The Kurtherian Endgame Boxed Set

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The Kurtherian Endgame Boxed Set Page 29

by Michael Anderle


  They pushed through the heavy curtain to the main room beyond. It wasn’t quite the kind of nightclub they’d expected.

  The ambiance of the lobby was replaced by almost total darkness. The only light came from the backlit podiums scattered throughout the room, and the roaming strobes that danced over the darkness.

  Gabrielle drew a breath when two beams crossed in front of her, throwing a low couch into relief—as well as the knot of writhing, sweaty bodies upon it.

  Eric spoke into his wife’s mind. You sure you wanna join in with the local customs?

  She responded to his teasing with a soft sigh. Been there, done that. Perhaps in France, but I’m not admitting anything. Come on, boys. I’ve found someone we should talk to.

  She slipped into the crowd, leaving Eric and Darryl to pick their jaws up from the floor.

  Belv’th, Town on the Lakes, Salt Mine

  The guards bunched in a half-circle about twenty feet away from the three of them. Neither human appeared the least bit fazed by the multitude of guards surrounding them with their electro-whips raised. In fact, if K’aia didn’t know better, she’d say they were equal parts pissed and excited by the violence the situation promised.

  The mine owner, a Leath, stood behind his men and shouted over their heads, “Drop your weapons and surrender my Yollin, and I’ll let you go.”

  Baba Yaga tilted her head and gave him a sharp grin over the top of the Jean Dukes Special in her right hand. “How about you drop yours, and I won’t kill every last motherfucking one of you slowly?”

  You’re going to let them live?

  Her laugh tickled the back of Michael’s mind. Like fuck. They’re all going to die horribly, although maybe not slowly, and then we’re going to free the rest of the slaves.

  What about our young friend?

  I have a feeling she will be eager to help out. She spoke into the Yollin’s mind. K’aia, do you feel like getting a little payback?

  K’aia’s mandibles clicked rapidly in surprise. Of course, she had heard the legends and the rumors, but to be here and fight side-by-side with her?

  She had never felt more Yollin.

  She nodded at Baba Yaga and stepped away to place Barien’s body down reverently beside a tree, then moved to back up Baba Yaga and her consort.

  Six guards stepped forward at an order from the mine owner.

  Baba Yaga shook a finger at them. “Nuh-uh. Stay right where you are.” They didn’t, so she shot them as soon as they took the first step.

  “What am I paying you for?” the Leath screamed in anger, pointing. “Get them, you fools!”

  The guards surged forward.

  Before K’aia had even dispatched the Zhyn who came at her, Baba Yaga had worked her way through them in a storm of kinetics and claws. A few made a break for the mine entrance, but one by one they jerked and fell as Michael calmly picked them off.

  K’aia knocked away a Skaine with her bony elbow, then slashed him with the electro-whip she tore from his hand. “I hope you have no afterlife!” She crushed his head with her front foot and moved on to the next.

  Baba Yaga opened a throat with her claws and stepped over the fallen body to get to the Leath, who was backing up with terror stamped across his features.

  He slipped on the entrails of one of his ex-guards, landing heavily on his ass. He scrabbled backward with his feet, pointing at Baba Yaga with a shaky hand. “You have no power here! You can’t come into my place of business and start killing indiscriminately!”

  Baba Yaga stalked over to him and picked him up by his thick neck. He struggled, trying to pull her fingers apart as he kicked the air.

  She made a face as she felt his veins throb under her hand. “Who said it was indiscriminate?” She ended the conversation with a squeeze and dropped the dead Leath to the ground with a look of disgust. “I’m not even going to bury scum like that.”

  She held her hands up and concentrated for a second, and her hands were clean again. She ran them through her hair, and when she looked up again, the Witch was gone. Bethany Anne rolled her shoulders and stretched, then looked at Michael and K’aia. “I suppose that will do as a warmup.”

  Michael shook his head at the ring of corpses around them. “They never listen, do they?”

  Bethany Anne grinned as she holstered her pistol. “Is utter obedience from scum-sucking bottom-dwellers too much to ask for?”

