Her patience sorely tried, she sighed again. “Look, if it bothers you that much, you could always give it away. I’m sure there are worthy causes that need the cash.”
“I could not simply give it back?” he asked hopefully and Elizabeth shook her head.
“That’s out of the question. Not only would Stephanie have your hide, but I’m damn sure she’d try to have mine as well. On top of that, Burt would not be pleased with either of us if we upset her.”
At the mention of One R&D’s chief executive and owner, Vishlog went back to looking worried. “What can I do?”
Ms E stared at him. “Don’t you like being paid?”
He froze when her question caught him by surprise. “I...” He stopped, frowned, and pressed on. “I do, but...” He waved at the tablet. “It was unexpected.”
Elizabeth somehow managed to refrain from the desire to drop her head in her hands and pinch the bridge of her nose. Instead, she fixed him with a solemn stare. “Well, you’ll have to get used to that. It’s all part of being on the team.”
She raised a hand to silence him when he started to protest. “But you do have options. The first is to give it away, or you can bank it for later, send it to your family, buy a new litter box for the cats, take the boys for a night out on the town—although I don’t think twenty million would cover the damages from that little expedition, so be careful if you go with that one.”
Vishlog stared at her, his expression one of confusion mingled with horror as he thought about that last suggestion. She leaned over and patted his knee.
“The point, Vishlog,” she told him, “is that you are a valued member of our team. You are worth as much as any one of your teammates, and we want you to know that.”
She handed him the tablet. “This is merely one way for us to show you that.”
If a Dreth could blush, he was blushing. Elizabeth studied his face as he struggled to absorb what she had told him. She tried to make it clearer.
“We trust you to have our backs. Stephanie trusts you to have her back. Hell,” she exclaimed and gestured with her hands, “even the thrice-be-damned cats trust you—and that’s something, believe you me. Those things don’t trust anybody.”
Vishlog smiled at that. She was right. The cats did trust him...even if they had yet to understand that his armor was not a scratching post and he did not consider the half-eaten remains of their kills appropriate gifts. Still, the bank account concerned him.
He turned to her but she spoke before he could find the words to explain and her words stopped him cold.
“You are home, Vishlog,” she assured him and pointed to the door and beyond, where the team would have begun its daily training regime. “Your family is here, as much as anywhere else, but if you wanted to step away and have a different life...”
She tapped the tablet in his hands. “You have enough there to do anything you want and not a single one of us would fault you for it.
Before he could find a reply to that, she continued. “In fact, staying with this team will almost assuredly get you killed—and probably sooner rather than later—so, if you actually want to enjoy what you’ve earned, the smart thing to do is quit.”
The Dreth frowned and confusion returned to his face. “Are any of the others quitting?”
Elizabeth leaned back and regarded him with one eyebrow raised. Dreth never quit, not even when the commander was likely to get them killed or when the odds were overwhelming.
She could see he was looking for the lesson in her words and wondered what it was she tried to teach him. That, too, was a Dreth thing—the good leaders tried to teach without telling.
Rather than give him a direct answer, she indicated the door and the direction of the team. “Why don’t you ask them?”
Down the corridor and around to the left, Lars tried to sweep Johnny’s legs out from under him. His opponent hurdled the sweep and bent at the waist to avoid a fist strike as he did so. He came down hard and grunted as he landed on the mat on one knee but he didn’t stop.
Lashing out with both fists, he pushed up and forward and followed the punches with a shoulder charge that caught the team leader in the middle. Lars shouted in surprise as he tumbled and tried to break free of the other man’s grip.
Neither of them looked up as Vishlog entered the room. Johnny managed to land astride Lars but couldn’t quite pin him to the mat. His opponent grappled and flipped him, and the two of them somersaulted over the mats while each tried to gain the upper hand.
The Dreth looked around the room. Apart from Lars and Johnny, Frog waged a one-man war on a punching bag, ducking and weaving around it as he lashed out with hands and feet. The new arrival didn’t want to disturb any of them, so he stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
At first, he stood quietly and simply watched them for a moment before he made his way to one of the benches at the side of the room. He settled his bulk onto it and retrieved his tablet once again to bring up his account. The numbers hadn’t changed.
He sighed, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked over the top of the tablet. Lars finally managed to break free of Johnny, and the two backed away from one another to circle as they searched for the next opportunity to attack. Frog delivered another kick, landed awkwardly, and somehow managed to now face away from the bag.
“Hey, Vishlog,” he called when he caught sight of the big Dreth. “Whatcha doing?”
Vishlog looked at him. Normally, he’d take the greeting as an invitation for sparring and tell Froggie he would kick his ass. Today, he merely shrugged and refocused on his tablet. “Nothing much.”
That caught the attention of the other two, and they stopped their training to wander over. He pretended not to see them. Now that he had their attention, he wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject.
Frog used his foot to nudge the toe of his boot. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”
The Dreth straightened and glanced at him, then at the other two. After some consideration, he said, “I was paid.”
