The Black Guard: Book III: The Black Mamba (Black Guard series 3)
Page 1
THE BLACK GUARD
Book III: The Black Mamba
By
C. R. Daems
The Black Guard: Book III: The Black Mamba
Copyright © 2020 by C. R. Daems
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from C. R. Daems.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 9780998325187
Check out all my novels at
talonnovels.com
PROLOGUE
Sasser Mountain: Several Years Earlier
CHAPTER ONE
Vargas: The Screeching Eagle
CHAPTER TWO
Vargas: Princess Isobel
CHAPTER THREE
Vargas: Shopping can be Dangerous
CHAPTER FOUR
Vargas: Colonel Gordan
CHAPTER FIVE
Vargas: Reality 101
CHAPTER SIX
Vargas: They Hear But Don't Assimilate.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sasser Mountain: Interlude from Killing
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sasser Mountain: The Contract
CHAPTER NINE
Draco: Getting Acquainted
CHAPTER TEN
Draco: Rules
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jax: Rest and Reflection
CHAPTER TWELVE
Adalok: Queen Estelle
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Badahoz: Off to a Bad Start
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Quitha: Worth the Risk
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dawar: Suiters can be a pain.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lesothe:
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Zamara: The Scroll
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sassor Mountain: New Contract
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sabretooth: Travel
CHAPTER TWENTY
Uster: Queen Liserli
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Uster: Night Time Entertainment
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Uster: Interrupted sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jax: Socialization
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Safort: Raiders
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Safort: Old adversaries
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Safort: Geraldo
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Safort: Plan Go
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Safort: The Raider's Camp
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Planet: Safort, the Brothel
CHAPTER THIRTY
Planet: Safort, Almost Rat Free
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Planet: Zanoga, A Roll of the Dice
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Planet: Jax, Sasser Mountain
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Planet: Tordova, King Stephan
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Planet: Tordova, Chaos
PROLOGUE
Sasser Mountain: Several Years Earlier
As I strode toward the exercise yard where the new third-phase candidates were lined up, Captain Tyra Creech shouted, "Guard, attention." They bowed low, their eyes cast downward, making them vulnerable to attack, something no Guard would do except to show respect for a senior Guard officer. Creech nodded to me.
"At ease," I said, looking over the eight candidates who had successfully passed the second phase of Guard training and were now corporals, competing for the rank of lieutenant. At most, half would qualify, and only one would go on to phase four with an opportunity to make captain. "The Guard is the elite of the Jax Military...why?"
"Sir," a tall red-haired woman said, and waited permission to continue. The Guard did not recognize gender while on duty; therefore, an officer was Sir regardless of gender. I acknowledged her with a nod. "To qualify for the Guard, we had to exceed the requirements for the army and marines, making us the best of the candidates."
"What about the navy, Corporal Beals?" I asked, removing the satisfying look from her face.
"We were under eight years of age..." A reference to the Jax Inscription Law.
Under the Jax Inscription Law, children under eight years of age went directly into the army school, while children eight or older went to the navy school.
"So, we will never know if you would also have exceeded the navy requirements and are therefore the best of the best, will we?"
In the stunned silence, Captain Creech frowned.
I paced a few steps back and forth before I continued. "Exceeding the requirement for the army and marine schools is the entry requirements into the Guard school, but not the reason we are considered the elite of the Jax Military. A very lofty position when you consider that the Jax Military is considered the elite of the mercenary groups in the known universe. The heads of government contract with the Jax Military because, over the centuries, we have earned their respect with our tradition, take no prisoners, the famous Jax saying which is taken to mean never surrender. They trust the Jax navy and marines to fight their space battles and the army to fight insurgents. But they trust only the Guard with their personal lives. We have demonstrated over the centuries that no one can provide the personal protection we can, not even the elite Jax army, navy, or marines."
"You mentioned tradition, but not duty," Corporal Franklin, a wiry looking man said, eager to be recognized, then quickly added, "Sir."
"Very good, Corporal Franklin. You've discovered the reason Captain Sapir is here: to explain tradition and duty to us," Creech said, and then looked at me and nodded.
"The Jax Military has long considered tradition and duty one and the same. If you followed tradition, take no prisoners, you had done your duty."
"Sir, isn't that still true?" Corporal Reyes, a stocky broad-shouldered man asked while frowning. The expressions on the other seven faces said they had the same question.
"What is true today is the same as in centuries past. If you die fighting, you will have lived up to the Jax tradition and done your duty. The universe will applaud your bravery, but our reputation is built on winning at any cost, not bravery. I doubt the universe feels we did our duty in those instances where our client died. They may concede we fought bravely and honorably, but not that we did our duty under the contract—to protect our client. I would add that in those cases, those in charge also failed in their duty to protect those under their command." I paused to let each person consider my words and a totally new concept.
