Nomad's Galaxy

by Craig Martelle

  “The game is afoot!” Terry exclaimed.

  “Leave tomorrow?” Char asked.

  “We just got here. You don’t want to go shopping?” Terry asked, giving Char a sly look.

  “No. Although I do need to replace a number of pairs of shoes that someone made me leave behind.” Char inclined her head giving Terry the hairy eyeball.

  He looked behind him and then pointed at his chest. “You’re talking about me? Who can make you do anything you don’t want to do?”

  “Ever since you seduced me, you’ve been making that claim,” Char said softly.

  “Who climbed in whose bed wearing nothing but panties and breathing hot Werewolf air all over me?”

  “Whoa!” Kaeden yelled. “That’s enough of that. You two need to get a room and work out your frustrations.”

  “We have a whole house that needs to be broken in, sweetie,” Char replied.

  “Make it stop!” Kimber cried, covering her ears. Cory followed suit, slapping her hands over her furry wolf ears.

  Terry and Char both laughed, before Terry sat down. Marcie stood and pointed to a map pinned to the wall.

  “We haven’t told you this before because we didn’t want you to flip out,” she started, speaking evenly while standing in front of the map. She stepped aside and pointed at the pins stuck into six of the seven continents. “There are hundreds of Weres that we’ve discovered. Weretigers, Werebears, and Werewolves.”

  Terry’s jaw dropped. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because we have it handled. You did leave us in charge, remember?” Marcie replied smoothly.

  Terry leaned back, crossed his arms, and clenched his jaw. Char leaned forward and studied the pins in the board.

  “Before you ask, we’ve made contact with most of them, but not a single one was interested in joining the pack. They all have their own things going on, but nothing detrimental to humanity. Some are on our side, but in an odd way.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Terry asked impatiently.

  “You’ll have to get the specifics from Gene, but there is a Werebear in Russia named Boris. He’s running operations in Scandinavia to remove threats to humanity. He has a pretty robust operation with pods, artillery, and everything, it seems.”

  “Akio mentioned him before Gene went to Petersburg. When was that? Sixty, seventy years ago? Where has the time gone?” Terry uncrossed his arms and held his palms up as he shrugged.

  “Boris’s son Olaf has acquired an alien energy weapon that can shoot pods down,” Marcie continued.

  “Tell me that Olaf is friendly.”

  “He’s fine. He’s on our side.”

  Terry breathed a sigh of relief. “How can we get our hands on that?”

  “You need to talk with Gene. Maybe he can introduce you to Olaf, but you need to be careful. Those Weres are not partial to strangers, and I'm sure they won't give up that weapon.” Marcie hesitated, darting looks between Char and Terry. “They have an EI, by the way.”

  “Holy crap! It’s like a blend of Akio and us. How did they stay hidden?”

  “They are on the other side of the world.” Marcie shrugged.

  Terry thought about it for a second. “I’ll buy that. But I see a lot of pins on this side of the world.”

  “They’re scattered. Lone wolves, so to speak. Disorganized. They are no threat, but wanted to be left alone. We had to run most of them down just to talk with them.”

  “Maybe if I…” Terry started, but Char snapped her fingers.

  “You’ve done magnificently,” Char said, cutting TH off. “We trust you’ve done the best that can be done and support whatever decisions you’ve made,” Terry said.

  Char raised one eyebrow.

  “We told them that we’ll leave them alone unless they start killing people, then we’d be back,” Ramses explained.

  “Sounds exactly like what we would have done, doesn’t it, TH?”

  Terry smiled. “Yes. Yes, it does, and your mother’s right. You have done magnificently. Thanks for minding the store.”

  “Party in the hangar. Tonight,” Cory said, smiling.

  “Of course there is,” Terry said and stood, since the short meeting was finished. They knew that the colonel would rather see the developments over the past fifty years than talk about them. They looked forward to introducing him and Char to a whole new world.

