by Matt Novotny
“But—” said Rains.
“Wasn’t a request.” She gestured to the door. “Move along, Chief.”
The Cochkala just shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door. “Contact me when you are done here, Peacemaker.”
Rains watched him go. He held up his slate. “May I?” Rains asked Ulmesh.
“If you must,” she replied. “A few hours of sleep would be better.”
Rains checked in with the ship, then checked through his messages. Thankfully, there were no other Storm Watch reports. Rains continued to scroll, then stopped cold.
Selector Hak-Chet had responded to his messages about his concerns over Kr’et’Socae.
“Peacemaker, I have answers to many of your questions that should be discussed in person.”
There were two final words to the Selector’s message: “Come Home.”
* * * * *
Chapter Five
15 Years Ago
Jackson, Mississippi, Earth
“Jackson!” said Ms. Gilson for the third time.
Jackson looked up with a guilty start, quickly swiping away from the game he was playing and back to the history lesson his class was working on.
“Sorry, Ms. Gilson.” And he was sorry. Usually, history was one of his favorite subjects, and today they were starting a series on how Earth came into the Galactic Union, but when he had dropped off his homework that morning, he had seen that Ms. Gilson had changed her password and written her new one down on the pad next to her terminal. It had only taken a quick minute to enter it into his slate and find out that the school had a copy of Raknar Pilot loaded on the staff area of the network. It was almost time for lunch, but he had already won six matches. He spared a look for his friend Bobby across the room. Bobby tried to hide a smile and then looked straight ahead, trying not to laugh.
“Pay attention,” she said. “Let’s just see what was so interesting.” Ms. Gilson entered something into her terminal and the remote override notice lit up on Jackson’s slate. Jackson had a sinking feeling as he saw her browse through his use history to the game. “How did…” she asked aloud, then Jackson saw her credentials highlight on his slate.
“Well, there won’t be any more of that!” she said, giving him an arch look. “Mr. Rains, please stay after the class is dismissed for lunch.”
There was a general round of “oohs” from the rest of the class. Everyone knew that when Ms. Gilson used your last name you were really going to get it.
Jackson stared at the screen at the front of the class, watching as the video slowly scrolled past and contemplated his fate.
It’s not fair, he thought. If they didn’t want us to play, then the game shouldn’t be on the server. Jackson mechanically entered his answers into his slate as the video got to the quiz portion, not really caring if he got any right.
Things had been really hard since his father had been killed. He and his mother had had a little time after the call from Arthwaite, but soon she had to leave, too. Something about contracts and lawyers and a dozen other things he didn’t understand.
“Why can’t I go with you?” Jackson had asked his mom for the hundredth time.
“We’ve been over this, Jackson,” she said quietly. “They don’t have any family housing where I’m going. I have to finish out your father’s contract. If I don’t then we’ll lose everything. If we’re going to have a future, then this is something I have to do.”
“I don’t want you to go!” he yelled, clinging to her.
“I don’t want to go either,” she said. “But it’s only for a little while; your father only had a year left, and it’s not that far away,” she had lied, not wanting to explain jump gates to her son. “But I get vacations, and I can come home every few months. We’ll trade videos all the time. In the meantime, Miss Nancy is going to stay here and take care of you and Max for me.” His mother held him tighter. “I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?”
“I guess,” said Jackson, not meaning it. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks. “Mom? Are you going to die?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“Hey, now,” she said, wiping his tears away, “of course not! Where did that come from?”
“But Dad…”
“Oh, baby. Your Father was a mercenary, his job was dangerous. I’m still going to be a doctor. I promise nothing is going to happen. I’ll be back before you know it! I love you so much!”
“I love you too, Mom!”
That was three months ago. Miss Nancy had moved in to take care of him and Max. Jackson really liked her, but she wasn’t Mom. Jackson was still having nightmares, but the videos from his mom helped, and he got to visit with Mr. Prescott, the school counselor, twice a week. His mom was supposed to be back for a visit in a few weeks. Now he was in trouble at school and they would tell Miss Nancy, and maybe even his Mom!
