Chapter Seven
Ocono
Peacemaker Cadet Barracks
Hr’ent jammed the last pair of gray fatigues into his military travelsack, wondering if he’d ever have need to wear them again. He stared around the room where he’d spent the past year of his life. There hadn’t been anything on the walls before, so the room looked just as it did when he’d first walked in. His closet was now empty, as well as the dresser, with all of his clothing packed neatly away on top of the Clan Roxtador pelt inside the travelsack. His Peacemaker vest and sidearm had gone in on top of everything else, and what few personal effects he’d stored in the desk went into a rucksack he’d carried with him since his first day at the Academy. He’d already folded the blankets on his bed and recycled his pillow and sheets. That was it. He was ready to go home.
He glanced at his orders poking out of a front pocket on the travelsack.
Home.
He wasn’t sure what the word meant anymore. It certainly was the place of his birth, but what little time he spent with his mother at graduation made it clear that he wasn’t the cub she remembered. And Hak-Chet’s assertion that his father had been a Feral was still percolating inside his head. He didn’t know what to make of it. Should he be angry, as if it were an insult? Should he be offended that the Deputy Selector knew so much more about his heritage than he did? Or was it all just Izlian shit meant to encourage Hr’ent to sign up for some crazy super soldier program and subsequently die in a blaze of glory?
He shook his head, and a timbering growl resonated deep in his chest.
There was only one thing he knew for certain. He had a lot of thinking to do, and only a week—outside of travel time—to do it. It took 170 hours on a starship to get home, and he planned on checking out during the journey. He would use the trip home to rest and relax and clear his head. He didn’t know what facilities would be on the ship, but he was certain there would be a gym and a bar. Those would be enough as far as he was concerned. Once he got home, however, it would be time to square his shit away and decide if he was going to commit to the Peacemaker Guild or go off and join some Oogar merc company. Those were really the only options open to him, and he wasn’t all that happy with either.
“Shit,” he said out loud.
He yanked his flight jacket from the chair and shrugged it on before slinging the rucksack over his shoulders. Taking up the travelsack in one massive paw, he turned and walked out of the room without looking back. He clomped down the stairs, bending his head slightly to clear the low ceilings at every turn.
When he reached the bottom, he heard an excited voice that he knew all too well.
“This is the choicest mission they handed out,” Rsach shouted in a haughty tone. “And they selected us for Godannii 2.”
It’s probably a babysitting mission, Hr’ent thought. Or on some cosmop world with lots of drinking and females.
With an irritated shake of his head, he turned and walked down the hall toward the duty desk where Rsach, Tyrn Govai, and two other new graduates—a Duplato and a Jeha—stood in a small group by the desk. The Duplato, Ven Kobli’bin, was a renowned lackey of Rsach’s with brown fur, shorter than normal claws, and a penchant for legalese. He was a Duplato, after all. The Jeha, Vresh Bulxmiak, had been Rsach’s partner in crime since before they joined the Academy. Hr’ent didn’t know much about her, except the two weren’t mated but they generally did everything together. Like Rsach, her carapace was bluish-gray, albeit a bit paler, and she had the blue, multi-faceted eyes of most Jeha females. Hr’ent didn’t like her as a matter of principle.
He really didn’t want to say anything to them, and the sound of Rsach’s voice made him want to rip the little insect’s head off. He decided to take the high road, however, and not give in to his baser instincts.
“Here comes the big, dumb Oogar,” Rsach said, catching sight of Hr’ent. “And he’s not even wearing his vest and badge.” Rsach cocked his head to the side. “What? Did you finally realize you were never Peacemaker material?”
The other three chuckled as Hr’ent approached wordlessly.
“Nothing to say?” Rsach soothed. “Maybe you just don’t want to admit what we all know.”
Hr’ent blew out an irritated breath, more of a snort than anything else. He aimed for the center of the group and gave no indication that he was going to slow down or turn, forcing them to step aside.
As he passed by, he heard the faint whisper of paper sliding against fabric. He’d taken four steps and was standing in the doorway of the barracks when Rsach’s voice rang out.
