by Matt Novotny
“How can any of this be good news, Jac-son?” asked Amos.
“Two things. One, it means that he doesn’t have anyone inside the Peacemakers who can help him,” explained Rains. “And two, Kr’et’Socae has no interest in killing them until they serve their purpose. As long as he believes he can get what he wants from me, they’re relatively safe, and we have a chance to rescue them.”
Hak-Chet shook his head. “He has every intent on killing you.”
“If we can get Bes and Sabine out, that’s a trade I’m willing to make,” Rains replied.
“Be that as it may—” started Hak-Chet. Rains’ slate chimed. He held up a hand, then answered. “Rains. Go.” He listened for a moment, then a smile broke out on his broad face. “Captain, you just made my day! Can you keep tabs on her until I can get to a ship?” Rains frowned as he listened, then smiled again. “Outstanding. We’ll be ready.” Rains put his slate away as the others looked at him expectantly.
“Captain Cargill was able to locate our missing shuttle. It docked with an in-system transport that’s headed toward the Kuiper belt.” Rains passed the data to Hak-Chet. “Cargill says they’re moving fast, but he has a solid track and is sending a shuttle for us.” Rains looked at the Sidar. “Do we have anything in-system that can run an intercept?”
Hak-Chet concentrated on his own slate for a few moments. “No. Nothing that can be in position in time.”
“What we waiting for?” said Amos. “Armor up!” Amos tried to stand too quickly and winced. Fontenot caught Rains’ gaze and shook his head slightly.
“Hold up, people!” Rains called as the Cajuns aimed for their lockers. “Amos, no CASPers on this run. It’s civilian transport. I just need four people with body armor, non-lethal load out with a heavy backup, and vacuum rated if you have it.”
“We got it, but ain’t none of us sittin’ this one out!” said Amos.
“Amos, you’re still patching up. This is a fast run. If it goes right, we get them and bring them home. If it goes wrong, then I need someone I can trust backing me up. I promise we’re in this together till it’s done. This happened because of me,” Rains said. “I need to fix it.”
“All right,” said Amos. “This not your fault, Jac-son, but you go an’ make it right, and you make sure dey know hell comin’ behind, I gar-on-tee!” Amos turned to the room. “Guidry, Fontenot, Benoit, Trahan! You’re on deck. Grab you gear!”
Fontenot started to protest. “Amos, I should stay here, you aren’t out of the woods just yet.”
Amos shook his head. “You’re goin’. There’s gonna be a fight, and if Bes or Sabine is hurt, I want you there. I’ll be fine.”
Rains got on his comm. “Bev, it’s Jackson. Is Bruno ready to go? Cargill is sending a shuttle down, and I’d like to have him with us.” In spite of what he told Amos, Rains intended to stop that transport even if he had to drop on it and wreck the engines.
“He’s as ready as we can make him,” she said. “Greasy helped us fine-tune the mechanicals, and he’s locked and loaded. I’ll see that he makes it aboard.”
The Cajuns’ general frequency alerted. “Breaux here. Amos, we have two shuttles on approach. The first is from the Ptolemy, the second won’t identify but said to have the booze ready; it’s broadcasting the code for the party.”
“What now?” Amos muttered. “Don’t shoot it down but be ready in case dey ain’t friendly.”
Jackson and the Cajuns headed up to the landing field. He turned to Hak-Chet. “I’ll inform you as soon as I have something. It looks like it’s about to get busy here.”
The Sidar looked at Rains, plainly still troubled by their argument on the shuttle ride. “Jackson, you should turn from this course.” Rains just shook his head. Hak-Chet gave a very Human sigh. “Very well. Honor the threat, Peacemaker. You know how to reach me.”
The Selector and his guard boarded their own shuttle, and it lifted for their trip back to Houston.
Rains saw Bev and the Cajuns loading Bruno and the rest of their gear into the Ptolemy’s gig just as the second craft settled in for a landing. Rains and Amos waited tensely as the rear boarding ramp was lowered…and the back of the shuttle erupted in pink and blue streamers and confetti filled the air as the strains of “Happy Birthday” blasted from the shuttle’s external speakers. Four aliens walked down the ramp, took in the armed CASPers, the damage, and the body bags still stacked by one of the sheds waiting for pickup.
