Kingmaker, page 22
part #1 of The Gods That Gamble Series
"No. Keep this clean." She wanted to avoid escalation. It wasn't not a war. Not on this ship. Not between Enforcers. This was all a legal misunderstanding.
But Maria saw the frustration on their faces. Their friends were dying. One man to her left bit his lip until blood trickled down his chin, his finger flipping the blaster switch on his rifle.
"Otgon!" Maria motioned at the man's belt. "Still have a taze-nade?" Non-lethal, should shock the other squad. If they were generous, they wouldn't lob back a grenade of their own.
The man nodded, snapped a cylinder off his belt, and chucked it. Neon sparks arced and crawled across the hallway. No thuds, no screams. A volley of blaster-fire countered.
Then, a cannister rolled into the office. An escalation. It erupted, white, red…
Maria woke with her ears ringing. She struggled to her elbows as the room spun around her. The desk was splintered into frayed wires and glass.
A voice, muffled by the piercing ring: "Captain."
Maria clutched her temples. "Captain, come in."
She pressed a finger to her ear. Warm blood soaked her scalp. "Receiving."
"Need distraction." A deep, affirming voice.
"Ten..." Maria spat, and then pushed herself to her knees. "Ten-four."
Halsey crawled, dragging himself to the door. Maria fumbled for her bolter and fired a shock round. She wobbled over and dragged the unconscious Captain back, leaning his body on top of hers, pressed against the wall. She nested her bolter under his chin.
The room came into focus. A severed arm, bone jutting from the shouldermeat, lay next to her. A woman, a mutineer, convulsed near the doorway, half the skin of her face peeled to her neck. Her helmet clanked sporadically against the floor.
All her soldiers were dead. She escalated the battle, and she got them killed.
She clutched Halsey's neck as the Enforcers surrounded her, nails dug into his flesh. The bolter indented the Captain's skin. "I will fucking do it. Back up. Back up."
The Enforcers steadied and took two steps away, rifles beaded on her.
Maria tucked her arm to the Captain's chest — no Enforcer could risk a shot, even to her hand, without hitting the Captain.
"Inspector, give it up," a short, stocky woman to the right said.
The seven Enforcers stepped forward. Maria flipped a switch on the bolter, changing the ammo to lethal rounds. She aimed the bolter back and forth at the Enforcers. "Which one of you wants to die before you get close, huh? Which one?"
The Enforcers exchanged glances. One on either end of the semi-circle nodded at the other. They shouldered their rifles and rushed.
A bone-white baton whipped into room. It spiraled into an Enforcer's neck, collapsing him in a spasm. Another baton sailed after it and felled another Enforcer.
The stocky woman lunged at Maria. The lights on Maria's flipped the switch and flicked the trigger, knocking the woman square in the forehead. She collapsed, electricity coursing through her.
The other Enforcers scrambled to return fire, but their position, and the decimated office, left little cover. Three volleys of bolter rounds barraged the office. Kegan, Roderick, and four mutineers marched in after the last Enforcer fell.
Roderick gasped as he surveyed the scene. The other mutineers detail stared at the ceiling and tops of the walls, refusing to witness the carnage.
Kegan shook his head at the scene and grunted in a genuine disapproval. Roderick grabbed the Captain, and Kegan helped Maria to her feet.
As they walked out to meet the others in the hangar, Maria cried. Not bawling, but plodded ahead with tears on her cheeks. Kegan let the others pass him and held Maria by the shoulder. "Captain, what happened?"
Maria sniffed, and tossed and turned her head in quick, short jerks. "I killed them. I said to use a taze-nade, and it escalated. They used a real one and. And. I got them killed."
"That it?"
She met Kegan's red eyes.
He shook his head at her. "The enemy, our friends, killed your men."
"Yes, but I—"
"No," he said, as he guided her back to the others. "That is what happened. No other way to think about it."
The crew pressed forward, Halsey slung over Rod's shoulder. Kegan cracked open an ammonia stick and ran it under the Captain's nose. The captive Captain's eyes peeked open as they rounded the corner to the hangar.