“Aww, the big Oogar is going home.” Rsach’s condescension was palpable, and the other three snickered.
Hr’ent froze in his tracks and turned around slowly to find Rsach holding his travel orders. He didn’t snarl. He didn’t growl. He didn’t even bare his teeth. He was, however, at the end of his rope.
“Return it,” Hr’ent said quietly, without moving. His helmet was still in one hand, and his travelsack in the other.
“Admit it,” Rsach said. “The Peacemakers don’t have any use for you. They gave the four of us a high-profile mission to settle a dispute between ISMC and some miners. And you…” Rsach chuckled. “They opted to send you home. Nobody gets a home leave after graduation. It’s unheard of except in cases of severe familial hardship. Is your mommy okay?”
Hr’ent ignored the taunt, putting a fierce grip on the rage burning within. He had no intention of engaging in Rsach’s speculations, opinions, or derision. He walked forward, one heavy step at a time, his eyes never leaving Rsach’s. He stepped directly in front of the diminutive Jeha and stopped within arm’s reach, staring down at Rsach with a dispassionate expression on his face.
“I said, return my property,” he ordered, enunciating as clearly as possible, without any menace in his voice.
“Now, why would I want to do that?” Rsach asked.
In a flash, Hr’ent released the travelsack, and his massive paw shot forward. He grabbed Rsach by the front of his Peacemaker vest before his travelsack hit the floor and, without any effort, jerked the much smaller Peacemaker into the air.
Hr’ent held him well off the ground, Rsach’s many legs flailing, and pulled him in so they were face to face.
“Are you out of your mind?” Rsach sputtered, his forelegs clutching at Hr’ent’s arm in a vain attempt to dislodge himself.
Hr’ent smiled like he was talking to a toddler.
“You really should consider the possibility that I am, in fact, completely out of my mind,” Hr’ent said in a sickly sweet tone. The smile faded as he stared into Rsach’s multi-faceted eyes. “Under those circumstances, I could be capable of anything.”
“Put me down!” Rsach shouted.
“Yeah,” Tyrn barked. “Put him down. He’s the valedictorian for gods’ sake!”
Hr’ent’s demeanor shifted from sweet to terrifying in an instant, and a thrumming growl grew from deep in his chest.
“That doesn’t belong to you.” Hr’ent nodded toward his travel orders, his breath close enough to make Rsach’s antennae quiver. “I’ll put you down just as soon as you place them in the front pocket of my jacket. Do so right now, or we’re all going to find out if you can fly.”
Footsteps approached him from behind.
Rage blossomed, his hackles stood on end, and he snapped his head around with a snarl. His fury-filled eyes met those of Tyrn Govai, who had the good sense to halt his progress, a nervous expression on his face.
“Don’t!” Hr’ent barked, and the message was clear. Tyrn, despite being a clawed Jivool only a half meter shorter than Hr’ent, was flirting with disaster, and they knew it. In every sparring match they’d ever had, Hr’ent had bested him easily. It hadn’t even been a contest.
Ven and Vresh stood up, squaring their shoulders and leaning in. Hr’ent bared his teeth in a fierce grin that would match any Besquith’s.
“Go ahead. See what happens next,” he said with a he
althy dose of hungry malice.
“Win or lose,” Tyrn said, “the four of us will tell the Academy you flew into a rage and attacked us.”
Hr’ent let out a bellowing howl of laughter as he raised Rsach easily in the direction of a surveillance camera at the end of the hall. It and a number of others recorded everyone who entered or exited the barracks, logging the time when they did so to maintain Academy curfews.
“There’s a camera right there, you imbecile,” Hr’ent said. “And another one at the far end of the hall. They’re all over the place.” He stared at Tyrn in disbelief. “A recording will clearly show Rsach stealing my property, my returning to ask for it back, his refusal, and my restraining him as the second official action taken in redressing a crime.” Hr’ent was practically quoting the Peacemaker handbook. “The only crime here is theft, which would very quickly turn into self-defense and the mother of all ass-kickings should the three of you feel stupid enough to intercede in a legal action taken by a duly appointed Peacemaker.” He snorted at Tyrn. “How did you ever manage to get that badge? I’ve known ammo crates with more brains than you.”
