Storm Clouds, page 26
part #1 of The Guild Wars Series
The other Cavaliers had their weapons trained on the thousands of unarmed alien mercs. None of them had made a move to help the Veetanho. It had been quite a gamble on Jim’s part. Despite the powerful suits, the hundreds of Oogar could have torn them limb from limb. He’d had a feeling, and Sansar a dream, which led them to where he was now.
Jim looked down at the group of Lumar who’d helped the Veetanho. “Explain,” he said.
“They tell us what to do,” one of the Lumar said.
“Why did you do it?”
“The Veetanho take care of us, other races,” the alien said. “We not do what they say, family won’t be taken care of.”
“You mean they’d kill your family?” Corporal Seamus asked from where he was holding his arm blade against a bleeding Veetanho’s chest.
“The price for failure,” the Lumar said. “Now they will die.”
“Nobody will know you failed,” Jim said.
“They know,” the Lumar said, pointing at the Veetanho Jim was standing on.
“Status?” Jim asked over comms to Sansar.
“All cleaned up,” she said. “No losses.”
“At least on our side,” Bambi said.
“Roger that,” Jim said and looked at the assembled mercs. “As I was saying, I’m going to make you an offer. You are all here because you fought with honor and surrendered when the fight was over. You lost and you have no way home. Fight for us, now.”
“What about them?” the Lumar leader asked.
Jim looked down at the Veetanho commander, who was sneering up at the CASPer standing on her.
“No,” Jim said, shaking his head. “Not me.” He bent over and grabbed the shocked Veetanho, easily hoisting her with his CASPer-enhanced strength, and tossed her. The alien screamed as she crashed to the ground at the feet of the Lumar. “She’s all yours,” he said.
The group of Lumar looked from Jim to the Veetanho and back again. “What do you want us to do?”
“You said they had the power to kill your family. What you do with them is up to you.” The other Cavaliers tossed the rest of the surviving Veetanho to the Lumar as well. “But I think you know what to do.”
The leader of the Lumar walked up to the leader of the Veetanho.
“Get back, you lumbering fool. I am in command here. You will do what I say!”
“Not anymore,” the Lumar said. He snatched the Veetanho off the ground, the smaller alien spitting and screaming at him. Using his two lower arms, the Lumar crushed the Veetanho’s neck.
The other two, regardless of their injuries, tried to run. The rest of the Lumar took care of them in a similarly brutal manner.
“You saw what they tried to do,” Jim said, his voice broadcast over the roar of the alien mercs. “The Peacemakers enforced a ceasefire. The Veetanho just tried to kill a merc unit commander, me. The Besquith working with them attacked this compound as well, again, in violation of the ceasefire. They would force you to fight for them. Is that who you want to follow?”
“No,” someone said.
Jim looked; it was an Oogar. “No!” the Oogar roared again.
“I’m offering a job to those of you who want it. Fight, if you want. Work, if you don’t. Stay if you like or save up your money and hire transport home. If you stay, you can earn the right to become citizens.” Jim was taking a chance on the last point. The Federation Council was against the idea but hadn’t discarded it out of hand. They’d adopted a wait and see attitude, and Jim dearly hoped some of the aliens would play along.
“Can we leave when we want?” a Zuul asked.
“Absolutely. We’re not Veetanho.” A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. “So, who wants a job?”
* * *
Jim rode in the flier with Sansar, feeling uncomfortable in his dress uniform. They were never as forgiving of his round body type as the BDUs were. Still, he’d decided it was necessary tonight.
“You did well out there,” Sansar said.
“Thanks,” he replied.
“Frankly, I was surprised when you tossed the Veetanho to the wolves.”
“They were Lumar, not Besquith.”
Sansar snorted. Jim tried to forget the voice in the back of his mind trying to compel him to crush the alien to death. It would have felt so good.
“The numbers keep going up,” Jim said after a minute. The Houston’s skyline passed by below them, and they crossed over the startown perimeter. “Over a thousand. The more who sign up, the more who go along.”
“A lot won’t be trustworthy,” Sansar pointed out.
“A lot of them will,” Jim countered.
She gave a cross between a nod and a shrug. “If we don’t make some money soon, it won’t matter.”
“I know,” Jim agreed. “The other non-merc ventures are going to take a year or more to spin up. The Maki I’ve talked to said the soonest a Behemoth can visit is a year and a half. Free traders won’t be able to move nearly enough raw hydrocarbons or food stuffs to keep the planet happy.”
“We have to hope Alexis and Nigel shake loose the guild’s moratorium on contracts soon,” Sansar said. The flier began to descend. In moments, it landed in front of the auditorium. A squad of lightly armored Horde were waiting to provide security. Sansar wasn’t sold on the Veetanho infiltration being completely cleaned up.
As they exited the flier, two women walked over to join them. “Jim, this is Captain Tatiana Enkh, Horde Intel. She’s my plus one.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Jim said, nodding to the attractive woman. “This is Lieutenant Ziva Alcuin, commander of my new light scout unit. She’s my…plus one.”
“Ma’am,” Ziva said.
