Enforcer

by Kevin Ikenberry

  In a flash, Hr’ent understood what Hak had done. That was his real motivation. None of the killers he was about to face could be permitted a second of freedom. It was a manipulation, to be sure, and Hr’ent resented being put in the position, but there it was. Judge. Jury. Executioner. He was an Enforcer or he wasn’t.

  “Time to put up or shut up,” he said as the locks on the far door clanked.

  The door opened and five condemned killers in partial combat armor walked into the room one by one, spreading out as they did. They each wore thick combat vests that Hr’ent surmised might stop his claws. They had shoulder and thigh armor as well, but there was still plenty of flesh exposed, and the thought of smelling…tasting their blood turned the corners of Hr’ent’s muzzle up in anticipation. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest.

  The first two were the Besquith, with deeply matted fur and murder in their eyes. The leader was almost as large as Hr’ent, while the other was much shorter, no more than a hair over two meters. They started snarling the second they stepped into the room, and Hr’ent felt his hackles rise at the mere sound of them. His heart quickened, and he felt his blood begin to rush through his veins. They had claws, but their bone-crushing teeth would be the real threat. Besquith were fast and deadly combatants under any circumstances.

  Next came a heavy-set GenSha, two and a half meters tall, with yellow fur, dark stripes, and a nasty scar across his throat. It looked as if someone had tried to cut his head off with a chain saw, but he’d obviously survived the encounter. GenSha were generally a peaceful race, but Hr’ent had read enough about them to know that when they got angry, they could bash and stomp people to death.

  The last two were pale, Lumar bruisers covered in bulging muscles. Their heads were down, and they glared at Hr’ent from beneath thick brows as they slapped thick metal clubs against their palms. Lumar were slower than Besquith, but getting hit by one of those clubs would be like getting hit by a car. He’d have to be careful. If they broke one of his legs or arms, he’d be in real trouble. Of course, if either of the Besquith latched onto him with those jaws, he would probably be dead in moments, super soldier or not.

  The five condemned prisoners paused for a moment, sizing Hr’ent up. Each one of them got a hungry smile on his face, as if Hr’ent was not only their next meal, but the object of their hatred. Hr’ent was a Peacemaker, the embodiment of everything these beings feared more than anything else in the galaxy.

  Or so they think. The notion blazed through Hr’ent’s mind. He was not a Peacemaker. He was an Enforcer…and their doom.

  Hr’ent twisted his neck and flexed his shoulders, limbering up. He clenched his paws into fists with a loud, staccato popping sound. He sucked in a deep breath, searching for the Feral within. It was time to fully let it off the chain, and for a moment, there was nothing there. No boiling rage. No blood fury. Only the cold hard fact that he was locked in a room with five killers who needed him dead to beat a death sentence.

  Where is it? he thought. A moment of panic gripped him. Where’s the fury?

  The line of killers stepped forward slowly, the Besquith on the right, the Lumar in the middle, and the GenSha on the left. When they were about five meters away, they looked at each other with knowing eyes.

  Hr’ent stared at each one of them, and then he remembered the death warrants. These fuckers had killed innocent people, enslaved them, rained death on dozens, hundreds, even thousands in the case of the GenSha. A spark of rage set Hr’ent’s thoughts ablaze. He was a Feral, and that realization brought memories of Tyl’sharn and her hateful words. He’d wanted to rip her throat out, and that raw, open wound of rejection poured more fuel on his rage. He’d been condemned as a Feral, so why not revel in it once again? In seconds, Hr’ent was a bristling pillar of fury.

  The rumbling growl that had been trembling in his throat grew in volume, building, until his entire body quivered with it. His vision went red. Death. He wanted death. He wanted to taste their blood and make them pay for what they had done to the innocent.

  The smaller Besquith barked out a single command, and all five killers charged forward. The Besquith gnashed their teeth, and the Lumar raised their heavy clubs high, ready to bash Hr’ent’s skull in. When they were a couple of meters away, Hr’ent glanced behind him, sighting the wall at his back, and leapt backward. He sailed through the air, twisted forward 90 degrees, and felt his feet connect with the wall. He collapsed his legs and sprang forward in a flash, roaring a challenge as he angled left toward the GenSha with the cocked fist.

