Peacemaker (The Revelations Cycle Book 6)

by Kevin Ikenberry

  She heard a rustle from behind and turned. Hak-Chet swept around her gracefully, his winglets kicked up and back. “Administrator Kenos. The Peacemaker Guild thanks you for your offer of transportation and support.”

  A gold-furred Cochkala walked up, the approximation of a smirk on his badger-like face, and nodded solemnly at Hak-Chet. “Selector.” His ears flickered, and he looked at Jessica with wide, dark eyes.

  “You must be Peacemaker Candidate Francis,” Kenos said. “I trust you’ll be able to help us solve this situation once and for all.” He stretched out a forepaw with carefully manicured nails unlike anything she’d ever seen. The resulting handshake was almost effeminate. “Very nice to meet you. I’m afraid I don’t know many humans. Forgive any unfortunate slights.”

  Jessica smiled and nodded, but realized there was nothing gracious in his words. It was a cop out to allow him to say offensive things as often as possible while feigning ignorance. As far as humans were concerned, the game was often played by other species, but reciprocity was considered just short of an act of war. “Of course, Kenos. It is a pleasure to meet you and thank you for your generous offer of transportation.”

  “It is nothing,” Kenos said and waved away the conversation with the flick of a paw. “I was afraid you weren’t coming. The Victory Twelve filed a flight plan for Mars an hour ago.”

  Good for Hex.

  “I’ve lent her to a friend for a few weeks; that’s all.”

  Kenos nodded solemnly. “Understandable and for the best. Your mediator is aboard and preparing for our discussions.”

  Jessica twitched. “Discussions?”

  “Of course, Peacemaker,” the last word dripped off the Cochkala’s maw. “We have 170 hours of transit. I believe none of them should be spared in the effort to bring peace to the colonies on our ‘Dream World.’ This situation is...troubling. I’m afraid one of our colonies is hoarding resources from the others in clear violation of our by-laws and covenants. We can discuss it more, of course, with your mediator present. Forgive me, I’ve not even welcomed you aboard my ship.”

  Hak-Chet turned to Jessica. “I will leave you in Kenos’ good hands. I look forward to hearing from you as the negotiation continues, Jessica.” He nodded at her and lowered his voice. “I have great faith in you.”

  “Thank you, Selector.” She turned and caught the Cochkala looking at her figure. Managing to suppress a shudder, Jessica nodded. “I believe you were going to show me your ship, Administrator?”

  * * *

  The yacht had an unpronounceable name despite Jessica’s best efforts. Fourteen credit hours in Languages of the Galactic Union failed her, unlike most of her college education. Some things were better learned the hard way by sheer immersion. When she queried her translator, it replied that the transport’s name was simply Tchrt One. Jessica managed to not roll her eyes as she followed Kenos through the traffic of the main hangar, and he prattled on about the ship’s unique design. To Jessica, it looked like a mutant porpoise.

  “The curvature? Well, it’s designed to ride gravitational disturbances without causing motion sickness in the main cabin,” Kenos said. “It’s very proprietary in its design. There’s a lot I can’t tell you, simply because you’re not a Cochkala, but we believe it will change interstellar ships design galaxy-wide within the next 10 years. Maybe less.”

  Jessica realized he expected a response just as he turned to look over his shoulder. “It’s certainly impressive, Administrator Kenos.”

  “Please, just call me Kenos.” The Cochkala tried to smile, causing Jessica to shudder involuntarily. The badger-like alien’s face contorted into something between a snarl and a roar. There were some human expressions that aliens were better off avoiding.

  “I’ll try to remember that.” Jessica forced herself to smile and nod. The second unwritten rule of being a Peacemaker was that diplomacy was an awful lot like ass-kissing. A successful Peacemaker knew when to stop before getting a face full of shit. “I hope my presence aboard your yacht will not be seen as an inconvenience in any way.”

  Kenos chittered. “Please, Peacemaker Francis. You are our guest in transit to Araf. Your presence is hardly an imposition. I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable in any way before getting started with your mission.”