“You can’t do this to me!” Rsach squealed.
Hr’ent tilted his head sideways and ran his eyes along Rsach’s body, all the way to the floor and back up again.
“Apparently, I can,” he said slowly, “and the regs back me up.” He glanced at Ven Kobli’bin, the one prone to legalese. “Am I wrong?”
Ven swallowed a bit nervously and then glanced at the camera. His shoulders slumped.
“No,” he replied quietly.
“You’re smarter than your buddy, Ven. You should be proud. Maybe there is a Peacemaker rolling around in that Duplato hide of yours.” Hr’ent focused his attention back on Rsach. “I’m going to say it one last time…out of respect for the class valedictorian…put those travel orders back in my pocket immediately.” His words were icy, and Rsach’s quivering antennae made it clear he was now more nervous than affronted. He clicked his mandibles a few times, struggling with the decision, and then he stopped his struggling, folded the orders, and slipped them into Hr’ent’s jacket.
“Smart move,” Hr’ent said. He dropped Rsach unceremoniously to the ground. The surprised Jeha toppled over in a mass of flailing limbs and ended up on what his people considered an ass.
“And for the record,” Hr’ent said flatly, “I know I’m a better Peacemaker than you are. You’re nothing more than an egotistical little tyrant who is going to get his shit handed to him the first time there’s a real fight.”
He bent over, picked up his travelsack, and turned his back on them without saying another word. As he walked out, he listened carefully for any sign of pursuit or weapons being drawn, but there was merely the silence of cowards.
* * *
Ocono
Pre-flight Aboard Blue Flight
With his flightcycle stowed in the rear cargo bay of an outdated Peacemaker shuttle, and his rucksack and travelsack stowed above his head, Hr’ent did his best to fit into the less-than-optimal seating. A mix of excitement and anxiety wrestled within him. He hadn’t seen home in over three years, and he wanted to feel the air and smell the forests there. However, he knew he would be tangling with what to do about his future, and he didn’t relish the thought. And if his mother was there the entire time, he realized it would be a real pain in the ass to find any quiet time to do some deep-dive thinking. She talked incessantly and liked to throw parties with her corporate friends as well as the local, more affluent members of the community—parties he hated with a passion.
He shifted in his seat, trying to find a place for his knees.
A female Oogar with an Intelligence patch on her shoulder sat across the aisle from him. She was 40 centimeters shorter than him, so she seemed to be sitting a bit more comfortably than he was. She had pale purple fur like his mother’s, but it wasn’t nearly as well groomed. With stern features and an emotionless look on her face, he figured she was headed somewhere she didn’t really want to go. Either that, or she had traveled so much, she just didn’t care. She had a slate in her paw and appeared to be reading intently. As he shifted again in the barely usable seat, she nodded in understanding at his discomfort.
“All of the standard shuttles are like this,” she said dispassionately.
“Great,” Hr’ent replied. He turned one way and then the other before finally giving up, leaning sideways, and sticking his feet off to the side beneath the seat in front of him.
The pilot appeared in the doorway at the head of the aisle. She was a Pendal with tan, almost golden, skin and ice-blue eyes. She wore a Peacemaker vest with the pilot insignia, and she had a burgundy cloak over her shoulders with the hood pulled back.
“Greetings and welcome aboard,” she said with a wide smile. “I’m Lieutenant Emonk, and I’ll be your pilot for a very short hop up to a Besquith Thrustcore currently in orbit. We’ll dock, and once the hatch is green, you’ll be able to board the ship and receive your berth assignments. One of their people will meet you just inside the airlock with all of that information.” She eyed the two massive Oogar. “Are you settled in okay?” she asked, but the expression on her face made it clear she knew the two big bipeds were jammed into their seats.
“Like meat in a crate,” the female Oogar said without taking her eyes off the slate.
The lieutenant smiled apologetically.
“Yeah,” Emonk said with a good deal of compassion. “I see your point.”
“Not your fault.” The female glanced up briefly, offered a faint smile, then returned her eyes to the slate.