  Flying in a pod to Portland

  “We drop off the pack here—” Marcie pointed to the oversized screen at the front of the pod that everyone could clearly see. “—then Dad and I go to the town, rally the troops, and tell them that the exercise has begun. Give us an hour to make sure that we get the weapons unloaded, then do your thing. Your objective is the government building near city center.”

  “A bit away from the original Portland, I see,” Char said, standing and studying the map closely. “Okay. Got it. We’ll see you in the big city.”

  Char winked at her husband.

  The pack grunted and cat-called. Twenty-four bodies filled the pod. The Werewolves minus Ted, the Weretigers including the grown cubs, the Werebear and his son, three Forsaken, Cory, Ramses, and their two girls, Marcie, Kae, and Kimber. With Terry and Char, it was a packed house. Had Fu and Anastasia wanted to come along, they would have had to sit on someone’s lap.

  Someone gasped and started gagging. “GENE!” Marcie yelled, covering her face with her shirt. The Werebear shook his head and pointed at his son, who smiled and shrugged.

  Marcie backhanded him across the chest. It made him laugh. The blow would have cracked the sternum of a lesser soul.

  Terry leaned to Char as he tucked his mouth under his shirt. “I didn’t miss that.”

  The pod jerked and bounced as it stayed barely above the trees on its final approach into a valley to the southwest of the garrison and the city it protected. As soon as the ramp lowered, the pack raced off, leaving Marcie and Terry behind. He manually kept the door open as the pod lifted off and flew slowly in a long arc to the city.

  No one needed to know that the exercise had already begun.

  ***

  “Colonel. It’s good to finally meet you,” the middle-aged captain said, firmly shaking Terry’s hand. The captain had not yet been born when Terry was last active with the Force.

  “It’s good to be back, but I’m only an advisor. That Colonel Walton is in charge,” Terry said, pointing to Marcie.

  The captain had two light gray suns sewn over his left breast pocket. Marcie had four, just like the four on Terry’s new shirt. Lieutenants had one, and majors—like Kim, Kae, and Ramses—had three.

  A simple way to portray the officer ranks that the FDG used. The enlisted ranks were similar, but with lines, instead of bars. Corporal had one, sergeant had two, gunnery sergeant had three, and the new rank of sergeant major had four.

  Terry approved. This was something else they hadn’t bothered sharing. He would have to not just learn to get used to everything that had changed without his knowledge, but to be good with it.

  He said he supported his children.

  Did he?

  Marcie briefed the captain on the unannounced exercise and gave him thirty minutes to bring his warriors up to speed. The captain was surprised, took a moment to gather himself, and then jogged away to pass the word.

  Because everyone loved the word, except when the word changed. They’d been preparing for an inspection and wearing their dress uniforms. They needed to change into full combat gear, do it quickly, and deploy to their duty posts.

  The word would not be well received, but it was the captain’s job to make sure it was carried out.

  Terry never liked those who were good in garrison, but complained about going to the field. The military existed for the sole purpose of dominating the battlefield.

  At the right time, when they were called upon.

  Terry Henry Walton was back, and he’d made the call. He expected this same exchange at every garrison around the
world. Maybe he would tell them combat gear inspection so they wouldn’t have to change clothes.

  Maybe.

  He looked to Marcie and she tapped her stylish Japanese watch.

  The clock was ticking.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Char formed the pack and they started running, heading north to the Columbia River. She planned on approaching from the water, not the hills toward which the garrison seemed to be oriented, even though they had observation posts, OPs, scattered around the city. They focused on the wilds.

  A real enemy would stand on the deck of a ship and sail into port, walking into the city as if she owned the place.

  Which was exactly what Char intended to do. The first thing they needed to find was a boat. She ran hard, forcing the others to keep up. Gene and Bogdan were nimble for their size. Butch and Skippy were perpetually out of shape. The others figured if they stayed ahead of the two lagging Werewolves, they were fine.