Jackson stared morosely at Ms. Gilson, trying to figure out how much trouble he was in when she answered her comm. He watched her talk and saw her give a start. She looked…well, not angry. Something else…Sad? She looked at Jackson. “Yes, I understand. I’ll bring him to the office,” she said.
That’s not good. I must be in more trouble than I thought.
The history video finished, and Ms. Gilson moved to the front of the class. “All right, that covers part one. Does anyone have any questions?” There weren’t any. “In that case, we are going to break a little early for lunch. Please straighten your desks and then head to the cafeteria. Jackson, I’ll need you to get your things and come with me please.”
Jackson grabbed his backpack, and, under the pitying stares of his classmates, he put his slate and notebook inside. Bobby stopped by on his way out.
“Hey, see you at lunch.”
Jackson glanced at Ms. Gilson. “Dunno, Bobby. Think I screwed up this time…”
“What’d’you do?” asked Bobby in a whisper.
“Not now!” hissed Jackson.
“Comm me tonight! Promise?”
“If I’m not grounded.”
Bobby looked skeptical but waved as he headed out for lunch. Jackson started packing his workbooks, but Ms. Gilson shook her head. “You can leave those,” she said.
Ms. Gilson walked him to the office of the school administrator, Mr. Weatherbee. Mrs. Johnson buzzed them through and nodded to Ms. Gilson. “Go right in, they’re expecting you.” Ms. Gilson opened the door. Inside Jackson saw Mr. Weatherbee, Mr. Prescott, Miss Nancy, and a tall black man he didn’t recognize.
Miss Nancy held out her arms. “Come here, Jackson.”
Jackson took a step forward. He looked to Ms. Gilson. “I’m sorry I took your password, Ms. Gilson! I won’t do it again! I promise! I just wanted to play Raknar Pilot!” he said, hoping whatever trouble he was in might be avoided.
Ms. Gilson reached down and squeezed his shoulders. “This isn’t about that, Jackson. You aren’t in trouble. I have to go now.” Ms. Gilson’s eyes glistened with tears. “Goodbye, Jackson.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Gilson,” Jackson said, not understanding.
Miss Nancy pulled Jackson into her lap and gave him a fierce hug. “I’m so, so, sorry Jackson, but we have some bad news. This is David Peters. He’s with Orphan’s Outreach, and he helps children from mercenary families when they’ve lost a parent.”
Jackson’s world dimmed. He felt weak. He struggled against Miss Nancy’s hug. All he wanted to do was escape. He wanted to run and run and run and run, anywhere. Anyplace but here, before someone said it. Before—
Mr. Peters knelt to look Jackson in the face. “Jackson, there has been an…accident. I’m sorry, but your mother was killed—”
“No!” Jackson burst into tears and fought madly to escape from Miss Nancy. Mr. Peters leaned in and applied a med patch to Jackson’s neck. After a few minutes, Jackson quit struggling. He felt numb.
“Don’t you dare lie to him!” spat Miss Nancy. “There was no accident. That shit company shipped her to a combat zone instead of a safe fa
cility, and the place got nuked!”
Jackson looked back and forth as the two argued. The edges of his vision were closing in. “Why can’t…” He blinked. Tried again. “Why can’t I stay with Miss Nancy?” Jackson asked.
“She doesn’t have legal custody,” said Peters, “and she doesn’t meet the requirements to adopt in any case. I’m sorry, Jackson, but I have to take you to our children’s home for the time being. There’s no other option now that you’re an orphan.”
Orphan. The word replayed over and over in Jackson’s head as the world faded, dropping him into darkness.
* * *
Gorton System
Survey Ship Ptolemy
Rains sat back in his chair in the tiny cabin and stretched. His injuries were mostly healed from the nanite therapy Doctor Ulmesh had given him, but the soreness and the itch that came with healing any serious injury kept creeping up on him at odd moments, even though he was expecting it.
Ulmesh had gently shaken him awake. “At least you had the sense to listen,” she’d said. “You’re through the worst of it. The nanites will continue to work for a few days, then the excess will naturally purge.”
