Horsemen United: Horsemen Origins Books 1-5

by Benjamin Hartman

  She glanced over at a case on the wall which displayed Bud’s Chancellor’s Medal of Valor as well as the Phalanx Stars of Courage. These were the two most prestigious medals of the Core. They also lionized him in his son’s eyes and set the path Warrens would take nine years later, when he enlisted in the Core Army after turning seventeen. He served over three years during the Unification Wars, earning the Distinguished Service Cross, as well as the same medals his father earned.

  A beep from his tablet brought him back to the present. Warrens grabbed the device that was on top of his reptile field guide and scrolled through his files. Inside was hundreds of sketches of weapons, armor and war machines that he’d compiled over the years. There was also a message from Beckwell Defense’s Human Resources Department:

  ATTN: Transfer

  Dear Mr. Warrens,

  This is to notify you that we’re transferring you to our South African division to help with our stabilization efforts.

  Thank you for your understanding during this time of need.

  Sincerely,

  Lori Anderson, Director of Human Resources

  “Grandma I’m home!” Warrens shouted as he walked into the house.

  “Where have you been?! It’s almost midnight!” Gladys asked as she shuffled into the kitchen.

  “I was working late, making notes for future designs.”

  “Always working late. Need to find you a woman!” Gladys stopped in her tracks when she looked up at her grandson. “Dear lord my boy, your face is all scratched up! You were out boxing again weren’t you?! I don’t know why the Da Vinci of our time insists on getting his head knocked around every Friday night! It would seem to me that he would put that noggin to use!”

  “Well, I won’t have any boxing opportunities anymore. Beckwell is transferring me to South Africa.”

  “Like hell they are! I’m not going to that hole!”

  “Grandma, this company has given us everything.”

  “And they’re asking too much! They can send somebody else to that war zone! You barely came home from that decade-long war, I don’t need you goin’ into another one!”

  “Grandma, I’m one of their best engineers.”

  “Why’d you have to go into defense?! Why couldn’t you have designed…speeder engines or something?!”

  Warrens chuckled. “I do design engines for tanks and-”

  “You know what I mean!” Gladys snapped.

  Warrens wrapped his arms around his grandmother. “Someday I will wield the armor that would’ve saved Dad. Until then, I’ll do what the company asks. And that means moving to Africa and taking you because I promised I’d take care of you.”

  “I really wish those other boxers would knock some sense into you!”

  “This just in from Global News Cast. The violence in Africa continues to escalate as the three warlords bid for power. Atrocities such as beheadings are committed on a daily basis. Accusations of infanticide, genocide, and rape are commonplace while the Core authorities do nothing to alleviate the suffering of civilians. Each warlord claims that he's the better humanitarian, however the ever-growing scope of desolation reveals that none of these warlords desire to appease their potential followers. The devastation has purged the African continent into a devastating civil war, with no end in sight.”

  “Deebs, turn that damn newscast off,” Warrens ordered as he entered the testing lab.

  “You and your stupid nicknames. It’s DeBoer meathead!” His lab partner snapped. “What’s your deal?!”

  “Hate the news. Can’t fix anything when savages run a war like this one. I like my machines because I can fix ‘em.”

  “It’s good to be informed. I’d like to know if I should buy an insurance policy on you in case you get kidnapped and killed.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that crap or I’ll lay you out flat dutch boy.”

  “Damn yanks, think you can always wrangle us to get your way?”

  “Guess I don’t share the morbid South African sense of humor.”

  “Damn straight,” DeBoer said as he shut the news off. The two men put on their safety equipment and approached the Lepton Forges, which were drawing in particles and assembling them into armor plates.

  “What’ve we got?” DeBoer asked.

  “We’re gonna test the armor against some shieldbreaker rounds,” Warrens replied. “But first we gotta clean the guns.” He shoved a rifle into DeBoer’s chest and placed a pistol on the work bench. Within seconds Warrens had disassembled the pistol, ready for cleaning while DeBoer watched in amazement.