  Like hell you would. Jessica held her eyes level and her head still. Any movement that could be misconstrued as acquiescence would violate her charter. “My mission has already started, Admistrator Kenos. Again, I appreciate your assistance with the transit, and I hope it’s not misconstrued as ingratitude if I disagree with your assessment of my duties.”

  Kenos stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrow and dark as if sizing her up. He nodded. “No offense taken, Peacemaker. Please excuse my insinuation that you were not on duty. A Peacemaker’s job never ends.”

  Jessica nodded. The saying is that a Peacemaker’s duty never ends. Jobs are jobs, but duty is something you can’t easily leave behind. Kenos obviously knew both that saying, and that her duties started when they were officially introduced. Caution wasn’t going to be enough when dealing with the administrator. She would have to be on her guard at every turn.

  What did you get me into, Hak-Chet?

  They kept walking until reaching the yacht’s rounded stern where Kenos stopped and reached for her bags. “If I may?”

  You could have 200 meters ago, you little shit.

  “Certainly. Thank you.” Jessica bit the inside of her lip as Kenos struggled with the weight of her equipment bag. A Pendal, complete with robe and covered face, reached down from the cargo hold, hefted the bag with ease, and gestured for Jessica to pass over her personal bag, which she did. The Pendal disappeared into the hold without a word.

  “Please excuse him,” Kenos said. “He is a competent pilot, but a bit rude.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  Kenos snorted. “If he does, I don’t know it. He’s never spoken at all, even after being assigned to this yacht. I simply do not understand the Pendal.”

  Jessica squinted. “It’s something he doesn’t want to do. Talk, that is. Maybe he doesn’t feel there is anything he should say?”

  Kenos shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. As long as he gets me where I need to be, when I need to be there, that’s all I care about. Please, let’s board and get this journey underway.” Before she could answer, Kenos stomped forward toward the crew hatch. Jessica followed a few paces behind, lingering to look over Tchrt One’s curved hull. Protrusions that could only be weapons pods appeared in even distances down the spine and matched up with gun ports on the high empennage of the vehicle. Jessica assumed there would be others on the front. For a diplomatic vessel, the Tchrt One’s armament selection was impressive, if not a bit much.

  There was something odd about Kenos, too, beyond the aloof administrator’s aura, and his hideous idea of a smile. As much as he wanted to be friendly to her, he did not trust her. That mutual feeling made it easier for her to retain the distance her position defined. He bore watching, to be sure, but his bluster and suitably greasy manner of doing things struck her as odd for a being in his position of authority. The Cochkala were hardly human in any way, but Kenos was an administrator of the Dream World Consortium and an important party to the discussions on the horizon. Kenos ducked through the hatch, and a figure in a red and black jacket with dark trousers stepped out and turned to meet her. If Kenos’ reaction to her was troubling, the Caroon’s reaction was positively baffling.

  “It’s about time, Peacemaker. Does your Guild not teach promptness?” His elongated face curled in a sneer, and the Caroon stood with his arms behind his back in a posture of self-importance the likes of which she’d never seen.

  Jessica blinked. After a second, she extended a hand. “You must be the mediation assistant. My name is—”

  “Mediator. I am the mediator, and you are the Peacemaker.” The Caroon’s beady eyes narrowed at her. He made no effort to shake her outstretched hand. “My n
ame is Taemin. You are Jessica Francis, and you are not a Peacemaker. You are a candidate. Does that cover everything you wanted to say to me?”

  Jessica realized her mouth hung open, and she closed it slowly. “That’s how this is going to be?”

  The Caroon snorted. “I was merely stating fact, Candidate.”

  “You were,” Jessica said and withdrew her hand. “How about we get aboard and —”

  “The codicils of the Peacemaker Guild state that any candidate required to pass multiple assessments has the right to refuse a secondary assessment and stand before the Guild Master to challenge their position as a candidate. Were you aware of this?”