Chapter 74
Ramirez: Surrender
Ramirez tripped on the maimed body of one of his men. He took to hovering in the air, strafing left to right, hurling hundreds of bolter rounds into the Enforcers. By now their front lines were heavily armored with helmets and pads on their limbs. The ones that got knocked down quickly leapt back to their feet and shot their lethal laser-fire into them. A volley of white beams scattered a squad to Ramirez's left. Two women lay, one clutching a smoldering hole in her stomach; the other grasping at their severed leg.
"Captain, I'm turning the lasers on."
Silence.
"Maria."
"You'll do no such thing. Stay alive. We're coming."
A handful of men against the hundreds of remaining Enforcers? What was the plan?
"Squad, set rifles to full stream. Aim around them, don't kill them. Just back them off a bit."
"Ramirez, rescind that order!"
"Cap, you don't know what we're—"
"If you turn the lasers on the rank and file, they will start lobbing nades and rockets. Do not escalate! Rescind the order!"
"Rifles on riot, guys. Keep pushing."
His two dozen men were hunkered behind crates and a ruptured cruiser wing. The Enforcers focused on him, but the peppered laser fire glanced off his armor. When scores of Enforcers joined in, sweat rolled across Ramirez's face and arms as his armor scalded his skin. He flew back behind the wing of the cruiser and hunkered next to two squads. A mutineer with ashes across his face pointed a finger into Ramirez's chest. "We're about to die, here. We have to surrender."
"You'll either fry today or hang tomorrow. Keep fighting. It's almost over."
The squads behind the crates lost their cover. They scurried out from the fire and charred metal and dived behind the cruiser wing. All of Ramirez's mutineers, nearly defenseless, gathered in one place.
And the Enforcers swooped in.
"We're about to be surrounded, sir."
"I know."
"We've got to do something, sir."
"I know."
"We —"
Ramirez took to the air, blue and green fire sweeping the sky. He flipped his blaster-cannon to full stream and nested the stock against his knee.
The rank and file were bold, sloppy in their formations, over-confident that the mutineers weren't going to kill them. Ramirez's laser tore into their ranks, he rested on each person for half a second — until he saw the flames lick their uniforms — before he moved to the next. In ten seconds, twenty men and women were on fire, screaming, or silent, their bodies torn in two.
The ranks retreated. Ramirez released the trigger.
The Enforcers regrouped. Commanders shouted into comms. Six long cylindrical tubes passed to the front of the Enforcer ranks, shoulder over shoulder.
Eruptions of yellow flames — six rockets flew toward Ramirez. He fired fullstream at the first two, but the rest moved in. He propelled backward, in circles, as the rockets chased him. He swept a hard left, and a couple crashed into each other, exploding midair. He popped off a few bursts to catch the remaining two.
The rocketeers loaded another round. This time, they were not aiming at Ramirez. He killed his thrusters and fell. Five rockets crashed into the cruiser wing, and his men scattered away from the flames. The sixth caught Ramirez's leg, denting the armor, and slamming his face into the ground. His skull rocked against his helmet.
Ramirez used his blaster-cannon to hoist himself to his feet. Three rockets spiraled toward him, closing in too fast to raise his weapon. Ramirez kicked the blaster-cannon and it sailed across the hangar. It caught the first rocket, and the explosion caught the others.
Three more followed. Their explosions tossed Ramirez back several feet, his onyx armor smoldering. Cool air swept in, his armor shattered at both shoulders. The helmet slid off and the armor parted in half. Ramirez, ejected, stepped out. Rows and rows of blaster-rifles pointed at him.
He grabbed the bolter pistol from his armor and flicked his finger on the trigger, running toward the blasters in full-sprint. The Enforcers pressed their rifles to their shoulders and took aim.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!"
The voice wasn't from a comm. A man's frantic order spat across the hangar. "Stop it all! Stop it! Cease fire!"
The Enforcers parted, weapons down. Ramirez motioned for the mutineers to do the same.
As the ranks separated, a band of soldiers marched through. Kegan, Roderick, and a guard detail surrounded Captain Halsey. Maria followed the Captain closely, her bolter pressed into the small of his back.