“What did I tell you, Tavvi?” Rikki shouted over the song in her best parade ground squeak. “Humans know how to throw a party!”
* * * * *
Chapter Ten
Sanctuary Plantation
Louisiana, Earth
Jackson paused just long enough to greet his old friends. The two Flatar looked a little plumper than Rains remembered. Tavvi—a Tortantula—was much the same, except for the giant blue bows tied to all her legs, and the white stripe was perhaps a bit wider.
Tavvi had run down the ramp and gathered Rains into a hug with four front legs that he would have once considered the stuff of nightmares. He felt the vibration of Tavvi’s laughter and heard the suspicious chirruping from Rikki and Tikki and knew he’d been set up. By way of payback, he fell into Tavvi’s arms and arms.
The big surprise, though, was Sebastian. If anything, the Xiq’tal was even bigger than Rains remembered and a much deeper blue. The deck of the shuttle creaked as the Xiq’tal moved forward and extended a fighting claw for a fist bump. “Well met, Peacemaker Rains. It is agreeable to see you. I look forward to seeing Earth! I have wished to come since Amos and I started our business venture, but it is a long trip from Xiq’tara colony.”
“Well met, Sebastian. Well met, all of you! I can’t believe you’re all here,” said Rains.
“Yes,” said Sebastian. “To celebrate the Name-day of Louie’s child and to meet my namesake, and for business.”
Rains stepped back. “I wish I could continue this, but I have to go. Amos will fill you in. With luck I’ll be back in a few days.” Rains sprinted for the Ptolemy’s shuttle. Behind him, he could hear Amos begin to run things down for the Avbo alumni.
“I got you quarters set aside below. I think the freight elevator be big enough for us all.”
Jackson climbed aboard, gave the pilot a thumbs up, and felt the shuttle lift on full power for orbit and the Ptolemy. He felt the push of the high-G burn as the extra weight settled on him.
Jackson’s mind drifted back to his ride to Sanctuary with Hak-Chet. They had taken off from the Regional HQ with Tia Clayton at the controls. Two Pushtal bodyguards were waiting for the Selector, as well as a field team to help collect any evidence. Hak-Chet had sat next to him and engaged a privacy field.
“What do you intend to do, Peacemaker?”
Rains stared at the Sidar. “Find Bes and Sabine and get them back. Then I’ll do what I should have done in the first place: find Kr’et’Socae and kill him.”
Hak-Chet shook his head. “Out of the question, for all the reasons we discussed in my office, and now you are even closer to this issue. Once we evaluate, then I will assign an Enforcer team to—”
“No. You have done enough already,” he said bitterly. “This is family. It’s not up for discussion.”
“I can’t let you do this, Peacemaker,” said Hak-Chet.
Rains reached up and removed the platinum badge from his jumpsuit and examined it, turning it over in his hands. “The motto on my badge is ‘Be True,’ Selector. It’s there because the woman Sin’Kura just abducted shared it with me, and that was after her son saved my life. I can’t explain everything that means to me, but I can tell you this: on Earth, a badge is also called a shield. A shield can shelter and protect you, or it can be in your way. Prevent you from getting past it, or simply become too heavy to bear. Out there is a little girl waiting for her Uncle Jackson to come save her, and she’s waiting because the Peacemakers opened the door for the monsters. If this—” Rains held up the badg
e, “—is in the way of that—” he tossed the badge to Hak-Chet, “—then you keep it.”
“I don’t believe you mean that,” said Hak-Chet.
“Then you’d be wrong. Kind of becoming a pattern. Maybe you were always wrong about me.”
“There will be consequences.”
“There always are. I’m good with that. Those come after I get the job done. I don’t need the badge to tell me what’s right.”
Hak-Chet handed the badge back. “You will need this to accomplish what you intend. I still believe that you handling this personally is playing directly into Kr’et’Socae’s hands, but if I cannot convince you otherwise, the Peacemakers won’t stand in your way. We are also your family, Jackson. Remember that before you abandon us so quickly.”
The beep of the proximity alert snapped Rains out of his reverie. The shuttle performed a quick series of maneuvers and settled into its cradle with a clang! as the locks snapped into place. The airlock showed green and the rear ramp dropped to let them disembark.