  Jessica kept her face straight. Hak-Chet wouldn’t have lied to her. If there really was a way out, he would have told her. The Guild determined what missions were confirmation missions. There was no ability for a candidate to change their mission.

  Was there?

  “I was not aware of this.”

  Taemin smirked. “I surmised that from the fact you showed your face in this hangar. While humans are good for several things in this Union, I am of the opinion that being a Peacemaker is not one. I do not believe you have the fortitude or strength to handle matters of great importance because your species cannot handle itself in most matters. Before your First Contact, which your people clearly botched, you were little more than squabbling children. You’ve not done much better in the years since.”

  Jessica replied and before the words even came out, she knew what her decision was going to be. “Are you done?”

  The Caroon blinked. “What did you say?”

  “I asked you if you were done.” Jessica stepped past the shocked mediator and into the ship’s hatch. The ship smelled like cat food and Jessica suppressed an urge to gag. Throwing up all over the Consortium would look bad on her final report.

  “You can’t speak to me like that,” Taemin said. “There are two colonies counting on your ability to peacefully negotiate their terms. If you approach negotiations—”

  “You said two colonies.” Jessica spun and looked at him. “My briefing said three.”

  Taemin nodded. “The real dispute is only between two of the colonies. That’s where we should focus our efforts.”

  Jessica stepped through the inner hatch to a lushly-appointed passageway. Kenos stood in the middle blocking their way. His arms were crossed and that awful smile stained his furry face. “Talking strategy already, then?”

  Taemin started to speak, but Jessica cut him off. “Taemin was telling me that the real dispute is between two colonies and not the three about which I was briefed. That hardly seems like strategy to me.”

  “Mediator Taemin is correct in his assessment. The GenSha and the Selroth have a viable dispute for water rights. The Altar are simply caught in the middle and suffering because of it.” Kenos shrugged. “Unless you’re prepared to conduct our meetings under thrust, here in an unsecured passageway, I suggest you stow your gear and meet in the lounge as we push off and get underway.”

  Jessica nodded. “If you’d be so kind as to show me where, Kenos.”

  The Cochkala grinned. “Certainly. Your room is here. Your mediator’s is just down the hall past the galley. We’ll push off in 10 minutes.”

  She pushed through door of her room and found her gear bags stowed under the full-size bed built into one wall. The small, cozy room had a very human sink and toilet built into one wall, as well as a closet with actual clothes hangers, and a plush bathrobe with matching fuzzy slippers. An Aethernet terminal and desk took up the corner opposite her bed. Tri-V screens hung over the desk and the wall opposite the bed for entertainment. A small, bright bouquet of wildflowers rested in a crystal vase. Lush carpeting and fresh linens complicated the scents of the room, but all this essentially led to the same conclusion.

  “All of this is brand new.” Jessica said to herself. “Built just for me.”

  And more than likely under surveillance and bugged, she heard Hak-Chet’s voice say. The mental admonition served its purpose. After they were underway, she’d sweep the room for any devices and frequency monitoring. The chances her primary kit had been tampered with approached virtual certainty, and there weren’t any second chances. Her secondary kit, a backup weapon, and a mini-slate in her pockets would be more than enough to protect her during the 170-hour trip to Araf.

  Ten minutes wasn’t going to be enough time to unpack and check her equipment. Food wasn’t the answer, either, and there was no way in hell she was going to “freshen up” or anything like those annoying old movies said. Jessica sat instead on the bed and fought the urge to flop back on it and rest.

  The patches on her shoulders said Peacemaker, and while she wasn’t fully one yet, it had never been so close and yet so far. The Guild wouldn’t have sent her on a mission she could not handle. Constant training in diplomacy and inter-species relations told her that she’d walked into a veritable hornet’s nest and the situation on Araf was only going to be much worse. The brand-new cabin nailed the coffin shut.

  Kenos did not trust her. Her Guild assigned mediator wanted her to quit. Both of them claimed the crisis was something much simpler than what Hak-Chet had told her it would be. They’d undoubtedly gone through her gear with a fine-toothed comb when she boarded.

