Peacemaker (The Revelations Cycle Book 6)

by Kevin Ikenberry

  Klatk’s antennae twitched. “Our surveillance radars report halted movement from the GenSha compounds. What do you mean by interesting? What is Foxtrot Two India Kilo?”

  Jessica smiled and tapped the lone soldier on the shoulder. “Could I have a moment, please?”

  The startled soldier looked at Jessica and then at Klatk, who directed him away. As he departed the command center, Jessica stepped closer to Klatk with the intent of hiding their conversation as much as possible.

  “The Victory Twelve is my personal ship, Klatk. It’s in the care of one of my former mercenary brothers. His name is Hex Alison. I don’t know what he’s doing here, or how he found out where I am. I can assume by his transmissions that the Guild knows, and sent him, but I don’t know why. That’s where Foxtrot Two India Kilo comes in. It’s one of our old codes. It means “Fuck If I Know,” and that means Hex knows people are watching, and he doesn’t want to let anyone know what he’s doing just yet.”

  “You trust this Hex?” Klatk’s mandibles twitched.

  “With my life, Klatk. Whatever message he’s bringing is important to what’s going on here.”

  “He is a mercenary? Is he bringing a force?”

  Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “The Altar cannot afford to secure their services. If they are uncontracted and attempt to align with my forces, we are subject to piracy claims from both colonies,” Klatk said. “I cannot allow them to land at my colony in such a position, Jessica. You are aware of this, aren’t you?”

  Jessica nodded, but her mind raced and anger surfaced. Hex brought her ship and gods-knew-what to Altar either in pursuit of a contract or without a clue as to her position and mission – both of which were bad business. An unsubstantiated claim and unfounded action would label him, and by proxy her ship, as pirates. A piracy charge would ruin her chances of being a Peacemaker.

  It had to be Hak-Chet. Why would he send Hex and the Victory Twelve unless he brought some type of combat power? But what good was that if Hex, and whoever else was onboard, were going to be listed as pirates? It would have been far easier for Hak-Chet to...

  Oh shit, Jessica grinned. I can’t believe this.

  She reached for the microphone. “Araf Approach, this is Peacemaker Francis. Please log for the record that the Victory Twelve is secured for official mission requirements under the Peacemaker Guild’s statutes for property acquisition. Further, acknowledge that the crew of the Victory Twelve, and all equipment therein, fall under similar statutes and will be deputized the moment they arrive. Record the current time and date, and forward via GalNet to the Peacemaker Guild immediately on my authority. Acknowledge all parts of this transmission. Over.”

  This time, a response took more than a minute. There was little doubt in her mind that Araf Approach relayed everything in realtime to the Consortium, which was exactly the intent of her message. Deputizing Hex and whoever was onboard cleared them individually. By acquiring the vessel itself, and all equipment therein, she could employ it to conduct her mission. Hak-Chet’s gift could be the key to solving the negotiations simply by giving the Altar an equal footing against the mercenary forces of the GenSha and the Selroth.

  The Victory Twelve’s hold, though, was not big enough for a full mercenary company. Whatever was there would be outnumbered and outgunned. Jessica tried to quell the rising doubt in her mind.

  It’s a start, Bulldog. Sometimes that’s all you need whether you know it or not.

  She snorted. Fuck if I know, Daddy.

  Klatk tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you all right, Jessica?”

  “Yes.” She dabbed at her left eye with the sleeve of her coveralls. “We’re going to be fine, Klatk. We’re going to be just fine.”

  * * *

  Kenos sat forward in his seat. “What did you say?”

  “The Peacemaker has acquired the vessel Victory Twelve, and deputized its crew for her mission requirements, Administrator.”

  “She can’t do that.” He looked at a small Tri-V display. “Can she?”

  “Yes, she can.”

  Kenos huffed three deep breaths. “This is most unfortunate.”

  “It appears she is more resilient than expected.”

  “You’re going to have to do something about it,” Kenos barked. “Once combat operations begin, find a way to remove her from the situation.”

