Taylor cocked his head. “Then what do they need you for?”
Akoya paused for another moment of contemplation. “I bring certain… assets to the table few in the Union can provide.”
“What kind of assets?” Taylor asked.
“Information, mostly,” Akoya said. “The kind that informs where people go and when and by what route, if you catch my meaning.”
Taylor gave a slow nod. “You’re a gate master.”
“I was a gate master.” The Sumatozou raised a finger for emphasis. “Alas, that was many years ago in a life that, sadly, now feels like it may have belonged to someone else.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Of course you can,” the Sumatozou said. “Why else do you think I paid Captain Genovese the sum I did but to bring you here for this very conversation? It’s high time we got to know each another.”
Taylor glanced to the others, none of whom seemed to have a clue what the Sumatozou was talking about.
“Many years ago, I was what you might call a…” Akoya searched for the right words. “Rising star among the gate master community. After completing my initial training, I received my first assignment, overseeing operations for a backwater stargate near the Staxon system in the Cimarron arm. The entire facility was something of an obsolete mess, but my staff and I made it work. Five years later, I was rewarded for my efforts with a reassignment to the Mauvtok gate here in the Jesc arm. After that came stops in the Piquaw system, the Orthye cluster, and numerous others, until one day the Guild heads saw fit to honor me with one of the most prestigious posts in all the Union—the master post overseeing operations of the Sakall stargate in the Tolo arm.”
“Really?” Taylor feigned enthrallment, although something about the mention of Sakall struck him as odd. “That’s a high priority gig, all right. Your daddy must’ve been proud.”
“My sire was long deceased by this point,” Akoya said, clearly not getting the joke. “Immediately following my arrival at Sakall, I implemented the various policies and protocols that had proven so successful at my previous posts. The results were both instant and undeniable. By the conclusion of my first year in charge, the Sakall stargate was up 33 percent in gate fee profits alone, with more room for growth in year two.”
Taylor whistled. “That’s a lot of credits. I hope the Guild heads gave you a raise for all that.”
“They gave me more than that,” Akoya said. “It was around this time that I learned the Cartography Guild’s Latura Corps had taken an interest in my career.”
Taylor felt another tingle in his mind. Sakall. The Latura Corps. It all felt very familiar.
“The week prior to my second anniversary on Sakall, I was formally presented with an official offer to begin my latura training,” Akoya said. “As you well know, there is no higher calling for a gate master—Sumatozou or otherwise—than to merit a place among the Latura Corps. It is our highest honor, and one I was beyond humbled to receive.”
“What happened?” Taylor asked.
A stream of air surged from the elephant’s nostrils. “The night before my departure from Sakall, I was rousted awake by a station alert. Someone had breached our gate security during a routine data dump and captured a one-time image of the Cartography Guild’s most sacred possession—the interstellar transit atlas.”
Japhara.
“As you can imagine,” Akoya continued, “an exhaustive investigation followed, and while it was eventually determined that multiple factors had contributed to the breach, the fallout was ultimately laid before the master tasked with guarding the Guild’s secrets.” He patted his own chest. “I was discharged from master service and banished from Guild society by my peers, left to wander the stars alone. That was 16 very long years ago.”
Taylor stared at the ground. “I’m sorry, Akoya. I can’t imagine—”
“No, you most certainly cannot,” the elephant snapped. “I lost everything when that atlas was taken. My home. My community. My career. My status. Even the other Sumatozou turned their backs on me, fearing any association with my name would result in a backlash to their own careers from the Council.” He grunted. “You can imagine my surprise, therefore, when the actual party responsible for the breach—a Grand Latura, no less—returned to Union space and a hero’s welcome three years ago, having been rescued from his own exile by the human commander of a long forgotten mercenary company from Earth.”
