Death World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 5)

by B. V. Larson

  Growling and spitting blood, I reached for his throat. I caught hold of his neck for a moment, squeezing, but I lost my grip. I was gratified to see the shock on his face as my big fingers tore at his shirt and pulled him off-balance.

  Then the needler sang again, and my nerves wouldn’t obey me any longer. I gargled and twitched for a time before dying. I was happy to see Winslade, panting and leaning up against a far wall, waiting at a safe distance for me to die. There were marks on his neck. Red welts that would turn purple by tomorrow.

  I died with a feral grin on my face.

  -22-

  When I slid out of the revival machine’s maw for the second time in a single day, Anne had her hands on her hips instead of crossed under her breasts. Her expression was a mixture of wariness and irritation.

  “Well James? Are we crazy again today?”

  “Nope,” I said, feeling it was true. “Not any more than usual, that is.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “You really got me in trouble, you know that? I’m up on report for letting you out of this chamber. The only thing that’s saving my stripes is the fact you failed to finish off Winslade.”

  “Pity,” I said, sitting up and rubbing my face.

  She looked at me sharply, and I grinned back at her.

  “Just kidding,” I said. “If a man’s got to die, what better way is there to go out than trying to kill Winslade?”

  “What is your problem, exactly?” she demanded.

  I explained about Claver being tortured and revived again, and how the same thing had happened to me once. It was something I had trouble contemplating, even now.

  She nodded slowly. “You were traumatized in a past life, so you took it out on Winslade. You know, your story does make better sense than his did. Winslade claimed Claver went for his gun, and he had to kill him.”

  “Did you see the body?” I asked.

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Two deaths in Winslade’s office in one day? What are the odds?”

  She looked troubled. “If he’s torturing prisoners to death…well…that goes against Hegemony regulations. He could be in trouble for that. Claver is a citizen, after all, and some of the people back at Central actually like him.”

  “Yes, they probably do—but Turov and Winslade don’t.”

  Anne nodded. “Okay, so you had your reasons for going nuts. But I’m asking you again, for confirmation: you feel less angry now, right?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “There was a white heat in my mind before—I couldn’t control it.”

  “Probably a duplication error in the prefrontal cortex,” she said. “That’s the part of the mind that manages our responses to surprises and other stimuli. You couldn’t second-guess your reactions, you just gave into them. That kind of error in a grow is hard to detect.”

  “I can see why,” I said. “What now? Am I under arrest or something?”

  “As I understand it, Winslade is waiting for you in his office.”

  Frowning, I pulled on a uniform. “Do you know what he’s waiting for?”

  “Do you remember what he said when you died? He told me about it.”

  I strained to remember. Things were coming back to me slowly.

  “Oh,” I said as I remembered. “An apology. He said he wanted an apology.”

  “Right. A sincere one.”

  Heaving an angry sigh, I thought it over. It wasn’t the worst possible fate. Maybe I should just do it now and get it over with.

  But somehow, I didn’t want to.

  “Anne?” I asked.

  She’d already moved on, tending to her strange machine.

  “What?” she asked, without looking over her shoulder.

  “Come take a break with me, will you? A short one.”

  “You are still crazy, aren’t you? Do you know how many people are still on my revival list? We’ve only got one machine.”

  “So make another bio and hand off the task. How long has it been since you had some downtime? You can’t revive the entire legion without taking a break.”

  Anne stretched and groaned. She looked at the duty roster displayed on her tapper. I glanced over her shoulder. As I’d figured, she’d already been at it for two solid shifts.

  In the end, she followed me out. The orderlies shook their heads and gawked after us in bemusement. I tried not to notice.

  Over a cup of coffee, she stared at me meaningfully.

  “You’re just trying to delay your fate, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “You mean about apologizing to Winslade? I was hoping for more than that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You have the power—the power to set things right, Anne.”

  She stopped munching on her pastry and put her coffee in front of her mouth to hide her lips. Some of the cameras and drones could read lips, I knew, and I guessed she was trying to prevent that.

  “What are you talking about?” she whispered. “Are you about to go ape again?”

  “Probably not. But just hear me out before you call security.”

  Her eyes slid around the place, and finally landed back on me. “All right. Talk.”

  “Winslade is screwing up, right?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know—well okay, I guess he is. But we’re still alive.”

  “For now, but those aliens will come again. Maybe there will be ten times as many next time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I explained to her what Natasha and Kivi had said about the pods being biological defense systems for the megaflora. That a single plant had generated around fifteen of them in response to our presence. She looked shocked and worried when I finished explaining these things.

  “Here we are,” I said, leaning across the table toward her, “sitting in the legion’s last lifter and waiting around to see what the aliens will do next. What’s our goal? What’s Winslade’s plan? How will he get us out of this?”

  “I don’t know. He must have a plan. He’s in command.”

  “His plan is to torture Claver for information on the enemy. He may or may not get anything useful. In the meantime, we’re close to being wiped as a legion. This lifter is all that’s left. Minotaur is dead.”

  “It’s a grim situation,” she admitted. “But it’s not our job to fix it.”