  Until Char realized that it was dragging the whole group down. She stopped and stalked back to the group that slowed and then cleared the way for her to pass, ostensibly to yell at Butch and Skippy, but she didn’t. She glared at Sue, Timmons, Shonna, and Merrit, shaking her finger at them in turn.

  “I don’t have to run faster than the bear. I just have to run faster than you, right?” she snarled. Everyone looked down.

  Gene turned his head. “No one run faster than me. No one!” he declared. Char looked at him. Gene rarely got upset, but when he did, buildings shook.

  Bogdan stood next to him, bristling. They’d kept up with Char easily and didn’t understand.

  Char started to chuckle and shook her head. “Not you, my friend. It’s an old saying. When getting chased by a bear, make sure you’re not the one it catches. You are the fastest of us all, Gene. Don’t doubt that. But these slackers aren’t putting out. They’re jogging.”

  Butch and Skippy caught up and immediately doubled over, gasping for air.

  “What is with you?” Char demanded of them.

  “I’ll be good. Just gimme a sec,” Butch stammered. Skippy couldn’t talk and settled for pointing at his mate and nodding.

  Char wasn’t breathing hard. The cooler and less humid air was a comfort for her. She was happy to finally be out of the heat.

  “We’re going to be doing a lot of running. You keep up, or we will drag you,” she warned.

  She took off running again, and the pack bunched around her. Butch and Skippy quickly fell back.

  Char ignored them. Extra training time for you, bitches. It would have been easier to stay in shape, she thought.

  When they reached the water, she slowed to a walk and turned away from the city as she sought a boat.

  It wasn’t long before they found a small marina with a cabin cruiser big enough to carry them all. It looked oddly out of place hogging an entire dock, while the other boats paled in comparison.

  Char approached the first person she saw, a group of children fixing a large fishing net.

  “Good morning, my lovelies,” Char said pleasantly. The children looked at the weaponry she carried and then to the mob behind her. Char rolled her eyes and shook her head. She had expected that they’d wait.

  They didn’t.

  Char looked over her shoulder, her glare freezing the pack in place. She never forgot the pain they went through while training with Akio. The pack needed a refresher. Those who had kept themselves in shape would suffer less.

  “Ignore them. They’re following me, but they’re mostly harmless. I would like to borrow the big boat out there. Can you tell me who I should talk with?” Char pleasantly asked the children.

  As one, they pointed to a shack a short distance away. Char nodded and turned back to the pack. “Stay here,” she ordered, leaving no doubt in any of their minds regarding their options.

  Char smiled at the children as she passed, but they couldn’t see anything as they stopped what they were doing and stared at the strangers.

  The last thing Char saw was Cory, Sylvia, and Sarah walking toward the children, talking softly.

  The shack seemed ill-suited for one with enough wealth to own and operate the large cabin cruiser. Char checked the time and found out that the exercise had been underway for over an hour. She wasn’t in a hurry. They had until the morning.

  Char knocked and put on a winning smile.

  A teenaged boy answered the door and looked Char up and down before asking, “Can I help you?”

  “We’d like to borrow the big cabin cruiser at the end of the dock. Who do we talk to?”

  “That would be me,” he replied, offering nothing else.

  Char tried not to reach out and grab him by the throat. She smiled instead. “We’d like to borrow your boat.”

  “What are you willing to pay?” the boy asked, looking at Char’s hips and pointing to her pistols.

  “These? I’m pretty sure I can’t do that. How about you take us for a ride? We only want dropped off in Portland. Come on, now. Take us up the river and drop us off. We’ll refill your fuel or treat you to dinner, or something like that.”

  “Fuel and dinner? I’ve had better offers than that,” the boy countered.

  “Not from me, you haven’t. Come on. Time’s wasting.” Char turned and walked away, signaling the pack to head to the boat.

  Char walked twenty feet before noting that there weren’t any footsteps behind her. “Well?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Coming,” the boy conceded. Char continued toward the dock, stopping to thank the children for their help. Cory was with them, calming them as she was able to do.

