by Jake Bible
Once he was at the hallway that led to the bedrooms, he relaxed slightly. He knew the layout of the apartment, had studied it over and over again so when it came time, he could make his move fast and be done and gone before anyone was the wiser.
He eyed the second door on the left, drew the Kepler knife from its sheath, didn’t worry about the faint orange glow it put off, then rushed the door and kicked it open.
He was halfway across the room, ready to kill what lay in the bed, when he realized the lights were on and the man sitting up in bed was not his target.
“Hello Meeks,” Colonel Leguin said. “You didn’t knock. You should always knock before entering a room. Who knows what you could stumble upon?”
Meeks Boosh froze then spun about to face the rest of the bedroom, the knife up and ready.
“I’m alone, Meeks,” Leguin said. “No Drop Teams to back me up. Just you, me, that Kepler knife, and this.”
He slid a particle rod out from under his leg and aimed it at Meeks.
“I assume you know what this is and what it will do to you if you piss me off,” Leguin said. “You’ll be a poof of smoke before you can twitch in my direction. Yes, there will be a stink of tacos in this room for months, but even the most calibrated scanners won’t be able to pick up any trace that you were ever here.”
“No need for racism,” Meeks said finally and sheathed the knife. “That taco remark wasn’t warranted.”
“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Leguin said. “Jesperians and their love for tacos. It was too easy.” He motioned with the particle rod. “Take a seat in that chair over there and let’s have a nice conversation. Just a chat amongst old friends.”
“We’re not old friends,” Meeks said as he took the seat indicated, pushing some stray clothes onto the floor. He looked around the bedroom and noticed that clothes were strewn everywhere. “You ransack the place before I got here?”
“What? No,” Leguin said. “Turns out that Councilman Keer was in a bit of a hurry to catch his shuttle. Can’t think why. Unless, you know, someone was going to be coming to kill him.”
“What a crazy thought,” Meeks said.
“Yes, just crazy,” Leguin agreed. He sighed and set the rod back down. “Okay, threats aside, how about you come clean, Meeks. You do that and I can guarantee you don’t end up on one of those prison planets in some backwater system where they don’t know the difference between filet mignon and grub shanks.”
“Come clean? Don’t know what you are talking about,” Meeks said.
The particle rod was back in Leguin’s hand and firing before Meeks could blink. The dresser a meter away from his side disappeared and the smell of ozone filled the room.
“Okay, sheezus!” Meeks yelled. “I’m on a job! I was sent to kill Keer!”
“Yes, I guessed that already,” Leguin said, waving the rod around. “You do notice I beat you here, right? Who hired you?”
“The Collari Syndicate,” Meeks admitted. “We were originally hired by Keer to bring his son back, but then we got a call from the Collari and they wanted us to do them a favor. It was a favor that paid a lot more than what Keer was paying. So I said yes.”
“But you didn’t bring the Keer boy back, did you?” Leguin said. “In fact, no one made it back from the Hoonnaann base, did they?”
“Except your Team,” Meeks grumbled. “Except for Zero.”
“Oh, you heard about that?” Leguin said. “Yes, they made it off that base and back home with only a couple of injuries. Nothing major, I can assure you. Feels good to be in charge of the ones that came out on top. How does it feel to be in charge of the ones that didn’t?”
“Don’t be cruel, Ory,” Meeks said. “Z was my business partner for twenty years. She was also my friend. I lost a lot of good people on that job, but I can always hire more. I can’t hire another Z Gon.”
“True, my apologies,” Leguin said.
“Why are you here, Ory?” Meeks asked. “I would have expected Gerber to be here or one of his Intelligence flunkies.”
“Gerber is busy making sure Councilman Keer starts his brand new life off right,” Leguin said. “He actually has no idea that I’m here. In fact, no one in the Fleet does. This is an unofficial visit.”
“Really? Why?” Meeks asked.