  “Like you attempted to do? Outside our agreement?”

  “Excuse me?” Kenos gasped. “What are you talking about?”

  “An Altar soldier, one of their underground specialists, pulled a weapon on Peacemaker Francis shortly after she disembarked. Given your position aboard Tchrt One, I thought you would have seen it from external cameras.”

  “I’ll have to check,” Kenos said trying to maintain the charade. “There’s no guarantee our sensors saw anything. Regardless, the Consortium disavows any knowledge of an attempt on the Peacemaker’s life. Did she take action against the soldier? Anything unsettling that the Guild would appreciate advanced warning of?”

  “Klatk disarmed the soldier and beat him to death, though it appeared he might have tried to engage a self-poisoning device. While a nice touch, your play was very risky to the overall operation, Kenos.”

  “And what if it had been successful? We could have annihilated the Altar and taken their mines before any of the Guilds noticed. We would have what we want and the situation would have resolved itself.” Kenos stroked the side of his face with a claw. “Besides, it’s not as if you or your partners have been able to stop this nonsense.”

  “My actions, and that of my partners, are not of your concern. You’ve made a promise they believe you have no intention of keeping. Perhaps we should let the Peacemaker continue her investigation, Kenos? What else might she find that you’re not sharing with our mutual friends?”

  “How dare you!” Kenos stood and balled his paws into tight little fists. “My part of this deal remains intact, and I have shared every single discovery from Araf as required. You will find everything I have reported is true.”

  “I am more concerned about what remains unreported, Kenos. Your research showed promising early data for the presence of a host of precious metals. You’ve only successfully identified gold. While that helps to devalue lesser quality economies throughout the galaxy, it does little to help our manufacturing requirements. You promised platinum and diamonds in mass quantities, Kenos. None of your other mining ventures have found anything of consequence in terms of tonnage. You promised this mine was the best positioned to produce. Now, you have a colony moving their young underground and slaving power from a fallen Raknar. They’re moving in to protect what they’ve found, Kenos. If you aren’t prepared to deal with it, we will—”

  “I am doing everything I can!” Kenos closed his eyes in an attempt to quell his rage. “The mercenary forces are in place, and the rest of the plan is ready to implement.”

  “And the Peacemaker’s injunction? How soon will you end it?”

  Kenos laughed. “I will do nothing. The agreed upon instructions are in the hands of those who need them. When they choose to act is a product of the situation. While that’s been complicated by the arrival of her suspiciously-timed deputy forces, it’s of no consequence. Numerical superiority and combat power remain in our favor. Whatever resistance they are capable of generating will be easily defeated—it’s simply a matter of time. I hope to gain their order of battle information soon. You will be able to assist?”

  There was no response, and the connection terminated in a burst of static. Kenos stared at the speaker for a long moment, and let a smile curl his upper lip as a Tri-V screen flickered to life and a real-time video feed from the Altar colony appeared. A single drop ship appeared in the frame, descending from orbit toward the colony from the southwest. By its design, the drop ship would not be capable of holding more than two tanks or a fire team of CASPers. His smile turned into a laugh. Unless the Peacemaker’s friends dropped more ships or
made more than 20 descents from orbit, there was no way they could stand up to his previously-made arrangements.

  No way at all.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  No sooner had the Victory Twelve’s skiff, Molly, touched down than Hex bounded down the ramp and jogged up the slope to embrace Jessica. She smiled, but he could tell it was strained. When she hugged him, her arms felt like taut steel. She turned her head against his shoulder, and he felt her breath against his neck.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jessica whispered.

  “Fuck if I know,” Hex replied. He felt Jessica laugh against his chest. Before they drew apart, he pressed closer to her ear. “Hak-Chet.”

  He felt her relax against him, and they released the embrace. The lines around her eyes told him she was tired and a little frazzled, though she would never admit it. She held his forearms and smiled at him. “I’m glad to see you, Hex.”

