Alpha Contracts

by Chris Kennedy

  “Are you sure? We’ve got some really good shit with us.”

  “You want us to give up our contract…for your defecation?”

  “No, that didn’t translate well. I meant that the drugs we brought are really pure; they are some of the best you’re going to find.”

  “Unacceptable. We are on contract. Tomorrow, in accordance with the verbiage in our contract, we will roll over your defenses and capture all of the games you are defending. Until that time, that is our focus, and any other diversions are not to be tolerated. Perhaps, tomorrow evening, a deal could be reached…assuming any of you are still alive to deal with. Odds are, we’ll just pick up your ‘shit’ off your dead bodies—you seem squishy; hopefully, you won’t get too much of your blood on it when we kill you.”

  Gunfire erupted not too far away.

  “What’s that? Altan asked.

  “I suspect that some of my troops wanted to see what your weapons could do,” the captain replied.

  “You suspect?”

  “I can’t know for sure, since I’m not there, but since I ordered them to do it, I suspect that’s what they did.” Had the wasps used sound instead of light to communicate, Altan was sure it would have come across as irony. He shrugged, knowing the gesture was probably lost on the KzSha. “You did hand them over to us, so we thought we’d try them out.”

  The gunfire continued for long enough to fire off the magazines of all three rifles.

  “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” the KzSha leader asked.

  “So there’s no chance of getting you to delay your attack?”

  “None. Regardless of what you offer.”

  A KzSha entered the room holding the Humans’ rifles. “What is the verdict?” the captain asked.

  “They are non-remarkable slug-throwers,” the KzSha flashed. “Our assault will go through them like jelly through an Oogar.”

  The captain motioned toward Altan. “Go ahead and give them back,” he said. “We don’t have much to worry about from them.” The trooper handed the rifles back to Altan and Borte. “You may go now,” the captain said. “You have wasted enough of my time.”

  Altan and Borte turned to leave, but the captain added, “I hope one of you survives our assault tomorrow so I can try some of the drugs you mentioned. Armed as you are, though, I doubt any of you will.”

  * * * * *

  The Golden Horde - 10

  “Well, shit,” Borte said as they walked back to their vehicle. “That could have gone better.”

  “What happened?” Sukh asked.

  “They said they were being paid to get the games,” Altan said, “and they weren’t interested in negotiating. If we try to defend the factory, they’ll kill us all.”

  “Well, on the good side,” Sukh said, with youthful exuberance, “I found someone who is interested in doing business with us. One of their cooks is part of a network back on their home planet. He said he’d take whatever we want to give him. We’ve arranged a meeting later this afternoon.”

  “Excellent,” Altan muttered. “Why don’t you take them four kilos tonight?”

  “Four kilos?” Sukh said. “Isn’t that all of our sample merchandise?”

  “It is. Depending on how things go tomorrow, though, it may be our only chance to deal with them. Give it all to them and let them distribute it among their people; that way, if we aren’t dead, they will be ready to deal with us.”

  They walked the rest of the way to the vehicle in silence.

  “About the attack tomorrow, Boss,” Borte said, breaking the silence as they got back into the hover car, “we’re hopelessly outclassed. What are we going to?”

  Altan looked at the floor of the vehicle, his head down. “I honestly never expected another merc company would attack,” he replied. “When I got the contract, the Merc Guild representative there said there was almost a zero percent chance that anyone would come. I thought we’d show up and collect our fee.”

  “So, now that the damn bugs are here, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Altan said. “I guess we’ll go back and try to ship all the games they have ready. With our people loading, hopefully, we can get 50% out the door. Then, when they attack in the morning, we’ll shoot back a little, and then we’ll run. If we get at least half of the games shipped and put up a token resistance, we’ll get a partial payment, which will at least be enough to get us home.”

  “That’s not going to set a great precedent for us as a merc company,” Borte said. “Running on our first contract.”

  “It’s better to be alive than dead. It’s hard to improve your reputation if you’re dead.”

  * * * * *

  The Golden Horde - 11

  Sukh made it back to the vicinity of the alien camp just prior to darkness falling. Rogo, the chef he had spoken to, had been very firm about meeting before dark, and Sukh hadn’t understood why at first. He realized, after thinking about it, though, that it would be hard to keep the meeting a secret at night, since the KzSha communicated with flashes of light. Although Sukh could whisper, it was impossible for the alien to mute his light, and the flashes could be seen a long way away.

  That was also probably why they were waiting for the morning to attack—at night, the defenders would see the lights as they communicated and could probably translate what they were saying. It would almost be like talking on the radio without encrypting the signal—the enemy would know everything you were going to do at the same time your own forces did. Sukh hadn’t had a lot of military training, but even he could see the disadvantages of that.

  This wasn’t night, though; this was daylight, and he was the noisier one, although he tried to creep along to the place the alien had said to meet him. Every place he stepped seemed to have a stick or something that snapped or scuffled when he put a foot down. He realized the alien wouldn’t have that problem as the KzSha could fly.

