by Matt Novotny
The whole time, Race helped wherever he could to get the ship ready. When he wasn’t working, he argued with his father.
On the fifth day, Captain Lorm pronounced the REX ready for trials.
Amos was approaching Raul’s office to wrap up any loose ends and thank him when Race slammed through the office doors and stormed off into the base.
Raul was sitting in a leather chair next to the bar, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. For the first time since they had arrived, his façade had slipped, and Raul looked old and broken.
“What’s that all about?” Amos said.
He threw the paper to Amos. “See for yourself.”
It was a copy of a contract for a merc company operating in the Tolo Arm. Race had signed on and would have to ship out within a week to make muster.
“They can’t sign him, he too young. Maybe I can talk to him, or Nolan can. Talk him out of this…”
Raul shook his head. “It’s too late for that. Too late. He won’t let that stop him from going.” He took a deep breath and said, “Take him, Amos. At least with you he’ll have Nolan along to watch out for him. I know you don’t take unnecessary risks with your men.”
“All right. I’ll have to sign him, so you’ll have to countersign. We can backdate it. Dat’ll give the Cajuns first rights.”
“That’s my son, Amos. You understand? My son! You bring him back!”
Amos nodded. “I will if it can be done, but if I don’t let him fight, he’ll just jump ship and you’ll be right back where you started.”
Amos looked at the doors Race had fled through. I’ll have to go find him.
“How is she?” Amos finally asked the question they’d both been avoiding.
Raul looked away. “She has good days and bad. She’s been…frail since the funeral. For the most part she’s happy.”
“I’m glad. She made the right choice, and I’m sorry ‘bout the way things went.”
Raul just stared at the window. Amos left him there and went to find Race.
There was nothing left to say.
* * *
Jevlik’s Electronika
Kleve
Shapes came through the door. Rains brought up his pistol and squinted through the smoke. Even with the earplugs, his ears were ringing, and he tasted blood. He hesitated, not able to make out friend or foe. His Peacemaker training had ingrained in him to identify his targets.
The glasses!
Rains had forgotten they had vision augment. He quickly tapped the side of the glasses twice and moved his finger along the glasses’ arm toward his ear. His vision went from cloudy to black and gray. He could make out the outlines. That must be UV.
He slid his finger forward and his vision quickly slid to the IR spectrum. Distinct shapes took form with the heat they gave off. They were not Human and carried weapons.
He raised his pistol. A reticle for the sight aligned with the head of the first attacker. He squeezed the trigger lightly; at nine hundred grams of pressure, his pistol had a hair-trigger. The pistol bucked in his hand, and the attacker fell backward with a bright, glowing spot in the middle of his head. Rains immediately shifted to his left. “Shoot and scoot,” his instructors had taught him.
The attackers shot where he had been a moment before.
These guys are good.
He heard the sounds of a riot gun cough from the direction of the counter. The riot gun was like an old Earth blunderbuss and spat out several hundred projectiles at high speed. For crowds, the gun could be set to shoot wide. Regardless of the projectile type, chemical-laced needles for non-lethal or flechettes for killing, no one wanted to be in the path. The sound meant either Jevlik or Remmy were still in the fight. Rains aimed at the next target. This attacker looked like an armadillo. He put two of his special rounds where he thought its head should be and moved again. He must have seriously wounded the creature because it started screaming, a crazy, reedy wail, as it thrashed on the warehouse floor. More weapons fire shredded the box he had been behind.
The whine of a needler preceded a target on the right going down. Rains took aim at the target next to it, but suddenly that target was shredded like a piñata when the riot gun was directed at it.
A bright light erupted from the front of the store, reflecting through the billowing smoke like lightning in a nighttime storm. His tech glasses kept up with it and highlighted the last target in the back, which he shot in the head. Rains hit the floor as the distinctive sound of a crew served plasma gun whined and a blue bolt that could have been thrown by Zeus himself flew out the back door, immediately followed by a bright explosion that rocked the building.