Sansar nodded. “Lieutenant. Light scout, eh? Branching out a bit?”
“Decided to give it a try,” Jim said. Ziva winked at him, and Jim felt his cheeks grow hot. He suddenly wished Splunk had come along. Instead she’d stayed at the apartment to rest. “Shall we go in?”
Sansar looked up at the marquee and shrugged. “This was your idea,” she said. “Might as well.” Tatiana fell in with Sansar and Ziva looked curiously at Jim.
Jim stood up straighter and offered her his arm. He instantly regretted the move. Idiot, what kind of moronic move was that? To his utter astonishment, though, she took the offered gesture, smiling ear to ear. Not a humorous smile, but an actual smile of happiness. As they passed the guards, the press held up Tri-V cameras and shouted questions. Jim couldn’t hear a word; his pulse was pounding too loudly in his ears.
Inside the auditorium, an usher escorted them and their guards to a private box overlooking the stage. Quiet music was playing as a vendor came by offering them snacks. Jim bought some drinks and popcorn for everyone to share as they settled into their seats. Ziva and Tatiana looked expectant; Sansar looked resigned.
“This is awesome,” Ziva said. “I’ve wanted to see this show, but they’re sold out everywhere. I didn’t think they were even coming to Houston.”
“I asked for a special show,” Jim said. Ziva gawked at him. “It might have something to do with my hiring some of their relatives.”
“Sneak,” she said, punching him playfully in the arm. Jim smiled and took a drink of soda. “So, is this a first date?’
“Pphft.” Jim spit soda. “What?”
“Well, you invited me and stuff.”
“Uhm, I…well…”
“We’ll talk about it later,” she said as the lights started to go down. “I think the show is starting.”
“Ladies, gentlemen, and beings from the stars,” a well-trained voice said. “Welcome to this special performance. With no further ado, Purple Rage!”
The curtains pulled back to reveal a rock band-style setup with six huge purple Oogar done up in leather vests, spiked bracelets, piercings, and other typical old-school rock and roll accoutrements. The lead singer, sporting a green reverse mohawk, pumped a massive fist in the air and roared. The crowd roared back, and the drummer began to beat on drums the size of cars.
“Rahhhhhr!” the lead singer roared again, then started repeating in a lower voice, “Let the bodies hit the floor!”
“Oh my God!” Jim yelled, laughing and shaking his head. The crowd was going insane as well. Jim had no idea they were going to do the song. No doubt someone told them it was one of Jim’s favorites.
The lyrics were repetitive, and when Purple Rage got to the second stanza, the lead singer pointed a claw at Jim and started headbanging. Jim yelled and did the same.
“Let my body hit the floor,” Sansar moaned.
Jim didn’t hear her; he was banging his head up and down with the beat. He was having so much fun he forgot to freak out when Ziva slipped her hand into his and kissed him on the cheek.
Sansar massaged her temples and glanced at her watch. It was going to be a long night.
* * * * *
Chapter Twelve
Visitors’ Quarters, Weapons Conglomerate Facility Gamma, Lacabo Prime
Captain Goolooka kept one eye stalk on the doorway as he went about the business of supervising his crew’s training. The crew of the Tushishpa had been on the station for a week, and in that whole time, no one had come to talk with them. For all he knew, there was no one else in the facility, aside from whatever supervisory crew was in place directing the station’s operation. Although he had talked to a couple of them, they had refused to come down to talk with him or to show themselves on camera. All actual contact had been via the station’s robots.
Robots had led them off the ship. While they didn’t appear armed, Goolooka had seen them pull tools and other things from compartments on their bodies, and he thought it likely that they also had weapons secreted on them. And, in a pinch, they could always use their welding torches as weapons.
After exiting the ship, they had followed a glowing pathway to a series of oversized training and living spaces. Giant squad bays had provided housing for his crew, with no distinction given between the officers and enlisted members; everyone stayed in the same set of bunks. As the station was zero gravity, the bunks were mainly a place to strap in and sleep with no frills.
In fact, there were no frills anywhere, although that wasn’t odd for an operational station; everything was based on efficiency. There were basic living spaces—adaptable to a variety of merc races—and mess facilities. There was also a training facility for his crew to jack into via pinplant, and a small autodoc facility for any of the members of his crew who didn’t already have pinplants.
When one of his crew had balked at getting pinplants, the robot staying with them had said that not having pinplants was “inefficient” and that the crewman could either get pinplants or she would be terminated. When face with that choice, she had accepted the pinplants.
Getting information from the robots had been challenging. When asked how long they’d be there, the robot had said, “Ten days.” Having been in shipyards a number of times in his career, Goolooka knew that number was grossly low; it took at least a week to get the first foreman onboard your ship, much less the crews who’d actually be doing the work. And to install the meson weapons he’d been told were coming—what was a meson weapon?—and the power runs, as well as swapping out the engines with more efficient ones? His crew would be lucky to be out in six months. Ten days? No chance. They were probably just being told that to keep them complacent.
The SitCon disconnected his leads and slid back from the training station as the crew began to rotate. The training stations had obviously been built with bigger races in mind; there was enough room for at least three Bakulu at each position.