"But, sir, tradition requires we each be ready to sacrifice our lives to protect our clients, and that extends to those we command. I would think that is our highest priority," Reyes said, to nods of agreement from the rest of the group.
"The Guard is evolving, Corporal Reyes. Our previous standard assignments involved protecting a person or his family inside a permanent structure. However, the Guard has taken on several nonstandard assignments over the past few years. These assignments have earned us recognition as the Black Guard, and will result in our being asked to take on more non-standard assignments."
A tall woman, named Crider I thought, asked, "Sir, haven't we always been referred to as the Black Guard?" Again, everyone looked to be agreeing but unwilling
to comment.
Creech spoke before I could answer. "Yes, Corporal Crider, but that referred to the color of our uniforms. The black now, however, refers to the cost of opposing the Guard—death. Captain Sapir has raised the Guard's already high standards even higher. As a consequence, we anticipate being asked to take on more nonstandard assignments. Those assignments will involve more risk and, correspondingly, more Guards deaths; losses we cannot afford because of our high recruiting standards."
"As Captain Creech points out, the Guard is evolving. This evolution will require us to consider tradition and duty as separate entities, with duty having the highest priority. That is what we will be considering over the next two years. It's a practical and necessary consideration if the Guard is to survive the future," I said, hoping I had the skill to help these new leaders of the Guard see the difference between tradition and duty. The survival of the Black Guard might depend on it.
CHAPTER ONE
Vargas: The Screeching Eagle
I fought for calm as I watched hundreds of pellets lift the body into the air and drive it with a bone-breaking ferocity against the wall. I saw it crumple into a bloody, mangled heap that no longer resembled a human. Two tall muscular men in battle gear walked up to the body and kicked it several times, their faces indifferent, as if they were kicking rubbish out of their way. A final kick to the head caused the half-hidden face to be fully exposed. One side was caved in with bone exposed. Hada Attali's gargoyle-looking face, her eyes open, stared up at me. Her mangled jaw slowly opened, the disjoined parts each moving in a different direction.
"Help me, Rivka," came out as a whispered plea, and I stumbled and fell to one knee. Tears streamed down my face but I made no attempt to wipe them away or to get up. The scene had played over and over in my mind like a broken disk, as I made my way to the top of Sasser Mountain to the shuttle that waited.
I felt a hand under my arm pulling me up. "Sir, there is no rush if you would like some time to catch your breath," Lieutenant Elijah said in a surprisingly normal voice, given her captain was on the ground, crying and unable to rise.
"Thank you, Elijah," I said, looking up at her pale face, wrinkled in concern. "Board the shuttle. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Yes, sir." She nodded, walked the fifty paces back to the shuttle, and entered without looking back. Elijah was an experienced lieutenant who had served with me on serval assignments over the years. She was solid, dependable, and had good judgement, as this incident had demonstrated. Seeing me stumbling, she had taken the initiative and loaded the shuttle, although doing so had violated the normal boarding order–officers first on, first off by rank–and hadn't bombarded me with questions or advice. She knew Captain Attali and I were like blood sisters, and the news of her being shot multiple times would be horrendous. I finished the last twenty steps to the top and stood gazing out over the mountains as I sought that tranquil peace meditation produced. Slowly my heart beat returned to normal, the images pushed away, and the tears stopped. All I could do was hope they had gotten Hada to the Jax cruiser in time to save her life. Worrying would only serve to distract me and maybe get someone killed, without helping Hada.
* * *
When I exited the shuttle into the bay of the Screeching Eagle, the captain stood waiting. I gave a low bow out of respect. He didn't expect anything else. The Black Guard didn't salute or shake hands or bow lower than their ability to maintain eye contact with the other person.
"I'm Captain Hammond, captain of the Screeching Eagle. I understand you and Captain Attali are very close, like sisters," he said, continuing when I nodded. "Early word was that she was seriously wounded by multiple bullets from one or more assault weapons. The latest word is that her team managed to get her transferred to the Crouching Tiger and into the cruiser's medical unit in time to save her life. The message said she wouldn't be fit for duty for several weeks or longer, but should make a full recovery." He smiled, probably at the relief in my eyes.
"Thank you, Captain Hammond. That's going to make the four-day ride on the Screeching Eagle much more enjoyable."
"Good. Lieutenant Sanders will show you to your quarters. If your duties permit, you are welcome to join me and a few of my senior officers for dinner tonight. Say, twenty hundred hours."
"Thank you, Captain, I would be honored," I said, bowed, and followed the young lieutenant out of the bay. My room, with its private bath and single bed, was meant for senior naval officers–full commanders–and the occasional VIP. My captain’s rank would be the equivalent of a full lieutenant in the navy. But the Guard didn't have the navy's equivalent of a captain or commander or lieutenant commander. The lack of medals and awards further emphasized the Guard's uniqueness. The only recognition for performance was the double-dragon award, which was the equivalent of the medal of honor, and the dragon-collar, which was more an honorary title that recognized a level of skill equivalent to winning an Olympic gold medal. The differences left everyone confused–we were Jax military but unlike any other service.