  He rocketed forward, and at the last instant, he shot a punch at the GenSha’s chest with 500 hundred kilos of weight and all his enhanced strength behind it. The GenSha didn’t even have time to look surprised. Hr’ent’s fist connected and there was a meaty crunch that caved in the GenSha’s chest to his spine and sent him flying backward. The GenSha’s insides were pulverized, and a gout of blood erupted from his mouth and nose as if shot from a high-pressure hose. He slammed into the far wall as if he’d been dropped from a five-story building.

  Hr’ent dropped to the ground, all of his momentum transferred to the GenSha’s chest. He instantly rolled sideways as a heavy club slammed into the metal floor with a CLANG that was probably heard throughout the ship. Hr’ent glanced up again and saw the second Lumar’s club coming down toward his leg. In a blur, Hr’ent spun on the floor and lashed out with a kick, putting his strength behind it, as a second CLANG echoed through the ship. His foot connected with the second Lumar’s knee, and there was a loud crack as the joint gave way beneath him. The Lumar howled in pain and toppled over into the larger Besquith. They fell together, roaring at each other.

  The smaller Besquith leapt past the remaining Lumar, his gaping maw a pit of deadly teeth. Hr’ent moved like lightning. He rolled backward, pulled his knees to his chest, and at the last instant, kicked up toward the ceiling. Both feet caught the Besquith in the mid-section and his chest was flattened. Ribs shattered as the raging Besquith yelped on his way to the hard, steel ceiling. He crashed into it, and his second yelp was cut off. Hr’ent rolled again, coming up in a low crouch as the smaller Besquith crashed to the floor.

  The second Lumar roared toward Hr’ent, club held high.

  Hr’ent surged forward and grabbed the Lumar’s club hand in one of his own. The Lumar locked onto Hr’ent’s free arm with an off hand and instantly started battering Hr’ent with body blows that would have broken ribs before the procedure. Hr’ent registered pain along his torso, but it was a faint pulse, barely noticeable through the rage boiling in his blood. He grunted with every blow.

  A dark shadow appeared from behind the Lumar, and a massive claw slashed down at Hr’ent’s arm with the sound of tearing fabric. Fire lanced across his arm as the muzzle of the larger Besquith appeared, jaws wide as it came in to clamp down on Hr’ent’s face.

  Hr’ent tightened his grip on the Lumar’s arms, heard bones break, then twisted his body and heaved the Lumar into the Besquith. Both opponents flew sideways and crashed into the wall.

  Hr’ent didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward and grabbed the Lumar’s leg as it struggled to get off the floor. He pulled as hard as he could, putting his back into it, and with a half-spin, sent the Lumar hurtling toward the far wall. The Lumar flew straight at it and tried to put his arms out to stop his momentum, but it wasn’t enough. The force of the impact twisted his head sideways with a sickening CRACK, and he flopped onto the floor.

  Sensing movement, Hr’ent spun with a roar as the large Besquith hurtled toward him, claws outstretched and teeth bared.

  Hr’ent dropped beneath his last opponent, tumbled sideways, and came up snarling. He was hungry for blood.

  The Besquith landed on all fours, spun, and rose to his feet. He roared at Hr’ent and charged forward, claws extended. The Besquith drew up short and slashed at Hr’ent’s mid-section. Hr’ent realized the Besquith was practically moving in slow motion. He stepped back and shot out a claw, raking it alon
g the back of the Besquith’s arm with the sound of ripping fabric and a spray of crimson.

  Hr’ent smelled blood, and it set his senses reeling.

  The Besquith roared in pain but slashed with the other claw, coming in fast for Hr’ent’s throat. Hr’ent leaned back and slashed again with his own claws, raking them down the Besquith’s other arm. Another splash of blood hit the steel floor.

  The Besquith surged forward, his mouth agape, as he grasped for Hr’ent’s arms. Hr’ent ducked to the side, grabbing one arm as he moved. The Besquith resisted, but he was no match for Hr’ent’s strength. Hr’ent twisted the arm up and behind the Besquith’s back—hard. The arm popped out of its socket with a wet CRACK, and Hr’ent slammed his open maw down on the back of the Besquith’s neck. He bit down hard. Flesh, muscle, and bone parted as he locked onto the doomed Besquith. Hr’ent shook the Besquith back and forth like a rag doll.