“Thanks for patching me up, doctor. Anything I need to pay attention to?” Rains asked.
Ulmesh huffed. “My bill when you get it. You’ve lost some flexibility, so stretch or whatever Humans do to loosen up. It’s going to hurt. Try not to get caught in any explosions in the meantime. You can go now.”
Rains nodded and headed for the door. “Thanks again.”
“Peacemaker,” Ulmesh called.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know why this happened, but a lot of people weren’t as lucky as you were. There is another debt that needs paying. Make sure you collect it.”
“Count on it,” replied Rains.
Rains had touched base with Bosk, but the only new information was that the final butcher’s bill was now 86 dead and 19 more missing or presumed dead, 260 injured, and an estimated six million credits in damages, not counting the hijacked freighter and its cargo of F11.
Jackson had gone back to the Ptolemy and filed an updated emergency report with the guild. This was more than an overdue check-in. Kr’et’Socae’s people had Ravak, had been willing to destroy an entire station to capture her. That meant Jackson needed an Enforcer team on Karma Station, and he needed it now if they wanted to have any chance of saving Ravak.
Then he responded to Selector Hak-Chet’s message. As much as whatever the Selector had to say to him weighed on his mind, it was going to have to wait. Perhaps with this latest development, the guild would finally decide to honor the threat.
Before heading to his berth, Jackson had called gate control to get them moving. That hadn’t gone particularly well, either.
“Gate Control, this is Peacemaker Jackson Rains. I need a priority departure for Karma Station on guild business.”
“Peacemaker Rains, Gate Control. Surely you don’t expect us to—”
“I do expect you to,” said Rains.
“Is this an official request from the Peacemaker Guild?” Jackson shook his head but regretted it when his neck and back locked up. He could hear the emphasis of the word Official in gate control’s response. Capitalized Official. Rains wracked his brains for chapter and verse.
“Gate Control, this is an official request for priority departure to Karma Station pursuant to the agreement between the Peacemaker Guild and the Cartography Guild in subsection 7, clause 6.”
What’s gotten into them? I don’t have time for a political pissing match.
“Very well, Peacemaker Rains. Priority departure granted. The next available transit will be in forty-three minutes. Gate Control, out.”
Rains arched his back over the chair, then twisted slowly left, then right to loosen up the muscles. He thought about finding a spot to do some tai chi, but the thought of trying to focus on that level during transition made his stomach want to heave.
He thought back to his conversation with Chief Bosk. The Cochkala had a good question about the bomb in Ravak’s quarters. Who had it been set for? There was already plenty of chaos on the station to cover Sin’Kura’s escape.
“It was set for you,” Vannix said from the end of Rains’ bunk. She looked relaxed, curled up there, but she had a concerned look on her face. Her whiskers twitched. “Better get back to basics, partner. You entered that room like a cadet. Every alarm bell you have should have been ringing.”
“Still makes no sense,” Rains said. “There was nothing in that room but a go-bag, a uniform, and a picture of Ravak’s family.”
“Next time save your ribs and go through the wall headfirst! The Human head may well replace diamond as the hardest substance in the uni—”
“Partner, you aren’t helping.” But there was something…“Oh, shit. The Storm Watch Alert!”
Rains grabbed his slate and commed Chief Bosk. The Cochkala answered immediately. “Peacemaker Rains, what can I—”
“Chief, the area next to the F11 storage—what did you call it? The Blood Son Annex? Did any of it survive the explosion?”
“About half the annex made it. Exposed to hard vacuum. Why?” asked the Chief.
“What’s usually stored there?”
“Luxury goods for transport to Bestald. Live food animals mostly, some exotic prey species—”
“Chief, I need you to go through everything that survived in that annex. Every storage container. Every locker.”
“That,” said Vannix, “Sounds like a great idea.”
“What am I looking for?” said Bosk.
“I’m not certain, but if the lockers were built to hold live animals, then anyone in the area might have taken shelter in one of them when the emergency hit. In any case, I think you should check them all for additional explosives,” Rains said.
