Soft laughter filled the room.
Trent twirled a chair around, sitting backward. “Sorry to pull all of you away from some well-deserved R&R, but a situation has developed that I need your help with.”
“What’s that, sir?” Amanda asked, playing dumb.
Gabriel glanced at the door. “Shouldn’t we wait for Captain Thomas before we start the briefing?”
“Thomas isn’t coming on this one,” Trent said. “Simms is still in bad shape and Thomas won’t leave his side. I could order her away and she’d obey.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to do that, though. Her head wouldn’t be in the game. Besides, I don’t think we’ll need her.
Thomas and Simms had served as lieutenants with the original band of legionnaires. They eventually became lovers, but Simms had been gravely wounded on their last assault.
Jones pointed at the empty chair. “Then who’s that for?”
“The last member of our team.”
“Who’s that, sir?” Gabriel asked.
“Someone special, someone uniquely qualified for this particular mission. In fact, we couldn’t do it without him.”
Tapping his right earlobe, he activated a com-link. It was an old habit no longer necessary, given the new neural nanos. “Colonel Maxwell to security. Is my guest ready to join us?” He spoke aloud for everyone’s benefit. The positive response silently popped into his mind. “Then send him in.”
Across the barren room, a door slid open. Hido, the Bearcat prisoner and Trent’s friend, stood in the door. The massive, mane-less lion-like creature towered over his human guards. He measured nearly three meters in height, and the shackled wrists and ankles did little to make him look less formable.
He shuffled his giant feet into the room, crouching forward to fit under the ceiling.
Trent rose to greet his friend while the others stayed frozen.
“Lieutenant, remove the prisoner’s restraints.”
The guard hesitated.
“Lieutenant.” Trent stepped forward. “I gave you an order. I’m assuming full responsibility for the prisoner. Remove his restraints and leave this room. You don’t have clearance to be here.”
The lieutenant lowered to take hold of the ankle restraints. The other two guards backed away and raised their weapons. The shackles disengaged from Hido’s fur-covered legs, each twice as thick as a man’s. The nervous lieutenant removed the cuffs around the beast’s hands with their huge retractable claws.
The guards slowly retreated, keeping their rifles on Hido until the door closed.
Trent advanced with hand extended. “Glad you could join us, Hido.” The words translated themselves in the prisoner’s mind via an implant.
Hido’s hand consumed Trent’s as they shook.
“I look forward to working with you as an ally, Colonel. I prefer it to our previous arrangement.”
They smiled, Hido’s grin revealed a disturbing array of sharp teeth.
Gabriel broke the silence. “Sir...forgive me for being frank. What the hell is this mission, exactly?”
“Take a seat, Sergeant. I’ll fill you all in.”
The chair left for Hido creaked under the stress.
Trent stood in front of the team. “You all have been granted Galactic Secret level clearance for this op.”
“What’s Galactic Secret?” Jones asked, her eyes never left Hido.
“It’s the highest level of security clearance.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Never heard of it.”
“That’s because you’ve never had high enough clearance to even know about it.” Trent crossed his arms. “FYI, if you tell anyone about this op that doesn’t have Galactic Secret clearance, you’ll probably be shot.”
Emotionless nods met the warning. They couldn’t take their eyes off Hido.
Tired of the lack of focus, he sighed. “Okay, maybe this will get your attention. The Kitrights told the Bearcats where to find New Earth. They also told them that we, humans, attacked them. They asked the Bearcats to defend them against us.”
The shocking news pulled them away from Hido. Open jaws begged for additional information.
“That’s right.” He nodded slowly. “The Kitrights arranged the entire war between us and the Bearcats. Hido’s people have been allies with the Kitright, or the Calths, as he knows them, for generations.”
Jones and Gabriel were pushed back by the revelation.
Jones blinked wildly. “Whaaa...What? Why? You mean the Kitrights wanted the Bearcats to attack New Earth?”