“So?” Frog frowned.
Vishlog hesitated and looked from one to the other. “It was...a lot.”
“Well, if it was more than twenty million, we’re all gonna have to go and talk to Ms E,” his teammate told him, and he stared at the man.
“What?” Frog asked. “It wasn’t, was it?”
He shook his head. “No, but... Twenty million is a lot.”
“And you weren’t expecting it.” Johnny caught on first.
“No. I was not.”
“So?” Frog didn’t see what the problem was.
“So, I was surprised.”
Lars understood. “Don’t worry. We all got it. It’s a bonus for doing a really good job. You get that sometimes.”
“Did Ms E tell you the smart thing would be to quit?”
From the looks on their faces, that information came as a surprise, but Lars stepped forward and sat beside him. He took the tablet out of the Dreth’s hands, looked at the account, and gave a soft whistle of appreciation.
“When you look at it like that, it’s something of a shock.” He patted Vishlog on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s normal. I’d hate to think of how much is in my account.”
He handed the tablet back. “I wouldn’t blame you for not knowing what to do with it.”
Frog rolled his shoulders. “Pffft! Mine’s still sitting in the account, too—along with whatever it was we made the job before. Don’t let it bother you. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere.”
“But I don’t know what to do with it,” Vishlog explained. “I spoke to Ms E about it and she said I could give it away, or bank it for later, or send it to my family...”
He hesitated. While he was fairly sure Ms E had not been serious when she’d suggested he buy a new litter box for the cats or take the boys partying, he didn’t want to mention it if she’d simply made a joke.
Which she wasn’t known for, he had to admit, but
still.
“So, when did she tell you to quit?” Frog probed and Vishlog straightened.
“Oh, no. She did not tell me to quit. She only said it was an option—the smart thing to do, she said, was to quit and use the money to be whatever I wanted to be since staying would...” He paused to hunt for the exact words. “Ah, almost assuredly get me killed and probably sooner rather than later. Why would she say that?”
Frog responded with a bark of laughter. “Because it’s true. If you stick with us, buddy, you’ll probably end up dead—right alongside Johnny and Lars.”
Vishlog waved him away. “Not the dying part. That is very clear and it is part of what we do, but the recommendation to quit. Why would she do that?”
“Oh...” Lars’s voice said he really did get it. “That’s simply her being a ‘proper’ leader,” he explained. “They’re supposed to tell you that. If you want to stay safe, that’s your out.”
The Dreth shook his head. “I’m not leaving. Whether it is smart or not, I cannot leave Stephanie. I am her arms man.”
The team leader laughed and patted his thigh. “We never thought you would.”
Vishlog stood and looked down at him. “Has anyone?”
Lars shook his head. “Not from this team. Not yet, but there are times when that changes.” He shrugged. “It’s merely the way it is.”
He regarded him with thoughtful eyes. “I am learning that it is not right to judge people for their actions.”
“Well, hell, no,” Johnny told him, “and this is coming from someone who sucked wounds on the liner. The money is nice, but it doesn’t really mean anything to me. I’m like Frog. Mine’s still sitting in my account and I have no plans to retire.”
“So if money doesn’t mean anything to you, what does?” Vishlog asked, and his eyes widened as he realized he’d asked a very personal question. Perhaps he shouldn’t have, but no one seemed shocked and Johnny didn’t hesitate.
“Making the future safe for my family,” the man admitted. “If not for the kids, then for those who come after us.” He smiled. “Don’t you know? We’re making history, buddy. Our names will be talked about forever in the Federal Histories.”
Frog laughed. “Yeah, because that’s all that’s gonna be left of us by the time this whole thing’s over—our names.”
Lars punched him on the shoulder. “Pessimist. We’re with Stephanie. What could possibly go wrong?”
The looks Johnny and Frog gave him made Vishlog smile, but he hadn’t finished.
“What will you do with yours when this is done and Steph doesn’t need us anymore?”
Frog dropped onto the training mats. He opened his mouth but closed it again almost immediately. Vishlog and Johnny watched him do it another few times before the team leader intervened.
“What? Cat got your tongue, Frog? Can’t you think of a way to get into trouble without us dragging your ass into it?”
“It’s not that,” he protested. “It’s trying to decide between all the trouble I could get into. Why don’t you ask Johnny what he wants to do? He keeps talking about family, so he’s bound to have something in mind.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or someone.”
His teammate blushed. “Don’t even go there, Frog. You know that’s off-limits.”
“Oooh, someone has a girlfriend.”
“No, someone doesn’t.”
Frog cracked up laughing. “And you being such a family guy and all.”
“You know what I mean.” Johnny turned to Vishlog. “You know what I mean, right?”
“You have a harem to ensure your family line remains unbroken?” the Dreth asked and Frog howled with laughter.
“Ooh! You got him good.”