  “Glad to be here, Bulldog.”

  Jessica’s smile widened slightly, enough that Hex knew it was genuine even as her words thumped his heart. “Those days are long gone, Hex.”

  “Are they?” Hex cocked an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think they are, Jess. You’re just not in Bulldog mode, that’s all.”

  “Not everything is a fight, Hex.”

  Hex shook his head. “My dad used to say a lot of things, you know that. The one that always got me was that everything is a fight, Jess. You might not be able to arm a weapon or put steel downrange, but everything is a fight. You know how to handle yourself in a fight better than anyone I know.”

  Jessica shook her head. “I don’t think this is a fight, Hex. There has to be a peaceful solution.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Jessica. Why we’re here.”

  She squinted. “What’s on board?”

  “Four tanks, twelve CASPers.” Hex said.

  Jessica rolled her neck to the sky. She was still holding on to his arms, and he felt almost all her weight on him. “That’s not enough.”

  “For what?” Hex asked. “I thought you said this wasn’t a fight?”

  Jessica lowered her eyes to his, and he saw a little flicker of life in them. “Lots of hostiles, Hex.”

  Good, Hex thought. Get her thinking tactically and not strategically.

  “I need to send the skiff back up. Brought two tanks and four CASPers this trip. We’ll need two more trips.”

  “Who’s flying the skiff?”

  “My armor commander. Her name’s Tara Mason. You’ll like her, Jess.”

  Jessica tilted her head to one side as if studying him, wanting to know if he liked her. He looked away, and Jessica dropped his arms. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’ll make it.”

  Jessica motioned to the Altar nearest her, and the female approached. “This is Klatk. She is the queen of this colony.”

  Hex bowed ceremonially. “Your Highness.”

  Klatk chittered a laugh. “Not that kind of queen, Mister Alison. An Altar queen is merely the matriarchal leader of every colony. Our royal family is many light-years away from here and our greatest secret.”

  Jessica touched his arm again. “You learn something new every day in this business, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Hex shrugged, embarrassed. “My apologies, Klatk.”

  Klatk extended a hard claw, which Hex shook awkwardly. “Not necessary. May I call you Hex?”

  “Please.” Hex grinned. The Altar’s warm, almost human mannerisms set him at ease. She was far more practiced in inter-species relations than he was, and it showed.

  “You come from an honorable lineage,” Klatk said. “Our people are well acquainted with the Alison family and welcome you to our colony, Hex. I wish there was more time to tell you some of the stories, but the time for pleasantries is over. I fear we are in a defensive posture and will need your assistance immediately.”

  Hex nodded and tapped on his wrist-slate. “Molly, this is Boss. Proceed with remaining lifts. Have all crews load their vehicles.”

  “Roger, Boss,” Tara replied over the channel. “What about your CASPer?”

  “Bring it on the last run, I’ll be fine until then.”

  “Copy all. Molly pulling away.” Down the hill, the skiff powered up its lifters, rose effortlessly from the surface, and spun toward the southwest in one smooth movement. Hex watched it ascend for a moment.

  “She’s a good pilot, I’ll give you that,” Jessica said at his side. “And she’s a tanker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she know Marc?”

  Hex shook his head. “Only by reputation. That was enough for me to bring her and her four tanks on board.”

  “Where did they come from?” Jessica’s hand crept to her hips. Hex had to cough and cover a smile. Where the composed Peacemaker had stood, Bulldog slowly emerged. Her old mannerisms were a welcome sight.

  “Death on Tracks,” Hex said. “I know, not the best tank unit ever fielded, but they have been more successful than the Marauders. If we’d had some of them we might...might have...” His voice trailed off, and his vision swam with a sudden onset of tears that brimmed but did not fall.

  Jessica stepped in front of him closely. Her hands found his jaw and raised his eyes to hers. “You did everything you could, Hex.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Jessica said. “Sometimes that’s all you can do. You loved her, and she loved you. That has to be enough for you.”

