The others went back to their planet—those who lived.
Yollin System, Almost Three Years after the Noel-ni Peace Accord Debacle
Admiral Thomas watched the stars from the two-story window in the upper room of All Guns Blazing as he puffed on a cigar.
He was drinking a whisky made from a barley-type grain which was easily grown on one of the more underutilized Yollin land areas. The bar was branching out into manufacturing their own alcohol and brews, some of them directed at the different alien species. Yelena, Cheryl Lynn, and Stephen were diversifying the bar’s business.
Bad Company was the exclusive wholesaler of their alcohol throughout the different systems. So far the venture had provided a nice profit, but nothing that would allow them to grow substantially.
Yelena and Cheryl Lynn were often accompanied by Stephen and various members of Bad Company when they visited different worlds, finding out what crops they grew, and what crops were cheap or underutilized.
Hell, on one world they had found a weed that produced a very mellow drink the Shrillexians found pleasant. It gave them a gentle buzz that didn’t cause them to lose situational awareness. Shi-tan started mixing it in his Pepsi at times.
Nathan tested him: Shi-tan would drink ten of the concoctions and then they would spar. Shi-tan felt he was mentally tracking, and the tests confirmed he was fighting at about ninety percent of his top form.
Plus, the buzz had worn off during the first two minutes of fighting.
It wasn’t until the third week after Shi-tan had started consuming the drink that Bastek noticed he wasn’t as aggressive as normal.
To test that theory, Bastek had Shi-tan drink the brew every time he felt like fighting. And almost every time, it had caused Shi-tan to mellow out and overcome the desire to fight.
Now Shi-tan and Bastek wanted to negotiate with Bad Company for the rights to an extract. Bastek wanted to produce the product because it would allow the Shrillexian people a chance to stop sending their people off to fight. They had done this for generations, their people often coming back maimed or worse.
Admiral Thomas heard the clop clop clop of a Yollin coming up the stairs. It was the middle of the third shift and there should only be one Yollin coming up now. He glanced to the side and nodded.
“You humans,” Kael-ven waved a hand in the air to bat the smoke aside, “still confuse me with your desire to pollute the air around you with burnt dried vegetable matter.”
“Normally,” the admiral turned and stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray he had brought up for the purpose, “I’d agree with you, but these are made of a sweet plant from God-knows-where on Straiphus.” He turned back and held out a hand to the previous Planetary President. “How are you doing, now that you’re retired?”
“Huh,” Kael-ven grunted as he walked to the other side of the tall bar table the admiral was using. He shook Admiral Thomas’ hand and looked at the drink on the tabletop. “This for me?”
“Of course.” The admiral nodded. “You see any other Yollins in here? You think I’d have a Yollin-designed mug filled with your favorite beverage ready for someone else?”
Kael-ven stopped lifting the mug to his mouth, his mandibles frozen in the open position. He slowly closed them. “Admiral, tell me this drink won’t mess up my thinking processes when you hit me with the big job?”
“I’m that transparent?” Admiral Thomas laughed. “And of course not. If I wanted to do something like that, I’d ask Bethany Anne to speak with you.”
“She wouldn’t need to put anything funny in the drink,” Kael-ven told him, then took a sip of the beer. “Dark. I like it.”
“That’s what Yelena said. Says you are one of the few Yollins she knows that really enjoys the dark stuff.”
“Might be the reason I like it.” Kael-ven took another sip. “I don’t have to worry about sharing the personal stash at my house with anyone else.”
Thomas chuckled. “I understand,” he glanced at Kael-ven’s mug, “and there is no way I would take your beer.”
“Of course not,” Kael-ven agreed. “You are a discerning man, but you have yet to ask your question. Once you get your answer, then I will worry about you taking my drink away.”
The admiral looked at Kael-ven, a small smile playing on his lips “Actually, I have a keg waiting for you downstairs for your return trip home.”
“Ok, now you are scaring me,” Kael-ven admitted. “I won’t be able to enjoy this beer or the view,” he pointed to the window, “if you don’t alleviate my concern about whatever you are going to ask. How bad is it?”