“I’m saying they wanted us to fight a war against each other.”
“But, why?” Gabriel asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. My guess is they wanted us to destroy each other. Then they’d have the galaxy to themselves.”
“Ummm, sir,” Jones said pointing at Hido. “Pardon me, but are we just taking his word for it?”
“Fair question, Major. No. Supreme Command has collaborating evidence that, combined with what we’ve learned from Hido, warrants our op to fill in some blanks.”
“And what exactly is the op?” Amanda asked, already knowing the answer.
Chapter Three
The Op
The plan was as simple as it was brutal. Trent would meet personally with the Kitright Ambassador to question him about the true nature of their deception. If he proved defensive, as expected, Hido would join the conversation to provoke a telling reaction. No matter the ambassador’s answers or reaction, he would not survive the meeting.
Arranging the discussion was the easy part. The Kitright Embassy complex maintained a heavy guard. When the ambassador traveled on Earth, however, he did so using human transport provided by the United Earth Systems. Once out of the embassy, Trent only had to deal with a small personal security detail and staff.
UES agents within the East Asian Alliance, a confederation of countries formed in the mid-21st century to counter Chinese power, scheduled a goodwill visit with the ambassador to lure him into the open.
The day the visit was to take place, a Fleet shuttle approached the Kitright compound in rural New York State to transport the ambassador to Tokyo.
On final approach, Trent studied the Kitright Ambassador via the shuttle’s optic sensors. The upright house cat’s yellow eyes squinted as they tracked the craft. Trent’s vengeful heart pounded as the ambassador flipped his fall-leaf-colored tail from side to side, totally unaware of the events about to unfold.
A sick rage built in the pit of his stomach. It’s judgment day for you, you bastard.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Major?” Gabriel asked Jones.
“Bloody hell, Sergeant. My first tour was in the British Army Air Corps, I’ll have you know.”
“Yeah, that was almost a hundred years ago. I think things have changed a bit since then. I still say we should’ve gotten a real pilot.”
“Have faith.” Jones patted his shoulder. “Back on the Fist, I spent most of my down time in the fighter simulator to help pass the hours.”
“Relax, Gab,” Trent said from the co-pilot’s chair. “These things practically fly themselves these days. Besides, the last thing we needed was to bring any more people into our trusted circle.”
“Whatever you say, Colonel.”
“Now hop back into the storage hold.” Trent said to Gabriel. “Don’t come out till I give you the signal. When we’re over the Pacific, I’ll call when I’m ready to take out the guards.”
“Roger, sir.” Gabriel sprinted to position.
Trent leaned toward Jones. “You do know what you’re doing, right?”
Narrowed eyes briefly glanced at him before returning to their task at hand.
The shuttle hovered over the landing pad in the middle of the compound. Without stirring a breeze, it lowered onto the concrete slab.
The door hummed, making a soft thud as it touched down. Sharply dressed in formal Fleet grays, Amanda descended the ramp. Her blonde hair was arrested in a tight po
nytail.
“Ambassador, welcome aboard. It is our honor to escort you today to Tokyo.” Smiling brightly, she stepped aside and gestured for his entourage of four, two staff, two bodyguards, to head into the shuttle.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” the ambassador said without the aid of a translation chip.
***
“We’re just about to the ocean, sir,” Jones announced.
“Good. It’s time to get this show on the road.”
Trent closed his eyes to thought-speak. “Roth and Gabriel, it’s time. Take position and on my mark, strike.”
The upgraded neural nanos made communication as easy as thinking. It was taking everyone time to get used to it, though. Decades of communicating through speech were proving a difficult handicap in learning the new tech.
Unbuckling the harness, Trent rose to exit the cockpit.
“Good luck, sir,” Jones said.
“Thanks. Try to keep us from falling out of the sky.”
“No promises.”
He snorted.
Outside the cockpit, he surveyed the situation, relying target locations to a concealed Gabriel via thought-speak.
