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

by Chris Kennedy

  Regaining her feet, Nikki took three steps and stood over the dead Besquith. Around her, the bar quickly emptied, its clientele deciding their interests were best served by not being around when the local law arrived. Ignoring them, Nikki bent down and retrieved the slate from underneath Kalaz’s lifeless hand, then she wiped its face on Kalaz’s fur to clean off the blood splatter. Activating the slate, she read the information it displayed, and a single eyebrow cocked up in wry amusement. Displayed on the slate, for the world to see, were the details of the three, correction, two, gang members’ next job. If this information was correct, they had used a significant amount of their ill-gotten gains from the sale of the yacht to buy weapons, and the location of the warehouse where the weapons were stored was on the slate.

  Nobody ever said the Besquith were smart.

  Nikki looked around; the Flatars had fled. Although they were probably guilty of any number of crimes, none of them involved her. Nikki turned and walked out of the bar.

  Chapter 4

  “Well?” Ulah asked as Pukil entered the warehouse on the edge of the starport.

  The second Besquith held up his hands in a placating motion. “The deal is done, brother.” Pukil calmed Ulah, momentarily, before continuing. “Although…the news of Kalaz’s…” He stopped while searching for the appropriate word. “Demise, at the hands of the Peacemaker. Well, the news reached the cursed Cochkala…before the sale was finalized.” Pukil’s carefully chosen words and hesitation in delivering them allowed Ulah to guess the likely outcome of the negotiations.

  Ulah responded in a low and unusually calm tone. “How much?” When his compadres’ response didn’t come quickly enough, Ulah moved to stand in front of Pukil, his face just an inch away, and repeated, “How much?”

  Pukil was unable to look Ulah in the eye as he said, “They lowered their offer by twenty percent.”

  Ulah’s pent up anger exploded like a volcano. “I will kill them all! I will kill their families and feast on their bones!”

  Pukil stood his ground in the face of Ulah’s wrath. The Besquith were not known for their calm demeanor. As Ulah’s anger subsided, Pukil finally judged it safe to speak once more.

  “Listen, Ulah, as part of the deal, I have secured passage for us on a Wathayat freighter. It is due to leave within the hour…bound for Karma. Once we reach the planet, it will be a simple matter of joining one of the Besquith merc companies, and we will be two more Besquith among hundreds. Not even a Peacekeeper would dare hunt us among our own.”

  The simple logic of Pukil’s plan appealed to Ulah. Still…the burning desire to gorge his murderous appetite on the Peacemaker who had killed Kalaz tore at his innards. Pukil sensed his brother’s indecision and decided to force the issue.

  “Time is short, brother. I have already converted our profits from the sale of the weapons into precious stones. We can change them back into credits at a time of our choosing. The Peacemaker will not be able to track us. But we must leave now!”

  With a curt nod, Ulah signaled his agreement. Taking one last look around the warehouse, and its stacked crates of weapons that now belonged to the Cochkala, he swore a silent oath.

  This is not over, Peacemaker. I will see Kalaz revenged!

  * * *

  Seeing the Cochkala busily swarming over the contents of the warehouse, Nikki realized her quarry had made good their escape. One of the bipedal badgers was standing off to the side, watching the rest work. You’ll be the boss then, thought Nikki, as she wandered casually over to him.

  “A recent acquisition?”

  The Cochkala glared at the questioning Human, seeing only his own reflected face in the mirrored sunglasses the being wore. How dare the Human approach a trader of his eminence without permission? He could never tell which were male and which female; they were all equally ugly. If this one was a potential buyer, though, perhaps he could make an exception, just this once.

  “Yes, my most recent,” he said. “A shipment of weapons. All the highest quality, I can assure you. Are you interested in procuring a few items?”

  Before Nikki could stop him, the Cochkala beckoned a hauler loaded with crates. Unsealing a crate, he stepped aside to allow Nikki a view of the contents. Nikki’s eyes opened wide, and her jaw dropped; it was a row of neatly packaged MACs. Magnetic Accelerator Cannon were common on powered armor; the cannon in the crate were in their original packaging and must have been worth a good number of credits. Exactly the sort of thing two Besquith looking to make a profit would invest in.