  Chapter Five

  Belv’th, Second City

  “DRAG’TAH HUMANS!”

  The whole bar was in an uproar. The fight had quickly been taken up by the rest of the customers, and the bartender had crouched behind the bar to escape the furniture that was being thrown around.

  John sidestepped a clumsy swipe and threw a monster right hook that knocked the Baka halfway across the floor. Its progress was stalled by the fixed table it crashed into.

  It got up and roared mournfully at John, who couldn’t believe his ears. He pointed to it. “Shit, they even sound like Wookies!”

  “It almost feels wrong punching them,” Scott called. He was holding the snapping Noel-ni away with one hand on the top of her head while he kicked a Skaine in the face. “I hate fighting the cute ones.”

  “I’m not having any issues,” Tabitha snarked from the top of the bar. She smashed the stool she was holding into the face of the Shrillexian who’d started it all. He stumbled back but lunged again—straight into her boot. She dived onto his back and wrapped both arms around his neck.

  Her voice cut through the noise in the bar. “Rodeo time, bitches! Whooooot!” The Shrillexian bucked to get her off, but Tabitha just clung tighter and rode him like a mechanical bull, all the while punching him in the head. “These fuckers always take a licking!”

  The Baka roared again and charged John with a broken bottle in each hand. “Tabitha, stop jacking around.” He blocked the Baka’s downward swing and jabbed his shaggy attacker in the groin. The Baka folded, and John used the opportunity to grab the Baka’s head and introduce its face to his knee.

  He glanced down to make sure the creature stayed down this time.

  John looked around to check on Scott, who was still trying to extricate himself from the Noel-ni. He held her at arm’s length to avoid the whirlwind of claws. “Shit,” he told her, “I’m sorry I suggested you get a rabies shot, okay? You’re clearly just deranged.”

  She snarled and snapped at him. “I’ll tear your face off and eat your eyeballs, human!”

  Tabitha jumped off the bleeding Shrillexian on the floor. “Just hit her, already!” She bent to snatch a rifle twice the size of her arm from the Shrillexian’s unconscious body.

  Scott grimaced. “But she’s so cute, even with all the ‘grrrr.’ Feels like I’d be kicking a panda or something. S’just wrong.”

  Tabitha marched over and laid the Noel-ni out with a jab to the back of her head from the butt of her new rifle. The Noel-ni’s eyes rolled up, and she dropped. “There, problem solved.” Tabitha made sure no one was on her six before turning back to Scott. “And I’ll make sure to tell everyone that I had to save your ass from the cute, fluffy alien.”

  A Skaine came flying over their heads. “Duck!”

  “You’re supposed to yell before you throw,” Tabitha bitched. She grabbed a two-legged Yollin coming at her and flung him into the optics display behind the bar.

  “You’re paying for that!” they heard the bartender yell over the falling glass. A pale, slender hand reached up and plucked the one remaining bottle from the shelf. “All of it!”

  Tabitha and Scott turned to grin at John as the patrons of the bar gathered in a loose circle around them. Scott made a face of mock-horror at the weapons that appeared in their hands. “Looks like playtime’s over. They have guns.”

  John frowned at the would-be assailants. “Those aren’t guns.” He held up the pistols made by his wife. “These are guns.”

  Tabitha cracked up, almost getting hit by a Skaine in her abandon. She sidestepped a
nd kicked the Skaine away. “I can’t believe you even did that,” she managed through her laughter.

  John’s eyes blazed red. “Now, I’m gonna count to five, and then it’s gonna suck to be anyone still standing here.”

  He pulled the hammers back (which, on a Jean Dukes pistol were completely for show, but Jean liked to make her husband happy.) “One…”

  Belv’th, Town on the Lakes, Irey

  K’aia was going to return to the mine and help them organize it into something that could support the workers for the foreseeable future.

  However, she had something important to do first.

  She had refused all offers of help with Barien’s body. While Bethany Anne had gone into the mine to release all the workers and Michael had been searching the offices, she had taken his body to the baths and cleaned and wrapped it in a richly embroidered cloth she’d taken from the wall outside the dead mine owner’s office.

