Game On Askole (Coletti Warlords)

by Gail Koger

  “You okay Sarah?” Aunt Tess’s tone was a bit too syrupy.

  “Yup. You?”

  “Been better.” Aunt Tess drove the heel of her combat boot into Rho’s knee. “Put me down.”

  “No.” Rho’s voice was a gravelly rumble.

  When Aunt Tess got that peeved look on her face, bad things happened.

  “They say the Coletti don’t have balls. Shall we find out?” Twisting in his grip, Aunt Tess kneed Rho in the groin.

  Her blow didn’t seem to affect him a bit.

  “Guess the rumors are true.”

  “Your pitiful blows cannot damage me, female.” Rho’s face was crisscrossed with pale scars that added to his menacing air.

  “That’s Lieutenant Colonel Jones to you, buster.” She pried at the muscular arm wrapped around her chest. “I don’t answer to female.”

  “But you are a female,” Rho deadpanned.

  Aunt Tess regarded him incredulously. “Seriously?”

  A stun beam sizzled by the Battle Commander’s ear. He snapped, “Oydle!”

  The wannabe Coletti warrior’s shrieks stopped abruptly, and he quit firing. His face and hands were covered with red welts. He panted like a woman in labor. With that belly, he could be pregnant. Maybe he was an alien hermaphrodite getting ready to hatch.

  The skunk scampered out of the room. I heard several startled shouts in the corridor. Aw, the little guy was making new friends.

  In a quiet, terrifying voice, the Battle Commander ordered, “Send the creatures away, Tess.”

  “What makes you so sure I can control them?”

  “The battle on Jabal. You used your talents, with the Overlord augmenting your powers, to compel the Afulas and Kotsors into attacking the rogue Colettis.”

  I smothered a groan. She was so busted. The alien crocs and monster spiders had made short work of the bad guys. A sudden thought hit me. Oh my God. The Overlord had been in my head too. How much did he know?

  “Let us go, and I’ll be happy to oblige,” Aunt Tess countered.

  The Battle Commander smiled a scary-ass sociopath’s smile. “Send them away. Now.”

  The flying bugs left the room. The scorpions and tarantulas quickly followed.

  I scowled. “Wait a minute. This whole interrogation was a ruse. Why?”

  “Quinn.” Aunt Tess gasped. “They want Quinn.”

  Shit! My cousin Quinn was an extremely powerful psychic, and the bastards couldn’t afford to let him live. A cold fury flared inside me. No one messed with the Jones clan. I took control of Oydle’s mind and ordered, “Stun the Battle Commander and his goon.”

  Oydle obediently shot the Battle Commander. A crackling red energy storm ricocheted around Voss’s battle suit before dissipating harmlessly.

  Bummer. Other than a few random muscle twitches, Voss was unaffected by the stun beam.

  Rho, a fast-draw expert, blasted Oydle. The warrior collapsed as violent muscle spasms shook his body.

  Well, shit. I scooped up Oydle’s laser pistol. The next thing I knew, I was locked in a bone-crushing grip. Voss increased the pressure on my right hand until I dropped the pistol.

  “I won’t let you kill Quinn.”

  “We want Quinn and your male relatives alive and reasonably unharmed,” the Battle Commander murmured in my ear.

  “I thought you boys were only interested in broodmares,” Tess retorted.

  “Males can be converted as easily as females.”

  Aunt Tess and I exchanged stunned glances. In unison, we asked, “Why convert the men?”

  “The Jones family DNA is quite unique. Our scientists think combing our DNAs with the Jones clan’s will reverse the cellular damage done in the Great War and accelerate our birthrate,” Voss answered.

  “Oh joy,” Aunt Tess remarked. “You convert our men, and they go out and hopefully sire female children?”

  “We do what we must to survive.”

  “So do we. The Jones family has never lost a battle.” I wiggled in Voss’s painful grip. Yeow! He was cutting off my circulation.

  Voss grinned down at me. “We are aware of your family’s tactical skills. Once you are converted, you will make excellent Coletti warriors.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

  “Yeah, popping out little warlords has always been our dream,” Aunt Tess added.

  Oydle puked again.

  “Who is he? He’s not the least bit intimidating.” I grimaced. The smell was horrific.

