Sons of the Lion

by Jason Cordova

  “Thorpi, when they came to you with the proposal, you said you knew the individual and that it came from a trusted source,” Mulbah said. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t believe I used the word ‘trusted,’” Thorpi corrected. “I said ‘reliable.’ There is a difference.”

  “Still, who gave you the contract?”

  “It was a Veetanho by the name of Leeto,” Thorpi said and exhaled slowly. “She is our mother’s favored daughter and heir to my creche.”

  “Your sister?” Zion asked, cocking his head as he thought back to the discussion they had while still in Miami. “Wait…is this the one you told me about who survived the war in your house?”

  “Yes,” Thorpi nodded. “She is…the favored daughter of General Peepo.”

  That revelation drew gasps from the gathered Humans around the table. The outbursts were almost indecipherable as the African men around the table began swearing and cursing in their pidgin mashup of English and Liberian. Thorpi slumped in his chair as they directed their surprise, shock, and anger at the Veetanho.

  Only Mulbah remained silent, however. The commander of the Kakata Korps had a pensive expression on his face as he waited for his officers to get the griping out of their systems before he tackled the problem. He had always suspected there was more to Thorpi than the alien was letting on, though being the offspring of the Four Horsemen’s greatest enemy was something even he hadn’t considered.

  Mulbah raised a hand and slowly the noise died down as the company commanders all looked at their boss for guidance.

  “First off,” Mulbah said, “I’ve known all along General Peepo was the individual who wrote the contract for us, though she used a proxy to do the actual dirty work. I didn’t think she’d use her own daughter. I also knew there was something Thorpi wasn’t telling us. I figured it was the fact Thorpi kept referring to himself as a ‘he’ when it was obvious he was a smaller female. I’d never heard of a creche sister but I’m sure—” here he looked at Thorpi—“I’ll get some sort of explanation shortly.”

  “So what now, bass?” Samson asked quietly.

  “Before the Blevin took her shots at the president, President Forh asked the Korps to take overall command of the entire Liberian Army,” Mulbah informed them. “I told him I would consider it, but there would be problems.”

  “Yeah, like generals not wanting to listen to some nobody colonel, menh,” Antonious chuckled darkly.

  Mulbah nodded. “That’s one thing. Another is the fact I don’t have any idea how to command 125,000 soldiers. Dozens of mercs? Fairly easy, all things considered.”

  “You let your officers lead the way, bass,” Samson murmured as he ran his open palm across his sweaty bald head. It was obvious to everyone in the room the former child soldier was uncomfortable talking about this. “You let them generals lead their men, but they follow your plan.”

  “You think we can do it, don’t you?” Mulbah asked.

  Samson nodded. “Yeah, bass, I think we can.”

  “Them generals will not be happy,” Antonious added, a sour look on his face. “But they listen to the president. If he tells them what to do, they do it, bass.”

  “Why do you think it’d be a good idea if we did this?” Thorpi asked. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, just that it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Keep reading the information I sent you,” Mulbah instructed the Veetanho. “You’ll find it eventually.”

  “Is this real?” Zion asked a few minutes later. “All of this? Is this…real?”

  “As far as I can tell, yes,” Mulbah nodded. “All of the Blevin’s story checks out. At least, what we can find. A lot of circumstantial evidence supports her files, though, and for a common criminal, she keeps meticulous records. Peepo was either sloppy or simply didn’t care enough to hide the evidence.”

  “Or didn’t think you’d look,” Thorpi suggested.

  Mulbah nodded in agreement. “Or that.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that your own mother didn’t tell you what she was doing to the company you worked for?” Zion asked the alien.

  “No,” Thorpi admitted calmly. “As I told you before, the abuse of a creche sister makes the potential high mother stronger. This is common.”

  “Veetanho are cray,” Antonious grunted.

  “Could be worse,” Thorpi admitted. “I hear the Tortantulas eat one another.”

  “Okay, that’s just…wrong,” Zion said as he paled slightly.

  “Aliens,” Thorpi stated. Mulbah nodded.

  “Bass,” Samson rumbled in his deep voice. “What do they want to do? They trying to set off war in Africa?”

  “It’s all part of their plan to destabilize the world,” Mulbah stated without any doubt in his tone. “Peepo believes her primary objective is subduing Earth. She’s only half-right though. Earth is the center of humanity, but not as important as she believes. The files the Blevin dug up shows Peepo thinks that humanity is defeated since she—and the Merc Guild—controls Earth. She doesn’t have any idea just how wrong she is.”

  “The general thinks linear,” Zion added. “Humans don’t. It makes pacifying Earth next to impossible, and forcing Humans to step in line is difficult at best. There are some ways to do it, and the Tri-V disruptions and rewards for snitching on people shows she is adapting.”

  “She’s learning, menh,” Antonious chuckled darkly. “Don’t mean she got it yet.”

  “Exactly,” Mulbah nodded. “We have an opportunity to prepare. We already know she’s going to come for us. I just don’t know when.”

  “We better be ready then, bass,” Antonious said.

  “We will be,” Mulbah promised them all.

  “What you thinking, bass?” Samson asked.