“Got him with what?” Vishlog asked. “Many warriors have—”
He stopped. Judging from the look on Johnny and Lars’s faces, that was news to them. His face heated and he looked away. “That is not an Earth tradition?”
Frog bounced to his feet and stood chest to stomach against the Dreth. “So, Vishlog... How many Dreth girls do you have waiting back at home.”
He looked at his teammate’s face, picked him up by the front of his shirt, and dropped him lightly onto the mats. “None,” he said. “I was not considered a...” He cocked his head as he tried to remember the correct term. “A good catch.”
Frog grabbed his knees and flipped himself back to land on his feet.
“Show-off,” Johnny muttered and turned to their leader. “Seriously, Lars. What will you do with yours?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I might wait to see what Stephanie wants to do next.”
Frog began to laugh and he shot him a look that silenced whatever he was about to say. He raised his hands as though in surrender. “Hey, not my business.”
Lars turned away and Frog snickered. He was perfectly straight-faced when the man sent him another suspicious look. Vishlog pressed his lips together and tried not to catch Johnny’s eye. His teammate seemed to have the same difficulty keeping a straight face.
“Johnny?” Lars demanded and pretended not to notice.
“Like I said, family. I have a brother. His little one’s recently turned four.” His face took on a faraway look. “They live in the Subs. I’d like to get them out of there and make sure their little one has a chance at something better.”
Clan. Family. Vishlog understood that. He didn’t say that he had been disowned by his father long before or that his clan had disavowed him for one too many fights off the battlefield. He sighed. No. There was no need to get into any of that.
“I, too, will wait to see what she does next,” he said and indicated the mats. “For now, why don’t we see if the three of you have what it takes to bring down a single Dreth?”
He set his tablet aside and stripped to the garments he wore under his armor, pulled his feet out of his boots, and padded to the center of the practice area.
When he noticed they hadn’t moved, he cocked his head and regarded them challengingly.
“What is wrong?” he asked. “You’re not tark lizards, are you?”
“Chicken,” Frog fumed. “The word is ‘chicken,’ you steaming pile of Dreth dung.”
“And you are all noise, little man,” he taunted. “Why don’t you try fighting with more than only your mouth?”
The words seemed to be the right trigger. Lars and Johnny circled so they could each come in from different angles, and Frog bounded forward with them.
As she watched them spar on the security monitors, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” she muttered and turned to Burt’s next impossible task.
Chapter Two
The group had last met on a distant space station and some of their members hadn’t met at all.
“The net is closing,” one of them muttered. “Temerl didn’t die fast enough.”
The voice was new, with the slight softness denoting a native of Meligorn. The lead speaker was human and unsympathetic. “You trusted him to remain undiscovered or to die when he was. That was quite a gamble.”
“Not one I had a choice in making,” the Meligornian retorted.
The voice that cut across them was calm and cold and without mercy. “None of that matters, now.”
The speakers fell silent. In rooms across three systems, the attendees stilled and their hearts beat faster as they stared at blanked-out screens.
They were like rabbits trapped in their burrows, the speaker thought. Some of them even held their breaths as if that would save them from what was coming.
None of them knew what was coming, of course. Not even these, the traitors who had sold their worlds and peoples in the hope that some of them would be spared. The fox was digging its way in, and they had nowhere to go.
Formless, the Teloran gave his race’s equivalent of a smile. On the screen before him were two dozen darkened squares, each one representing an attendee. Every race was represented—humans, Dreth, and Meligorn
ians.
Why none of them looked far enough back in their own histories or with an objective enough eye, he didn’t know—and he did not care. By the time they realized exactly how well appeasement really worked, it would be too late.
He tried not to let any of the satisfaction he felt leak into his tones as he continued.
“One of our emissaries has been lost,” he told them and heard several gasps from behind the darkened screens.
The alien waited, but none of them spoke.
The Teloran continued. “His ship was taken in a small-force boarding action, and many of its crew captured. Your Temerl was not the only one who did not die swiftly enough when compromised. They are loose ends we will tie up once their usefulness is spent.”
He stopped to let those words sink in. They needed to know who the master was— to understand that their lives depended on the will of others—and they needed to prove their worth. It would not matter if they survived the coming invasion and rose to the positions they’d been promised. They would still be little more than slaves.
The time for them to adjust to that idea was now, even as he maintained the illusion that they would be something more.
“You all know this group,” he announced and sent each of them the information package he’d put together. It contained images and files on Stephanie Morgana and every member of her security team. “They took the ship and are responsible for my emissary’s disappearance.”
Not a single one of the attendees spoke, and he could only imagine their reactions. The Witch was gaining in power and fame and her team was legend.
“They must be destroyed.” Once again, only silence greeted his words.
“Admirals,” he stated and felt the Navy representatives go still, afraid he would reveal their names. He continued, knowing their relief. “Your Navy is tracking them but no longer tries to trap the Witch into its service. Why?”
“She’s too dangerous and too much of a political risk for them to take.”
The Teloran stilled. “I will want details.”
Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3) Page 2