  The Besquith roared in pain, slashing behind him with his free paw, his claws finding purchase in the flesh along Hr’ent’s thigh. They dug deep gouges and drew a wash of blood. Fire lanced up Hr’ent’s leg. He bit down harder, ripping out a chunk of muscle and bone. As it came free, he shook his head left and right, sending the chunk of meat flying in a wash of blood that sprayed in all directions. Roaring, he clamped down on the other side of the Besquith’s neck and bit into flesh and bone again.

  The Besquith sagged in Hr’ent’s grip, but the fury pushed him on. He shook his head and ripped out another massive chunk of meat. Blood sprayed onto the ceiling as the Besquith fell to its knees, howling in agony. Hr’ent planted a foot behind the bent knee of the Besquith, pinning his leg to the floor. He grabbed the Besquith’s head with both paws, then heaved upward.

  With a sickening crack of bone and tearing ligaments, the Besquith’s head came free. Twin gouts of blood shot into the air. The dead Besquith fell backward, spraying blood across Hr’ent’s body before thumping onto the floor.

  Hr’ent’s blood pounded in his ears, and he still saw red. He heard movement behind him, and he spun with a snarl to find the remaining Lumar crawling toward the wall, a terrified look on his face. His leg was obviously ruined, bent at a dreadful angle as he dragged it across the floor. The Lumar’s eyes slipped down from Hr’ent’s bloody maw to the decapitated head still clutched in his paws.

  Hr’ent glanced around the room. The GenSha had probably died instantly. He hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen, and a river of blood covered his chin and the front of his combat armor. The second Lumar obviously had a broken neck, and the smaller Besquith lay face-down on the floor, unconscious and breathing shallowly, a small pool of blood seeping from his mouth. Hr’ent sucked in one sharp breath, filling his lungs, then let it out slowly. With it, he pushed the Feral inside him back, pressed it down into the cage where he was learning to keep it under control. The red before his eyes faded quickly, and despite his pounding heart, he felt the rational part of his mind taking control once again.

  Hr’ent locked his eyes on the Lumar and unceremoniously dropped the Besquith’s head onto the floor with a wet, spattering thud.

  “It’s me or the needle,” Hr’ent growled. “Your choice.”

  “Needle,” the Lumar said instantly. “Just stay the fuck away from me!”

  Hr’ent grinned. “Stay there until the guards come in, or I’ll rip your head off.”

  The Lumar held up his hands in absolute submission, and the sight of it gave Hr’ent a thrill like he’d never felt before.

  For a moment, he considered walking over to the Lumar and ripping out its throat. In a flash, he realized that he’d have to be careful. His parentage was Feral, but he was still a law enforcement officer. He intended to keep his honor and self-respect intact. He’d made the offer, and the Lumar had accepted.

  I will never abuse my power, he swore to himself. Let the needle take that bastard to whatever hells awaited such a monster.

  The irony of that thought was not lost on him. He, too, was a monster—without a doubt. He was an unholy terror, capable of the most dreadful violence. But he was the monster that would make evil tremble wherever it tried to hide. He would hunt it down. Find it in the dark…and rip its heart out.

  He took another deep breath, clearing his head a little bit more, and then strode over to the door.

  “It’s over,” he barked. “Now open this gods-forsaken door. I need a shower.”

  There were two clanks, and the door slid open.

  Hr’ent stepped through and found Hak off to the side, slipping something into his pocket. The Deputy Selector gave Hr’ent a satisfactory nod, as if Hr’ent had just run a really fast mile. Hr’ent gave him nothing, only a deadpan face as he held out his paw.

  “The warrants, if you please.” He didn’t ask, and it didn’t matter that Hak was a superior officer. He would always make sure he had in his possession the justification for what he did or the personal experience to make a judgment on his own—one or the other, without exception.

  A curious expression crossed Hak’s face, and then he wordlessly pulled the warrants out and handed them over. Hr’ent, ignoring the blood he was putting on the paperwork, slid the stack of documents into his vest. He would store them someplace safe later on as insurance, if nothing else, but also as a reminder.