  You never expected this to be easy, did you Peacemaker?

  The instructors loved to say those things during the myriad of tests and challenges she’d performed over the last few years. Every mistake she’d made in training had only helped push her to better handle the situations thrown at her. Walking into the hangar 10 minutes before, she’d felt ready for anything. Situations change, some for the good and some not, her instructors liked to say. She’d proven the negative side of that statement correct in less than 10 minutes.

  Jessica stood and smoothed out her coveralls and then the bed itself. The act of wiping away the wrinkles helped straighten out her thoughts in a few quick seconds. She stood and checked her watch-slate. Three minutes to spare. She looked at her room and decided that malicious or not, the intent to provide her a human home for a week was comforting. After she’d given it a proper screening, it could even be a place of rest and relaxation. For the moment, it was a reminder that her game face always needed to be on, especially when she wanted it off.

  You can relax after the mission is over, with a Peacemaker shield on your chest.

  Now, get out there. Bulldog.

  Her father’s voice was as clear as the memory that came with it. Third grade basketball. She’d wanted to quit, but was one of the best players on the team. In tears, she’d sat on the school’s stage and said she would never play again.

  You’re better than that. Her father leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  Now get out there, Bulldog.

  With a deep breath, Jessica activated the door of her cabin and strode down the passageway to the lounge. For a moment, she smiled to herself in exasperation, and then set her face and mind to the task at hand.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  “GenSha regular forces are moving on the southern mine entrances!” Raffa called from the command center as Klatk reached the western wall and vaulted over it. “Prepared to charge at your command.”

  Her slate beeped, and she consulted it. Command and control icons ringed the colony. Clearly marked enemy icons converged at three points. The mercenary forces charged straight at the walls from the south and the east. The GenSha moved slower, but there was no doubt their intention was to avoid any type of contact and enter the mine system from the high ground to the south. A charge wasn’t necessary. Mercenaries tended to wilt like cut flowers under decent artillery fire, and Klatk believed hers to be outstanding.

  The radio connection buzzed again. “Klatk, this is the Wandering Death. We are two minutes from attacking your position. Discussion is still an option. Your people do not have to suffer.”

  Klatk ground her mandibles. “We are not people, Qamm. You
are about to find out how the Altar fight firsthand.”

  “Suit yourselves,” the mercenary leader called. Klatk maneuvered into her small command center and found Raffa alone, having several animated conversations at once. He turned and looked at her for a moment before realizing who she was. She’d left her ceremonial dress behind. While not a matriarchal queen of her species, Klatk’s status as a female colony leader was equal in respect and title. Raffa flinched.

  “Queen Klatk.” He said. “We are under attack from three sides and outnumbered. The southern mine complex is threatened.”

  Klatk moved to the console and tapped several icons. “Activate the automated defenses to compliment direct fire on the eastern and southern walls. Lower security on the western wall to standoff weapons only and place a squad in the main shaft. Push out three squads to defend the brood and secure the tunnel complexes in the main mine. Prepare to destroy the mine entrances where the GenSha are attacking.”

  “What about the north? We leave ourselves open to the Selroth.”

  Klatk considered the options. “Engage radar and sensors along the river. If something moves out of their colony, we’ll know and can shift our defenses.”

  Raffa pointed at the screen. “We have range on them.”

  Klatk did not hesitate. “Fire at all targets. Hold off Qamm and her mercenaries at all costs. Once we’ve stopped them, concentrate on the GenSha infantry at the southern mines. We’ll have the advantage there.” There were four mine complexes in the Altar colony. The southern ones lay empty and disconnected from the rest of the complexes. Any GenSha there would be trapped easily.

  “I’ll cut the power and—”

  “Not yet,” Klatk said. If we cut it, they’ll suspect something and hesitate. We want to draw them deeper and close them off completely. Give them as much access to the southern complex as they want. When their command elements move into the mine, destroy it.”

  Raffa nodded. “Weapons firing, Excellency.”