Throne world undying mer.., p.1

Throne World (Undying Mercenaries Book 21), page 1

 

Throne World (Undying Mercenaries Book 21)
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Throne World (Undying Mercenaries Book 21)


  SF Books by B. V. Larson:

  The RED COMPANY Series:

  First Strike!

  Discovery

  Contact

  Invasion

  Star Runner Trilogy:

  Star Runner

  Fire Fight

  Androids and Aliens

  Rebel Fleet Series:

  Rebel Fleet

  Orion Fleet

  Alpha Fleet

  Earth Fleet

  Star Force Series:

  Swarm

  Extinction

  Rebellion

  Conquest

  Army of One (Novella)

  Battle Station

  Empire

  Annihilation

  Storm Assault

  The Dead Sun

  Outcast

  Exile

  Demon Star

  Starship Pandora (Audio Drama)

  Visit BVLarson.com for more information.

  THRONE WORLD

  (Undying Mercenaries Series #21)

  by

  B. V. Larson

  The Undying Mercenaries Series:

  Steel World

  Dust World

  Tech World

  Machine World

  Death World

  Home World

  Rogue World

  Blood World

  Dark World

  Storm World

  Armor World

  Clone World

  Glass World

  Edge World

  Green World

  Ice World

  City World

  Sky World

  Jungle World

  Crystal World

  Throne World

  Copyright © 2024 by Iron Tower Press, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

  “Let them hate, so long as they fear.”

  — Emperor Caligula, 38 AD

  -1-

  A few months back, Etta and Derrick had gotten married. They’d tied the knot almost in secret—which made sense to me. Any girl who was marrying a hog should feel ashamed. Anyways, at least this twist of fate was over and done with.

  Or so I thought.

  My momma wasn’t happy. She wanted a real wedding, and she kept carrying on about it for weeks. Finally, Etta relented, and they started planning.

  I was long in the face by April, I don’t mind telling you. By then, they’d managed to stretch out a simple one-and-done ceremony into a giant shindig. In addition to my humiliation over being the father of a hog-bride, I was going to have to shell out big-time for a full-blown spring wedding.

  Naturally, the women were dead set on doing the deed in the backyard. I dutifully pointed out that outdoor weddings were always a gamble. I was against it—hell, I’d been against Etta getting married in the first place—but what young bride ever listened to her daddy when she was planning her big day?

  In the end, we got lucky. The weather was perfect, a nice roll of the dice for an April afternoon in southern Georgia Sector. Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, with a breeze whispering through the blossoming dogwoods. The temperature was comfortable, too. A storm had just ripped through on Thursday, but there was no hint of it left in the blue skies above us today.

  By noontime, the sun cast its warm embrace over the backwoods and the boglands beyond. The winds were even on our side, blowing in fresh, stink-free air from the east.

  As to the venue itself, my tottering momma and all her church-friends had done a bang-up job turning our ratty scrap of land into a private garden. The backyard had been transformed after a great deal of work—much of which consisted of my dad and I dragging rusty farm equipment back around behind the sheds so you couldn’t see it. My dad, grumbling and daunted by the workload, had even rented one of those new-fangled gardening machines that trimmed all the hoary old bushes and saplings automatically. Hell, even the grass in front of my shack was cropped short and plucked weed-free.

  Rows of white chairs were neatly aligned on the newly manicured back lawn. Each chair was adorned with a shiny pink ribbon that fluttered softly in the breeze. At the end of the aisle, one of those flower-arch things stood tall and proud. It was intricately decorated with a cascade of white and pink flowers. A whole henhouse worth of church-ladies had come up with that contraption—but it looked real nice after all the fuss was over and done with.

  Carlos arrived a few hours before the ceremony. He was the only guest I’d asked to attend. Della was here too, of course. She was Etta’s momma, after all. She stood among the bustling women who were putting the final touches on the plastic dining tables where the reception was to be held after the ceremony. She looked even more lost and confused than I did.

  Something bumped my hand—something cold. It was an icy brew.

  “Drink up, big guy,” Carlos said.

  I didn’t need any urging. I upended the bottle and drained half of it, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. I grimaced after that. The rented monkey-suit Etta had put me into now had a stain on the sleeve. I shrugged, uncaring. It would probably soak in and disappear by the time the guests arrived, anyways.

  “I can’t even believe they’re doing this,” I said.

  “What?” Carlos asked, looking at me sharply. “Setting up so much junk for a one-hour ceremony?”

  “No… I mean like… the whole thing…”

  Carlos walked around, narrowing his eyes as he gazed up at me, studying my face. “You don’t like this wedding at all, do you? You don’t approve. Why not?”

  “Uh… nothing. It’s fine. Etta’s old enough. It’s about time she settled down.”

  Carlos was still squinting and trying to figure things out. I was already regretful that I’d said anything negative at all.

  He unwrapped one finger from his brew and pointed with it. “That’s the trouble, isn’t it?”

  I followed his gesture. He was pointing toward Derek, who had just arrived with his best man and a couple of ushers. They were all dressed up like penguins.