* * *
"Captain Sapir, I would like you to meet my XO, Commander Malone, and Colonel Torres, who is in charge of our marine contingent," Hammond said as I entered the captain's private dining room which could comfortably accommodate ten persons. The captain had a medium build and was average in height. His clean-shaven face was smooth and round, with his white hair cut just over his ears. In a suit, he would have looked the ideal CEO of a major company. His eyes gleamed with intelligence and a penetrating awareness, as he evaluated me. Malone on the other hand had a wiry frame and appeared constantly in motion like a humming bird. His angular face, narrow eyes, and close-cropped hair gave him a stern demeanor. The colonel, by contrast, had the look of an old warhorse with his stocky build, craggy square face, and short brown hair, streaked with gray.
I nodded to each man as I was introduced. "A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen."
"I understand Captain Attali is a close friend of yours. Time for a little payback?" Torres asked with a knowing grin and a sense of approval.
"No. It's seldom personal, just two groups doing what they are paid to do. The attacking group is usually trying to kill the individual we're guarding, and we refuse to get out of the way," I said and stopped to take a sip of water. The comment generated a frown from Torres but nods from Hammond and Malone. "Making it personal would be distracting."
"Distracting?" Torres growled. "They killed several of your men and almost killed a close friend."
"Distracting, as my thoughts would be on retribution, and not on ensuring my troops were properly positioned for both their safety and the client's," I said. "The past cannot be changed, nor would revenge make their deaths more meaningful or less tragic."
"Ironic," Hammond interjected. "Your reputation has you as a heartless and wanton killer. Yet, you are well respected by those who know you, and you appear to be the Jax Committee's trouble shooter."
"Probably depends on one's perspective. If I kill someone you love, then I'm rightfully a heartless and wanton killer regardless of what that person was doing at the time," I said to slowly nodding heads.
CHAPTER TWO
Vargas: Princess Isobel
Four days later, I exited the Screeching Eagle with Lieutenant Elijah, two senior sergeants, and two eight-guard details. The Jax combat shuttle had settled on a landing pad a hundred meters from a two-story building resembling an old-English residence for royalty. Lieutenant Franklin stood waiting with a tall, muscular man in a dark green uniform with a red stripe running down his pant legs, and shoulder boards with three gold pips. He studied me with a stare of distain.
Lieutenant Franklin, Captain Attali's second in command, bowed with his eyes toward the ground, before speaking, "Sir, this is Colonel Dogar, the head of palace security."
"Another woman," Dogar said, while continuing to evaluate me with a look of disapproval.
"Lieutenant Franklin, what happened," I asked, ignoring the colonel and his remark.
"Your guards nearly got the princess killed," the colonel said with a sneer. My eyes never left Franklin.
"Sir. Corporal Franks, whom I managed to question before he died, said Captain Attali, Corporal Franks, and Private Hurley had just left Princess Isobel's quarters and were heading down the hallway to the West Wing when a group of men appeared out of the stairway from the first floor and began shooting. Captain Attali told the princess to retreat back to her quarters as she and Franks returned fire. The princess ignored Captain Attali and began running down the hallway, shouting for the palace guard as she ran. Captain Attali–" Franklin was interrupted by the colonel.
"Better sense than your captain–"
"Lieutenant, continue," I said desperately wanting to understand the circumstances that got two Guards killed and Hada seriously wounded. The colonel was like an irritating bug buzzing around my head.
"Captain Attali followed her while firing at the attackers in an effort to provide her cover, as she had exposed herself by running down the hallway. They killed the attackers but Captain Attali and Franks were seriously injured and Hurley killed while providing the princess cover. Franks died before we could get him to the cruiser's medical ward. The princess was unharmed.
"The princess did the right thing, seeking the protection of the palace guard. Your captain would have gotten them trapped hiding in the princess's quarters. But what can you expect from women except to run and hide."
"Were you there?" I asked, spinning to face the colonel. "Typical know-it-all male. You don't have a clue but you have all the answers." My anger vanished and was replaced by a focused calm so intense I could hear his breathing and sense his every muscle twitch. I awaited his response. Fortunately for him, he backed up a step and moved his hands away from his weapon, but I could sense his rage. "Sergeant Zinn, kill him if he touches his weapon." I turned back to Franklin and nodded for him to continue.
"I also talked to Captain Attali while providing what medical assistance I could until the rest of our detail arrived. The captain said they could have held off the attackers if the princess had retreated back to her quarters as he had ordered–"