Cargill’s crew showed the Cajuns the module where Ned and Bev had set up shop and started unloading Bruno while Rains hooked a handhold and headed for the Ptolemy’s cramped bridge. Rains could already feel gravity starting to return as the ship accelerated.
Rains climbed in and strapped down at an open console while Cargill muttered over the controls. After a moment, tracking and course appeared on Rains’ console as well as the main display.
“Captain, thank you for your help with this. It wasn’t something we could have foreseen, and I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’ve done,” said Rains.
Cargill waved him off. “When I signed on it was for the long haul, Peacemaker.” The captain manipulated the plot. “Now, this is where we’re at…”
* * *
Sanctuary Plantation
Louisiana, Earth
The cargo lift moved smoothly down the wall into the main CASPer bay from the ready bays above. During big events, the lift could hold up to eight CASPers at a time, but between Sebastian and Tavvi, the platform felt crowded. During the ride, Amos laid out the situation for them.
“We can use the drivers’ ready room,” he said.
“This is quite the layout,” said Tikki.
“Thanks,” said Amos. “I’ll have someone give you the grand tour once you get settled. I’d take you myself but…” He gestured at his bandages. “We’re gettin’ patched up, but till we hear from Jac-son, we won’t know which way to jump.”
Rikki squinted down at Amos from Tavvi’s back. “Yeah, because nothing says, ‘I want to play tour guide’ like a sucking chest wound.”
“It ain’t that bad!” protested Amos.
“Yeah,” said Tavvi. “Sure. What’s the expression? Don’t teach a parent how to suck egg?” Tavvi’s fangs flared. “We’ve all seen it before. Glad you are still with us.”
“Yes, Amos. You should have been wearing your shell.” Sebastian thumped his own for emphasis. “The Xiq’tal have great sympathy for the unarmored. My standing has increased. Perhaps I should get you some Xiq’tal guards.”
“Got caught with our pants down,” Amos said ruefully. “You—” Amos pointed at the Xiq’tal “—can keep your guards to yourself! How I gonna explain that, huh? Last thing we need is more blue crabs in da bayou. Your poor guards would wind up in da pot!” Amos shook his head. “This was ‘sposed to be a little girl’s party, not a shoot-’em-up! And I thought you four was gonna be late?”
“The gate schedule for the last hop got changed, and we were able to take advantage of it,” said Sebastian.
“I’m glad you all here, Jac-son too. I’m sorry our visit gonna be cut short, but I’ll git Greasy to—”
“You—” Amos’ translator let out a strained buzz as Rikki started ramping up, her ear-splitting tirade hovering at the high end of Human hearing. Tavvi started making the chuffing noise that indicated laughter, vibrating so hard that Rikki and Tikki had to climb down from the big Tortantula.
“—and not going to plant us here like a bunch of—” came through Amos’ translator, then cut out again as Rikki continued to roll. Sebastian kept rotating his eye stalks from Amos to Rikki and Tikki to Tavvi. “Louie grabbed that bomb and jetted off like a—”
Sebastian settled in, finally leaving one eye on Amos while the other moved between the other three.
Rikki continued undeterred, “—came halfway across the galaxy and had to travel with Goka! Do you have any idea what a Goka smells like after a week in hyperspace? Just because humans can’t fucking smell anything! If I have to—” Rikki gesticulated, her speech getting faster and louder until she finally finished with something that passed completely out of range while she repeatedly poked Amos in the belly which was as high as she could reach. “And don’t you forget it! Clear?”
Amos looked at the group and just nodded. Sebastian looked at Rikki with both eyes and clicked his fighting claws in appreciation.
Rikki turned away, muttering to Tavvi in low tones. Amos leaned close to Tikki. “What was that all about?” he asked. “I only catch part of it.”
Tikki beamed up at Amos but shook his head. “That was one of the best parade ground Flatari ass-chewings I’ve ever watched Rikki give, and you missed it?”
Amos shrugged helplessly. “I can’t help the translator. What she say?”
“Oh, that,” said Tikki. “She said we’re in.”