  Hex nodded but the pain in his chest told another story. The nightmares wouldn’t stop for a long time. More than once he’d heard her voice as clear as day. A single tear leaked down his cheek. “What if it’s not?”

  Jessica swept the tear away. “You don’t have a choice, buddy. That’s all you have.”

  The finality of it caught him by surprise, but Jessica was right. There was nothing more to be had, save for his memories and his regrets. One would be a pleasant experience, and the other would lead to sleepless nights and insanity. The road to closure would not be easy, but he understood it was a choice he could make and, more importantly, could deal with through the help of others. Jessica understood, and she loved Maya as much as anyone, save for himself. If she could function, then so could he.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  “No, you’re not. But you will be,” Jessica said. “What do you want to do?”

  Hex looked around at the colony and the fallen Raknar. His mind switched on, and he walked up the slope behind them into the colony proper as he looked for the highest point. The small alcove in the center of the colony, he figured, was the command center. He reached it quickly and then scrambled up to stand on its rough adobe slab roof. He could see 360 degrees.

  To the south were wide, flat plains that stretched to the horizon 80 kilometers away. He traced the line of the Choote River with his eyes and easily made out the GenSha colony and their expansive agricultural complex. To the west were craggy hills laid out in rough ridge lines that looked like stone dolphins just under the surface of the ocean. To the east, behind the Altar complex, there were more hills, and he could clearly see several cavern entrances. Again following the river to the north, he saw a faint sliver of blue beyond the river’s mouth into the sea. The submerged Selroth colony was out of view, but he knew the littoral waters could give the amphibious aliens the element of surprise.

  Jessica clambered onto the roof next to him. “What do you see, Hex?”

  “Is this a teaching moment, Bulldog? I’m fresh out of quarters.” He grinned. As the second in command of the Marauders for several years, she earned a reputation of making the younger mercs learn from their mistakes and the mistakes of others. All of them earned lectures. Some were stern warnings and others were simply bits of shared knowledge and information she thought relevant to them. After one of the latter, Maya walked up and gave Jessica a quarter.

  “What’s this?” Jessica had asked.

  “A lecture like th
at gets a quarter, Bulldog.” The 25-cent lecture series had been born. It was a good memory, one that brought a smile to both of their faces.

  Jessica laughed and looked away for a moment. The breeze was up, warm and dry from the east. Araf’s late afternoon sun warmed the top of his head, and he ran a hand through his longish blond hair. She wasn’t answering, and he knew what she wanted to hear. The answer was an old one, taught by the armies of Earth long before first contact. Like much of that training, mnemonic devices and acronyms taught soldiers how to do the simplest of tasks. A twentieth-century operations order had five paragraphs: Situation, Mission, Execution, Service and Support, and Command and Signal. The device for that was Sergeant Major Eats Sugar Cookies. His father hated that one, as most sergeant majors did.

  Identifying terrain, and especially key terrain for defensive operations, was OCOKA. They’d changed the acronym a bunch in the ensuing years, but the original was part of his education by fire, and it stood the test of time just as well as the others. Observation, Cover and Concealment, Obstacles, Key Terrain, and Avenues of Approach assembled a three-dimensional picture of the battle space.

  “This is a good, defensible position, Bulldog. We can see both colonies, and the terrain to our backs is difficult to traverse with vehicles and doesn’t offer much concealment. We’re holding the key terrain, including the Raknar, which we should use to our advantage as much as possible. I’m assuming the river is mined, but we’ll need to look at the terrain to the south to see what we can do to move the GenSha into kill zones with obstacles and indirect fire. The Selroth are a wildcard. If we take the river away from them they can still approach easily from the north and not so easily from the west. We’ll need obstacles there, too.”

  He paused as Klatk climbed up to the roof and stood next to them. Hex looked past her and saw the cavern entrances. The river!

  “Are there any subterranean lakes or streams in your mine system?”

  Klatk stiffened. “Why is that important to you?”