  Barien made his final journey in her arms, flanked on either side by the most powerful honor guard she could possibly have asked for.

  When they reached Irey, a mercenary outpost, a soldier leaned over the wall and told them to fuck off. “Whatever you’re sellin,’ we don’t want it.”

  Bethany Anne frowned at him. “Do I look like a fucking salesperson? Open up, or you won’t have a gate left to open.”

  The soldier squinted to see her face. “Oh shit.”

  A few minutes later the gate was opened just a crack by a man with a rifle in a crumpled military-style jacket over what was clearly nightwear. He blinked owlishly at them. “Oh, shit. I mean, you’re the fucking Empress.”

  “I told you, Gerry,” the guard piped up from behind him

  Michael snickered. “No introductions are necessary, then.”

  The man glared at them. “We don’t want your kind here. We rule ourselves.”

  “‘Our kind?’” Bethany Anne rolled her eyes. “Just let us in. It’s already been a long night.”

  Gerry looked at K’aia. “A Yollin? What’s that you’re carrying?”

  Bethany Anne translated for K’aia, who stepped forward holding her friend. “This is Barien. He was killed. I brought him here to be sent on to his afterlife according to the ways of your people.”

  The hostility faded from Gerry’s face. He lowered his rifle, stepped back, and opened the gate. “I suppose you’d better come in then.”

  “About time.” Bethany Anne marched past him. “Oh, and you can probably expect a few more people. The salt mine has gone out of business.” She looked back at K’aia. “The previous owner got called away.” Bethany Anne strode a few more steps before adding, “To the afterlife.”

  Gerry led Bethany Anne, Michael, and K’aia to a long, low building constructed from roughly cut stones. “Go on in. I’m going to find someone to help your friend there.” He pointed at K’aia. “I need to get back to my beauty sleep.”

  “Who’s in charge here?” Bethany Anne asked.

  Gerry laughed. “In charge? Oh, that’s just…” He walked off, clutching a hand to his stomach. “Someone will be with you soon.”

  Bethany Anne looked at Michael, who shrugged and walked inside the building. She waved K’aia in and followed behind.

  Belv’th, First City, Bazaar

  Gabrielle and Darryl waited by the fountain in the open square. The cool night breeze was a relief after the thick air and close quarters inside the club.

  Eric appeared from a gap in the crowd, carrying three takeout cups. “Hey, it’s not coffee, but you were right. It’s damn close!”

  Gabrielle took hers and sipped it gratefully. “Mmmm, nutty. We have to get some of this to take back to High Tortuga.” She looked up at the ships cutting through the traffic lanes above. “You know, I kind of like this place.”

  “How so?” Darryl asked.

  She smirked. “It has an edge to it. Look up there.” She indicated the ships slicing through the atmosphere above them. “The energy coming from most of these people is incredible. They feel free, and they’re proud and happy. They work hard and play harder. What’s not to like?”

  “Most?” Eric hadn’t missed his wife’s qualifier.

  Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. “Yes, well. We can take care of them. I think this place is...” She trailed off as her eyes wandered to a commotion on the other side of the square.

  She stood to get a better look. The flurry of movement came from a hastily-erected stage, where a heavily scarred Baka duked it out with a nine-foot lizard-looking alien to cheers from the crowd.

  Gabrielle’s eyes lit up. “Guys, is that… Are they prizefighting?”

  Belv’th, Town on the Lakes

  They left K’aia at the gates and headed back along the shoreline. Michael had found evidence in the mine owner’s office that pointed back to a mercenary company based in the first city.

  “I can’t believe how they run things there. It is not even a city. Isolated communities, no infrastructure other than what anyone is willing to provide for a price. Gerry told me that they don’t even have any administration for local matters, no law, and no responsibility for anything other than themselves and their dependents.”

  Bethany Anne shrugged. “Yeah, well. If it works for them, then I suppose they don’t need to define their roles too much. Who are we to judge?”

  “How can they survive with so little structure?” Michael grumped. “I can’t believe it works.”