“Do I have to put it all together for you?” Leguin said. “You have quite a few of the pieces already. I know you and I’m sure that mind of yours has already been asking questions.”
“Not a clue as to what you’re talking about,” Meeks said.
“Don’t,” Leguin responded and his voice was ice cold. “How did Keer know where to send your squads? How did that man know his son would be at the Hoonnaann base?”
“That I honestly don’t know,” Meeks replied. “Kill me if you want, but I can’t help you on that.”
“Okay, you might not be lying,” Leguin said. “So answer me this, why did the Collari Syndicate want Keer dead?”
“Don’t know that either,” Meeks said. “You are shooting zero for two, Ory.”
“Zero for two,” Leguin said then stood up from the bed. “You sure you want that to be my score before I walk out of this room?”
Meeks watched Leguin’s hand that held the particle rod closely. It was down at the man’s side, but there was a tension in the muscles that said it wouldn’t stay down for long.
“Keer was on the take, you know that,” Meeks said.
“I suspected,” Leguin said. “Gerber never confirmed, but I had a hunch. But for a councilman on the take, it sure is strange that he’s being whisked off to start over with a whole new life and persona, everything provided by Fleet Intelligence.”
Meeks leaned back in the chair and put his arms across his chest.
“Uh-oh, sounds like Intelligence has left the Drop Teams out of the intel loop,” he chuckled. “That’s gotta sting.”
“There was no need for the Drop Teams to be in the loop, Meeks,” Leguin said. “Not until the op went to crud, one of my people was captured, a councilman withheld intel as to where I could find her, one of my Teams died because of it, and my best Team was nearly eaten alive by Klatu bugs. You see, Meeks, that’s when I do need to be in the loop. So put me in the loop. Why did Keer really have that data? Why did he get his son killed transporting it? What the fo is going on between Intelligence and the Collari Syndicate?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Meeks replied, a smirk on his face. He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on the chair, ready to stand up. “Listen, Ory, you can call the cops and they can bust me for breaking and entering, but we both know attempted murder won’t stick since there was no one here to murder. I have a business to run without my partner, so I think I’ll go home, get good and drunk, and drag my hungover ass into the office in the morning and figure out what my next move is.”
“You really aren’t going to tell me?” Leguin asked.
“I really don’t know,” Meeks said.
“Right,” Leguin said. “Because a man that doesn’t know anything, and is head of a business that is down one partner, takes the time and effort to execute a simple kill job when he could send any employee he has? Not buying it, Meeks.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Ory,” Meeks said. “Can I go now or are we going to be at this all night?”
“You can go now,” Leguin said and raised the particle rod. Meeks was dead and gone in a second.
Leguin wiped the rod down and tossed it onto the bed then took a quick glance around the room and switched out the lights as he left.
Forty-Two
The gleam off the hull of the ship was almost blinding.
“Ugh, it’s disgusting,” Wanders said. “No character at all. Where are the dings and the dents? Where are the scorch marks?”
“It’s brand new, Wanders,” Geist said as he limped along behind Drop Team Zero. “We’ll ding it up at some point.”
“I am more than sure we will,” Hole said as s
he moved to the side of the new Borgon Eight-Three-Eight stealth incursion ship. “If any of you are involved then it will be dinged, dented, and scorched before half of our next op is over.”
“I love your confidence in us,” Cookie said. “Especially since you’re the pilot half the time.”
“The half where we do not get dinged or dented or scorched,” Hole said.
“When is the next op, LT?” Mug asked.
Motherboard stood staring at the new Eight-Three-Eight for a while before responding. The Team let her take her time.
“I don’t know,” Motherboard said. “Leguin doesn’t have us back in the op rotation yet.”
“Op rotation?” Cookie asked. “What the fo, LT? We’re Zero. We are never in the op rotation.”
“We are now,” Motherboard said. “You forget we didn’t exactly follow Fleet protocol and it almost got us killed.”
“It did get Three killed,” Mug said. No one responded to that right away.
