Rogue World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 7)

by B. V. Larson

“Untrue,” Sateekas bubbled. “It makes perfect sense. I should have known from the moment I saw these brave slaves risking their lives to aid my fleet. Who is forever whining about the incompetence and untrustworthiness of humans? Why, you are, Magnate.”

  “My grievances have been filed with good cause,” the Nairb bleated through its translator.

  “Silence!” Sateekas boomed. “I’ve heard enough of your worthless prattle.”

  So saying, he blasted a smoking hole through the Nairbs’ head. This startled me, and I have to admit, put a tiny smile on my face.

  “He will not be revived,” the Grand Admiral admonished his crew. “His file will be purged, and every record of his existence is to be expunged from the Treasury of Erudition.”

  I cleared my throat, and Sateekas whirled back to the camera pickup.

  “There!” he said. “Did you see? Did you witness justice being done?”

  “That was a sight for sore eyes, Grand Admiral,” I assured him. “I’ve never seen a Mogwa serve Galactic Law better than you do.”

  “And it will not end there. Your evidence was conclusive, if shocking. Who would have dreamt the Nairbs were handing Empire secrets to these rogues as you call them? Who would have believed such treachery was even conceivable to this servile race?”

  “Who indeed?” I asked, catching on. I gave Natasha a glance which she didn’t return. She was still white-faced and staring straight ahead.

  Natasha was a rules-follower, born and bred, but it was obvious she’d given the Mogwa Nairb DNA instead of human. Or maybe it was some mix of the two. That she’d pulled it off was the surprising part. People often tried to mimic my trickery, but they typically didn’t have the natural flair for it and failed miserably.

  “It makes too much sense,” the Mogwa continued in the tone of a creature talking to itself. “How could a collection of animals living in the dark out here on the fringe of the fringe build a ship like that? Impossible—without help. The Nairbs provided the guiding light. My only question now is whether they did it for profit or for worse reasons. Could they be rebels in disguise? Snakes hugged to our bosom for so many long centuries?”

  “Best to be sure,” I told him. “My advice is to torture it out of them. Don’t let them squirm and lie, either. Give them everything you’ve got.”

  The Mogwa took a sudden interest in me. He stopped musing to himself and stared out of the screen for a moment.

  “This brings me to my next, sadder duty. No doubt you’ve already surmised what it is.”

  “What?” I asked excitedly. “Is the battle fleet setting course for the Nairb homeworld, with a dozen planet busters cooking in your hold?”

  “No,” Sateekas said. “Only those Nairbs who were on station here in this frontier province will be exterminated. It’s going on right now all over my fleet and throughout the province.”

  “What then, sir? I can’t guess.”

  “Loyal, fierce—but stupid,” he said, looking at me closely. “A perfect combination in any trained animal. Such a grim loss for the Empire. We could use more species like the humans, but so often we end up being forced to delete them.”

  My eyebrows furrowed. I was beginning to get a bad vibe again.

  “Uh…” I said. “What are you talking about, Grand Admiral? Could you spell it out for your most loyal subject?”

  “You humans are to be removed,” he said. “From the cosmos, in your entirety. The rogue-creatures were human. The Nairbs gave them illegal tech, that’s true, they seemed to have mixed genetically with you—disgusting bestial cloning. But you humans aren’t without guilt. Your species accepted this criminal gift. That was your doom.”

  I blinked at the big ugly face on my screen. The Mogwa was right—things weren’t going my way today.

  -63-

  Looking around at my team, I saw shocked expressions across the board. We’d all thought we were in the clear, and learning all over again we were about to get snuffed out as a species was hitting them hard.

  What I was really hoping for was a good idea, as I was fresh out.

  Natasha was my first stop. I fixed her with a wide-eyed stare. She gave it right back to me—putting up her hands and shrugging in the classic “I don’t know” gesture.

  Next, I swept my gaze over the rest, still hoping. So many weren’t on hand: Kivi, Leeson, Graves—hell, I’d even have welcomed a suggestion from Harris, had he been here to share this lovely moment.