  “Hold, Human,” his translation pendant said suddenly. The flashes of light had come from the side. He had missed them, but the pendant hadn’t. The alien came around from the tree he’d been hiding behind. It carried a large rifle build for its claws, which it pointed at Sukh. “Are you alone?”

  “I am,” Sukh replied, holding up his hands.

  “So what is it that you have?” the alien asked. “Sparkle?”

  “No, that’s not it. I’ve heard of Sparkle, but we deal in opium-based products. Although most of our business is heroin and morphine, I can also get my hands on codeine and some of the semi-synthetics like methadone or hydrocodone.”

  “So heroin is your most popular drug? Tell me about it.”

  “We grow all of our opiates ourselves, so you never have to worry about quality control. We make sure you only get the best. Heroin is processed from morphine and is pretty versatile—it can be injected, snorted, or smoked—whatever works best for you. Since we don’t know how it will affect you, you may want to try it in a variety of ways to see what works best. I just wouldn’t try too much at first; we wouldn’t want you to OD.”

  “OD?”

  “Overdose. That’s when you take too much of it. Very infrequently, it can have some minor side effects on Humans that overdose. I’m sure the KzSha won’t have that problem, though, since you are so much stronger than us. You’ll probably have all the benefits and none of the side effects.”

  “As you say, we are much stronger than you, which is why we will crush you tomorrow. Hopefully, if this product is good, some of you will be left alive at the end of our assault so we can purchase more. I doubt that is likely, but we can always hope, right? Maybe if you run away soon enough, our leaders won’t feel like chasing you.” Its lights started flashing; it was laughing at Sukh.

  “Would you like to try it?” Sukh asked, taking off his backpack. “I brought some trial sizes.”

  The rifle had moved away, but it snapped back to pointing at Sukh as he reached into his bag. “Slowly, Human. Whatever you pull from that bag, d
o it slowly, or I will kill you.”

  Sukh licked his lips. “Sure,” he said, a shiver running down his spine. He veeery slowly withdrew a half-kilo block of heroin from the bag and held it up so Rogo could see it. “See?” he asked as he started to unwrap the plastic covering. “It’s heroin, not a weapon. You can point the gun away from me now.”

  “Okay, but don’t try anything foolish.” The KzSha moved the barrel of the weapon marginally to the side. Not far, but at least it wasn’t pointing exactly at Sukh anymore. Cautiously, Sukh moved closer and held out the block of heroin. “What am I supposed to do with it?” the alien asked.

  “Like I said, I don’t know what’s going to work best for you,” Sukh replied. “Why don’t you take a taste of it and see what that does. I have some other equipment with me; we can try injecting it or snorting it, too.”

  Rogo leaned over and stuck a claw into the heroin where Sukh had opened the plastic wrap and placed it into his mouth. It didn’t take long for Sukh to see the drug had an effect on the alien—Rogo started vibrating, and his lights flashed like fireworks and gunfire on Independence Day.

  “I feel warm,” the alien said. “Warm and oh-so-good!” His wings buzzed, twitching back and forth. “Must. Have. More…” The alien shook himself, seeming to get better control of his muscles, but his speech still seemed absent, as if talking with himself. “Can’t now,” he said. “Must cook dinner first. But after…yes. After…”

  “So, it is good?” Sukh asked.

  “Yesss. It is very good. How much for that block you are holding?”

  “This little thing?” Sukh asked, knowing it had a street value of about a quarter of a million U.S. dollars back home. “This is free—it is my gift to you.”

  “Free?” Rogo asked. “How can that be? How can something that good be free?”

  “We have a saying where I’m from,” Sukh replied. “You have to remember, we are a very generous people, and are always very giving. That’s why we like to say, ‘The first taste is always free.’”

  “Well, thank you,” Rogo said. “If I see you on the battlefield tomorrow, I will try to capture you instead of killing you, so that you can get us more of this…heroin.”

  He turned to go, but Sukh said, “Wait!”

  Rogo turned around to find Sukh digging in his back. “I’m sure you have friends,” Sukh said, pulling out seven more half-kilo bags. “Please give them these gifts, from our people to yours. Maybe they’ll find someone to save tomorrow, too.”

  “How very thoughtful of you,” Rogo said. “Maybe you will make a good slave race for us. We shall see. I will talk to some friends about capturing some of you instead of completely wiping you out. You will, however, have to throw down your weapons. Anyone we see with weapons in their hands will be killed.”

  “I understand,” Sukh said, backing away. “Just enjoy our presents. Hopefully, we will have the opportunity to talk with you again, soon.”

  * * *

  Corporal Rogo returned to the field kitchen as quickly as he could. The Human had been a few minutes late, which had put him slightly behind schedule, but when he tried the heroin the Human had brought…wow! The instant high had almost blown his wings off, and it had taken him a few minutes to recover, putting him further behind his timeline. But it had been worth it—he now was the sole supplier of heroin to the KzSha, and he was going to make a fortune! Even better, the Human was either a terrible negotiator or didn’t know the value of a credit. He had given away his sample, for Entropy’s sake, without even asking for payment. What kind of a moron did that?