Taylor chewed his lip. “If you know about Rukoria, then you know Japhara Hylune wasn’t acting of his own volition. The Krulig vowed to kill his family if he didn’t help them steal the atlas. He had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.” Akoya sneered. “Hylune was a Grand Latura. He knew that better than anyone. He should’ve taken the secrets of the atlas to his grave, per the obligations of his oath. The fact that he didn’t makes him a coward—only it was I who paid the price for it. Thus, it is I who deserves recompense.” Akoya motioned to his winged comrades, who shoved Taylor’s team to their knees in the dirt with weapons drawn.
“Wait,” Taylor rushed out. “You said it yourself. I didn’t meet Japhara until three years ago. Neither did anyone else on my team. We had nothing to do with the atlas theft or your banishment.”
“Perhaps,” Akoya said. “Nevertheless, what’s that human expression of yours? Guilty by association?”
Taylor scrambled to collect his thoughts. “If you know Japhara, then you know he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about humans, even me. Our alliance on Rukoria was born out of necessity for survival, not because we liked each other. He won’t come for me, no matter who you kill.”
“We shall see.” Akoya gestured to the line of mercs on their knees. “Choose.”
“Excuse me?” Taylor arched an eyebrow.
“Do you know why I partnered with the KzSha for my mining venture here on Droxis?” Akoya folded his arms. “It wasn’t for their numbers, or even their ferocity in combat. It’s because, of all the species I’ve encountered during my travels, they are the only ones who take as much pride in the details of their work as I do. From the planning of their culling efforts to the way they house their bounty afterward, the wasps are nothing short of surgical in everything they do.” He leaned in. “That includes the executions of unruly slaves. Now…choose.”
Taylor gulped. “And if I don’t?”
“Then they all die,” Akoya said with an easy tone. “Lest we forget, you’re the only one I truly need.”
“Don’t do it, Van Zant!” Torrio shouted. “Don’t give this fat son of a bitch the satisfaction! I know his type, and I know his style. He’s gonna kill us all no matter what you do!”
The colonel’s entire body seized up when a KzSha stinger slammed into back. He toppled over, twitching in a fit of spastic pain, and face-planted in the dirt. Still, he was breathing.
“Another outburst like that would be ill-advised,” Akoya said calmly. “Last chance, Chief Van Zant. Choose.”
Taylor’s gaze darted frantically through the crowd. Clearly the other River Hawks had seen how this played out, as evidenced by their stone-faced expressions and taut muscles. Frank looked just as freaked out. Meanwhile, Jack and Stan demonstrated every bit of stoicism one would expect from two veteran mercs of their experience.
“It’s been fun, Jack.”
“Stan, wait!” Taylor’s eyes bulged as the Mississippian surged upright in a blur of speed and slammed shoulder-first into the KzSha queen, whose stinger smashed straight into her attacker’s face.
Dazed and visibly confused, Stan wobbled backward on his heels, fighting between muscle spasms to catch his balance. It was then that Taylor and everyone else around learned a terrifying new truth about their captors.
The KzSha don’t consume pollen or other insects. They’re carnivores.
“Stan!” Jack screamed.
One after another, the wasps dogpiled onto the helpless human like sharks on a whale carcass, maws open and fangs bared as they tore
into Stan’s flesh with bladed arms. It was hands down the most gruesome sight of Taylor’s life, yet hard as he tried, he couldn’t look away. The feeding frenzy went on for what felt like hours, all those blades and teeth tearing and ripping, and ripping and tearing—and all with nary a scream from Stan, on account of his vocal cords being paralyzed from the stinger venom. By the time the blood-soaked orgy ended, the commander’s once proud form looked more like a mound of raw hamburger meat than something resembling a man.
“Insolent old fool,” Akoya muttered. He then leaned over and scooped up Stan’s fedora, tossing it over to the queen, who seemed to regard the garment as some kind of trophy.
“You had better kill me now, bitch,” Jack seethed from his knees. “Otherwise, I’m coming for you. You hear me? I’m coming for every last one of you insect bastards, and when I do, it’s gonna get spiritual.”
Akoya rolled his eyes. “Take them away.”