  I nodded in agreement. “I know. But I also know the stakes are high. Sometimes, you have to take action even if it’s not fully sanctioned.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  “Would you rather have a different person in command right now?”

  She looked at me thoughtfully. “I guess—sure. Winslade’s not the best.”

  “Right. Here’s my point: you and I—right here, right now—we have the power to decide who’s in command.”

  Anne’s eyes widened. “Where do you get these ideas, James? And why am I listening to this?”

  I smiled tiredly. “It’s a curse. I don’t like doing things off-script, really I don’t. But when you see a disaster coming at you, isn’t it your duty to at least try to stop it? Even if it’s some else’s job?”

  Anne sipped her coffee, and she licked her lips. “Who? Who are you suggesting we revive? Do you really think Turov would be better?”

  “Actually, she might be. But there’s another officer in the chain of command that should be alive right now. Only Winslade’s bullshit is keeping him dead.”

  “Tribune Drusus?”

  “Right.”

  She leaned back and she sipped her coffee. She didn’t seem to want to look at me. Her hands shook slightly as she looked into her mug.

  “All right, I’ll do it,” she said at last. “Damn you, James. I’m such a sucker.”

  “If you are, it’s only because you can see the truth. You know I’m right. Drusus or Turov should be running this show. That’s regulations. Winslade is playing God by keeping them dead.”

  “I know.”

  In the past, Anne
had been party to a few off-script revivals. She’d brought me back to life after I’d been sentenced to be permed, for example. Partly because of that, I knew she could be swayed to use her power over life and death if it was for a good cause.

  After Anne was onboard, the rest was easy. We walked back to the revival chamber and dialed in the changes to the queue.

  There was a scare about fifteen minutes later as we were delivering Tribune Drusus, however.

  “Specialist?” an orderly asked Anne. “Primus Winslade wants to talk to you. Have you got your tapper on silent?”

  Anne looked at me. She looked guilty and a little scared. “Sorry—I’ll take the call.”

  She stepped away while I toweled Drusus off and gave him a uniform. The orderly looked back and forth at Anne and me, clearly wondering what the hell I was doing in the chamber and what we were up to. But so far, he hadn’t asked directly.

  “Winslade’s coming down here,” Anne said. “He wants a fresh Claver.”

  “A third one?”

  She nodded grimly.

  Tribune Drusus sat up, bleary-eyed. “What’s this about Claver?” he asked us.

  I turned toward him and smiled. “Good to see you back among the living, sir.”

  “Brief me on our status, Veteran,” Drusus ordered, “very quickly.

  “Gladly, sir.”

  As I talked, Drusus dressed and left the revival chamber. He walked with me toward the upper decks of the lifter. His face grew darker by the second as he listened.

  I gave him a fast run-down. He’d been dead for over two days. Winslade was in overall command of the expedition by default. We’d suffered alien attacks and lost half our remaining troops. Conveniently, I left out everything about Winslade and me fighting in his office, but I did mention we’d revived Claver to question him about the fate of the freighter.

  “I felt I had to act, sir,” I finished. “Specialist Grant shouldn’t be blamed for disobeying orders. I convinced her that regulations were not being followed regarding the designated order of revivals.”

  “Meaning you didn’t like having Winslade in charge of the last few members of this legion?”

  I nodded.

  “Hmm,” Drusus said. “I’ll have to reconsider your actions when I’ve got the current emergency under control. In the meantime—thanks for getting me out of purgatory.”

  “You’re welcome, Tribune.”

  Winslade met up with us before we reached his office. He was coming the other way, probably wondering what the hold-up was down in the revival chamber.

  When he saw Drusus, Winslade’s eyes flashed wide, showing the whites for a brief moment—then he had control of himself again. I don’t think there were two people he would have been less happy to run into right then.

  His left hand clasped his right, making a single popping clap of happiness. A false smile flickered over his mouth.

  “Sir! Tribune Drusus! I’m so glad to see you up and about! I am so glad that we’ve finally gotten past the combat troops and into the upper brass revivals. Great news, that.”

  Drusus gave him a flat stare in return. “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?”

  I stopped following them then. Winslade took a moment to glance back at me. His eyes were full of venom, but I didn’t care.

  He hadn’t gotten an apology out of me, and as far as I was concerned, he never would.

  -23-

  The third version of Claver lasted longer than the first two. I supposed that was due to the fact Tribune Drusus had taken over the interrogation.

  Drusus invited me to the festivities. I was there because I’d heard Claver’s story the first time, and Drusus wanted a fact-checker. Winslade, due to his excesses, wasn’t allowed in the room at all.

  “Let’s go over this carefully,” Drusus said. “You know of these creatures. You call them the Wur. You’ve dealt with them, and you know their points of origin.”

  “Not exactly,” Claver said. “I know they plague the squids. That’s how I first found out about them. They’re like a cancer in the Cephalopod Kingdom. Forgotten worlds, wilderness planets—they start right in the midst of your territory like a deadly fungus quietly growing in a city park. They expand insidiously, covering an entire world with their vegetation.”