  Happily, no one had seemed to notice his absence, and he checked the giant iron stew pot. The soup was at a slow boil. The extra time didn’t appear to have affected it—it should be ready shortly.

  He thought about the instant high he had gotten from the heroin again, and he shivered. He might have to keep some of it for himself…he already wanted another hit. Without consciously thinking about it, he had unwrapped the eight bricks of the drug, and he looked at them longingly. He couldn’t sample it again, though. Not while they were on a mission—he’d be fired, or worse, if caught. No, sampling it again wouldn’t be possible for a few more days…or would it?

  Maybe he could have just a little—

  “Rogo!” his staff sergeant flashed, the pulses tinged with annoyance. “You’re late! When is dinner going to be ready? And what is that in your hands?”

  Shit. He couldn’t get caught with the drugs—as a distributor, he’d be put to death! A thought raced through his head, and his hands put it to action before he could stop himself. He dumped the bricks into the soup. “They are flavoring bars, Staff Sergeant!” he flashed. He sighed internally at the loss, but it was better to dump them than be tortured to death.

  “Flavoring bars?” the staff sergeant asked, suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “They are,” Rogo flashed, his pulses strong and confident. “Call the men; it is ready.”

  “Good! It’s about time—they are starving.” The staff sergeant turned to leave, and Rogo looked longingly at the pot. Oh, well; at least he’d get a few more samples. He grabbed a bowl and ladled himself a portion. If he hurried, he could finish it before the troops got there…and maybe one more.

  * * * * *

  The Golden Horde - 12

  “Something’s wrong with the troops, Captain,” the staff sergeant replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re are all slow and lethargic this morning, sir. I’ve had to lash several to get them moving.”

  “It does not matter. The Humans are completely outclassed. Their weapons look like they were stolen from a museum—they’re ancient technology. It is unlikely they can hit us, and even more unlikely they will seriously harm us if they do. We attack in ten minutes; have the troops line up now.”

  * * *

  The Golden Horde had worked through the night, loading all the finished games into the available trucks. And cars. And any other conveyance they could find with space to haul them. As dawn approached, though, they had only shipped 43% of the contracted amount, and they were down to the last two vehicles. Even if they could have found more transportation, they had emptied the warehouse complex; there were only a few copies left to ship, although the production line continued to pump them out at a staggering rate. There were still two trucks, but they wouldn’t have made the difference, and the Horde needed them for their escape.

  Spent from a hard night of labor, the soldiers took their places on the back side of the berm as the sky began to lighten, and they aimed their weapons toward the swarm of KzSha that had assembled across the open valley. The wasps appeared to be foregoing any sort of envelopment strategy; all their forces were massed for a single assault and had been milling about for the last 30 minutes.

  “Remember the plan,” Altan said, trying to encourage his troopers as he walked along the firing line at the base of the berm. “We will fire until they get halfway across the valley, and then we will run for the trucks. Watch for the signal or get left behind!”

  With an array of flashing lights, the giant wasps started forward.

  “Here they come!” Borte yelled. “Prepare to fire!”

  “What are they doing?” Altan asked.

  Borte paused a moment, watching the oncoming assault waves. “I...I don’t really know,” he finally said. “They look like a bunch of zombies.”

  Altan climbed up onto Borte’s firing step and looked across the valley. Although the wasps were generally headed toward the lines of the Golden Horde, that was where all similarity to an “assault” ended. Some were going faster than others, some were stumbling around in a random pattern, and some had stopped completely, and it looked like they were lying down to take naps. It was nothing like what he had expected. They looked like he felt after a night of serious partying.

  “The drugs!” Altan exclaimed. “Sukh, how much did you take them last night?”

  “F
our kilos,” the boy replied from several firing steps away. “But I only gave it to one of the aliens. I don’t know why they’re all messed up.”

  Altan looked back across the field. Sukh was wrong, though; they weren’t all messed up. Two appeared to be unaffected, and they were flying across the field at top speed. They looked like they intended to take on the Horde, all by themselves. Still...it was an opportunity...

  “We can do this!” Altan cried. “Grab the RPGs and thermobaric rounds!”

  “Wait,” Borte said. “They aren’t ready. They were too awkward to run with so we put them aside.”

  “Get them! Quickly!”

  “I’ve got the first one,” First Sergeant Sokolov called from the last firing platform. Altan looked over to see the engineer sighting on the lead KzSha with a surface-to-air missile. “I had it ready in case they tried to bring their troops over in their dropships.” The engineer worked the controls of the SAM, squeezed the trigger, and the missile leapt from the tube.

  The lead wasp was dodging from side to side and up and down as it approached the Humans’ lines. Although its maneuvering had been successful in avoiding the Horde’s rifle fire, it was completely ineffective against the missile traveling at 1.5 times the speed of sound. The missile crushed the alien’s chest exoskeleton as it drove the giant wasp backward, before ripping a hole through it and exploding on the other side. The damage done to the KzSha in the missile’s passing would easily have killed it; the shrapnel puncturing the alien’s head from behind was simply overkill.

  The death of the lead KzSha didn’t deter the other wasp speeding toward them; if anything, it spurred the alien to go faster.