  “Our original interrogator was injured in a battle with Malik’s warriors. We simply projected Tihar’s image on Oydle’s body and transmitted the interrogation on every military vid feed to catch your missing family’s attention.”

  All to bring my kinfolk running to my rescue. “Who the heck is Tihar and Malik?”

  “Malik is an ally of the Tai-Kok, and Tihar is an Askole,” Voss answered.

  Any friend of the Tai-Kok needed to be put down like a rabid dog, and I wasn’t sure what an Askole was. “It won’t work. My cousins are too smart to fall for your hoax.”

  “Your cousins, including Quinn, have been captured.”

  “What? I don’t believe you.”

  The Battle Commander tapped a button on his communications bracelet and held it out for me to watch. The vid screen showed my bruised and bloody family. Caleb, Jake, and Ethan were in chains. Quinn was unconscious and being dragged off a shuttle by two Coletti warriors. “They will be put into stasis chambers until we arrive at Tanith.”

  Relief trickled through me. The Coletti hunters had missed a few vital members of the Jones clan. My cousin Samantha was meeting with Hank Benson, the founder of Earth First, at the Old Tucson theme park. He wanted us to join his resistance movement to stop the Coletti takeover. That was a done deal as soon as we lost Voss and his goons.

  My little sister Casey was still MIA after her Lockheed C130 transport went down in the South Pacific a week ago. Central Command refused to give us any updates on the search for survivors. I knew Casey was still alive, but my attempts to mentally link with her had failed. Was she injured or laying low?

  That left my rather high-profile uncles. Uncle Saul was a friggin’ four-star general in charge of the western United States, and Uncle Derek was the police commander for the entire state of Arizona. Central Command hadn’t arrested them. Yet. “Are you planning on beating up my uncles and putting them in stasis too?”

  “No. General Jones will remain on Earth for now. Derek Jones will accompany us to Tanith.”

  “And when we reach Tanith?”

  “You will be mated to a warlord.”

  “Once I start my crazy-bitch routine, no sane warlord will want anything to do with me.”

  Voss smirked. “Warlords like a challenge. If I wasn’t already tracking my true mate, I would claim you.”

  The breath left my lungs in an involuntary gasp of surprise. He was joking? Right? The thought of “doing it” with the Battle Commander was appalling. His chosen had my condolences. “Wow. I don’t know what to say, except excuse me while I puke, and who wants a woman who smells like a skunk?”

  “A little time in the decontamination chamber will take care of the problem.” There was a glint of humor in Voss’s eyes.

  Holy Mary, Mother of God, he had everything covered. “A decontamination chamber, huh?”

  Aunt Tess whispered in my mind. “It might work for us, but the skunk sprayed the entire building, and I ain’t tellin’ them how to get rid of the smell.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Best news I’d had all day. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when the Battle Commander informed the Overlord that their spiffy new headquarters now reeked of skunk and was literally crawling with a variety of insects.

  Voss’s communications bracelet beeped. He touched an icon. “My warriors have located your cousin Samantha in a place called Old Tucson.”

  Up until now, Sam had evaded every attempt the military police had made to trap her
. Me? I wasn’t so fortunate. They snagged me the minute I landed my fighter jet.

  The big question was: how in the heck had the Coletti tracked her? I peered at Voss’s vid screen. Old Tucson was a replica of 1860’s Tucson complete with storefronts, saloon, bank, hotels, and a genuine adobe church. To the delight of the tourists, four gunslingers, the sheriff, and his two deputies were in a shouting match. “You will never find Sam in that mob of people.”

  “Once we turn the skunk loose, there won’t be a crowd,” Voss answered.

  My eyes widened in alarm. It could work. “But you need a skunk.”

  “We have one.”

  “I won’t help you capture Sam,” Aunt Tess said adamantly.

  Voss’s dangerously predatory gaze focused on her. “Bring the skunk back, Tess.”

  “No.”

  “I can force your obedience.”

  “Wait! That won’t be necessary. We both stink to high heaven, and you have puked smeared all over the back of your nifty battle suit, which adds to the aroma. So, we don’t need the skunk,” I said quickly.

  Aunt Tess cried angrily, “You’re going to help these bastards?”