Amos’ slate chimed. “Hang on,” he said into the slate. Amos turned to the group. “Well, since ain’t no one taking a pass, y’all are real welcome. Thank you. It means the world to us.”
“Don’t worry, Amos, we are going to get your pup back,” Rikki assured him. Amos just nodded.
Amos turned to the slate. “Go.”
“Amos,” said Greasy, “better head to the kitchen.”
“What’s goin’ on, Greasy?” Amos asked.
“Reinforcements,” Greasy replied.
Amos sighed. “I’ll be right there.” To the group of visiting aliens he said, “Look, I gotta run and put the rest of the fires out.” Amos looked out into the bay, spotted who he was looking for, then keyed a code into his slate. “Babette, can you come to the ready room?”
A figure waved, and a few minutes later a serious woman with long black hair pulled into a braid entered the room.
“What can I do for you, Amos?” she asked.
“Show our friends here to their digs and give ‘em the ten-cent tour,” he replied. “Everyone, this is Babette Cormier; goes by BC. You might remember her from the do for Louie?” There were nods all around. “Show ‘em the pool. Dey like that.”
“Of course,” replied Babette. “This way, please.” As she led them away, he heard Tavvi grousing.
“I do not swim; I sink.”
“So, do I,” said Sebastian.
“You breathe water,” Tavvi pointed out. “It isn’t the same.”
“Maybe we can get you some floats!” joked Tikki.
“I’ll just go with Amos,” Tavvi replied. “Have fun in the pool.”
Amos and the Tortantula headed back to the elevators to take them up to the main plantation building. Unfamiliar voices reached them as the doors opened. The smell of fresh roasted chicory and coffee filled the large kitchen. A compact woman with dark red hair was bustling around, holding court, and directing half a dozen teenagers to various tasks. On the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area were platters piled with sandwiches, cold chicken, several cold salads, bowls of fruit, and an industrial-sized urn of coffee. Someone had even brought in a jug of Lem’s “solvent.” Standing around the counter and in the dining hall were at least a hundred people, about half of which had been invited to Sabine’s party. The rest were friends, acquaintances, and a large contingent of Olympians.
Greasy was leaning against the door jamb, watching the chaos and cradling his ever-present cup of coffee. He gestured with his cup as Amos reached the doorway.
“Southern
fairy tale,” he quipped. “Y’all ain’t gonna believe this shit.”
“Too right!” said Amos.
As people spotted Amos, the room quieted. There was a startled Ooh! as the red-haired woman looked up and bustled toward Amos.
“Amos Delacroix! Why didn’t you call me? I came as soon as I heard. Why, once I had word from dear Elise I came straight here! And a good thing I did, too!” Amos spotted Elise Arton, one of the Cajuns’ younger drivers, turning bright red and staring hard at her plate, trying to disappear altogether. Remmy was sitting next to her and looked as if he was enjoying the show a bit too much.
“You poor man, now you don’t make no fuss, I knew you’d need me! You know nobody gets things handled like I do, or run a kitchen, neither! Present company excepted!” She pulled Amos into a hug and rocked him back and forth. “Don’t you worry ‘bout nothin’ here! You concentrate on getting Bes and Sabine back from dem nasty aliens and let me handle whatever needs doin’ here!”
Amos gestured behind her back to Tavvi, who came to his rescue. “Sorry to interrupt,” Tavvi said, “but is there any Cajun sauce? Sebastian was asking.”
Amos struggled to extricate himself, then stepped back.
The woman turned to find herself about a foot from the Tortantula. Her eyes went wide. She stuttered for a moment, raising a hand to her chest in surprise, then pointed, “It just over there at the end of the counter. If we low, just ask one of my girls for another bottle.” Then she turned back to Amos, hands on her hips.
“We appreciate you coming, but we’ve got things back on track. Have you met my right-hand man? If I have to scoot, Greasy here will be in charge of Sanctuary,” Amos said.
Her expression became determined. “Bullshit! After all—”
“Greasy, meet Granny Arton,” Amos said, cutting her off.
She gave Amos a withering glance. “Now, you know dat only true ‘cause my girls married young.” Then the red-haired woman advanced on Greasy with a calculating look, taking in his casual stance, stained coveralls, and old-style glasses.