  He then turned his eyes to those of the Besquith prison officer. In them he saw something he never thought he’d see in a Besquith—fear.

  “What are you?” the officer asked, staring up at Hr’ent, his eyes full of disbelief.

  Hr’ent grunted once, as if the answer were obvious.

  “I’m an Enforcer,” he said. “Be glad you’re on my side.”

  Without another word, Hr’ent turned abruptly, stepped past Hak without a word, and marched toward the elevator as blood—including some from the gashes on his arm and leg—dripped on the floor leaving a gruesome trail in his wake.

  I am an Enforcer, he thought as the elevator doors opened.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  Transit to Godannii 2 (6 Hours Remaining)

  Peacemaker Blue Flight

  Hak-Chet found the young Oogar intelligence officer hunched over the galley table, her hind paws snugged into foot restraints to hold her in place. She cradled a large bulb of a hot, brown liquid in her paws. With ease, he swung around the bulkhead into the small space and prepared a bulb of cold water for himself.

  Graa’vaa did not look up or acknowledge his presence. He’d studied enough body language to recognize the universal appearance of discomfort. For what it was worth, he couldn’t blame her. The scene they’d witnessed and recorded for posterity’s sake would unsettle any sane person. Hr’ent had been nothing short of astounding…and perfectly brutal. The sheer ferocity of his fight with the prisoners exceeded every expectation Hak had come up with for the enhancement program, and the results would change the scope of the Enforcers for generations to come.

  Graa’vaa, despite her intellect and promise as a staff officer, represented the remainder of the Peacemaker Guild. Not all graduates of the Academy received field assignments. Some were best suited to other departments based on their physical acumen or the talents they developed during coursework. Much discussion centered on recent events and the need for more capable field agents. Many voices in the High Council believed that every Peacemaker should be capable of field operations. Hak-Chet agreed and, indeed, encouraged that belief wherever he thought it was appropriate. If ever there was a back-channel operator, it was Hak, and he prided himself on it.

  The relegation of Peacemakers into staff positions robbed the guild of trained and very capable agents in the field. Was it really necessary to have a Peacemaker at every barracks, whose sole existence appeared to be the preparation of routine reports? There would be a time, sooner than most of the council realized, when the need for Peacemakers to serve every possible role—and not simply one—would be urgent. Individuals like Graa’vaa, once Hak made her a Peacemaker, would excel in op
erations far exceeding their present scope of duty or they would be left by the wayside.

  Hak-Chet studied her for a moment via a reflection in the small microwave oven’s window. Watching Hr’ent’s rampage was troubling for her on two counts. The first was Hr’ent’s status as a Peacemaker and soon-to-be Enforcer—a foregone conclusion, assuming he survived Godannii 2. But what unsettled her more was what she considered his unbridled rage. It was troubling to her, no doubt, because of the ferocity of his attack. For anyone witnessing such an event or its aftermath, there was no mistaking his actions for anything other than a Feral overwhelmed by blood fury, which in their culture was more damning than anything else. Restraint was the civilized Oogar way of life, and the Ferals had no place in their society, and certainly not representing them in the conduct of business in the galaxy. Hak-Chet hesitated to speak, but the young officer clearly wanted a conversation.

  “What in the Five Elemental Hells was that, Deputy Selector?”

  Hak turned and fought a smile that desperately wanted to appear on his face. Graa’vaa did not look up at him.

  “The demonstration?” he asked, sounding deliberately innocent and ignorant.

  “Demonstration?” she barked with loathing and disgust. She looked up at him with her dark eyes blazing. “That was an atrocity…an affront to every civilized Oogar ever born…and to the mission I signed up for. You locked him in a room with five criminals, and he ripped them to pieces. Since when does the guild condone such barbarity?”

  “I take my orders from the Guild Master, Graa’vaa. Tread lightly with your words,” Hak admonished. “You were brought onto this team to support Hr’ent in his development as an Enforcer as we implement the enhancement protocol. What happened on that ship was sanctioned and approved by the Guild Master. Those prisoners—all of them sentenced to death—knew what the stakes were. Had any one of them bested Hr’ent, he would have received his pardon.”