  But he wasn’t. None of them were.

  There was one party to this conversation, however, who’d been keeping uncharacteristically quiet. That was Galina Turov. She chose this moment to speak up.

  “Grand Admiral!” she called out in a slightly shrill tone. Maybe panic was beginning to set in down there inside Central. “This person—James McGill—he isn’t the only party involved. Please speak to us and let us make our case.”

  “That would be a gross error,” Sateekas said, gesturing aggressively with his foremost pair of appendages. Flaps of his old skin wobbled where his legs met his lumpy body. “Only the McGill has saved your species until now. He performed optimally, and if there was any way to allow the continuance of this deadly variety of beasts, I’d support it. Unfortunately, Galactic Law is very specific about dangerous animals when they are identified on the frontier. They must be destroyed.”

  Galina didn’t know what to think after that. She stared at Sateekas like a deer in the headlights, uncertain if she should argue or shut up to avoid making things worse.

  “McGill,” hissed a voice to my side.

  I looked, and I was surprised to see Carlos. “What?” I whispered back.

  “You remember when we faced our first Nairb? When we fought the saurian in hand-to-hand at the spaceport on Steel World?”

  Blinking, I did recall the moment. We’d gotten into trouble then, and we’d all been ordered to self-execute. The saurian had done so immediately, but we’d argued until we weaseled out of it.

  “McGill?” boomed the grand admiral.

  I turned back to the screen, looking dumbfounded. “What is it, sir?”

  “Do not besmirch your achievements. Accept your fate with honor. You will be given a footnote—I swear it—and it will be positive in nature. That will be your legacy, and scholars throughout the Empire will be able to find the item in the Imperial Archives… Should they choose, for some reason, to search for it.”

  “Um… that would be a great honor, your excellency,” I said. “I thank you profusely for offering to bless me with such an incalculable gift. But unfortunately, I must file a grievance.”

  “A grievance?” growled the Mogwa. “What’s this? My estimation of the quality of your species is dropping once again just upon hearing those words!”

  “I’m sorry sir, but I feel I must do it. Justice must—”

  “Justice?” the Mogwa demanded. “No, no, this is base cowardice. Self-serving malignancy. I’ve been deceived. You are not the servile creature I thought you to be.”

  “Nevertheless,” I said, “as a citizen of the Empire, I have the right—”

  “No… you don’t,” Sateekas assured me. “That regulation has been abused, and it is waived under these circumstances.”

  “Could you explain, sir?”

  “I’m no Nairb, I’m the Grand Admiral of Battle Fleet 921. You can’t file a grievance only to obstruct justice being meted out against your person, I hereby disallow it. Your species will be exterminated, and now that you’ve dared to complain, there will be no footnote glorifying your species.”

  “That’s a shame, sir,” I said, “but it has nothing to do with what I’m filing a grievance about. I’m filing on behalf of the Nairbs.”

  “What?” the Mogwa asked in confusion. “What for?”

  “For their protection. They are citizens of the Empire as well, aren’t they?”

  “Why, of course they are. What exactly is the nature of your grievance?”

  “Their grievance, sir,” I said
. “I wish to file an official grievance on behalf of the Nairbs. You’re hereby formally notified of my intention to—”

  “Stop! Stop this foul ejectus flying from your mouth-parts! I won’t hear any more of this kind of—”

  About then, a greenish blob popped up its head into view. I saw the grand admiral, who was lunging with multiple limbs, violently reach for the Nairb to shove him aside, but the Nairb ducked.

  “I need council!” I shouted. “Official representation and adjudication!”

  The Nairb burbled frantically into the translator. “Grand Admiral Sateekas—the situation has altered.”

  “Why haven’t you been executed yet?” Sateekas complained.

  “The situation has changed,” the Nairb repeated. “By Galactic statute, we must hear out this primitive’s grievance.”

  Sateekas looked ruffled and angry. His floppy side-gills were rising and falling rapidly.