  “Nah…” I lied. “The kid’s all right.”

  Frowning, Carlos lifted his arm and began tapping on it. He took a shot of Derek and ran a scan.

  “Ah, come on,” I said, feeling a sinking sensation in my gut. Why had I let Carlos in on my misgivings?

  “What the fuck?” Carlos exclaimed. His eyes sprang wide. “Derek Jensen, Security Specialist, first class…. He’s a frigging hog, McGill! Did you know about this?”

  I heaved a sigh. I shouldn’t have invited Carlos. I should have left well-enough alone.

  “I get it all, now…” Carlos said, staring at Derek and his friends. “That’s why you invited me down here for this, isn’t it? I thought you were just being generous, giving me a fair crack at those bridesmaids in frilly dresses—but no. You brought me down here with work to do.”

  “Huh?”

  He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “How do you want me to do it? Before or after the ceremony? Do you even have a plan?”

  “What the hell are you are talking about, Carlos?”

  “I’m talking about taking out your embarrassment. It’s obvious you couldn’t do this yourself. You need to be standing around in plain sight, so no one can blame you.”

  “Carlos, I don’t want you to kill the kid.”

  He squinted at me. “Are you serious? You’re telling me, right here, right now, that you’re okay with some active-duty hog clapping cheeks with your daughter? You know what he’s doing, right? You know the depravity—”

  I reached down with a big arm. There was a big hand on the end of it, which laid heavily on Carlos’ shoulder. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to kill him. I don’t want you to kill anyone. Just shut up and drink your beer. You’re a guest here—that’s all.”

  Carlos grumbled and eyed me in disbelief now and then, but he did stand down. I watched him, but he made no move, surreptitious or otherwise, to nail Derek. Finally, he decided to chase the bridesmaids and every other available-looking lady in the crowd.

  I was glad to see that. After a time, I relaxed again and was able to enjoy the day as more guests arrived.

  I was enjoying things, that is, until Della decided to pester me.

  “I’ve never been to an Earther wedding before…” she said. “Are these costumes and behaviors all normal?”

  “Yep. This is how we do it—unless it’s raining, then we go inside a church for the festivities.”

  “Most odd… James?”

  “Huh?”

  “Have you… researched Etta’s choice of mates?”

  I eyed her. She was looking good. Her face was a year or two older than her best, as we hadn’t died lately. Not since we’d blown up the space cannon on Crystal World. That had been last year…

  “Uh…” I said. “Researched Derek? What are you talking about?”

  “He’s Hegemony, James. You never mentioned that before. Neither did Etta.”

  Damnation…

  Did everyone have to spy on each other with their tappers these days? It was almost diabolical. A man couldn’t hide anything about himself… no matter how shameful.

  I sighed

. “Yeah, he’s a hog.”

  “You knew about this? And you’re still allowing this farce to continue?”

  “What am I supposed to do about it? The girl is free to make her own choices, you know.”

  Della’s lower jaw jutted out. She was pissed off, and it wasn’t a good look for her. “It’s just like everyone says. The parent goes soft when they spend too much time doting on a single child. Don’t concern yourself. I’ll think of something…”

  That’s when I saw the blade in her hand. It flashed up at me, reflecting a glint of Georgia sunshine. She’d pulled it out from her blouse—fishing it from between her finely tanned breasts—then slid it into her tiny wedding-outfit purse.

  Again, my oversized hands had to take action. I reached out and plucked the purse from her.

  She squawked and squared off with me.

  All of this consternation hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. My momma was hurrying across the yard with a determined look in her eye. She wasn’t going to tolerate any shenanigans on this special day.

  “Now, James,” the old lady said. “You give that lovely lady her purse back. You hear?”

  “Yes, Momma…” I said with an appropriately sheepish look.

  I didn’t cooperate immediately, however. Instead, I brought my knee up and crashed it into the purse. There was a snapping sound.

  Then I handed the purse back to Della. She looked confused. She opened it and pulled out a busted-off handle.

  “You broke my blade? That weapon was forged on Dust World, I’ll have you know!”

  “Yeah, well… leave the next one at home.”

  She left my side in a huff.

  My left hand was dripping blood, so I wrapped it in a napkin until it stopped. The napkin was one of those fancy cloth ones you have to wash—the type they have at swanky restaurants. Not wanting to leave a guest with nothing to wipe their mouth on, I returned it to the table, bloody side down, and stepped quickly away.

  By the time the wedding ceremony finally kicked off, I figured I’d saved Derek’s life a half-dozen times. No one who was remotely associated with Legion Varus wanted to see one of our own permanently hooked to a hog.

  That long list included me, actually. If I’d had my druthers, I’d have stuffed Derek into a recycling chute somewhere and lost his file… but that would have made Etta very unhappy. I knew that, so I pretended things were all good.

  When it came time, I solemnly walked Etta down the aisle and passed her off to Derek. I didn’t grin at the couple—it just wasn’t in me—but I did manage a wintery smile.