“So, are we grounded?” Wanders asked.
“No, you are not grounded,” Leguin said as he crossed the hangar.
“Attention!” Hole announced.
Everyone snapped to attention and saluted sharply.
“At foing ease,” Leguin said. “Stop kissing ass, Zero.”
“We don’t kiss ass, sir, we kick it,” Motherboard said. “Permission to ask when we will be getting our next op.”
“Permission granted,” Leguin replied. “And your next op starts now. You all feel up to it?” He looked at Geist specifically. “I won’t send you out if you aren’t at 100%.”
“We are ready, sir,” Motherboard said. “But I’m confused.”
“About?” Leguin asked.
“Why we aren’t on the op board, but you are sending us out on one now,” Motherboard said. “That goes against Fleet protocol, sir.”
“So do you,” Leguin said. “Almost every time I send you out. Which is why you are going now. I need Zero to do some tracking. You may have to embed for a while. Get a little dirty and go places you don’t want to. Rub elbows with elbows you would prefer not to rub.”
“Sir?” Motherboard asked.
“I need all of you to infiltrate the Edgers,” Leguin said. “Officially, you are on leave. A forced suspension due to your behavior. Unofficially, I need to know why the Edgers were there on Monia’Ja. I want to know why they were interested in Sha Morgoal and the Keer kid.”
“Sir, isn’t that an Intelligence job?” Motherboard asked.
“It is,” Leguin said. “But let me ask you how much you trust Intelligence. You came from them, Falk. You know how they operate. Any of that last op stink just a little?”
“No, sir,” Motherboard replied. Leguin raised an eyebrow. “It stank a lot.”
“Good,” Leguin said and nodded at the Eight-Three-Eight. “Then it is time to start your leave and go ding up your ship. Maybe along the way you’ll happen across some Edgers and maybe they can clue you in on some things. You wouldn’t happen to know any Edgers would you, Zero?”
“No, not at all, sir,” Motherboard said.
“No, sir,” everyone else replied. Except Wanders.
“Sir, I do have to admit something,” Wanders said.
“No, you don’t, Sergeant,” Leguin ordered. “As long as you don’t admit it then it is only supposition. Your Fleet records show that your brother might, and I stress might, have an affiliation with the Edgers. Unfortunately, any rock hard evidence that was in your files seems to have accidentally been purged from the system. In fact, any record of you having a brother has been accidentally purged. You still think you have something to admit?”
“No, sir,” Wanders said.
“I didn’t think so,” Leguin said. He clapped his hands then pointed at the Eight-Three-Eight. “If you don’t get that thing out of this hangar within ten minutes, I will be forced to lock you all in the brig.”
“Any certain way you want to be contacted if we do, perhaps, come across something, sir?” Motherboard asked.
“I don’t want to be contacted at all,” Leguin said. “That would be completely against protocol.”
“Understood, sir,” Motherboard said. “Zero! Load up! We are going on vacation to the outer systems and the fringe.”
“Yay,” Cookie said and rolled his eyes.
“Can we make a stop first?” Geist asked. “Since we are going that far out, it would be great if we could…”
Zero’s voices faded off as the rear ramp descended and they boarded the Eight-Three-Eight. Leguin watched them go then moved quickly out of the way as the ship powered up and began to lift off the hangar floor. He turned and walked away, not looking back once at the best Team the galaxy had ever seen.
He just hoped he’d see them again and soon. Headquarters didn’t seem as safe as it did just a few days before.
The End
Read on for a free sample Necrospace Book 1: Salvage Marines by Sean-Michael Argo
Jake Bible, Bram Stoker Award nominated-novelist, short story writer, independent screenwriter, podcaster, and inventor of the Drabble Novel, has entertained thousands with his horror and sci/fi tales. He reaches audiences of all ages with his uncanny ability to write a wide range of characters and genres.