Thomas turned and grabbed his whisky, swirling it. “Depends on how much you enjoy ground-pounding.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes observing Kael-ven’s mannerisms, watching him for any hint about his thoughts.
Unfortunately for Admiral Thomas, multiple years as the Yollin in charge of the planet had trained Kael-ven to show nothing of his thoughts. “And if I am happy on the ground?” he asked.
“I’ll give you two kegs of beer, but both of them will be on a ship you have to visit to retrieve them.” He let Kael-ven think about that for a moment before adding, “One at a time.”
“And if this,” Kael-ven pointed to the stars outside the window, “appeals to me, what then?”
“Then,” Admiral Thomas smiled, “I buy up the remaining kegs of dark, we ship your household lock, stock, and barrel—well, barrels—up here, and you join the Etheric Empire’s Navy, where,” Thomas looked sternly at Kael-ven, “you have always belonged anyway.”
Kael-ven’s eyes narrowed. “How many kegs are available at the moment?”
Thomas grunted. “None for you. I’ll buy them just so you can’t take them and go back to the planet.”
Kael-ven’s mandibles tapped twice. “Smart, but not my question. I really want to know how many kegs we are talking about. Do they only have three, or are there more?”
“Twelve dark, fifteen stout,” Thomas replied.
“What’s the job?” Kael-ven asked.
“I want you to work on building up the Navy and the armed troops. Engage with the fighting captains and those who are going to be stationed on the ground. Plus, we have new destroyers that need personal attention to figure out who gets what ship.”
Kael-ven laughed, his “heh heh heh” both soft and raspy at the same time. “E’kolorn is wanting a big group?”
“He wants them all,” Thomas told him.
Kael-ven threw a hand out. “That’s because he figures that’s the place to start the negotiation. He probably has ample reasons why he needs them and sixteen different attack runs the enemy might use, and can tell you how those ships are the only way…” Kael-ven noticed the admiral’s narrowed eyes. “What?”
“It just so happens,” Thomas tapped the table top, “that E’kolorn had exactly sixteen different scenarios.”
Kael-ven grabbed his glass. “Oh.” He lifted his drink close to his mouth. “Imagine that,” he added before he took a drink.
There was silence while Kael-ven finished his drink and put it down. “Good stuff, Admiral.” He looked out the window. “How many of the destroyers are online?”
“Probably the exact amount E’kolorn told you when you helped him figure out his strategy.”
Kael-ven clicked his mandibles in humor once more. “I can’t help it if friends ask me for my opinion. You didn’t get there first.”
“You helped make it a pain in the ass for me.” Thomas nodded. “So, you in?”
Kael-ven shrugged. “Of course, but I want all twenty-seven kegs.”
“Done,” the admiral agreed.
“When do you want me to start?” Kael-ven asked as he watched the admiral bend over and reach for something at his feet.
Admiral Thomas lifted a leather satchel with a lock on the outside. “That lock will be opened as soon as you communicate with ADAM, and the answer is ‘right now.’ The kegs are ready to load on your ship.”
Kael-ven
reached for the pouch, and the lock clicked open. Admiral Thomas was pleased Kael-ven didn’t balk at getting started. “Have them shipped to my personal warehouse here on Meredith Reynolds. It maintains the right temperature, and I keep my other kegs there as well.” He opened the briefing and started reading the overview. “I’m surprised you printed this stuff out.”
“Old-school, your eyes only, blah blah blah. Plus, as soon as you touched it you agreed to the job.”
Kael-ven nodded absently, still scanning the paperwork. Then his eyes opened wide. “This says my first project is to tell E’kolorn why he only gets twenty percent of the destroyers.” He looked at the human across the table from him.
Admiral Thomas smiled. “Why, yes! Yes, it does. Imagine how pleased I am that you are already familiar with E’kolorn’s arguments, and are so practiced with the politics.”
“Twenty-seven kegs,” Kael-ven muttered, looking at the rest of the tasks he had been assigned, “was not enough.”
“Too bad, and welcome to the Navy. It’s good to have you here.”