Whatever had been the source of the concealing smoke must have been disabled in the explosion as it rapidly dissipated. Not seeing any more targets in his area, Rains called out. “Remmy, Jevlik. You guys okay?”
Remmy poked his head around the corner. “You should come see this.” Remmy was holding a flashlight on one of the guys Rains had shot. The Blevin was missing half its face.
“Blevin. Hired muscle,” Rains explained.
“Okay, smart guy, how about this one?” Remmy lit up the other body.
Rains grunted. “Torvasi. You don’t see them off Te’Warri very often. That has to be one of Sin’Kura’s goons.”
Jevlik came over to examine the Torvasi. “I’ve never seen one.” He bent and began removing weapons and ammo from the downed creature. He handed a slate to Rains. “No other electronics.” He moved to the next one.
Rains glanced to the counter. He could see the plasma cannon hanging on a frame that extended from the ceiling. Its coils still glowed blue with charge. “That’s a bit of overkill, don’t you think?” he asked Jevlik, pointing at the weapon.
Jevlik shrugged as he continued working. “It came in handy didn’t it? That Zuul-made transport was about to shoot into the building. I can’t have my shop destroyed—” he pointedly looked at Remmy, “—like last time.”
Remmy held both hands up in mock surrender. “What? You can’t blame me for that. He was upset with your product.”
Rains sighed. “I’m saddled with children.” His comment evoked a wide grin from Remmy and chuffs of laughter from the elSha. “What was the bright light?”
Remmy looked a little abashed. “Ah, yeah, that was me. I saw they were coming in the front, so I overloaded the power converter on that side of the building.”
The breeze kicked up and Rains could smell what he had thought was barbeque but realized were Remmy’s electrocuted victims. He was about to say something more when the Torvasi slate pinged in his hand. He glanced at the message. “Authorities are dispatched to your location. Extract to blue. Repeat. Extract to blue.”
“Remmy, can you figure out where they were going and who sent this message?” Rains offered him the slate.
Remmy read the message then looked up at Rains. “Should we be gettin’ gone?” He ran his eyes around the carnage that was the shop. “I don’t think they’ll be takin kindly to what happened.”
Jevlik brought two more slates over. All had the same message. “If this is accurate, you have three minutes until I am rescued by the authorities.” He chuffed. “You should go. I will clean up here.”
Rains pulled out his slate and connected to the Peacemaker office. “This is Peacemaker Rains. I need a cold team to my location. Interdiction with authorities and renovation for Jevlik, the shop owner.”
“Acknowledged, Peacemaker. It has been really quiet for us, so you might get an enthusiastic response. We’ve been bored. Enforcer Arleen out.”
The three looked at each other, wide eyed. Remmy spoke first. “Holy shiitake mushrooms. An Enforcer is headed here? We need to git.”
Jevlik looked nervous. An Enforcer was a type of Peacemaker sent in to solve problems. Usually, no one survived.
“All right, you two. You heard her; they are bored. Take a deep breath. This might be the only time you see an Enforcer doing administration. So
relax, you are on the Peacemaker’s side in this.” Rains shook his head and went to the hover bike. He pulled it upright and gave it a quick once-over. Nothing appeared damaged.
Remmy shook Jevlik’s claw. “Thanks for everything, Jevlik.”
“You owe me, Boo-shard,” Jevlik said.
Remmy waved in response and pushed his bike out into the night. Within moments, they were streaking toward the starport.
* * * * *
Chapter Eighteen
Peacemaker Shuttle
En Route to Sanctuary Plantation
On the shuttle ride to Sanctuary, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Race was fuming about the argument with his father. Amos watched the emotions warring across the young man’s face. He shot daggers at Amos every once in a while, then glanced away.
“You better get what’s eatin’ at ya out afore we land,” Amos said gently.
Race looked at him. “What’s the history with you and my father?”
“Dat ain’t my story to tell,” Amos said.