  She didn’t try to hide her amusement. “You wanted to tell them to make a damn decision, didn’t you? Please tell me it wasn’t just me they drove batshit with their endless debate?”

  He smirked, then sighed. “So damn much. From what I gather, that’s pretty much the system around these parts. I refrained from laughing and asking how no system could be a system, but only just.”

  Bethany Anne squeezed his hand. “That’s progress. I remember a time when you would have just ripped their heads off and installed leaders who did things your way.”

  The memory that came unbidden brought a small smile to his lips. “Those were the days. Be that as it may, I have made more than a little effort to ‘chill out,’ as everybody keeps saying.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” she told him. “I like this softer side of you. Our children couldn’t have a better father than the man you’re becoming.”

  He looked away. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you are much more willing to spill blood since I left you for a while.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You say it like that’s a bad thing.”

  “Not necessarily.” He sniffed. “Can you smell that?”

  Bethany Anne scented the air. “Salt…and smoke.” She looked into the distance, seeing a small town some way along the shore. “Shit, we’d better go and see if they need help.”

  Michael was already speeding toward their goal. “Race you,” he called back.

  “Oh, it’s on.”

  Their humor was lost when they reached the town and all that remained was a blackened ruin. Michael caught up to Bethany Anne at the town limit, where she stood looking out at the devastation in simmering silence.

  He took her hand. “There may be survivors.”

  She shook her head. “There’s nobody here. This isn’t fresh.”

  “We should search anyway.”

  “We’ll split up and search quickly, then get back to the ArchAngel and figure out which fuckers did this.” Her face worked through her emotions, finally settling on a cold mask. “This is the downside to the anarchy the people of that city love so much. They have ultimate freedom, but no Justice. I can see why ADAM picked this place.”

  Michael scrutinized her for a moment, then nodded and slipped into the shadows.

  Bethany Anne walked in the opposite direction, her anger rising with every step she took. Who had done this to these people?

  By all accounts, they were the misfits; outcasts on a planet full of them. Still, they deserved better than whatever happened here.

/>   Everywhere she looked were signs of a struggle. The odd corpse here and there told her everything she needed to know. A twisted corpse in a melted mercenary uniform lay in the doorway of one of the burnt houses.

  She walked on. A Noel-ni stared sightlessly from the mouth of an alley. When she bent to examine the corpse, she recognized the telltale scorch marks from an electro-whip on its matted fur. Closer inspection revealed manacle scarring on the body’s wrists and ankles.

  More fucking slavery.

  She summoned the Pod and turned on her heel to storm back toward the edge of town. Michael, we’re getting out of here. Looks like those basic assholes need our attention, after all.

  Belv’th, First City, Bazaar

  Darryl stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

  “Go, baby!” Gabrielle jumped up and down on the spot. Her cheeks were pink, and her scarf had fallen away.

  Eric flashed them a quick grin and ducked the claws coming at his throat. He used the momentum to drop and sweep his opponent’s legs. Unfortunately for Eric, this species had backward-facing knee joints.

  He rolled out of the way just before it landed on top of him and flipped to his feet. His opponent got up and squared up to Eric again.

  The fight was drawing a substantial crowd. Gabrielle and Darryl were surrounded by baying spectators, most with their heads and faces covered for anonymity.

  “Who are these people?” one hooded figure asked another. “They’re not like any humans I’ve ever met.”

  “And do you see that female?” the other asked. “I’d pay good currency for the use of her.”

  Eric was suddenly gone from the stage. Gabrielle spun to find him. Darryl chuckled and pointed to the other side of the stage. “Oh shit, now they’ve done it.”

  The figure who’d spoken second was now hanging in the air, suspended by the throat from Eric’s hand. The crowd didn’t care who was fighting or where, as long as there was a fight to watch. They shifted to reform the circle around Eric.

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “That’s my wife you just disrespected.” His friend found himself in a similar situation in Eric’s other hand. He gave them both a shake that rattled their brains in their skulls and held them out to face Gabrielle. He ground the words out from between clenched teeth. “Apologize to her. Now.”

 

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