Jake is the author of the bestselling Z-Burbia series set in Asheville, NC, the bestselling Salvage Merc One, the Apex Trilogy (DEAD MECH, The Americans, Metal and Ash) and the Mega series for Severed Press, as well as the YA zombie novel, Little Dead Man, the Bram Stoker Award nominated teen horror novel, Intentional Haunting, the ScareScapes series, and the Reign of Four series for Permuted Press.
Find Jake at jakebible.com. Join him on Twitter @jakebible and find him on Facebook.
MINING UNIT 5597
Basic had been hard on Samuel, as it was on every new recruit, though particularly so for the young man who had just put everything on the line for his budding family. Or at least that’s what Samuel continued to tell himself as he fought his way through the sweaty grind of physical training, the scorching heat of the salvage tool orientations, and the concussive repetition of firearms assessment and operations.
In truth, it felt somewhat like a defeat, as if he’d retreated from an unhappy life and a dismal future rather than taking an opportunity to carve out a better one. It felt selfish, and though Sura had spoken only words of encouragement and support, Samuel could see disappointment in her eyes and could sense a growing distance between them as she constructed emotional walls to protect herself. Just as Samuel trained his body for war, so did Sura harden her heart for the long haul on the home front.
Samuel knew enough about himself to know that he was more of the ‘strong, silent type’ when it came to matters of the heart and part of his personal quest during basic REAPER training was to become a better communicator. In the end, communication was all that he and Sura had left.
In the last few days of training he had been informed that the newly founded Baen REAPER fleet had already been issued marching orders. There would be no time to see their families or have shore leave. Basic training was to continue to its conclusion on board the massive tug ship that would serve as both home and base of operations for the Reapers.
Samuel and Sura were allowed video streams and audio contact as each marine quarters came equipped with a com-deck, and the spouses did the best they could through the mediums available.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Samuel looked ahead at his friend Ben Takeda and smiled inside his helmet. The few months between their conversation in the bar and now being deployed on their first mission had been hard, but Ben had helped Samuel through it all.
Ben had found that he was indeed well suited to the life of a soldier and showed an early aptitude for the heavy machine gun. Samuel often thought that it was the positive shift of Ben’s newfound zest for life as a REAPER that helped Samuel keep himself together.
During basic training the entry level REAPER pay rate was not onl
y more money than either man had ever earned before, it was more than either of their parents had ever made.
Ben had run the numbers and discovered that with the base rate he would be able to clear his life-bond within five years. Ben insisted that after five years as a REAPER he had little intention of going back to being a Grotto civilian. Working for Grotto, he would still be on the waste disposal detail, so for him at least, the plan was REAPER until death or retirement.
As Samuel met other new recruits in basic, the exotic beauty, Jada Sek, and the exceptionally average, Spencer Green, for example, he discovered that Ben’s attitude was common. Samuel had little desire to be a soldier for the rest of his life, though when he calculated the life-bonds for both he and Sura on top of the expatriation fee, he was going to have to survive nearly a decade of service.
For Samuel and all of the rest of the recruits, the real game changer was the hazard pay bonuses. If a REAPER spent even just half a standard year officially “deployed” on an operation, whether it was combat or salvage or both, the pay was nearly double the standard rate.
Samuel had never wanted war, though when he compared five years of deployed hazard time to ten years of basic service to accomplish his goals and get his family away from Grotto, he found himself very willing to take up arms. So long as the paychecks kept clearing he would keep fighting.
It was this vision of his future life and future family that kept him warm in the cold of space, and though he knew it was just as much of a daydream as anything else, he clung to it. There was strength in his goals, a purpose beyond himself that he hoped would push him to excel in combat and to survive whatever the universe had in store for him.
So it was that Samuel and Ben were rolled into Tango Platoon, along with orphans Patrick Baen and Aaron Baen. Their squad leader position, known as Boss, was filled by Maggie Taggart. The marines called her Boss Taggart to her face, but thought of her as Mag when they weren’t addressing her.