“Well, I’m done with him. This time next week, I’ll be off on a contract,” Race said smugly. “That’ll show him,” he said softly, but Amos heard him.
“Look here, your father loves ya somethin’ powerful. And I know ya want to do some fightin’.” Amos pulled a folded paper out of his thigh pocket. “Now, I got your father to agree to letting you come with me, but—” he held up a hand, “—hold on, there be conditions that you agree to or c’est tout, we’re done.”
The excitement in Race’s eyes was unmistakable, so Amos continued.
“You will do everything we tell you, yeah?” Amos asked. Race nodded, and Amos went on, “Junkyard will be your senior, d’accord?”
Race nodded more vigorously. But then he sobered up. “What about the contract I signed?”
“It’s no big thing. Your father dated my contract for two weeks ago.”
“How is that possible?” Race asked, the excitement returning.
Tia interrupted them. “Prepare for landing.”
They were pressed hard into their seats as Tia braked aggressively to bring the shuttle in for a feather-soft landing.
Amos hit the release on his harness. Race was already up and lowering the ramp. He met Amos’ eyes. “Thank you, Amo—um, Colonel.” With that he was down the ramp.
People came out of the main house to meet them. Amos called out to one.
“Marie, looks like we need something for a trip. Can you set it up?” Amos asked her.
She rubbed her hands on her apron. “I’ll need to start a roux…” she trailed off, lost in planning, and turned back to the house.
Amos turned to the rest of them. “Grab your kits and gator-skins. We’re goin’ to a fête.” He jerked a thumb at the shuttle. “Get with Tia and get to the port; our ride will meet us there.” He looked around the crowd until he saw who he needed next. “Junkyard, a moment?”
Everyone erupted into a flurry of activity. Nolan came up to Amos and crossed his arms.
“How did it go?” he asked.
Amos took off his cap, scratched his scalp, and watched the people scurry about Sanctuary. He put his cap back on and met Nolan’s questioning gaze.
“It coulda gone worse,” Amos admitted. He squinted at the old mech driver. “You want the good or bad first?”
“Lay it on me.” Junkyard had always been no-nonsense. That was one reason Amos really liked him.
“Ya still got a job as a babysitter.” Amos looked grim. “Race is goin’ with us. I need ya ta be fiercer than a momma bird wit’ her young.”
Junkyard was surprised. “Raul agreed?”
“Race didn’t give him no choice. Raul, he had to back down. The kid went and got his own contract, but I convinced him to let Race come wit’ us.”
“I’ll look after him like he was my own son.” Nolan was startled at the intensity of Amos’ gaze. “What else?”
“Raul gave us his ship. It’s landin’ at the starport,” Amos told him. “We need to get on to meet Jackson an’ Remmy. Load for bear, okay?”
Amos went to the shop and opened up his locker. Inside hung his gator-skin. He quickly stripped down to his skivvies and pulled the suit on. While it was form-fitting, all the work Amos had been putting in around Sanctuary, plus skipping on his usual third helping of jambalaya, had helped to streamline his waistline. While Amos wasn’t a spring chicken, he had a fairly lean frame, especially for someone his age. He closed his locker and headed to where his CASPer was parked. He wanted to get it positioned for transport to the port. Any of the Cajuns would have been happy to move his ride for him, but Amos always felt that a leader does by example.
After getting his CASPer loaded on the REX, Amos rode the shuttle back to Sanctuary. All the equipment had been moved, and folks were gathering for their goodbyes. Most of the party guests had left. Now they were down to just kissing the kinfolk.
“Amos,” a voiced called out to him. He turned to see Charlotte Devereaux stalking toward him, a vision of loveliness in her sundress. She wore a serious expression as she came up to him. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Of course, chere. If I can do it.” Amos raised an eyebrow.
Charlotte pulled an envelope out of her pocket. She blushed a little, then looked Amos in the eye. “Would you give this to Remmy for me?”
Amos smiled at her. “Of course. I will put in his hands myself.”