Taylor lurched ahead when a hand shoved behind his back, locking eyes with the queen as he started forward. She was still fidgeting with Stan’s hat. The sight of it enraged him.
“That’s on you, pal. Not me,” Genovese had said to Torrio about the lives lost on Emza. “It’s all on you.”
Taylor’s gaze flicked back to the shredded pile of meat that moments earlier had been one of his best friends, tears falling. I am so sorry.
* * * * *
Chapter 17: Buried
The humans were split into groups after leaving the director’s shack and taken back to the confinement area, where they were processed into the labor force with the other aliens. In Taylor’s case, this meant being separated from the other Eagles and taken to a different caging area than the one he’d encountered earlier.
“Just like a damn hive,” House had said earlier. The Georgia corporal had been right. The entire subterranean complex, based on what Taylor could observe, resembled a giant rocky honeycomb of chambers, all serving in different capacities and functions to support the overall mining operation. As for the confinement areas themselves, Taylor shuddered to think how many of those there were.
Taylor spent the next three hours locked in his cage with a gaggle of elSha, pondering his predicament. Others in the Galactic Union needed to know what was happening in the Droxis underground, and that started with Reigns and the other Eagles who, as far as Taylor knew, were still hiding on the surface, waiting for his call. Somehow, some way, somebody’s gotta warn them. But how?
An audible thwack echoed off the cave walls when a Besquith from an adjacent cage shoved one of his GenSha cellmates in the chest. The bison flared its nostrils, visibly pissed…and just like that, the fight was on.
“That was a mistake,” the Duplato to Taylor’s right observed.
Four KzSha emerged from the nearby guard station and stormed to the cage, flinging open the door and stunning both combatants with their tails. Both aliens flopped to the ground, twitching and spasming, then were dragged out of the cage by their feet and loaded onto a car at the terminus.
“What will happen to them?” Taylor asked.
“First, they’ll be punished,” the Duplato said. “After that, they’ll likely be isolated with minimal food and water in the caves further down.”
“But they won’t be killed,” Taylor surmised.
The Duplato shook his head. “The KzSha wouldn’t dare eliminate workers of that ilk. They are too strong, too valuable.”
The conversation paused when two more KzSha marched over to Taylor’s cage.
“Back,” one of them snapped in its synthetic voice.
Taylor did as ordered, then watched from the corner as the wasp flung open the cage door and motioned the slaves inside to step out into the open.
“Move,” the wasp snapped again.
Taylor exited the cage and was paraded out into the prison yard with the others. After they’d been assembled, the group was herded to the terminus platform, where another train car, piloted by a Caroon, waited to take them away.
The ride through the tunnel back up to the mine didn’t take long, roughly five minutes. Once there, Taylor was herded off the train car and escorted with six other aliens toward the crane he’d spotted before his meeting with Akoya. As before, the area around the tall, skeletal machine was bustling with activity. There were Duplato working the draglines, elSha running supplies, and Altar working maintenance. Taylor also spotted a series of conveyors near the mouth of the pit, which led to a loading dock area lined with trucks about 20 yards to Taylor’s right. Riding on their belts were the crates he’d seen in the other trucks before. At roughly five feet wide and deep by four feet tall, the bins were built mostly of steel with large metal hinges and horizontal vents along the lids.
What are you carrying?
A loud crash came from behind, sending a chorus of panicked screams swelling through the cave.
“Back it down, now!” someone yelled.
Taylor whirled on his heels as multiple aliens fled the crane site, while a trio of Duplato fought frantically to corral whatever payload was secured to the other end of the draglines.
“Back it down, or you’ll blow out the power system!” the alien screamed.
The Duplato manning the crane’s controls worked furiously at his console as grinding metal gears and hissing hydraulics shrieked in distress over the sudden torque on the cables.
A horde of KzSha swarmed into view as, little by little, the frantic operator got control over the situation. Shortly thereafter, silence filled the chamber, followed by a collective sigh of relief.