  Nikki fixed her most innocent look upon her face before asking, “Were the previous owners two Besquith, by any chance?”

  The Cochkala, an experienced trader, recognized a loaded question when he heard one. “I’m afraid my business dealings are confidential, Human.”

  Nikki raised the collar of her jacket exposing the blue tree symbol. As the Cochkala’s eyes fell upon it, his tail twitched wildly—a sure sign of his unease. “No dealings are confidential when they pertain to Peacemaker business. Answer my question.”

  “This is most unusual,” the Cochkala spluttered. “I purchased these weapons in good faith. I must protest...”

  Nikki’s ice-cold voice cut him off mid-sentence. “Need I remind you that failure to cooperate with a Peacemaker has the direst consequences? Your loss of status within the Wathayat. The revoking of your trading license by the Merchant Guild. Refusal of stargate travel by the Cartography Guild. Imagine...” Nikki indicated the run-down warehouse and the ramshackle buildings. “Being stranded on this backwater planet for the rest of your natural life.”

  If someone had ever wanted to see a Cochkala turned into a blubbering wreck, the Cochkala standing in front of Nikki would have been a perfect example.

  “That will not be necessary, Peacemaker. You shall, of course, have my complete cooperation. These items were indeed purchased from two Besquith.”

  “And where might I find these Besquith now?” Pressed Nikki.

  “Ah... Part of the agreement of sale was passage to Karma. I believe I overheard one of the Besquith mention something about joining a merc company...”

  “Shit!” Nikki exclaimed. She turned and ran for her waiting flyer, accessing the GalNet node via her pinplant as she did so. By the time she flopped into her seat she had brought up traffic control’s outbound log for the day. Only one Wathayat ship, the Kacha, was due to leave for Karma today, and it had passed through the stargate half an hour ago. The next scheduled departure was not until early tomorrow morning, a freighter called Forger.

  Nikki banged on the glass separating her from the driver. “Can’t this heap of crap go any faster?” The flyer’s driver gave a very Human shrug, although the flyer increased its speed.

  Via her pinplant, Nikki sent a message to the captain of the Forger requesting they grant Nikki and the Anat travel aboard his vessel, the answer was a forgone conclusion. No ship’s captain was likely to refuse a Peacemaker’s request.

  Forcing herself to relax, Nikki considered her next problem. If what the Cochkala had told her was correct, and Ulah and Pukil intended to join up with a Besquith merc company, the most likely place for them to do that was Karma. The whole planet was merc-controlled which meant every individual and its dog was armed to the teeth. If she was going to separate Ulah and Pukil from a bunch of shaggy-furred, fang-faced killers, she was going to need help. The question was from whom?

  Chapter 5

  The usual flip-flopping of her stomach indicated the transition from hyperspace back to normal space. Aboard the Anat, Nikki released the magnetic grapple that secured her to the freighter which had carried her small ship from Hano. A burst from the maneuvering thrusters pushed her away from the vast bulk of the million-ton freighter as the Anat’s systems sprang into life at her pinplant command to the ship’s computer. The main engine came to life, pushing her back into her seat as Anat powered away from the stargate and headed in-system.

  During the 170-hour journey, Nikki’
d had plenty of time to ponder her next move. If Ulah and Pukil did indeed intend to join up with a Besquith merc company, they only had two choices of destination. Karma’s capital city of Bartertown or, and Nikki thought this option more likely, the massive, spinning orbital transfer station which hung like a miniature moon above Karma VI. The orbital transfer station was the de facto merc guild headquarters for this entire arm of the galaxy, and held numerous ‘merc pits,’ places where various merc companies bid for contracts. Nikki had heard endless stories from her father and his friends about one particular merc pit, Peepo’s; if there was a lucrative contract to be had, it was advertised at Peepo’s, and merc companies would be looking to recruit fresh meat there.

  There was only one tiny, minuscule, infinitesimal problem with Nikki’s plan. Only mercs and ex-mercs acting as brokers were welcome in Peepo’s Pit. Shit…If I’m called out…I’ll worry about it then.