This shuttle was specially outfitted for the ambassador’s use. The usually Spartan decor was replaced with couches, carpet, and other luxuries. The ambassador sat in a leather chair on the shuttle’s left side. A bodyguard stood on either side of him, with the aides flanking their superior on a pair of couches.
Amanda stood stiffly, hands behind her, at the wet bar, apparently ready to serve the guests whatever they desired.
The ambassador and aides conversed in their native tongue. To Trent’s ears, it sounded like a series of screeches, the shrill noise giving him goosebumps. The targets stopped speaking and looked at him. That’s all they were, targets. Not sentient beings with natural rights or even enemy combatants. No, they’d forfeited those rights when they stole his life with a lie. They were a means, mere tools, to a singular end, revenge.
With their eyes on him, the timing was perfect.
“On three,” Trent thought-spoke. “One.”
Amanda gently moved closer to the aide furthest from the cockpit to appear less threatening. The large house cat sipped a vile rotten milk-based drink from the Kitright home world. Trent took a step toward the bodyguards and opened his mouth as if to say something. The guard’s eyes tracked his every movement. Gabriel was slated to target the other guard.
“Two.”
Using her shielded hand, Amanda took hold of a knife hidden under her shirt. Trent extended his right hand to shake hands with the closest guard. The forward moving gesture distracted the guard from his left, which disappeared behind him to reach for his own blade.
“Three!”
Amanda struck first. In one seamless motion, her knife swung around to the front and plunged into the back of the aide’s neck. He died without a sound.
Trent’s blade flashed out, burying itself in the first bodyguard’s neck. Moss-green blood poured out of the wound. As the lifeless body collapsed, Gabriel shot into the room. He and Amanda moved toward the final guard.
Amanda attacked with her blade held high. The guard easily stopped the strike with a deflecting swipe. Gabriel took advantage of the distraction to thrust his knife into the guard’s chest. The blow sent the dying creature bouncing off the hull.
A quick right hook from Trent disabled the ambassador. He could feel the cat’s teeth break against his knuckles. The sensation pleased him. Maybe a little too much.
The last aide attempted to reach for a com unit. Amanda slashed his throat before he could use it.
“All clear!” Gabriel announced, examining the mangled guard.
Green blood, thrown into the air by fast blades, peppered the three killers. It puddled on the floor around the leaking corpses.
Gabriel wiped his knife on the guard’s pant leg. “Should I police up these bodies, Colonel?”
“Don’t bother.” He waved him off. “Secure the prisoner. Wake him up as soon as you can. We don’t have a lot of time.”
***
Trent slapped the Kitright’s fur-covered cheek. “Good morning, Mr. Ambassador,” Green specks decorated the orange fur.
Amanda and Gabriel flanked the captive.
The prisoner struggled against his restraints. He muttered something in his own language. Trent couldn’t make out what he said. It was in a dialect foreign to the translation program.
“What is the meaning of this atrocity?” he demanded in English.
Trent sat straight up on the coffee table and pulled the bound ambassador closer. They were face to face, centimeters apart. “You get right to the point. I like that. Let’s get one thing straight here. I ask the questions, you answer them. Got it?”
“Who are you? Why have you done this? I am the representative of my people. Your actions are an insult to them all. I demand...”
Without hesitation, Trent’s knife impelled itself into the ambassador’s black boot. A fingernails-on-chalkboard type scream emitted from the feline, causing the interrogators to wince.
“Don’t make me repeat myself. I ask the questions.”
Hot eyes stared back at Trent.
“Good. Let’s get started.” He leaned back. “Why did the Kitright ask the Bearcats to attack us?”
The ambassador’s yellow eyes grew as large as eggs.
That’s right. Keep telling me what I want to know.
“Why did you reveal the location of New Earth to them?”
“This is insanity. I don’t know what you are talking about. We’ve never met the Bearcats.”