  “To keep you from being hurt, you betcha.” I added on a private mental link, “Just not the way they think.”

  “Be careful, honey.” Aunt Tess screwed her face into a hateful mask and spat, “You traitorous bitch, I hope you rot in hell.”

  “Too late. Hell came to Earth five years ago,” I retorted.

  Voss studied me for a moment, a hint of a smile on his mouth.

  Crap. He wasn’t buying the act.

  “Take Tess to the ship and put her in the decontamination chamber.”

  “Yes, Commander.” Rho and Tess vanished.

  The Battle Commander’s big hand suddenly wrapped around my throat. “You make any attempt to escape, and I will break both your legs.” He gave me a shake. “Understood?”

  Holy freaking shit! He was dead serious. I nodded. “Running bad.”

  “I have always wanted to visit a replica of the Old West,” the Battle Commander announced out of the blue.

  My jaw dropped. He wanted to make like a tourist? “You rooting for the cowboys or the Apaches?”

  “Apaches.” Voss clamped me to his chest, and an inky black void surrounded us.

  Chapter Two

  Presto! Voss and I teleported to the parking lot of Old Tucson theme park.

  A stagecoach came barreling down the dirt road with a bunch of Apache warriors on horseback chasing it. Gotta say their cotton leggings, leather breechcloths, and war cries were realistic. “Welcome to the Wild, Wild West.”

  Voss queried, “What is smeared on their faces?”

  “It’s called war paint.”

  The stagecoach driver cracked a whip over the horses’ heads while the guard fired an old Winchester rifle at the Apaches. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  An Apache warrior tumbled off his horse and played dead.

  A bugle sounded as the cavalry charged to the rescue, pursuing the Apaches down Main Street and out into the desert. The thrilled spectators cheered loudly.

  Voss watched in fascination. “This is an accurate depiction of your history?”

  “Yup. Pretty much.” And I had a bridge I could sell him too.

  “Interesting.” With a death grip on my arm, Voss ushered me down the wooden walkway toward the stables. Through the saloon’s bat-wing doors, I caught a brief glimpse of two women performing the cancan on a stage. The men seemed to be enjoying the show. A lot. Or maybe it was the cold beer. I could sure use one about now.

  Voss came to an abrupt stop, and I could sense him using his awesome mental abilities to scan the area for Sam.

  Good thing he didn’t know Sam could camouflage her aura. To most Coletti hunters, she appeared to be a normal human. Then it hit me. Shit! The Overlord had mentally linked with her too. I knew he was incredibly powerful, but wow. He could track her from the other side of the galaxy?

  One of the gunslingers shouted, “The undertaker will be puttin’ you in a pine box, Sheriff.” Bang. Bang. Bang. The actors shot it out. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The tourists’ attention was so focused on the reenactment of the shootout at the O.K. Corral, they didn’t pay any attention to us. C’mon, how could anyone fail to notice an armed-to-the-teeth, six-foot-eight Coletti warlord who reeked of skunk and vomit?

  An elderly woman standing next to a badly sunburned geriatric male in a loud Hawaiian print shirt finally looked around and wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that, Herbert?”

  Herbert’s gaze froze on Voss. He frowned, took off his thick glasses, and vigorously cleaned them.

  “Smells like a skunk upchucked. Did you hear me, Herbert?”

  “Yes, dear.” Herbert put his glasses back on and gaped. “Coletti.”

  “No. Skunk.”

  The shootout stopped abruptly. The last villain clutched his chest and crumpled to the ground. The audience clapped enthusiastically.

  “Coletti!” Herbert shouted, pointing at Voss.

  Everyone turned to stare at the Battle Commander. I guess they had never seen a Coletti up close and personal. No one screamed or ran for their lives. Nope, the dimwits just stood there gawking.

  One awestruck teenage girl asked, “Can I take a selfie with you?”

  “No.” Voss bared his fangs menacingly. “Leave. Now.”

  No one moved until the smell hit them. A man hollered, “Good God, they had a run-in with a drunk skunk.” The crowd backed up a couple of feet.

  “Gee, what a shame. Your plan isn’t working.” Snark was my middle name.

  Voss shrugged. “My warriors will be here shortly.”

