icosagons,” Sansar said.

  “Ico—they’re what, ma’am?” the technician asked.

  “Icosagons,” Major Good said. “They’ve got 20 sides.”

  “How do you know, sir?”

  “Because that’s what the Tortantulas use as troop carriers, giant 20-sided ships.” He turned to Sansar, who nodded.

  “You’re right,” Sansar said. “Those icosagons are carrying Tortantulas, and they won’t be landing at the Tashkent starport; they will be landing here.”

  “So it’s starting,” Major Good replied.

  “Yes,” Sansar said. “It’s time to move to the Battle Center. It’s starting.”

  Command Ship, Near Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “Captain, where do you intend to land the ship?” Peepo asked.

  “There is a plateau below us outside the range of the Horde’s weapons,” the captain said. “It is also big enough for all three of our ships to land, which will make offloading our troops and assembling them into attack formation more efficient.”

  “No,” Peepo said. “The other ships can land there. Land us on the next plateau further back.”

  “Are you sure?” the captain asked. “The next landing zone is several miles away through some treacherous terrain.”

  “I’m positive,” Peepo said. “It will be a good warm-up exercise for the Tortantulas, and besides, my mother always told me not to put all of my litter into a single incubator. We can coordinate the troop movements once we are on the planet.” And, she mused silently, if the Humans do something unexpected—like attack suddenly—the other ships will also provide a buffer for us to get back off the planet again.

  Battle Center, Under Golden Horde HQ, Tashkent, Uzbekistan

  “Damn,” Major Good muttered under his breath.

  “What is it?” Sansar asked.

  “Only
two of the ships landed on the plateau where you thought they would; the third landed at a plateau further back and to the south.”

  “That’s unfortunate; that one is probably the commander’s.”

  “The ships are unloading!” a tech called from several positions down. “Looks like Tortantulas…and lots of them.”

  “Just like in the simulation you designed…” Good said as he looked at the video displayed on his slate. His head whipped around to Sansar. “How did you know? How did you know they would land there, and that it would be Tortantulas?”

  “I didn’t know, but it seemed likely,” Sansar replied. “They have to try to cut off our escape. Our airfield sits at the end of a river valley, but they can’t land here because their ships are too big. So they have to land where they did and race us to the field to keep us from escaping.”

  “I didn’t realize we were racing them. You haven’t called for an evacuation.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Sansar said. “I guess it’s time we do.” She selected the emergency communications system that would reach every speaker and every pinned individual in the immediate area. “Golden Horde, this is Colonel Enkh. Initiate Evacuation Protocol Alpha One! I say again, initiate Evacuation Protocol Alpha One! Good luck to us all.”

  She nodded to herself. It was time to start the show. With a mental push, she initiated a program which reached out to every Golden Horde member and activated information stored in the recesses of their brains.

  Under Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth

  Staff Sergeant Walker only had a couple of seconds to wonder what “Evacuation Protocol Alpha One” was, and what the hell he was supposed to do in support of it, before text began swimming across his vision. “All units meet at your company spaces in the maintenance bay and suit up as soon as possible. This is not a drill.”

  Every trooper in The Golden Horde, regardless of where they were throughout the complex, turned as one and raced toward the maintenance bay.