Extending his open hand, Trent revealed a small holo disk. It displayed the image of the Bearcat and Kitright ships meeting.
“I beg to differ, my friend. Seems you two are old buddies getting together in deep space for picnics and yard games.” He moved in close again. “Why did you start the war between humans and Bearcats?”
Kitrights don’t sweat, except through the pads on their feet and paws which wasn’t enough for temperature regulation. When they get hot, they hold their tongues out and breathe heavily, like Earth’s cats and dogs. The ambassador’s tongue dropped past his chin and he gasped for air.
Trent smirked. “You’ve never played poker before, have you?”
He tilted his head. “This doesn’t mean anything. They could have met by chance. We have no interest in your conflict. We avoid it. Violence is a plague. We don’t wish for war, like your people.”
Trent sighed. “That’s a fair assumption. I admit that by itself, this holo doesn’t mean a whole lot. But this isn’t all I have to show you, Mr. Ambassador. Please let Hido in, Sergeant Roth.”
She pressed a button to open the door.
Hido ducked low to pass under the doorframe and stood as tall as he could.
The hair on the ambassador stood erect and he quit breathing.
Trent rose to meet Hido, embracing him as a brother.
“Let me introduce you to a friend of mine. Hido, please say hello to the Ambassador.”
Hido let loose a mighty roar that filled the shuttle with audible rage.
“You see, Ambassador. My friend here has told me quite the story of how your people told them humans attacked you. He also says you asked them to defend you against humanity.”
The ambassador tried to speak, but his mouth simply hung open, silent.
“Don’t bother.” Trent flipped his wrist. “I’m tired of your people’s lies.” Heavy steps brought them face to face. “I want you to think of something. Imagine the Bearcat and human races united against a common enemy. Both already fully mobilized for war. Both with one goal in the universe.” His face burned bright red. “We’re going to attack your worlds all at once. We will drive your race into extinction!”
Silence greeted Trent’s threat.
“So. You have anything to say?”
The ambassador’s eyes tightened into daggers. “You don’t understand the true nature of the un
iverse. Your species’ warlike ways are a stain on all of creation. They were right to try and arrange your mutual destruction.” He looked from side to side, surveying his captors. “Don’t assume my people are defenseless. Attacking us will only seal your destruction.”
Trent belly laughed. “You fools. You damned fools. You’re the ones who have no idea of the kind of wrath you’ve brought upon yourselves. The Bearcats and my people have perfected war. We’ll apply all that we know of that black art toward the sole goal of your destruction.”
“Sir,” Jones said from the cockpit. “We’re out of time. Any longer and things will look suspicious.”
“Understood.”
The ambassador opened his mouth as if to speak. Satisfied and with time running short, Trent wasn’t interested in continued banter. His hand shot up, gripping its throat. Slowly he applied pressure, enjoying the twisted sensation.
They say revenge won’t make you feel better. As Trent watched the life trickle out of the alien who represented all that was taken from him, he couldn’t help but disagree.
Crack.
The sound of the ambassador’s neck snapping brought a sick grin to his face.
Stepping back, he looked at his handiwork. “That felt good. Going to have to find another soon.” The others stared. “Grab the gear and set the charges. It’s time to jump.”
***
“The supreme commander will see you now, Colonel,” announced the baby-faced duty sergeant.
He’s probably never seen combat and never will. Every man’s war is different.
Lifting off the comfortable couch, Trent tucked his black cap under an arm and marched stiffly toward the SC’s office.
Passing the Legion guards flanking the door, he entered a room that befitted the leader of so many.
The walls displayed paintings of historic naval battles, blending well with the antique furniture. At the end of the room, a massive window backed the large wooden desk that appeared besieged by information terminals.
The SC was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to invade her space, he passed the time examining a painting of the Battle of Midway. It depicted a squadron of American torpedo planes making a run on a Japanese carrier. He lost himself in the scene.
The Last Revenge (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 2) Page 2