  “I’m thinking it’s time Peepo learns just how hard it is to tame the wilds of Africa,” Mulbah said, a ruthless smile upon his face.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  SOGA HQ, Sao Paolo, Brazil, Earth

  It felt odd for Peepo to even contemplate it. Take away the basic luxuries of the western districts of the world and they riot. Offer to give the poorest parts the riches of another and they threaten to riot. Granted, one of their most popular leaders had survived an assassination attempt, but it wasn’t as though she had killed the Secretary of the General Assembly or anything. He was a third world leader, at best. Plus, there was absolutely no way anybody could pin the attempt on her. After all, why should the leader of the Mercenary Guild hire a lone assassin when she could bring in an entire army of alien mercs?

  Still, it was something she would need to talk to Captain Beeko about. The attempt had been sloppy, even for a Blevin.

  She let out another sigh and looked around the former SOGA’s office. The Jeha had done an excellent job repairing the damage, as well as removing the blood stains from Zeke Avander, Brantayl, and the other MinSha guards. One could hardly tell a large bomb had detonated in the office, save for a few faint scorch marks left on the ceiling near the door, which she would get around to repairing eventually.

  No, she decided as she peered out the large window and out over the large city. In spite of the attack, life in the megapolis continued onward, its citizenry ignorant, fat, and content with life. Humanity was simply bizarre. These Humans are becoming more and more irritating with each passing breath. Perhaps the best option would be to wipe the species out as a whole?

  They were a nuisance, these Humans, and they were continuously doing things to annoy her. While they persisted in making a hash of things, it wasn’t enough to derail her entire plan, though.

  Peepo sat down at her desk and grabbed her slate from the table. The Middle Kingdom Dragon Guard were situated near the ancient Three Gorges Dam, in the town of Sandouping in the China District across the massive Pacific Ocean. The extraordinary power requirements of the mercenary company had forced the Chinese government to base their HQ there. The dam had seen much repair over the years and, typical of the bureaucr
acy that had befallen its communist builders, substandard materials and shoddy engineering had been used when repairs had been made. It would be almost nothing to send in a fleet of mini drones armed with missiles to take out the dam without alerting anybody as to just why it failed. By the time anybody began to suspect foul play, the planet would be fully under guild control for all time.

  This left Liberia, and here she paused, thinking. How was she supposed to handle a region Humankind itself had left to the dregs for centuries? She wasn’t certain, but historically the area was prone to civil war. However, the Kakata Korps had done an excellent job of securing the area and pacifying most of the major crimes without actually deposing the current leaders. They were the product of their own success, and this was not what she’d had in mind when she offered them the opportunity to quell the region. Worse still, somehow they had all joined some allegiance to promote civil defense and shared information. How could she possibly trigger a civil war when everyone was working to ensure one could never happen again?

  “Hello, Peepo.” Alexis Cromwell suddenly interrupted her musings from the center of the office.

  * * *

  Kakata Korps HQ, Freeport of Monrovia, Liberia District, Earth

  “I’ve never seen so many soldiers, Colonel,” Zion admitted as he watched the next division take their position in line for equipment distribution. He shook his head and looked at Mulbah. “This is insane.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mulbah agreed as he checked the supplies status through his pinplants. They were on track to equip every single soldier in the Liberian Army in advanced combat armor by the end of the week and, given the usual amount of graft that occurred in every army, he was pleasantly surprised to see the losses so far were well below the expected norm. Typical threats of court martialing had little effect on these soldiers. The threat of summary execution under Guild Law, however, was an entirely different matter.

  “How long do we have, do you think?” Zion asked quietly. “Before they come for us?”

  “A month, tops,” Mulbah admitted.

  The news out of China was grim. Over two million civilians dead when the ancient Three Gorges Dam had finally buckled under the immense pressure of the Yangtze River. Investigators were on the scene but already this was being hailed as the worst man-made disaster in Human history.

  Coincidentally, of course, the Middle Kingdom Dragon Guard mercenary company had been wiped out to a man, caught unaware in their downstream headquarters when the dam broke. Many lamented their bad luck and the horrible timing of it all, but Mulbah suspected something other than an accident. It would be well within Peepo’s capabilities to drop a dam and kill two million people just to rid herself of a loose end.

  He cursed his own stupidity and egotistical nature for the tenth time. Peepo had played his own prejudices and fears against him, using his desire for a free Liberia and distrust of others to ignore the warnings which had been sent by the Four Horsemen. Believing every lie he had been fed, Mulbah even helped eliminate quite a few of their competitors while assisting Peepo to strengthen her hold on Earth. There was much blame to be had, and he was responsible for a lot of it.

  Mulbah’s comms chimed, interrupting his self-indulgent pity party. He pulled up his slate and he saw a message from the president. With a sigh, he answered the call.

  “Good afternoon, President Forh,” Mulbah greeted the Liberian president as soon as his face appeared on the slate’s screen. He felt Zion shift next to him as the captain quickly realized who Mulbah was talking to.

  “And to you, Colonel,” the president replied. The busy man got straight to business. “How goes the armament program?”