“Exciting times, ain’t it?” a familiar voice quipped.
Taylor turned to find Paul Torrio staring at him, hands on his hips and sporting a fresh bandage on his forehead.
“Definitely not my usual mornin’ routine, that’s for sure,” Taylor said. “You look surprised to see me.”
“Yes and no,” Torrio said. “The others and I took bets after we got back to our cage on whether you were dead or alive. Most of my guys took the former, obviously.”
“’But not you,” Taylor surmised.
“Nope.” Torrio pocketed his hands in his frayed trousers. “It don’t take a rocket scientist to see our fat bastard slave master back in the director’s shack has a special breed of hate in his heart for you. Why that is, nobody knows. What I do know is, whatever his plans for you are, I’d wager credits to cupcakes it’s gonna take a while.”
Taylor cocked his head. “You sound pretty happy about that.”
The colonel’s grimy expression flattened. “Let’s be clear on something, Van Zant. You and me got our issues. That’s a fact. Even still, I wouldn’t wish this existence on anybody, even you. I may be a dick, but I ain’t a fargin monster.”
Taylor shrugged. “Fair enough.”
A pair of KzSha guards marched toward the men with stinger tails up. “You two. Back to work. Now!”
Torrio heaved a sigh. “Thanks for comin’ to the show, folks. Right this way.”
Taylor trailed the River Hawks’ CO through a crowed of elSha, then across the main yard to a cluster of small buildings on the far side wall. They looked like little huts the size of walk-in closets. Beyond that, though, Taylor couldn’t tell much else about them. “So what’s our job here? Security of some kind?”
“Ha!” Torrio guffawed. “You wish we were that lucky.”
Taylor followed the other human to the backside of one of the huts. There, Torrio knelt down and pulled a pair of release handles on each side of a rectangular hatch just above the ground. An audible clack ensued as the latches released and a stream of valve air preceded the ejection of a tub into the open.
“Holy—” Taylor lunged aside, bile in his throat, as the vile odor of methane, putrescine, and gods only knew what else saturated his nostrils.
“Congratulations, my friend.” Torrio grinned. “You’ve officially gone from the penthouse to the outhouse. Welcome to the sanitation crew.”
Taylor glared past his arm into
the tub as a small, slender log floated topside in the raunchiest caldron of foulness even his darkest nightmares couldn’t have conjured.
“Let’s get to it,” Torrio said.
The two went about their business, ejecting the waste tub from each bathroom hut and evacuating its contents into a mobile incinerator before moving on to the next one. After about an hour, Taylor rose to his feet, needing a break as another truck convoy departed the loading zone, bound for the surface.
“Have you seen Frank and the others?” Taylor asked, stretching his back.
“The bird is fine,” Torrio said. “He and the rest of your team were brought back to my confinement area when we were separated after the meeting with Akoya. They’re all fine, save for maybe Bowyer.”
Taylor lowered his head. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Torrio said. “Real bad. In all the time I served in Jack’s unit, I’ve never seen him like this. The old fart won’t speak. He won’t face anyone. He won’t eat. He just sits there, hunkered down in the corner of the cage, glaring at everybody who dares come near him.” The colonel paused to grab a towel from the incinerator cart and wipe his hands. “Hell, Van Zant, I can’t say as I blame him. Our issues with each other notwithstanding, I respected those guys, ya know? I mean, let’s face it. Blackjack Bowyer and Mississippi Stan? Their partnership is practically a fargin legend in our business. I can’t fathom what it’d be like to fight next to somebody that long, only to see it end the way it did back at Akoya’s office.” He winced and shook his head. “Bad things, man. Bad things.”
A colossal boom rocked the cave as plumes of smoke and fire poured from a support shaft beside the main pit.
“Shit!” Torrio dropped his cleaning tool and raced across the yard through a scrum of scrambling aliens toward the explosion. Sure enough, something down the shaft had gone horribly wrong.
The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) Page 14