“I’m on it. I’ll update you on what we find.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
Rains was fairly certain of what Bosk was going to find, but he really hoped he was wrong.
Rains turned back to Vannix, but the end of his bunk was empty.
* * *
New Orleans
Louisiana, Earth
The screw hit the top of the metal workbench with a sharp tap and fled into the shadows under one of the cabinets in the workshop.
“Dagnabbit!” Remmy exclaimed. With his left hand, he held the hatch closed on the light blue-furred Xiq’tal. With his other hand, he scratched around in a cardboard box for another screw.
“Ya need some help there, Remmy?” Guidry asked from his perch on a shop stool. The condensation on the beer bottle he held slowly dripped onto the concrete.
“Nah, I got it, cuz.” With a grin he held up another screw and deftly put it into place. He grabbed a small cordless screwdriver and with a couple short whirrs, the hatch was buttoned up. Remmy smiled with satisfaction and activated his pinplants. “Lucille, run a full diagnostic.”
<
Remmy glanced at the little Xiq’tal. “Both, please.”
<
“Ya puttin’ a lot of effort into a toy.” Guidry took a pull on the beer. “Man, this Abita is still crankin’ out good product. How’d you swing some of this? I thought most of it was gettin’ shipped to the merc bars in Houston?”
Remmy ran his hand along the short blue fur on the belly of the crab-shaped toy, obscuring the seam of the cover he had just closed. He threw Guidry a sidelong glance. “Ya remember Old Man Lafayette’s daughter?”
“Oh yeah.” Guidry got a dreamy look. “Oh, she was really pretty…” He sat up suddenly, his eyes suspicious. “What about her?”
Remmy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hold on there, cuz. I’m a friend of hers. She just happens to work in the distribution plant for Abita and is still grateful for what I did for her family back in the day.”
Guidry took another pull on h
is beer, then laughed a bit. “I remember when Old Man Lafayette caught you—”
“Hey, now, no need bringin’ that up. Especially with you drinking my beer.” Remmy picked up his own bottle, and they clinked in a jovial toast.
Both men laughed. His comm buzzed. He set down his beer and answered.
“Remmy,” he spoke into the device. He met Guidry’s questioning gaze. “Hello, Bes.” He got a distant look as he listened. “Aw, sure, I can get the cake. Where might it be?” He nodded. Then realized she couldn’t see him. “Ah, I know Cheryl, the owner of Bittersweet Confections.” He took a drink of beer, then almost spit it out. “No! Aunt Bes, I don’t sleep with every woman in New Orleans.”
Guidry barked a laugh. “She got your number, Remmy Bouchard.”
Remmy waved him quiet. “I’ll head on over there right now. Don’t you fret none, chere. Goodbye.” He smiled and put the comm back on the bench.
“Well, I have been summoned for an errand. I am to pick up the cake for the party.” His gaze returned to the Xiq’tal. “This is gonna be quite the event.” He glanced back at Guidry. “You best get afore Amos figures out where you been hidin’.”
Remmy threw a clean sheet over the toy, grabbed his comm and truck keys, and flicked off the shop light. Once Guidry was out, he closed the garage door. Out in the yard, Burton was playing fetch with a couple of hounds. Each dog would bring a ball and drop it at the Lumar’s feet. He had a ball thrower in three of his hands and the six dogs were constantly moving as he whipped balls out into the long grass.
“Yo, Burton. I need to head into town. Ya wanna come or stay here?” Remmy asked.
Burton paused, and soon all six of the dogs were sitting in front of him, tails wagging. “I’m having fun, Remmy. Can I stay?”
Remmy laughed. “You fine, cher. I won’t be but a moment.”
Guidry eyed the Lumar. “Man, those pups sure have him trained well.”
Remmy shrugged. “It keeps him happy. And trust me, you don’t want to see Burton unhappy.” He scratched his neck, remembering the last time Burton had expressed his displeasure. Remmy had to buy the bar owner out, the damage was so extensive. He shook his head. Good thing merc work paid so well. And the bonus was that Remmy now owned a bar in Baton Rouge. He resolved to get over there real soon and see how it was doing.