  This public humiliation was just one of those things, I figured.

  Later on, someone kicked me awake.

  “At least pretend to be interested, James,” Della hissed at my side.

  I snorted up in my seat, where I’d been sprawling and lolling my head. The praying and the proclaiming was coming to a conclusion at last. Why did officiants always feel the need to talk a man’s ear off at weddings?

  A minute or so later, the preacher-fella announced that it was finally over and done with. Derek lifted the veil and kissed his bride.

  Dear Lord, that was a painful moment for both me and Della to suffer through. She was digging her nails into my left wrist, but that wasn’t the only thing that was upsetting me.

  My little girl was finally growing up. She was twenty-five physically—or thereabouts—and going on forty in the mind.

  Despite that, it all seemed too soon…

  -2-

  After making sure that no one murdered Derek while I wasn’t looking, I drove the two newlyweds all the way down to Orlando. There were plenty of cruise ships leaving the port—it seemed like one left every hour on the hour.

  These ships were different than the old ones from the previous century. Instead of being wallowing, deep-water vessels, they were larger, flatter, and they operated by hovering over the water rather than sinking down into it. Instead of being built of heavy steel, they were all shaped polymers with titanium bones where they needed some strong points.

  Once the two kids were safely aboard the hovercraft, I watched it buzz out over the ocean. I felt safe to leave them behind and steered my parents’ tram northward. I turned on the autopilot, and I relaxed on the long drive back home to Waycross.

  I honestly hoped the two kids would have a good time. They were slated to spend a week in the Caribbean, enjoying the sun on countless beaches, plus some good food. They really did serve good food aboard cruise ships. In fact, just thinking about cruise ship buffets made my mouth water a bit.

  I wondered why I’d never taken Galina on a cruise. Maybe it’d be a good idea… I considered calling her up and discussing the concept, but I never did. Instead, I fell asleep.

  It was pretty late by the time I crossed the border into Georgia Sector. I let the tram buzz along, clanking and shuddering over the old roads. When the vehicle sensed the driver wasn’t awake or paying any attention at all, it always went into safety-mode and slowed down.

  This was irritating, but at least you didn’t have to drive or guide it in any way. But it was frigging slow. It was like being driven home by your grandma—worse than that, even.

  Somewhere around 9 p.m. my forearm started tickling and brought me awake. Someone was calling me on my tapper. They’d managed to wake me up, through sheer repetition and determination.

  Now, since it had been a wedding day and essentially part of my kid’s honeymoon send-off, I’d naturally turned off all forms of messages and direct calls. That’d work for ninety-nine percent of the usual garbage I got every day on my tapper—but not with this caller.

  “James? Damn it, James! Are you asleep?”

  “I sure as hell am, Galina,” I mumbled, stretching in my seat. “Say, what’d you think of my idea?”

  “What idea?” she asked.

  “Oh… wait a minute… I don’t think I even asked you yet, did I?”

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk as well as sleeping?”

  “No, not a drop, I swear.”

  She gazed at me sternly and suspiciously.

  I forced my mind to wake up. “What are you calling me about anyway, girl?”

  “First, I want to know what idea you were thinking of asking me about.”

  “It was nothing at all,” I said. “I was in a stupor. Just dreaming, probably.”

  Her face softened. “You’re dreaming about me?”

  “Of course, I am,” I lied. “I do it all the time. Just look down here,” I said, lowering the viewpoint of my tapper a notch or two. “Here’s the evidence.”

  “That’s disgusting, McGill. You still haven’t told me what idea you were talking about.”

  “Well… I was putting the kids on one of those hovercraft ships, you know, the ones that drive up on all the best beaches all around the Caribbean? They let you get off and play in the water.”

  “Yes, that sounds nice. But I’ve heard they’re very bad for the environment.”

  “I’m sure they are,” I said, not caring at all. “But anyways, I was thinking that you and I could take a trip like that sometime.”

  To my surprise, her face brightened. “You want to take a trip with me?”

  “I sure as hell do. I haven’t had a proper date in a month.”

  “Hmm… That’s very sweet, James… but I have something to discuss. Something that’s far more important. Critical, even.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Do you remember the last time I asked you to go find something for me, and you found it, but you saw no solution?”

  “Huh?” I said, totally baffled as to what she was talking about.

  She sighed. “James, do you recall there is a person—or rather, um, excuse me, a nonperson—who you and I aren’t supposed to mention under any circumstances?”

  I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together in a mix of confusion and hard thinking. I could think of a number of individuals we weren’t supposed to bring up—but then I had it. I knew who she must be talking about.

  “Drusus?” I said. “That’s it! You’re talking about—”

  “No! I’m not, you idiot!” she exclaimed. “That name isn’t one I would ever dare to speak. And you should never utter it, either!”

  “Well then, what the hell are we talking about?”

  “Shut up. Just shut up, James. I don’t know why I try to have phone calls with you. It’s a near impossibility. You don’t have a secretive bone in your body.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

 

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