Kael-ven looked up, a twinkle in his eye. “If I’d had to spend another three months dirtside, I would have joined the Navy as a raw recruit. This way I’m twenty-seven kegs richer and have a better job.” He reached over to shake Thomas’s hand. “It’s damned good to be back where I belong.”
Kael-ven kept looking through the document as the admiral took a few more moments to enjoy the view. When Kael-ven’s eyes grew large once again and he looked up at him, Thomas sent a special message and waited for Kael-ven’s next question with amusement on his face.
Kael-ven pointed to the document. “It says here I’m going to have a co-member to whip the Marines we have coming into shape. Who is it? If I have to kick the ass of another hard-headed ground-pounder like Kiel, I may space myself.”
Thomas chuckled. “That is a bit melodramatic.”
“Says you!” Kael-ven shook his head. “They can be more obstinate than Bethany Anne.”
This time it was Thomas who grunted, “Ok, I may decide to space myself if that’s the case. However, I think you might be ok with our pick. He’s a bit of a pain in the ass, I’ll grant you, but he only very recently retired, and he is coming up here now for you to interview.”
At that moment, Kael-ven heard a Yollin coming up the stairs. When the Yollin entered the room, his eyes showed surprise, then elation, and finally confusion. “Kiel?” He walked toward the Yollin mercenary. “I thought you would never quit the Empress’ force.” He reached out to shake hands human-style with his old friend. “What happened?”
“Who says I had a choice?” Kiel laughed, tossing a nod to the Admiral. “Bethany Anne called me two hours ago and asked if I might wish to work with the Navy. I told her my oath was to her.”
Kael-ven tilted his head slightly to the left and asked, “So what happened?”
“She fired me on the spot.” Kiel made a slashing motion with his hand. “Told me to move my shit and come over here to interview for a position she needed me in.”
Kael-ven looked at the Admiral. “Does he not know?” Thomas shook his head. Kael-ven turned back and pointed to Kiel, then to himself. “It seems the Empress wants you and me to build a Yollin fleet. Me on the ships, you on the Marines.”
Kiel snapped into attention, his smile wide. “Reporting for duty, sir!”
Kael-ven’s smile was open and honest, excitement alight in his eyes. He started to say something but stopped, then just shrugged. “I’ve missed you.”
Thomas lifted his whisky and sloshed it around in the glass, whispering to himself as the two friends caught up for a few moments, “Those Leath don’t have a fucking clue what it feels like to have a Yollin foot so far up their ass that Yollin toes will tickle their tonsils,” he took a sip, “but they will.” He blinked twice before looking out the window into space and asked himself, “Do Leath even have tonsils?”
18
Planet Shrillex, North Continent, Terrel Mountains
The Shrillexian fumbled with the food bowl, grabbing it with his one hand and pulling on the sealed top. “Damned pain in the ass,” he grunted as he considered just ripping it off.
Unfortunately, he already knew what would happen if he succumbed to his frustration. The result would be food all over the countertop and the floor, and just last night he had noticed the piece of vegetable that had gotten stuck in the corner of the ceiling and dried there. He had bitched about that piece for a full five minutes, since he had to find his little ladder and unfold it with his one arm to remove it.
But he was alive.
Death had come for him. Kraaz had replayed both his original fight with his Shrillexian contact and the ruinous, aborted attack on the hotel. Bocklans had been killed later for his part in the project and the remaining mercenaries had decided to fold the company.
It was rumored that the Etheric Empire still intended to track the mercenary company through the different systems it had scattered to, and Kraaz wouldn’t put it past them. Those aliens didn’t seem like the live-and-let-live type to him.
Except…he was alive.
He exhaled and stepped to the side to pull out a drawer and grab eating utensils.
It was plain to him that the Shrillexian he had met on Gerrand’s Asteroid had been working with the Etheric Empire. That he had given Kraaz a warning was enough to provide the clues he needed, but nothing he would understand until after the fact.
Now he was armless, company-less, and damned near without any family.
Oh, he had a twice-distant cousin somewhere in the South Continent, but their two groups had always ignored each other at family reunions, and Kraaz didn’t care to display his infirmity anyway.