  “That is incredible!” He said. Warrens moved to the other side, took the rifle and disassembled it before his partner’s eyes as well.

  “So we’re removing the energy cells and converting these into ballistics since the shieldbreakers are a projectile ammunition,” Warrens explained. “Real easy to do, just gotta switch the cells for a hammer and the barrels.”

  DeBoer gathered the new parts and tried to install them in the guns, but they wouldn’t fit. He tried over and over, but only found frustration.

  “These ballistics parts don’t fit! Are you sure these are meant to convert?”

  Warrens grabbed the barrel and looked down both ends. He measured it, then took out a micron laser torch.

  “It’s a few microns too big. Just shave a bit off, and we’re all set. Won’t be enough to harm the structural integrity,” He said as he positioned the barrel within the assault rifle and had it assembled in 30 seconds.

  “It’s scary how good you are at doing that, even if you are some kind of war hero,” DeBoer said.

  “Too bad we can’t use these to defend ourselves,” Warrens said as he sighted in the rifle.

  “Good luck with that plan. Core won’t allow civilians to carry the very weapons we make for them. They think we’re too unstable and dangerous.”

  “Real shame,” Warrens said as he fired off a few rounds into an armor plate.

  “Armor plate holds up good,” DeBoer said.

  “If anything we’re the most qualified to handle these weapons. The Core’s laws only punish the lawful. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family.”

  “Don’t you just have your grandma?”

  “Watch it Deebs.”

  “Was only askin’. Hear about that consultant they’re bringing in in a few weeks? Maybe he’ll make you feel better about going outside.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I’ll bore my captors to sleep,” Warrens said as he fired off another volley.

  “Thank you everyone for attending this meeting today,” Greg Hoffberg, the Regional Manager said. “Not sure what you guys have heard, but the situation here in Africa is deteriorating.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Warrens thought to himself. He kept his hands folded in front of his face, waiting to hear the proposed solutions. Kidnappings were rampant across South Africa. Murders occurred daily. Firebombs were being set off without a clear target. There was an uprising that simmered beneath the dark continent’s shell, and none of the men in the room knew how to handle it.

  “We’ve brought in an expert who will advise us on the political climate here in Africa. Nigel Harris, thank you for being here with us today,” Hoffberg said.

  “Thank you Mr. Hoffberg. Now, I’m not sure how much history you gentlemen know, but to make it easier on everyone, I’m going to start from the beginning. Two hundred years ago, on the rise of Earth’s prominence within the Core there was a man of Nubian Descent who believed in Africa’s unification: Enai Kharakoum. Enai was a brutal warlord who ravaged Africa, but he successfully unified the continent while the rest of the world clinged to their false hopes of independent states. For two hundred years, Enai’s lineage has ruled Africa in a pseudo-monarchy tolerated by the Core Authorities due to Aluminum Isotope - 26,” Nigel explained.

  “What’s that?” DeBoer asked.

  “Really DeBoer?” Hoffberg interrupted. “Iso-26 is what makes our warp drives create and manipulate
magnetic fields which allows us to pass through the space-time continuum.”

  “Doesn’t that isotope only have a half life of 750,000 years?” Warrens asked.

  “Normally that is correct,” Nigel said. “However, inside the African deep mines, they found that our magnetic field and a proximity to uranium kept the Isotope active.”

  “What about the Earth Core Government? Why don’t they get involved?” DeBoer asked. “If this stuff is that valuable…?”

  “That is far more simple,” Nigel said. “Who wants to be on the receiving end of ethnic cleansing charges? The powers that be have always left Africa to her own devices since most of her wars are ethnic in nature. Enai Kharakoum was a sadistic, bloodthirsty dictator, but he united Africa under one regime. The Core gave him everything he wanted to develop the continent in exchange for unhindered access to Isotope-26. The Core is holding back to see who holds the most promise of controlling Africa, by that I mean who owns the Isotope mines. When they see a clear leader emerge, their retribution will be swift, and they will annihilate the competition.”