  “So, are you saying this forest we’re in is all part of an alien biomass?”

  “Yes. Exactly. The small mobile creatures they spawn—they’re only a defense mechanism, like the white blood cells in our bodies. The gigantic plants themselves, the things you might erroneously call trees—those are our alien opponents.”

  It was hard to fathom. I was used to thinking of plants as mindless and fairly harmless. The idea I was sitting even now at the foot of an evil thinking being, one that couldn’t move but which could grow things that moved for it—the concept was alarming, to say the least.

  “I’m still unclear as to the nature of your interaction with these aliens,” Drusus said. “How did you come to make a deal with them? Why did they chase and attack you?”

  “Hold on a minute, boss,” Claver said, chuckling. “I didn’t make any deals. I just happen to know a few things about them from the squids, that’s all.”

  Drusus shook his head and glanced toward me. “I’m beginning to understand why Winslade lost his patience with this man.”

  Claver’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, sir? Are you planning to torture and kill me just like your primus? Come to think of it, he might have been acting under your orders... Maybe this whole rescue routine is part of your grand plan, cooked up to trick me into giving you information I don’t have. Well sir, let me warn you, Central is going to hear all of this eventually. Central will hear me out!”

  Tribune Drusus seemed unmoved.

  “Yes,” he said. “I am threatening you. Cooperate, or you’ll wish you had.”

  Claver kicked up his foot and stuck out his bare toes, spreading them wide.

  “Start blowing them off, then,” he said. “Just like Winslade did—at your orders! Fiends, the lot of you Varus people.”

  Drusus smiled. “That approach didn’t work for Winslade. And for the record, he operated without my consent. But…his results were still instructive. I’ve got a different fate in store for you, if you should refuse to cooperate.”

  “Refuse to…” Claver sputtered then he cranked his neck around and looked at me. “Are you listening to this? I’m counting on you as a witness when Equestrian Nagata takes down the full report. Abuse, distrust, accusations without grounding—McGill, you’ll back me up in court, won’t you?”

  I stared at him for a moment, thinking. When I had my thoughts lined up, I answered. “I didn’t like the way Winslade treated you. In fact, I tried to kill him for it.”

  Claver brightened and gave me a fierce grin. “You went for Winslade? I love it. Boy, I owe you one for that.”

  Drusus looked uncomfortable, but I pretended not to notice. I didn’t like Winslade, and I’d reacted while in a less controlled state of mind. All that didn’t mean I was in love with Claver, however.

  “Don’t get any big ideas,” I told the prisoner. “I’m not going to save you from every legionnaire that wants a pound of your flesh. You should know that my parents were in the crowd when your ship smashed down into Earth. They were permed out there at the spaceport.”

  Claver licked his lips. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “but that wasn’t my fault.”

  Drusus cleared his throat. “Do I have your attention, Claver? Good. Here’s what will happen if I’m unhappy with your responses from here on out—”

  “This ought to be good,” Claver interrupted, sneering.

  “Hegemony made an agreement with you,” Drusus said, “which allows you to share in the trading rights for resources mined on Gamma Pavonis. It’s stipulated in that agreement that criminal actions void the contract. I will move to declare your contract null and void, and I’ll strip you of your transportation and trading rights, which under—�
��

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Claver said, eyes bulging. “That’s just plain mean! What’s more, it’s counterproductive and illegal. I’ll fight you, every step of the way. You don’t have the authority to—”

  “No? You forget, sir: I’m in command of this expedition. This task force has been granted punitive powers. I could easily execute you permanently—but there might well be another Claver out there somewhere, still operating. No, the best way to gain your cooperation is to attack your source of wealth. Are you listening now?”

  “Yes, Tribune,” Claver said, glowering defiantly.

  “All right then. Let’s hear that story again. This time, make me believe it.”

  I had to hand it to Tribune Drusus. He knew this scoundrel well. Claver would rather die than give up incriminating information. But when faced with the loss of his most lucrative contract, he’d buckled.

  “First, I want assurances,” Claver said. “I want your word my contracts will continue, at your recommendation, if you find my story credible. No matter how happy or unhappy the truth makes you.”

  Drusus considered for a moment. “Agreed,” he said at last.

  “Okay then, good,” Claver’s said. His voice shifted suddenly, and I was under the impression he was speaking plainly and truthfully—perhaps for the first time.

  “Here’s the deal,” he began, “I traded with these plant-people. They’re weird, but they understand payment and the delivery of goods. I found out about them from the squids, just as I said. I thought to myself at the time that I shouldn’t be a bigot, just because they’re plants. These fellows might turn out to be good customers. After all, they operate like rebels inside the Cephalopod Kingdom. So, I contacted them and offered them titanium.”

  So far, I believed his story. Claver always had a nose for deals. He’d trade with anyone—or anything.

  “You see, they need metals,” he continued. “Most of the planets they inhabit are like this one, low-metal worlds. Most species don’t like low-metal worlds as they don’t make good colonial homesteads. But these plants—they don’t need metals .Except, that is, for one thing.”

  “Starships,” Drusus said.