A Fistful of Credits: Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 5)

by Chris Kennedy

  “My dear, I had no idea. Please forgive me. You were responsible for the apprehension of the Buma contingent at D’mack Four and you brought the Boss Ken regime down at Rayu Four? I am impressed, Miss Francis. Very impressed, indeed. But I must ask why a bounty hunter would take on a dangerous mission at such low cost? Something against Mister Lemieux?”

  “He has something I want, Honored Ch’tek. That’s all you need to know.”

  Unnamed Planet, Praf Region

  2105 local

  <> Lucille reported.

  Marc looked at his slate and nodded to himself. The autonomous pad would descend under controlled parachutes from ultra-high altitude. The damned things cost more than six million credits a piece and there was only one in the Trigger Happy’s inventory. If he’d had the presence of mind to get a confirmation on the package’s size, he could have purchased a second pad.

  Jill would have purchased one anyway.

  He shook off the thought and tried to project confidence. He hadn’t even considered the gift could be larger than what a man could carry and not a cargo container. All of his eggs were in one basket and descending with only a computer’s guidance system. His ex-wife would not have approved.

  Marc sighed and glanced at Hex as the younger man dismounted his CASPer. He looked more like his father every day with longish brown hair and bright blue eyes. Hex smirked. “What is it, Hammer?”

  I really hate that call-sign. “Nothing.”

  Hex smirked. “What are you thinking?”

  “What we’re going to do if that pad doesn’t make it into our little circle of Hell.”

  Hex laughed, “Ye of little faith, boss.” He consulted a mini-slate on his wrist and showed the display to Marc. “It’s on target with fairly light winds at altitude. I’m going to put it down inside the coil.”

  Their tanks sat in a wide circle with gun tubes facing out to secure all 360 degrees around the perimeter. Inside, a ring of now-empty CASPers sat waiting as their drivers alternately ate and looked inside the parts of the Raknar’s remains they could see.

  “Where’s Maya?” Marc asked.

  “She’s down with the package,” Hex said, his eyes on his wrist display. “She’s got the ration box down there if you want to grab some food.”

  “Not hungry,” Marc said. He climbed up onto the nearest tank and stood atop the turret looking out. The ring of observers was mostly silent and what few Oogars he could see by the light of their fires appeared to stare right back at him.

  Creepy shit, man.

  Before he could shiver with unease, the exit strategy formed in his head. He climbed gracefully down from the tank and tapped his com link. “Lucille? Link to the other vehicles and have them scan the perimeter. Watch for a fire to start dying.”

  <>

  Marc snorted. “There’s always one soldier that falls asleep, Lucille.”

  <>

  Hex looked up at him. “Looking for the weak spot?”

  “And a way out.”

  Hex looked at his watch. “Could be a while, boss. Recommend we keep security where it’s at and rotate every hour. Keep everyone fresh for when we can make a run for it.”

  Marc nodded. Hex, like his father before him, could sense Marc’s plan before it was even spoken. “Where’s the pad?”

  “Eight thousand feet.” Hex pointed up. “You should be able to see it. Two reds and two whites, northeast.”

  Marc glanced up and confirmed the pad was there; the blinking lights approximating a rectangular shape gliding toward them. He looked back at Hex. “Bring the pad down to the package. Set security at one hundred percent in case those things try to attack us.”

  Hex stood. “Yessir.”

  The night was warm and dry. Burnt vines smoldered in the breeze with a choking smell reminiscent of vehicle exhaust. Other scents wafted through their perimeter: the Oogar fires burning green wood, something like meat cooking, and a strong, dirty, rotten smell that must have been the Oogar themselves. Marc turned from the perimeter as Hex barked orders at his CASPer troops, and took in the monstrosity of the Raknar mecha.

  Curled on its side, the width of its hip joints was a good thirty feet, if not more. The upper legs were easily longer than that, maybe forty feet in length. The lower legs would be a little shorter, but if the torso was as large as he thought it was, the mecha had stood about one hundred and fifty feet tall. Marc walked to what he believed was the crest of the mecha’s helm and caressed the rusting metal with his left hand.

  “Lucille? Have you identified this Raknar?”

  <>

  I’ve got a few minutes. Why not?

  “Hex?” Marc called. “Keep the perimeter secure. I’m going down to Maya and the package. Let’s be ready the minute one of those fires starts to go out.”

  Hex gave him a thumbs-up and turned back to the CASPer pilots boarding their suits and conducting pre-combat checks. Marc walked away, around the crest of the helm, and into the hollow created by the Raknar’s damaged chest plates and drawn in legs. 30 meters down the slope, he reached the pelvic area. The Dusman were a thousand-year-old enigma. Their Raknar had saved the universe, only to be left to rot on godforsaken planets like this.

  Marc pulled a rugged flashlight from his belt and flipped it on. Through a large hole in the armor plating, he found Maya studying their package. The cargo container rested on its side and was too large to move without a motorized pad and tow cables. “Any luck with the keypad?”

  “Nothing. No power, no nothing.” Maya swept back her shoulder-length brown hair. Her tanned skin shined with perspiration. “I tried the manual lift sequencer, too. Can’t budge this thing.”