  “Quickly,” Mulbah admitted. “The soldiers are better trained and have better commanders than I expected. I estimated it would take two months to equip everyone, but we’re close to wrapping it up already. I predict, unless something strange happens, we’ll be ready by the end of the week.”

  “I wanted to inform you the Defense League proposal was passed within the AU this morning,” President Forh stated, referring to the African Union. It was a holdover from the early days of African independence, when the countries first began to govern themselves.

  “Really?” Mulbah was surprised. His best guess was the majority of the northern African countries would reject the proposal outright, half of the remaining would dicker about how many troops they would have to send, with the rest saying they would join and then never following up. To have the bi-partisan support of over a dozen nations was tantamount to a miracle, Mulbah realized.

  “You do realize this means you might have to equip an additional quarter million soldiers, right?” the president asked. Mulbah swallowed and nodded, unsure whether or not they had that much combat armor on hand. In theory they could equip almost 500,000 soldiers, but history had proven expectations didn’t often match reality. They’d been lucky so far, but Mulbah did not want to push it.

  “I’ll have to have more ordered,” Mulbah admitted as he did some mental calculations. Assuming the lack of theft would not keep, he estimated a 10% loss of armor. This meant he should probably order 75,000 more sets of the top-grade combat armor. Remembering his last budget meeting with Zion, he winced at the hit he was about to take.

  “Also, the Nigerians are clamoring for access to CASPers,” the president admitted in an unhappy voice. “I told them I would consider their proposal.”

  This was an easy refusal. “Can’t do it unless they’ve passed their VOWs and graduated from an MTS program,” Mulbah said. “I have current records of all who have managed to, and, trust me, sir, every single one of the Nigerians who have passed are already in my employ. It’s a guild rule, so you can ignore their complaints. You can tell them to kiss my ass…uh, sir.”

  President Forh laughed. “I’ll make certain to pass that along.”

  “Please don’t, Mister President,” Mulbah sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The last thing I want to be responsible for is another diplomatic incident.”

  “You are more tired than I thought if you couldn’t understand the joke,” President Forh lamented. It took Mulbah a full minute to process the information.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he finally answered as his brain caught up. “The past few weeks have been hectic.”

  “I understand,” the president stated. “The Defense League is meeting next week here at the Executive Presidential Mansion to sign the accords. I would like you, Colonel, to be in attendance.”

  “Me, sir?”

  “Yes, you,” the president affirmed. “You’re the reason they all agreed to it. I ignored those fools in South Africa and their Boer merc company, and argued the Egyptians are more Middle Eastern now than African, to point out you are the first and only truly African mercenary commander registered with the guild. This fact alone got everyone on board to sign the accords to create the Defense League, so your mercenary company may grow, all the while remaining within the rules of the AU.”

  “But sir, we’re not, though,” Mulbah protested. “We don’t follow or even acknowledge the rules set by the AU.”

  “I know this, you know this, and the other countries? They all know this,” President Forh said. “But it makes the people happy. They believe you work for the AU. That’s what matters at this point.”

  “If you say so, sir.” Mulbah grunted. “Next week, eh?”

  “Next Monday,” the president confirmed. “I’ll forward you all the details.”

  “Mind if I bring a guest?” Mulbah asked as a sudden flash of inspiration struck him. Make me do a dog and pony show, will you?

  “I don’t see a problem with it,” President Forh said after a momentary pause. “Are you coming in dress uniform, or work?”

  “Work uniform, sir,” Mulbah answered with a smile. “It’s pretty…utilitarian. Plus, we don’t have a dress uniform. No need.”

  “Whatever works for you, Colonel,” the president agreed almost too quickly. “I appreciate you
taking the time to do this. I know how pressing the equipping of the troops is, but you know how politics work. Sometimes you have to do what is necessary to get what you want.”

  Be glad I decided not to be Julius Caesar and treat the Saint Paul River as my own personal Rubicon, Mulbah thought as he recalled the original plan of seizing control of Liberia years ago. He was glad it hadn’t come to that, because the last thing he wanted was a civil war in the midst of everything Peepo and the Mercenary Guild were trying to pull at the moment.

  “Yes, sir, I understand fully,” Mulbah agreed.

  “Thank you again for all your hard work, Colonel,” the president said as he cut the call.

  Mulbah stared at the slate for a moment before he slid it into his jumpsuit pocket.

  Zion nudged Mulbah elbow to get his attention.

  “Trap?” Zion asked.

  “Trap,” Mulbah affirmed. Zion shook his head.

  “Yeah, but who’s setting the trap?”

  “I don’t think the mouse cares who set the cheese in the last moments of his life,” Mulbah murmured as he turned to look back across the expansive warehouse. “Only that the steel bar across its neck is killing him.”

  * * *

  152 Kilometers Northwest of Timbuktu, Mali District, Earth

  “Move your asses!” Samson shouted as the new members of 1st Company struggled to keep up with the veterans. He dimmed the light exposure through his canopy to make it darker inside his suit as the display of his Tri-V brightened slightly. “First Sergeant Simbo! Any man falls behind you and he gets beat, ken?”