Hr’ent was taking an immediate liking to the female Oogar. She was clearly no-nonsense and forthcoming about how uncomfortable she was without blaming the pilot. He nodded.
“How about you, big boy?” the lieutenant asked, turning her attention to Hr’ent.
“I’ll survive,” he replied easily.
“I suspect it would take a good deal more to break you than uncomfortable seating. You’re a real bruiser. I’ll have to lean the shuttle hard to port just to keep us level,” Emonk said with a chuckle.
That got Hr’ent chuckling as well.
The pilot turned and walked down a tight hallway toward the cockpit section. Watching her go, Hr’ent immediately knew that his piloting a shuttle, or any other vessel for that matter, was a fantasy. The pointy ends of flying vehicles tended to be smaller than the rest of the compartments. Hauling his mass into a cockpit would be an exercise in limb-breaking futility.
Not unlike being a Peacemaker, he thought with a soft snort.
“Something the matter?” the female Oogar asked. She hadn’t turned away from the slate, but it was clear he’d disturbed her.
“Sorry,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting, but you’re certainly doing a number on yourself. That’s a bit odd for a graduate fresh out of the Academy. Usually, Peacemakers serve a decade or two before they wonder if they should have been a pilot or a mercenary. At least, that’s what the statistics say.”
“We’re cleared for departure.” Emonk’s voice came from a tiny speaker over their heads. “Here we go.”
Hr’ent felt a quick rush of blood in his ears as the shuttle lifted off from the tarmac, executed a 90-degree turn in a hover, and pitched up, rocketing into the atmosphere. The quick onset of G-forces gave him a moment to collect his faculties and let his embarrassment fade. As the acceleration stabilized, he turned to his cabin mate. “How many of those Peacemakers with second thoughts leave the guild? Resign their commissions?”
“Less than one percent over the last 500 years.” She glanced up from her tablet, and her maw curled in a slight smile. “Don’t be an aberration before your first mission, Hr’ent.”
Another flush. She knows my name.
Well, yeah, dumbass. You’re only the seventh Oogar accepted into the Guild, and she’s in Intelligence. I bet she has your whole file memorized.
“What’s pointing you homeward?” she asked with an accent he recognized. “I’m Graa’vaa, by the way.”
Several tumblers fell into place in Hr’ent’s mind. “You’re from Uuwato, right?”
“I am. I live in Gurm’Dai, just outside Saasarra.” Graa’vaa cocked her head to the side. “We moved there when I was five.”
Hr’ent brightened. “I moved with my Mamma to Saasarra when I was five. Had to be around the same time.”
Graa’vaa shook her head. For the first time, he caught her scent, and it pleased him. Unlike his mother’s fresh-flower necklace, Graa’vaa wore a light, flowery perfume he’d never smelled before, and it was intoxicating. “I’m a little older than you are.”
“No way,” Hr’ent laughed. “I wouldn’t think you were a day over 22.”
“Considering an Oogar cannot apply for employment with the guild or apply to the Academy, itself, until the age of 20, there is no possible way I could be 22. I am 26.”
Hr’ent’s eyebrows bounced up slightly in surprise. She really did appear younger than he was at 24. “Well, you don’t look it.”
“Thank you, Hr’ent.” Graa’vaa smiled. “I believe you were about to tell me why you’re heading home rather than to your first duty station?”
He frowned slightly.
“I requested a special leave to deal with some personal business at home. I’m not sure I want to be a Peacemaker. And then I learned that Deputy Selector Hak-Chet wanted me for a…training opportunity, which only made things worse. I turned him down.” Hr’ent let out a long breath. Hearing himself, he had to wonder if he had made the right decision. He felt torn between so many emotions…fear, pride, ambition, even avarice. And beneath it all, there was the simple fact that his mother wanted him to become a mercenary. Had he gone to the Academy simply to defy her? Was he turning away from the wealth of a mercenary life because of school-boy emotions? Or was there something within him that genuinely drew him to life as a Peacemaker? Do I stand for justice for others or personal gain for myself? In an instant, he had boiled down the very crux of what he was choosing between. Who am I? he asked, and he didn’t have a ready answer.
Enforcer Page 8