  “So how many millions have to die before that happens?” Warrens asked.

  Nigel looked at Warrens with remorseful eyes. “As many as it takes I’m afraid. The Core is war weary. The Ministry of Internal Affairs will negotiate what to do over the civil war, but nobody will make the first move. We need to be ready for whatever happens on our end should things escalate…”

  “And by that you mean we need to be ready with weapons and armor?” Warrens asked. “Do we need to sell our ‘merchandise’ to the warlords or be ready if they try to come and take it?”

  Hoffberg sighed. “Nobody builds weapons and armor to fuel conflicts like these unless they’re sadists. Warlords aren’t good business because they’re volatile, they turn everyone against them, and are always looking for something on the cheap. These guys are buying leftovers on the secondary markets from the Unification Wars, not in the primary market where we’re at,” He explained.

  “Right,” Nigel said. “The main concern here gentlemen is how much this firefight escalates. Beckwell Defense will need to begin taking measures of securing personnel to prevent kidnappings and ransoms from occurring.”

  “What happens to us if we’re kidnapped? Will the company help us out?” DeBoer asked.

  “Beckwell Defense will do everything in their power to secure the safety of their personnel,” Hoffberg replied. The answer relieved the fears of no one. There was a tension in the air which loomed like a thundercloud.

  “I can start a self defense class,” Warrens said. “Teach you boys how to box should anybody come lookin’ for trouble.”

  “I would strongly advise against such measures. Hostility will only breed hostility in this environment,” Nigel said.

  “Just leavin’ us as sheep for the slaughter,” DeBoer whispered to Warrens.

  “Yeah. Good luck tellin’ a soldier to lie down when he’s about to be kidnapped.”

  Warrens shoved the door to Hoffberg’s office open. The meeting had left the normally rational mechanic full of bile and the desire to use the consultant as a punching bag.

  “I want a transfer,” Warrens said. His tone was harsh and dismissive.

  “Look Warrens, I can tell that just because the consultant didn’t like your fight club idea…”

  “He was telling us to lie down and get taken Hoff! How are we supposed to protect others when we’re hiding under our desks? Why not arm us? Allow a program where we can lease the weapons we build and use them to defend ourselves. You have pull with the Ministries, have them issue us special permits to bear arms!”

  “Even with my pull Jackson, they’ll never allow our weapons in the hands of private civilians. You know the law, only military and police are allowed to possess a weapon.”

  “So we’re supposed to let those ‘soldiers’ come by and shoot us while we do nothing?” Warrens asked. “Give me the transfer Hoff. This isn’t what I signed up for!”

  “Actually, per your contract Jackson, it’s exactly what you signed up for. You agreed to come here to South Africa, regardless of the risks, and you accepted the hazard pay. You wanted to be a part of the action, remember?” Hoffberg’s cocky attitude was wearing on Warrens’ nerves.

  Warrens snorted, and resembled a bull brandishing his horns. “I will not risk my family’s life here. You either put me in for a transfer, or I quit!” He said as he pointed his finger in Hoffberg’s face. He glared at the imposing mechanic, whose gnarled muscle intimidated everyone within the company.

  “You quit on us, and I’ll see you blacklisted from the defense industry!” Hoffberg hissed.

  “You really think I can’t go somewhere else?!” Warrens roared. “I’m one of the best engineers alive! I can get work anywhere I want!”

  “How about this?” Hoffberg asked as he tried to compose himself. “We get a security detail for your grandma. We also provide escorts to and off company grounds. Would that help?”

  Warrens didn’t like the idea of two grown men watching over his frail grandmother. He saw it as his job to protect her, but he understood that it was the best deal he was going to get.

  “Fine,” He said as he relented to Hoffberg’s attempts at a truce. He turned and stormed out of the office.