Once the company had been dissolved he didn’t have a place to go, so he had just returned to the family homestead. The house had been locked up by his younger brother before he left for space, after their mom passed away. The key had been hidden in the hole in the old tree. Kraaz hadn’t even needed to ask where his brother Mih’took had placed it.
It was the same place Kraaz had hidden toys from his brother so many years ago.
There was a short beep from the alarm system. Kraaz looked at the monitor, but it showed nothing. Still, there might be a few who would wish him truly dead after the fights his company had been a part of.
He pushed the bowl of vegetables away and looked up as the light receded. It was as if clouds had just covered the sun, but it had been a completely cloudless day so far.
He noticed vibrations shaking the surface of his drink, and a very hard-to-hear hum.
He opened a drawer to his right and, reaching underneath it, he touched a button. A piece of the wall to his left opened, revealing two blasters and a rifle. He grabbed a pistol. Flicking through the settings one-handed, he thumbed it off safe and walked to the kitchen door leading to the porch.
His homestead was on a large plot of land on the side of the mountain. They had a goodly amount of grass a couple hundred steps away that was flat, and they had used it to winter the herbivores before taking them down into the valley to fatten up.
He squinted in worry as he stepped onto the porch. It was entirely too dark. His eyes searched the tree line, but he felt nothing there. He stepped off the porch and looked up.
His mouth opened in surprise. There was a massive ship blocking the sun, so damned close it looked like he could touch it. He could certainly shoot it if he had half a mind to be a complete idiot, but he was armless, not bistok-shit crazy.
At least, not yet.
He turned to the back of the ship and realized that while it was a good size, it looked bigger because it was so close.
The ship moved sideways, and Kraaz saw an open hatch. Inside the hatch was a figure, Shrillexian if he had to guess, in some sort of black armor. He had nothing in his hands, one of which was holding onto the side of the hatch.
The bastard jumped out of the hatch and fell toward the ground, but about halfway down he slowed.
By the time he reached the ground he was moving slowly enough that he just walked toward Kraaz, who was squinting at his uninvited guest.
“You know,” the helmeted and armored person walked up close enough and then stopped, “my boss would appreciate it if you would holster the weapon before I take off this helmet.”
Kraaz eyed the suited interloper. “Do I need to shoot you?”
“No.”
“On your honor?” Kraaz asked.
“On my personal honor, I will not offer you harm unless I am protecting myself,” he told him, “or my family.”
Kraaz turned his head, recognizing that inflection, “Shi-tan?” he asked, as his thumb reached to put the pistol’s safety on. He turned and stepped back onto the porch, placing the pistol on a chair. “I’m not sure if I should hate you or damn you.”
Shi-tan took off his helmet. “Sorry, boss’s orders. He figured you might be a little upset by how life had turned out.”
“Yeah, she was Death, all right,” Kraaz admitted. He stepped straight up to Shi-tan and put his hand out in recognition of a fellow countryman. Shi-tan responded in kind and the two walked toward the porch. Kraaz went up first and pointed to another chair, leaving the chair with the pistol unoccupied.
Shi-tan leaned back against one of the rock posts that held up the porch’s overhang. “Oh, Bethany Anne isn’t my boss. Nathan is, but she’s Nathan’s direct boss.”
“Well, she is some scary bistok-shit. She and her two guards went through our people like they were made of cloth.” Kraaz unconsciously scratched his arm’s stub. “When she looked down at me after blowing my arm off, I didn’t even flinch. Just remembered your words and figured I was done.”
“What happened next?” Shi-tan asked. “I fought her once, but she wasn’t using any of her major powers.”
“You fought her?” Kraaz asked, surprised.
“Well, all I remember is working to get hit fewer times, but I woke up the next morning in my ship, ass so thoroughly beaten I didn’t remember much of anything, and there was a document indicating I’d signed up with her.”
Kurtherian Gambit Boxed Set Three: Books 15-21, Never Submit, Never Surrender, Forever Defend, Might Makes Right, Ahead Full, Capture Death, Life Goes On (Kurtherian Gambit Boxed Sets Book 3) Page 87