  * * *

  The Anat looked tiny in comparison to the XenSha frigate it sat beside in the enormous hangar. Nikki gave the frigate an admiring look as she floated past, heading for the first glideway to take her to the gravity ring. Nikki lifted her legs as she entered it, allowing the air pressure to blow her along. The increasing gravity, as she neared the main gravity ring, forced Nikki to first break into a bouncy walk, then to a more normal one.

  The closer she got to the main ring, the busier the corridor became. Most of the beings she saw belonged to one of the thirty-seven merc races; most were big, powerful creatures like the Jivool, with their retractable wrist claws or the ten-legged Tortantulas. These species’ sheer size and physique meant they were virtually built for combat, whereas Humans were forced to rely on the Combat Assault System Personal, or CASPer for short, to level the playing field.

  In her time as a Peacemaker, Nikki had come across a lot of mercs and knew how dangerous they could be; however, this was the first time she had been in such close confines with so many of them. She was reassured by the weight of her M1911, safely secured in its shoulder holster beneath her leather flying jacket, and the gentle bumping of the laser pistol’s grip against her right thigh. The temptation to reach down and touch the grip was almost unbearable; only the nagging memory of a lesson on mercenary etiquette from her Peacemaker training restrained her. Mercs frequently interpreted the actions of other mercs as challenges, and these often led to duels. The resulting attention from a duel would ruin any chance Nikki had of moving around the station unnoticed.

  A tingle from her pinplant let Nikki know she had reached her destination. She gave the door an incredulous look. The plain door looked no different than the 100 other doors she had passed. “Nothing gained by procrastination,” Nikki said out loud, quoting her father. She took a step forward and entered the establishment.

  A tidal wave of noise hit her and almost caused her to miss a step. The sounds of hundreds of voices in hundreds of languages washed over her. The floor space was jammed with tables surrounded by chairs, filled with more species than she could count. Nikki methodically moved her head from left to right; the slow glance allowing her aviators to identify each species by name and type. Arrayed above each table and along the walls were large Tri-V screens upon which scrolled numerous languages. Her glasses identified and instantaneously translated the text into standard English.

  Nikki made her way to the large central bar, managing to avoid the robotic serving machines as they maneuvered back and forth from bar to table. It took but a moment or two to locate a seat that was suitable for a Human at the bar. She had barely sat down, when a distinctly alien voice carried over the general hubbub.

  “I believe you may have wandered into the wrong establishment; Peepo’s Pit is not a tourist destination.”

  Nikki turned her head and was confronted by her own reflection in the dark goggles worn by a female Veetanho. The Veetanho stood as tall as Nikki but had far shorter arms and an elongated body that ended in equally short legs. Nikki had come across Veetanho before in her travels. They were tactical masters and controlled the mercenary guild. In an odd twist of evolution, they were usually albinos. Sensitive to normal light, they usually preferred to protect their eyes behind dark goggles.

  “Oh, I think I’m in the right place. Am I correct in assuming you are Madam Peepo? Proprietor of this fine establishment?”

  If Nikki’s knowledge of the Veetanho’s name came as a surprise to Peepo, she showed no reaction. “I have that honor...and may I know your name in return?”

  Nikki paused for a moment. If she revealed her identity as a Peacemaker to Peepo then, even with the best intentions, that information could reach the wrong ears. Information was a prized commodity, prized as highly as a lucrative contract among mercs. On the other hand, if anyone knew of a Besquith merc company open to new hires and why, it was Peepo. The choice was taken out of her hands, though, as a loud Scottish accent reverberated across the bar.

  “Och, there you are lass. I thought we’d lost you there. And it being yooor round tooo, ya wee scallywag.”

  Nikki’s head snapped around and her eyes came level with the barrel chest of a man-mountain. Her eyes followed the seal of his tan uniform upwards, to the high collar, adorned with twin silver bars and a red scorpion emblem, to a neck, as thick as a tree stump, upon which sat a head the size of a pumpkin, and settled on the huge, toothy smile plastered across its face. Nikki’s arms moved a couple of inches involuntarily, as if to hug the newcomer, before she remembered where she was.