“What do you think?” Goolooka asked.
“The new weapons are amazing,” the SitCon replied.
“Yes, they are,” Goolooka said, having already gone through what the SitCon was completing. They’d gotten the downloads on the new weapons several days ago. By putting the information to use in the training scenarios, they were better able to understand them and would be able to call up any of the necessary specifications more quickly when needed.
Goolooka didn’t mention that the weapons—as amazing as they were—were also a source of concern. If the weapons were necessary for fighting the Kahraman, it would be warfare at a new and tremendously more frightening level. The amount of damage he’d be able to project was incredible…and if the rumors he’d heard were true, they wouldn’t be enough. The rumors said that one of the races currently holding the line against the Kahraman had been wiped out; that didn’t happen when things were going well.
His thoughts were interrupted as the door—the one that had brought them to the room, and which never opened—opened and a robot trundled into the space.
“Your ship is finished,” it announced unceremoniously. “It is time for you to get aboard and depart.”
“But we were supposed to have another round of training,” Goolooka replied. “There is more we need to know about the new systems that have been added to our ship.”
“You will have seven days in hyperspace to complete the training,” the robot noted. “It is not efficient for you to do it here since your ship has been finished. You can complete it on the way to the Front.”
The robot held out a key. “Upon entry into the system you are going to, insert this into the navigation computer, and it will unlock the astrogation database as well as give you access to all the worlds at the core where fighting is currently taking place.”
“Why don’t we have it loaded now?”
“It is not loaded because we do not want the information getting out to the wrong parties. If the information were loaded now, it is possible that information could be shared and propagated to other species. This must not occur. If civilians or unprepared mercenaries were to travel to any of these systems, they would be slaughtered, and the Kahraman would have access to anything onboard, including their genetic materials.”
Goolooka bobbed an eye stalk. That seemed to make sense. If the Front was truly as bad as they said—and judging from the upgrades his ship had received, it was—anyone who went there unprepared wouldn’t last long.
“What is the turnover procedure?” Goolooka asked. “Slates to sign? Work orders completed? Things like that?”
“There are none,” the robot replied. “Your ship upgrade is complete. There is nothing you need to do other than have your crew proceed to it, get onboard, and leave. It would be most efficient if you would do so now. Failure to cooperate—”
“I know,” Goolooka interrupted. “Any of that will lead to termination. I understand; you’ve made that very clear. We’ll go.”
He led his crew back to the ship, and the command crew continued on to the CIC while the rest of the crew dispersed to their battle stations. Except that the CIC wasn’t where it had been before; the hatchway to get into the CIC was about five meters further forward than it had been.
“Am I missing something?” asked the comms officer, “or did the CIC move?”
“It moved,” Goolooka replied, scanning the bulkhead with all three of his eyes. “But I can’t see a single joint or weld or anything to show where the hatch used to be. It’s almost as if it had never been here.” He followed the rest of the command staff to the new CIC access and entered the space. It looked exactly as it had.
“I expected new stuff,” the helmsman said. “New equipment? Something? But it looks like they just moved the CIC and didn’t do anything else to it.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of new stuff here,” said the TacCon. “What you don’t see is the software that has been changed. ‘It is most efficient if we do not change what you are used to,’” he said, mimicking the robot who had overseen their training. “‘Because of this, we will be keeping your equipment the way it is but improving its operating system and the weapons it controls.’” He bobbed an eye. “Now, instead of lasers, we have meson weapons. Our missiles are new and improved, and our shields have been strengthened. This space and all of its equipment may look the same, but what it controls is vastly different.”
“I know that,” the helmsman said, “because I got the same lecture. I just thought it would look different.”
Goolooka could see some of the promised efficiency as the crew got the ship underway. Since the CIC was configured the same—even if it wasn’t the exact same space—everyone knew where everyone else was and followed the routine which had been established over the past two years of working together.
“Ready to try your new toy?” Goolooka asked the helmsman.
“New toy?” the SitCon asked.
“Yeah,” the helmsman replied. “They’ve modified the hyperspace shunts to make them smaller. With the new engines, we also have enough power to run them. We don’t have to use the stargate anymore.” He turned back to the CO. “Although it isn’t like we can go anywhere else. The next destination is already programmed into the nav computer and can’t be changed.”
The CO handed him the key. “Once we get there, insert this into the system, and it will unlock the database.”
Goolooka scanned the CIC with his eyes. “Is everyone ready?” When everyone indicated their readiness, he turned all three eyes to the helmsman. “It would be efficient for us to go to the Front now. Make the jump before someone decides we’re going too slowly.”
“Yes, sir,” the helmsman replied. “Here we go, to the Front.” He pressed a virtual button on his console. “Hyperspace shunts, engage.”
* * *
Council Chambers, Merc Guild Headquarters, Capital Planet
“This meeting of the Inner Council is now in session,” the Speaker said. “This is a closed meeting to review the findings of the Human representative who was tasked to investigate the contracts of the Forgotten Races. As the contracts were classified, this meeting—and anything we discuss here—is classified and not to be discussed with anyone who isn’t currently present.