  Marc tapped on the screen and frowned. “They told me this container had a valid passkey.”

  “Who told you, sir?”

  “Ch’tek.”

  “The Zuparti trader from Bartertown?” She shook her head. “He signed us up for this?”

  “The money was too good to pass up,” Marc shrugged. “I figured this was a smash and grab job—we’d be in and out, in half an hour at most.”

  “Except for the Oogar, their weapons, this container, and no way to lift it, we might have been.” She shook her head disgustedly. “Come on, Hammer. You have to trust us on making these plans.”

  “I had a plan, Maya.”

  “Maven sure thought you did.”

  Marc flushed. “If you’ve got something to say, Maya, say it now!”

  Maya chewed on her lower lip. “Brute force only accomplishes so much, Hammer. Prior planning prevents piss poor--”

  “I know that!” Marc bit off his rising volume and let the rest of his tirade die in his clenched teeth. “We can focus on my shortcomings when we get off this planet.”

  “When we get off this planet, I’m out.” Maya sighed. “Hex goes with me.”

  Marc’s mind reeled as if he’d been slapped. He shook his head. “Once we get paid, we’ll see what you’ll do. We’re at seven million each right now.”

  “And what’s your cost? Ten million? And every time one of us dies the individual bonuses go up, right? None of us mean anything to you, do we? Not even Maven.”

  “That’s enough.”

  “Bullshit,” Maya said. She looked past him into the darkness. He followed her eyes and saw two headlights searching the depression under the Raknar’s torso. “Up here, Hex.”

  Marc raised a gloved finger and pointed at her. “Use the pad’s lifters and get this loaded and ready to move in ten minutes.”

  “Fine.” Maya sa
id. Wiping her hands on her green coveralls, she walked out of the ragged hole toward the approaching pad.

  Marc looked up into the twisted torso for a long moment, considering his path to the command module. Raknar sometimes had their modules in the head piece and sometimes in a central chest-mounted section. Maglite in hand, he picked his way toward the central chest as his team worked to get their package out of the Raknar and off planet before the sun rose and twelve thousand Oogar attacked.

  Marc found the central control section sealed. The six-foot thick compartment had not ruptured, nor could he find any evidence that the Dusman crew had managed to get out of the Raknar when it fell. Fifteen minutes of crawling through support piping and conduits he could barely fit through left him frustrated. He’d wasted time looking for treasure and left his crew—his unhappy crew—with the package.

  What if they take it and run?

  Panic coursed through his veins, and he scrambled back toward the torso’s storage compartment. The package was there, resting atop the tracked landing pad just outside the ragged hole. He sighed and just as quickly froze.

  Concealed behind a torn support beam, he watched a black-suited figure snap a quick-torch to life and lean toward the container’s keypad.

  Marc slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. Distracted by the task at hand, the intruder would have their guard down. He unholstered his pistol and waited for the torch to bite into the container. How did they get through our lines?

  Marc knew the answer. The force he’d carefully put together six years before was slowly bleeding to death, and it was no one’s fault but his.

  Can this possibly get any worse?

  The torch snapped on and Marc squatted to take advantage of what little cover lay in the wreckage. He moved slowly, staying low, until he was directly behind the intruder; his gear was heat suppressive and capable of virtual camouflage. Marc raised up and took two quick, light steps forward. He cocked the pistol as he nudged the intruder’s head with the barrel.

  “Drop the torch.”

  The intruder’s shoulders sagged slightly, and the torch snapped off. He could smell the pungent molten metal from the cuts in the container as he focused on the intruder’s torso. He edged back, taking away their ability to sweep his arm away.

  “Stand up and turn around,” Marc said. “Nice and easy.”

  The quick torch clattered to the ground. The intruder stood and turned, hands raised, palms up.

  Definitely Human. He thought and studied the dark figure in front of him.

  “Take off your hood, slowly. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what you’re trying to do.”

  Both hands reached for the bottom of the hood and pulled it up and away carefully. Red hair tumbled out of the cowl’s opening and Marc felt a pang of dread rise in his stomach. The woman smiled at him, and damned if her green eyes didn’t glitter the way they’d always done.

  “Jessica? What are you doing here?”

  Her smile widened like a feeding shark’s jaw. “Hello, Marc. I see you’re still dumb as a bag of—”

  Marc stepped forward with the pistol at Jessica’s face. “I asked you, why are you here?”

  “Well, you never signed the divorce papers, for one thing. I had to spend a fortune in legal fees to have our tryst annulled on Earth. It was pretty messy, really. I figure you owe me about six million credits. You can avoid all of that with one simple thing. Give me Elly.”

  “No.”

  Jessica grinned. “Then, I’m not telling you a thing.”

  “You’re bounty hunting now? Is that it? Coming after me for a bounty you set on my head?”

  She laughed, and he hated the trilling sound of it. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Then what are you doing here trying to jump my mission?” Marc asked. “How did you get past my security?”