  Warrens flinched as cracks of thunder echoed through the alleyways. It was hard to tell whether it was gunfire or fireworks. Sirens followed, and the alleyways became deserted in the midst of the maelstrom. He felt the chill in the air as he gazed at the graffiti etched around the concrete block. He thought it was such a shame for those kids to waste their incredible talents using concrete as their canvas. The way their colors danced along the walls was beautiful, but ultimately, wasted talent. He shook his head and his thought was interrupted by a short man in a brown leather trench coat. The guy looked like a fool with a baseball cap and large sunglasses, and he reeked of suspicion.

  “Fancy meeting ya here,” The man said in a thick South African accent. “What’re your wares?”

  “You know what I came here to get,” Warrens replied.

  “Oh, right. The hard stuff. Well, here ya go,” the man said as he slipped a pistol to Warrens while watching the alleyways.

  Warrens dismantled the pistol in front of his ‘vendor’ and inspected each of the parts with a discerning eye.

  “Hey! What are you doing man?” the guy asked.

  “Relax. I’m an expert. And your wares are shit,” Warrens said.

  “What you expect? No genuine holdovers from the Uni Wars.”

  “The barrel is caked with carbon, the energy cell is corroded and the trigger is flimsy. What are you peddling?”

  “Whoa-oh man! You gotta cut me some slack here. Between the Ministry of Internal’s troops and those jungle soldiers, pickins are slim ‘round here. We gotta use what we can get.”

  Warrens put the pistol back together. “Here. I don’t need this. This was a bad idea.” He said as he turned and walked away.

  Just as Warrens was outside of earshot, the ‘vendor’ pulled a communication device out of his pocket.

  “Hey it’s me. Yeah, he just left. He’s northbound. Tried to buy some wares off of me, but he’s got a good eye. It’s him alright. Never seen a man take a pistol apart like that. Alright, we’ll do that,” the vendor said as he pocketed the comm device and walked off.

  “Hoff, something is wrong,” Warrens said as he burst into Hoffberg’s office.

  “Good morning to you too Warrens,” Hoffberg replied.

  “DeBoer hasn’t come into work for the past three days. Is there a meeting or a convention you sent him off to?”

  “No, not that I know of,” Hoffberg said as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe the guy needed a vacation.”

  “Hoff, you know that you have to force DeBoer into going on vacation! And he hasn’t called in for the past three days!”

  “Relax Warrens. I’ll give him a call this afternoon, see where he’s at. We haven’t r
eceived any calls from a doctor or mercs looking for ransom money. There’s hope.”

  “Maybe for you there is. It just keeps getting worse out there and you sit around here like nothing’s wrong!”

  “Listen Warrens!” Hoffberg said as he rose from his seat. “What good will come if I worried about every single threat to my employees huh? We get threats all the time, I’d need a full time person just handle them! Relax. It may be getting worse out there, but you’re safe here.”

  “It’s not my safety I’m worried about. It’s theirs,” Warrens said as he pointed outside.

  “Wrong time to be a humanitarian, especially when working at a defense company,” Hoffberg replied.

  Warrens stormed out of Hoffberg’s office without saying a word. His decision had been made for him. All he had to do was be the last man out of the office, a common occurrence for him.

  Warrens looked both ways down the hall. The coast was clear, there wasn’t another soul left in the building. He had free reign of the safe. “I don’t care what happens,” He whispered to himself.

  The beeps from entering the safe’s combination thundered through the hallway. The vault’s lock banged open like a shot. The door opened in silence, and the treasure trove of weapons gleamed under the fluorescent light.

  “I can’t believe it’s come down to this,” He whispered to himself.

  Warrens pulled out a picture of him and his family from his wallet, then looked at the picture of his grandma. He promised his father when leaving for the army that he’d take care of her no matter what. He took a deep breath as he entered the vault. Guns of all makes and models sat in silence as he debated in his head which one he’d take to defend his family. He ran his fingers against their black stocks, and savored the smooth surface.

  With the situation in Africa deteriorating, Warrens had to pick something that would take down anyone who threatened him or his grandmother. He eyed the shieldbreaker rounds.