  Yippee.

  The old lady called, “Tomato juice will take care of the stench.”

  I threw up my left hand in disgust. “He’s a warlord, not some kind of goddamned superstar.”

  “They saved us from the Tai-Kok. They’re heroes,” the old lady spouted reverently and held her camera out to me. “Can you take our picture with the warrior?”

  “No! I won’t. Our military saved you, not them. The Coletti haven’t shot down one single Tai-Kok or Rodan vessel since they’ve been in orbit.”

  “Not true!” a heavy-set man shouted. “Just last week, two Tai-Kok ships were destroyed.”

  “By me.” I thumped my chest. “A Siren. You know, Sirens, the psychics that keep the aliens from eating you? God, you’re all ignorant fools.”

  A blonde wearing skimpy cutoffs and a halter-top yelled at Voss, “I heard you’re looking for real women.” She thrust out her DD breasts. “Here I am. Take me.”

  I rolled my eyes. Nothing about her was real.

  An armored Coletti shuttle landed next to the railroad station. Four heavily armed warriors walked down the landing ramp with tracking scanners.

  Crap. The reinforcements were early.

  The sheriff, a Kevin Costner lookalike, strode toward us with a Winchester rifle in his left hand. His spurs jingled with every step he took. He came to an abrupt halt and backed up a good ten feet. His gaze roved over my orange jumpsuit before fixing on Voss. “I’m Sheriff Benson. Are you expecting some kind of trouble? No alerts have been issued.”

  I’ll be damned. Hank Benson, the creator of Earth First. What a perfect cover.

  “Evacuate Old Tucson immediately,” Voss instructed.

  Hank shook his head. “No can do. Only the military has the authority to issue an evacuation order.”

  “Earth is under Coletti control, and you will do as I command,” Voss snapped.

  I put my two cents in. “Unfortunately, the Battle Commander is right. The military does answer to him.” I gestured at my jumpsuit. “The traitorous bastards handed me over without a second thought. You might want to keep that Winchester handy. You’ll need it when the Tai-Kok come back.”

  “Be quiet, Sarah,” Voss growled.

  “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” I winced when Voss tightened hi
s grip.

  “I still need to check in with Central Command, or they’ll shut us down,” Hank insisted. He had the good-old-boy act down pat.

  With an audible snap of his teeth, Voss released my arm and pushed several icons on his communications bracelet.

  General Georgina Tasker’s ugly face filled Voss’s vid screen. Her black hair was pulled into a hideous bun. “What can I do for you, Battle Commander?”

  Her abrasive voice grated on my nerves. I truly hated her.

  “Issue an evacuation order for Old Tucson,” Voss stated.

  “Consider it done.” The screen went black.

  “Not real talkative, is she? Ever consider if the General would betray her own people, she’ll do the same to you? Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

  The Battle Commander stared at me for a long moment. “A valid point.”

  Hank’s sat phone beeped. He answered it. “Yes, General. A chemical leak? Not a problem. Right away, ma’am.” He disconnected and tapped an icon on his phone.

  The air raid siren blared.

  The tourists quickly began scanning the sky and produced a variety of weapons from purses, fanny packs, and ankle holsters.

  Voss bellowed, “Why are you using the air raid siren?”

  “What?” Hank put a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear ya.”

  “Turn it off!” Voss yelled louder.

  “What?”

  It was all I could do to keep from laughing. Hank was alerting his people to the Coletti warriors invading Old Tucson.

  The Battle Commander grabbed Hank’s sat phone and jabbed at the air siren icon.

  Silence fell.

  “Why did you turn on the air raid siren?” Voss was more than a bit annoyed.

  Hank surveyed Voss like he was a dumb ass. “To make sure they’ll listen up.”

  “You succeeded. Now evacuate the town.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hank turned on his microphone. “Folks.” The loudspeakers emitted an ear-shattering squeal.

  Everyone flinched. Several children burst into tears, and coyotes howled in the distance.

  Voss’s left eye twitched, and if looks could kill, Hank would be a dead man.

  The sheriff fumbled with the microphone controls for a moment. The squealing finally stopped. “Sorry about that, folks. It seems we have a chlorine leak and we need y’all to move to the far west parking lot.”