  “I must remind you, sir,” the Nairb continued, “that every action you take is being recorded and relayed to the Core Worlds. Any violation of Galactic Law will likely result in harsh penalties.”

  “Harsh penalties? Are you daring to threaten a Mogwa commander?”

  “Not at all, Grand Admiral. I’m merely informing you of the legal situation and your status within that framework.”

  “Double-talk!” Sateekas fumed. “This sort of thing is exactly why I wanted you out of the way.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint, sir,” the Nairb said primly. “But I’m quite certain that the human is within his rights to protest on our behalf.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me… Now you’re going to offer a protest to protect him, aren’t you?”

  The Nairb looked startled. His kind wasn’t the corruptible type. They were naturally bureaucratic, more concerned with the rules than the results of their misapplication.

  “I have no such intentions. I’m merely stating the obvious.”

  “Which is?”

  “Grievances on the frontier must be handled by Nairb officials. If you delete all of us in this province, there will be no one to serve this function.”

  “Excellent!” Sateekas said, folding a medial limb and drawing out a weapon from his left side. “Then you’ve discovered the solution to my problems. I’ll remove you first, then the humans, as they won’t have anyone to appeal to.”

  The Nairb drew itself up and stood bravely in front of the weapon muzzle as the sighting frames fluttered and then locked in on the contours of his bulbous head.

  “That would be unwise, Grand Admiral,” he said and closed his eyes against the bright glare of the targeting mechanism.

  “Why?” Sateekas asked. His optical organs slightly constricted into something like a squint.

  “It would be construed as a manipulation of justice. A violation of Galactic Law. Even Mogwa are subject to it. Upon returning to the Core Worlds and making your report, you would likely face charges.”

  The Mogwa relaxed and wagged a gnarled digit at the Nairb. “I doubt that. My report, and the records that will exist at that point in time will show—”

  “I must hereby inform you,” the Nairb said in an official tone, “that the situation has already been relayed to the Admiralty via deep-link.”

  The grand admiral made a gargling noise of shock and rage which failed to be translated into our language.

  “You’ve gone over my head? Already?”

  “Not at all. I’m merely—”

  But Sateekas took a swipe at him, forcing the Nairb to retreat.

  “All right,” the Mogwa said. “Never defeated in battle, but always losing to regulations. I’ll allow your investigation to proceed.”

  Puffing up big and green again, the Nairb turned toward me through the camera pickup.

  “All right then,” he said. “Let’s hear the details of your grievance. Possibly, it will be trivial and tossed out immediately.”

  Now, one has to understand that I’ve dealt with the Nairbs before. The right course with them was never to engage quickly, never to get to a hard conclusion. Investigations could easily take on a life of their own if you did it right.

  “Sir,” I said, “I must consult legal experts before making my formal complaint. My statements were only meant to serve as a notification of my intentions.”

  “Understood,” the Nairb said. “Your comprehension of the process impresses us. How long will you need to organize your statement?”

  “Uh… five months,” I said.

  “Five months!?” boomed Sateekas, unable to contain himself.

  The Nairb adjusted his flippers. “The Grand Admiral is quite right,” he said. “It’s my educated opinion that a matter of this extreme import can’t be formulated so quickly. I would suggest a period of two years at a minimum. We’re talking about a situation spanning several star systems and a population of many thousands.”

  “Damned straight,” I said.

  The two then fell to arguing, the grand admiral aghast at the delay, the Nairb staunchly sticking to his regulations.

  A light touch on my shoulder made me turn and face Natasha. She had a smile on her lips.

  “That was masterful, James,” she said in a whisper.

  I smiled back. “That’s how you handle two ornery swamp-snakes. Tie their tails together and let them fight it out.”

  She chuckled, shaking her head.

  On the screen, the aliens were still going at it. I had the feeling they were going to be doing so for a long time, so I turned down the sound, leaned back in my chair and took a nap.