  “You know, you did tell me a few useful things during our time together. ‘There’s always a soldier who goes to sleep’ has proven very beneficial over the last few years.” Jessica said. “I jumped in right behind your adorable little pad over there. Your boys and girls have had a helluva day, I’d say.”

  Marc clenched his jaw. “Get out of here, Jessica. This is my take.”

  “Where’s Maven? And Hex? Surely they haven’t left you already?” She grinned, and it made him sick.

  “Maven is dead.” Marc said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Jessica’s grinning visage cracked. “She’s dead?”

  Marc nodded. “We took sixty percent casualties on the way in. And unless you want to risk being included in that percentage on our way out, I’d encourage you to leave while you still can.”

  Jessica shook her head. “Oh, Hammer.” In her voice there was more than a little pity and a lifetime worth of resignation.

  * * *

  The unmistakable sound of an approaching CASPer washed over them. Marc kept his pistol leveled at Jessica’s chest. “Again. What are you doing here?”

  “I came for Elly.”

  Marc laughed. “I can’t believe you’re still throwing a fit over her. Give it up, Jessica, Elly is worthless.”

  “It’s not about money, you idiot. You’ve never heard of sentimental value?” Jessica lowered her hands to her hips. “Give me Elly, Marc. Once you do, the legal fees and I will be out of your hair forever and ever, amen.”

  “Your mother said absolutely, under no circumstances were you to get Elly.”

  “Mother’s dead. Her instructions no longer matter, Marc. Hand over Elly. Please.”

  “Hammer?” Hex’s amplified voice came from down the slope. The lights on his tactical-gray CASPer washed over them. “Jessica?” The CASPer bounded forward. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Jessica smiled and allowed herself to be picked up by the mechanical arms. “Hi, Hex.”

  Hex’s cameras looked at her for a moment, then down to Marc and the gun in Marc’s hand. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine, Hex. I heard you guys could use a hand,” Jessica said.

  “She’s a bounty hunter now, Hex,” Marc said. “She’s either come for me or our take, but she won’t tell me which.”

  The cameras whirled back to Jessica who was now three feet off the ground, suspended by arms that could crush her in milliseconds. “What’s going on?”

  “Hammer has something I want. Something personal. Ch’tek wanted an insurance policy, too. He wasn’t sure Hammer here could get this package back to the Sol gate on time. Let me guess? Underestimated the enemy response and overcommitted assets on the way in?”

  Hex nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.” The tone of the younger man’s voice made Marc’s stomach roil.

  Marc holstered his pistol. “Jessica? Leave this site and go home. We can talk about Elly—”

  “In six more years?” Jessica asked. “Please put me down, Hex.”

  Hex lowered her to the ground, and she turned around and marched right up to Marc’s chest, like she’d done a lifetime ago when they’d married on the beaches of Kaua’i.

  “You’re not getting out of here alive, Marc. You’ve blundered your way into a situation you can’t win. Keep the rest of your good people from dying and let me go get my lifter. I can land next to your vehicles and shuttle all of you and your precious package to orbit.” Jessica turned to walk away. “Hex? How fast can you muster the CASPers to lift?”

  “Hey!” Marc said. “I’m still in charge. Go get your damned lifter and—”

  The ground rumbled under their feet and a light shower of dust fell from the Raknar’s rusting torso. A second rumble rippled through the artificial cave and there was a howling crescendo from the Oogar outside.

  “Lucille, what was that?”

  <>

  Jessica closed her eyes and shook her head. “They found my lifter.” She l
ooked up at him again, her green eyes fierce. “I’m going to help get you and your people out of here, Marc. Then you’re going to give me Elly, and I walk away. Is that clear?”

  Marc looked at Hex for a long moment. He was far too young to meet the fate of his father on a planet like this or for a package that they didn’t even know what was inside. Maven would have told him it was time to get homebound and flying. “Fine. You ride with me on the aux gun.”

  Jessica looked at Hex. “Get your remaining CASPers mounted on the tops of the tanks with full combat loads. Ensure their magnetic straps are engaged.”

  “Copy that,” Hex said and bounded out of the Raknar wreckage.

  Marc looked at her. “You always were better with the infantry.”

  “I know.” She smiled and walked toward their vehicles. All Marc could do was follow her.

  * * *

  Around them, the Oogar fires burned intensely. They were obviously not going to sleep and, from what he could see, the Oogar appeared to be constructing torches. If they got enough of them, they’d charge.

  “Saddle up, Marauders,” Marc said on the task force’s frequency. “CASPers at the ready. All tanks are weapons-free. Load beehive rounds and prepare to charge on my command.”

  At the left front skirt of the tank, he climbed aboard and saw Jessica peering down into the loader’s hatch, arguing with Johnson.

  “Ma’am! You are not authorized to enter this tank!”

  Jessica’s hands flew to her hips. “Lucille, would you please inform this young man who I am?”

  Marc heard Lucille’s voice in his headset. <>

  Before Marc could reach the hatches, Jessica dropped inside. He walked to the commander’s cupola and did the same. “Lucille, prepare all vehicles for direct penetration. Find the best route and relay to the task force.”