Charlotte surprised him with a sudden hug. “Thank you.” She let him go and ambled back toward the group. Amos glanced at the envelope addressed to “Mister Bouchard” then tucked it in his thigh pocket.
Marie Arton was supervising the loading of some crates into the shuttle, while others were handing out po’boys. Amos helped himself to one and watched as Marie micromanaged Michael Barr and Tansil Tucker carrying what had to be precious cargo. Michael Garst, having deposited his crate in the shuttle, quickly became the focus of Marie’s attention.
“Get the next two crates loaded, boys, then get some food. Hurry!” she barked as crisply as any drill instructor Amos had ever met. Amos hid his grin in his po’boy as Marie turned her attention to him. She stopped in front of him. “You find something funny, Amos?”
Amos was about to reply when he was saved by Burton carrying a basket. Two pairs of ears and dark eyes peeked over the lip of the container. “Amos, Miss Arton. I am hoping you could help me with these babies.” The Lumar looked down into the basket and smiled at the upturned faces of the Besquith pups.
Amos looked at Marie. “Ya up to it, Marie? Dey need ya.”
Marie looked at the pair, skeptically at first, then one of the pair yipped and held up its arms, clearly wanting to be held. She reached in gingerly and lifted the pup out of the basket and held it carefully. The pup licked her face twice, then nestled into her hair and promptly went to sleep. When she looked up, her eyes were large and wet.
“Je ne suis pas content”—I am not happy—she said softly, still cradling the pup. She looked at Burton. “Bring the other one up to the house. I’ll get them settled.” The pair headed off, each holding a pup. Amos reminded himself he still needed to look up the biology for Besquith. He was confident those two would shortly be a handful, but equally confident that if anyone could act as a surrogate mother, it would be Marie.
* * *
Karma Station
Rains and Remmy waited impatiently for the airlock to cycle. Finally, the armored door slid into the bulkhead with a loud clang! For a moment, the pair let the cool air of Karma Station wash over them. Amos and Bev stood at the bottom of the ramp with Rikki and Race Romero.
“‘Bout time you two got here!” said Amos.
“Calm down, we had more jumps than you, cher,” said Remmy, picking Amos up in a hug.
“We saw the REX on the way in. She’s a beauty. That’s a story you need to fill us in on,” said Rains as he gathered Amos into a hug, before turning to Bev, who hugged Remmy and then him. Rains stepped back and l
ooked at Bev a moment. Ned’s death had hit her hard, and he could still see the sadness, but there was also a resolve and determination there that he hadn’t seen before. “How are you holding up?”
She nodded with a slight smile. “It’s been hard, but I’m all right.”
Rains nodded then turned to Rikki, holding out his arms as he moved toward the Flatar, remembering how they had snickered when Tavvi had hugged him at Sanctuary, what seemed a hundred years ago.
Rikki shook her head as Rains closed in. “No, no, Jackson, don’t you—Urk!” Rains caught her up and spun her around.
“Good to see you again, Commander,” he teased. “Where’s Tikki?”
“Back at the bar, drinking like any respectable merc. I think you just adjusted his back from here though,” she said, patting her fur back into place as Jackson set her down. “If you primates are finished with the scratch-and-sniff, can we get back? I don’t want my beer to get warm.”
“Really?” Remmy brightened. “Now you are talkin’ my language, chere. Tell me, what kind of beer do Flatar brew?”
Jackson nodded in Race’s direction. “Who’s this?”
Amos stepped up. “That’s another story, but you met briefly on your way off-world. Jackson Rains, meet Race Romero, otherwise known as Romeo Bravo. He one of our Olympian friends.”
Rains stepped forward to shake the young man’s hand, taking in the dark, wavy hair, fashionable cut, the perfect smile, and expensive clothes. Did this kid even pass his VOWs? He was about to label Race a pretty-boy and dismiss him, but as he shook his hand, Race looked him in the eye. His eyes were sad and haunted. He has something to prove, thought Rains. “Well met,” he said aloud.