  -64-

  The next few days were a whirlwind. The battle fleet was stalemated in a legal battle, and I could almost feel their frustration as I stared out the windows of the highest offices in Central.

  “That Sateekas fellow,” I said, “he’s really angry.”

  “That’s right,” Imperator Turov said. “And he’s angry with you. I wonder if we could hand you over and get him to give up on burning Earth…”

  That comment made me turn away from the window. The view through slanted, tinted glass had held my attention for a long time. They’d done a lot of reconstruction on old Central, and the gargantuan pyramid-shape structure was bigger than ever.

  “You’re not serious?” I asked her. “That kind of appeasement could only serve to whet his appetite. You don’t feed a bear part of your sandwich and expect him to go away. He’ll stick around, wanting it all.”

  Turov glowered at me, while Graves and Deech looked thoughtful.

  “Don’t give me any of your backwoods wisdom, McGill,” Turov told me.

  She seemed angrier every time I talked to her, so I shrugged and went back to staring up at the fleet overhead.

  The Galactic ships really were blotting out the sky. There were so many—eight hundred or more—that people claimed portions of the Earth had dropped a few degrees in temperature over recent weeks due to less sunlight reaching the surface.

  No one spoke much for the next several minutes. They did look uncomfortable and uncertain, however.

  Finally, the man we were all waiting for arrived.

  “Equestrian Drusus,” Turov said. “So good to see you. Congratulations, again, on your promotion.”

  Something in her voice as she spoke these words tipped me off. That was it. She was angry because Drusus had gotten credit for our mission. He was in my chain of command, and he had therefore gotten the accolades for keeping Earth from certain destruction.

  “Thank you, Imperator,” Drusus said coldly.

  “Can I ask on behalf of everyone here,” she continued, “why you’ve called this meeting?”

  “Certainly. First of all, I have an announcement to make: I’ve been awarded operational command of Earth’s defenses.”

  Turov smiled, but her teeth were clenched. “That’s wonderful,” she managed to force out.

  Drusus turned to me next. He stepped forward, and a tight smile appeared on his face.

  “Centurion James McGil
l,” he said. “A legend in his own time...”

  “Thank you, Equestrian.”

  Drusus gave me a bemused headshake. “It’s not entirely good—the legend you’ve created.”

  “I’ll take it anyway. It’s rare enough a man gets credit for anything around here.”

  Turov’s eyes flashed when I said that. She took it as a barb—and it had been meant as one. She was infamous for stealing the thunder of everyone around her. The main reason she was pissed off today was she hadn’t managed to convince anyone this solution had been her idea.

  “McGill’s right,” Graves said suddenly.

  Everyone looked at him in surprise. As a general rule, Graves never argued or spoke out of turn when in the presence of superior officers. He was as respectful of authority as he expected his own men to be.

  “What do you mean, Primus?” Drusus asked.

  “McGill deserves credit for this astounding scenario—all of it, I mean. The good, the bad—and the extremely bad.”

  “You’re saying that without his influence, the Mogwa fleet wouldn’t be hanging over our heads like the Sword of Damocles?”

  Graves nodded. “Yes… that, and the deal with the Nairbs. He cut that on the spot without prompting or premeditation.”

  “A miraculous turn of events…” Drusus agreed. “On that point, I’m authorized to present Centurion McGill with a commendation.”

  He produced a small, black box. From this box he extracted a silver four-pointed star.

  Turov’s eyes flew wide. She stared as if mesmerized. “Is that the Dawn Star?” she asked in a hushed tone.

  “Yes. The Ruling Council passed the resolution last night, in a closed session. For his part in this action, McGill is to be recognized as a planetary hero.”

  Turov seemed more stunned than I was.

  “Here,” Drusus said, offering her the sparkling medal. “You can do the honors, as he was below you in the direct chain of command.”

  This seemed to snap her out of it. She took the medal, and then she looked at Deech and Graves. It was sometimes customary to pass the duty of bestowing an honor down to the direct commanders.

  But she passed on that idea. Instead, she took in a deep breath and stepped up to me.