The band reached the end of the Enforcers and emerged into the hangar. Only a few ships remained: three cruisers, and a dozen ketches.
Maria and Halsey turned to face the gaffers.
"No more bloodshed," Halsey said. "It's over. Let them go."
Blood streaked Maria's face. She waved over Ramirez's men. The mutineers gathered while Kegan counted them off.
"Twenty, plus us five, are able to fight. Six are maimed."
"Two medkits in a cruiser, one in each ketch. It'll be tight, but four in a ketch with another soldier. Two ketches can fit in a cruiser. Everyone between two cruisers. That should be enough Sproutsleeves."
Roderick inspected each ship, taking particular care to the undersides.
In minutes, the engines were revving. Maria and Ramirez took one cruiser, while the other mutinous officers — Roderick, Kegan, Namira — took the second. The door into the airlock opened, and the two cruisers and four ketches drifted inside. Once the inside door shut, the outside door opened. The six ships cruised into the open, spaceside.
"Roderick," Maria said into the comm. "Make sure we aren't followed."
Inside the hangar, there was an explosion on every remaining ship, their undersides rendered molten.
In the Captain's Cruiser — the new Captain, Inspector PZ — Maria embraced Ramirez. The soldiers whooped at them, but some shook their heads. Crimson streaks ran down both their faces, covered their lips: their kisses tasted like iron.
The crew was bloody, beaten, yet hopeful. There was not much time to heal, nor much time to celebrate. The orange planet that started as a dot now sprawled the cruiser's windshield in an immense horizon.
The silence in the ships matched the silence of space as the mutinous fleet descended onto Mars.
PART FIVE
MERCHANTS OF DEATH
Chapter 75
Kingsmen: A Day Off
Mars, Cloud Two, a few hours after surgery
A text from King came into Jack and Ramir's glasses as they strolled the city. Take the afternoon off, boys. You've earned it. Go grab a drink — have one for me. Swing by before nightfall and we'll go over a few things.
"Don't need to be told twice, King." Jack replied, speech becoming text. "How're you holding up?"
I'll be better knowing you guys are well rested. Talk soon.
Jack was narrating his reply when King sent another message: Keep your wits about you. Don't get plastered. Remember your oaths. No girls.
"Understood, sir," Ramir replied.
"Vacation faithfully executed," Jack replied with a grin.
Cloud Two was cool, simply put. People of all sorts walked up and down the streets. Couples held kids or walked dogs down streets. They walked past two ex-vamps, their skin still pale and their hair regrowing in patchy wisps, dining outside. Teenagers and old men lined up outside the VR dens, waiting for their doors to open. Most buildings were each unique and had exotic paint schemes: purple, silver, swirls of gold and orange. Despite being daylight, the neon signs of the bars and clubs were still on, flashing exuberantly.
"We'll stop in here," Jack said and pointed to an older-looking building a block away. It's sign was nearly fallen over and the walls on the outside looked like they were made of wood. It's sputtering neon sign bore the name Leo's.
"That place?" Ramir questioned.
"Hey now." Jack slapped Ramir on the back and lead them toward the building. "This place is home. It's got live music all day. The people are real. She don't got a pretty face, but you gotta look on the inside, Ramir." He folded his hands over his heart in mock sincerity.
"Yeah I could see why'd you like it," Ramir said, "being from the Sewers." He punched Jack in the shoulder and they both laughed.
It was only the afternoon and the club already had a short line. They got in the back and Jack pulled out a couple of cigarettes and they both smoked them while waiting for the line to go down.
A muscular man greeted people in the line. He saw the Jack and Ramir and walked over.
"Hey boys, name's Leo." He extended a hand. "First time?"
Jack reached out and shook it. "Jack." He politely put hid his cigarette behind his back. "Not my first time, but first time in a while."
Leo brushed Jack's shoulder. "Guessing before the suit?"
Jack and Ramir laughed. Ramir introduced himself and motioned to Jack to offer Leo a cigarette.
Leo refused. "No, no. Hey listen, I don't want two Kingsmen just waiting in line."