  “Ahem... Captain Buchanan there you are...” Nikki managed to get out through gritted teeth.

  “You know this female, Captain Buchanan?” Peepo asked pointedly.

  “Know her?” Buchanan laughed loudly as he slapped Nikki’s back so hard she thought her spine would come out her chest. “Know her? I practically raised her.” Buchanan placed a meaty hand on Nikki’s shoulder spinning her chair so she fully faced Peepo. “May I introduce Ms. Nikki Sinclair? She is the daughter of Colonel Alastair Sinclair, commander of Sinclair’s Scorpions.” Buchanan leaned in towards Peepo and stage-whispered conspiratorially, “Be nice, Peepo, she’s my boss’s daughter, and I could get in trouble if he finds out I brought her into a merc pit.”

  Peepo let out a small chuckle of her own before replying in the same conspiratorial tone. “Your secret is safe with me, Captain Buchanan.”

  “Yerr a damn fine woman, Peepo. Come lass, we’re sitting over here.” Buchanan locked a hand firmly around Nikki’s elbow, practically lifting her from her seat, and he guided her through the thronging crowd which parted before him as if the large Scotsman was the bow of a ship.

  “Not a word till we get to the table, lass. You never know who is listening here,” Buchanan said out of the side of his mouth. Nikki obeyed his instructions as he led her to a secluded corner table about as far from the bar as possible. Already at the table were two men in the same tan Sinclair’s Scorpions uniform as Buchanan. On seeing who was with Buchanan, both men sprang to their feet.

  “Sit down, ya eejits,” ordered Buchanan. As they regained their seats, Buchanan dealt with the introductions. “That useless lump on the left is Corporal Jonny Vega...” Vega nodded a curt welcome to Nikki. “And this is First Sergeant Ethan Croll. Your father brought him on board after we lost Anders during the Olas Three contract.” Croll’s cool blue eyes appraised Nikki as though she were a tactical problem. Nikki removed her aviators and held his gaze. Neither blinked or averted their eyes until Buchanan intervened.

  “Enough of the mind games, the pair of yees, for the love of God. Y’d think yees were a couple of bairns.” A serving robot rolled up to the table and Vega ordered drinks for the four of them. As the robot headed for the bar, Buchanan hunched his shoulders, lowering his head to the height of the other three. All trace of his thick Scottish accent evaporated. Over the years, Buchanan had learned that acting and speaking like a thick highlander led many an unwary opponent to underestimate the cold, calculating brain hidden behind his jovial exterior. Usual
ly to their undoing.

  “What the hell are you doing in a place like Peepo’s, Nikki? Are you trying to get your pretty little head blown off your shoulders?”

  “I’m working. What about you?”

  Buchanan’s cheeks flushed red. “Now, don’t you be the smartarse with me, young lady. You’ll never be too old or too big for me to put over my knee and thrash you. So, answer the bloody question!”

  The return of the robot with their drinks gave Nikki a pause in which to consider her options. Buchanan was right, coming to Peepo’s had not been her best move. Mercs recognized mercs and she was not a merc. But, what other option had she had? She needed to locate Ulah and Pukil before they disappeared among the ranks of a Besquith merc company.

  With a resigned sigh, she filled in the three Sinclair’s Scorpions troopers, sparing no detail of the Besquiths’ crimes or her hunt. After fifteen minutes of talking, her story was finished. The four drinks on the table remained untouched. Vega pushed himself back from the table and reached for his drink.

  “Mother fu...”

  Buchanan cut him off. “Language, Vega! There are ladies present.”

  “My apologies, Miss Sinclair...” mumbled Vega.

  “Call me Nikki,” Nikki said, gracing the corporal with a blinding smile which Buchanan did not fail to see.

  “It’s Miss Sinclair to you, Corporal Vega. Understood?” Buchanan’s rumble was accompanied by a warning finger aimed squarely at the man’s chest. “OK, here’s how we play it. Vega, you’re with me. We’ll do the rounds here. Somebody is bound to know what Besquith outfits are on the station, and when they’re due to ship out on contracts.” The toothy grin was back on the Scotsman’s face. “Besides, old Peepo owes me a favor or two.”