  The young man stopped and stared at the two young women standing by the children.

  “What are you looking at?” Sarah snapped at her fellow teenager.

  “Beauty as has never stood on this dock before. Shining like a new sun, forcing the storm clouds away, casting its light like glory itself. I am smitten,” the young man said, bowing.

  “Was that English?” Sylvia asked her sister.

  “I think it was poetry,” Char said, leaning close to study the young man’s face.

  “My mother, rest her soul, said that words and actions are the two things that define us. One creates the perception; the other, reality.”

  “You don’t meet many girls, do you?” Sylvia asked.

  He shrugged with a half-smile. “No.”

  Sarah smiled back. “When you do, you’re going to be just fine.” She turned, grabbed her sister’s arm, and headed for the boat.

  The pack strolled down the dock and boarded the cruiser. Char cautioned the mob while they waited for the boy. “Don’t say a word. Just accept his help in taking us up the river to Portland.”

  The boy boarded and worked his way to the pilot’s seat. As big as the cabin cruiser was, the pack made for a tight squeeze.

  Once the engine roared to life, Char cast off the lines and jumped aboard. She worked her way up front to watch the approach. “Gene. Bogdan. Get down or do something to make yourselves look small,” she ordered, giving the rest a casual once-over. She removed her pistols, watching as the boy eyed them.

  Char stuffed them into her backpack, waving at Kim, Kae, Marcie, and Ramses to keep their rifles out of sight. The teenager expertly drove the boat away from the dock and exited the small marina a little more quickly than was prudent, but he was the big fish in the small pond.

  “How did you come into the possession of such a fine item as this?” Char asked as she caressed the rail and looked down the clean lines of the cabin cruiser.

  “Pops had this boat. Rebuilt it, added some import tech, and babied it after that. Then, he and Mom both got sick and died, left me everything. In his remaining time, he taught me all he knew about the boat. This was his pride and joy. It’s mine now and I want to do him proud.”

  “I think you are doing both your parents proud,” Char said, looking at her granddaughters, who were roughly the same age as the young man.

  “I m
iss them,” he said.

  Char put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you can come with us, show us around. We’re doing a little thing, but hope to get some shopping out of it. I’d like to find a nice beer or two for my husband. And maybe shoes for me.”

  “What brings you here?” he asked, looking at all the bodies squeezed onto his boat. He didn’t wait for an answer before yelling, “Down in front!”

  Char motioned for everyone to move aside so he could see.

  The young man guided the boat toward the docks, away from the larger vessels. He throttled down, and then back to cut the last of the momentum.

  The boat was sitting low in the water and moved sluggishly at slow speeds. He’d never driven it with such a load, but managed. Had it been a normal ride, he would have approached the dock more quickly, counting on his young reflexes to keep him from hitting the pilings. With a gentle bump, the boat rocked into the pier. Gene reached out a massive hand and grabbed the nearest piling, holding the boat rock steady for the others to climb out. The young man shut the boat down, looked over the controls, checked the engine compartment, checked the bilge, and double-checked the lines to make sure the boat was properly tied off. He nodded appreciatively.

  Char looked at her granddaughters. “Keep him with you and out of the line of fire.” It wasn’t a request.

  They were inside the walls and the exercise was underway.

  ***

  “What the hell is this all about?” one private groused to another as they leaned over the short wall and looked at the forest.

  “Fuck if I know,” the second man said. They continued to look at nothing.

  “When are they coming? This is bullshit. We’ve already missed lunch and dinner is next. This sucks.”

  “Didn’t you pack any chow?” the second man asked.

  “Nah. That makes the pack too heavy. Check this out.” The first warrior handed his pack over. The only thing in it was a feather pillow. It weighed almost nothing. The first man nodded and smiled.

  They heard someone snap their fingers. They both looked behind them in shock.