"Oh," Jack said. "Sorry, we can go if our presence—"
"No, not like that. Cut the line, come inside. You guys have done so much for this city. One percent tax rate ever since Johnny King took over? Streets cleaner than ever? No vamps bustin' up the joint? Least I can do, come in and half a few on me."
Ramir smiled and started walking forward. Jack stopped him.
"Appreciate it, Leo, but King doesn't like it when we get free stuff. We serve at the pleasure of the people, not for perks."
"Bah, I know you're not greasin' palms or anything. Least I can do. I insist."
Jack hesitated.
"Call King, I'll tell him I insist. Don't rob a man of the joy of giving."
"Fine." Jack chuckled. "But only one round."
Leo marched them to the front of the line. No one batted an eye or cast a glare. Most of the people they walked past smiled, one man gave an awkward salute, and others said a reflexive "Thank you" as they went by.
Inside, the lights were dimmed. The smell of cigarette smoke, lavender, and spilled drinks wafted through the air. Most of the bar was typical, except Leo's still insisted on being staffed by a normal bartender. No buttons pressed, no texts sent, no droids—just a man, the people he served, and the bar between them.
"I've fucking missed this place," Jack said.
Behind them, a stage was set up, and a tightly packed crowd surrounded it. Standing room only, though there wasn't much room in the first place. Blue lights circled the stage and fog—either from the cigarettes or a separate source—drifted in front of the performer. A young woman stood with big puffy black hair, thick white stilettos, black-and-white checkered skirt, and a tiny yellow crop-top. She had a small camera-like droid floating in front of her and had rings on every one of her fingers. She twisted her fingers in the air, clasped her hands together, and made other various motions, some where her arms waved wide and wild, and others where her thumb or finger twitched small and subtly. Every movement produced a note from the overhead sound system. A synthesized trumpet she commanded with her right hand, conducting her fingers in the air as if she were painting mountains. Her left hand was raised and her ring finger and thumb thumped in a predictable pattern as a synthesized bass guitar twanged along to her twitches.
Leo dropped them off at the bar, motioned for the bartender to get their order, and went back to the outside entrance.
"Weird," Jack said, motioning toward the performer. "Leo's never let that synth-crap in here."
"You mean there's usually real music? Instruments? Everything?" Ramir said.
"Hell yeah."
"Hell, this place may be a dive, but it's worth it for that alone. Think I found my new spot."
"What can I get ya, gentleman?" the bartender asked. She was short, dark-skinned, bald, and had three gold piercings on each eyebrow that matched her gold lipstick.
"Little Sewer accent, gal?" Jack grinned.
"A little. What can I get ya? And I mean drinks."
Jack held up a hand. "Understood. I drink Rotgut. What you got on top-shelf for the young prince here?"
Ramir laughed. "Rotgut's fine, too."
Jack stared at Ramir. "Not a contest, man, you really don't have to. You can get something nice, I'll cover you."
"You and King both drink Rotgut, why can't I?"
Jack pat Ramir on the back. "You don't drink much, do you?"
"Fuck off. Two Rotguts."
The bartender smiled and shook her head. "Two Rotguts. For the Kingsmen."
As she fetched the drinks, a foreign tone cut through the music. Jack and Ramir turned to the stage. The performer had her mouth open, her abs tight, sustaining a beautiful high pitched note. It resonated perfectly with the trumpet and, combined with the bass, sounded like a war march.
The crowd cheered.
"That's why Leo made the exception." Jack laughed and clapped along with the crowd.
The bartender returned with two bottles and three shots.
"Rotgut," she said, placing one bottle in front of each of them.
"And the shots?" Ramir said.
"Top-shelf. So you's can compare."
Jack laughed. "And why are there three?"
She winked and lifted one of the shots. The Kingsmen followed suit.
"Cheers," she said. "To a new Mars."
Jack's and Ramir's faces went solemn and they stated, genuinely, "To the people."
They downed the shots. The bartender collected the glasses and said, "Name's Faye by the way. Yell if ya need me."
"And what's her name?" Jack motioned to the stage.
Faye chuckled. "Her name is Fuck Off, She's With Me." She let a grin escape across her face.
