by Trey Deibel
“How ‘bout bitch?!”
“How… how dare y-you say such a vile word to me?”
Before Brad could retort, Malcolm stepped in. “Enough! You have your jobs… do them! Vaal, go help him pack, and try not to fight. I have somewhere else to be.” Malcolm picked up the files and headed towards Kalvin Keefe’s quarters.
Inside Kalvin’s personal cage of his own ego, as Malcolm saw it, Kalvin sat at his desk, writing notes on a piece of paper. Upon seeing Malcolm, Kalvin opened a drawer and slid the papers inside.
“It's 2111, and you still use paper?” Malcolm asked as he walked up to Kalvin’s desk.
“I have every confidence in the Order of Aegis’s security system - a system I encoded and designed myself. That said, some documents are too sensitive to risk a breach in our computer mainframe. Now, I am occupied at the moment. Make it hasty.”
“I need everything you have on James Stone sent to my cyberwatch. According to the mission brief,” Malcolm nodded to the file in his hand, “you're one of few people with access to James’s past.”
“My sincerest apologies… but… I am unable to help you with that request.”
“Unable to help me with--” Malcolm stumbled over his words. “James Stone has gone rogue, and you can’t help me?!”
“I am sure what is in Stone’s military file will be sufficient for you. Surely, he is not the only one of 1070 with redacted details.”
“If this file were one hundred percent accurate, James was born at the same time he joined boot camp. His past is more than redacted; it was wiped from existence. Now I wonder who would go through so much trouble to delete his existence from the public eye.” Malcolm’s eyes accused Kalvin.
Keeping his composure, Kalvin reiterated, “Like I stated, you have sufficient information at your disposal. I am unable to help you any further.”
Malcolm bent over the desk, closing the distance between him and Kalvin. This was a man who had more than practiced hiding his emotions and motivations from a keen eye. But Malcolm’s eyes were more than keen. They could see past almost any poker face.
“Something about James means something to you?”
Kalvin barely blinked. “I have not the slightest inkling as to what you mean.”
“Don’t play me for a fool. I see past all the PR the Order of Aegis uses to get the public and military’s backing. More importantly, I see the man behind the organization… the man at the top… you, Kalvin. I see you… a man guarding not only his own secrets, but an entire organization’s as well. There are things the Order of Aegis does behind even the military’s back, don’t they?”
Kalvin kept the same expression, doing his best not to alter even a wrinkle for fear that Malcolm would catch it. Little did he realize, by trying so hard to look as if what Malcolm said had no effect on him, that in itself meant it did. In words anyone could understand, Malcolm’s beliefs on the Order for Aegis were just confirmed. Kalvin remained tight-lipped.
Malcolm snickered. “Kalvin, tell me something. Have you seen my previous mission reports?”
“Indeed,” Kalvin responded.
Malcolm figured Kalvin would have looked into him. “Then you know not all of my targets have made it back alive.”
“It would be in your best interest to make sure James is not one of those casualties,” Kalvin threatened in a way only Kalvin can.
A big, fat grin popped onto Malcolm’s face. Another of his theories had just been confirmed: Kalvin cared about James Stone’s well-being far more than he let on. Whether it was an interest in James as a way to gain more leverage in the ARW’s military or something more personal, the need for James was there.
“Like always, it was good talking to you, Kalvin.”
“Likewise.” This lie would have been clear to even the biggest idiot. Malcolm started to head out of the room when Kalvin added on his last statement. “Mission reports were not the only source I sought when I heard you were to take on James’s case. It may not astonish you that my influence can grant me access to some… personal visits you have had with a psychologist back on Earth… not all of them professional either. Nonetheless, it was the conversations that were of the most interest to me… the fear you mentioned to her on numerous occasions and the emptiness you feel inside of you… they even to drive you to a bottle every now and again.”
Kalvin knew he didn’t have to say any more for Malcolm to understand. Malcolm was used to being able to dominate a conversation. The fact that Kalvin was still able to turn that conversation to his advantage made Malcolm a bit sick. That feeling was more than enough reason to leave to regroup with his squad.
While Brad and Vaalima finished packing the supplies, Malcolm sat with his legs crossed; his thinking position. In his right hand was a bird’s-eye view of the camp where James was tasked with taking down a shield tower.
“We have another mission to take care of. We have our own way out.”
Those were James’s last words to Captain Killemn before going rogue. In seconds, Malcolm had pieced together this mystery. One: James gave himself another mission. Two: That mission had an eighty percent chance of having something to do with rescuing Captain Landis. Three: He left in an enemy Hauler, as it was the only viable means of transportation. Four: A Hauler only had the fuel to travel a small distance. Five: In that small radius of options for James and his unit to go, Kemmer’s Bar was the only one that made sense. Yes, that was it. They would be seeking a more permanent way to travel.
One piece of the puzzle was now in place. Now, it was time for him to travel to Kemmer’s Bar to obtain more pieces.
Chapter 14: On the Hunt
October 5, 2111
Malcolm Richardson
Hondora - an industrious planet covered with choking air and filth all over the streets. That filth includes the citizens who call this place home. Malcolm couldn’t think of a planet with more crime and a higher concentration of individuals with no qualms over killing for personal gain; after all, a lawless dystopia can attract some insane individuals.
It would be only a few minutes until Brad parked the ship at the lot near Kemmer’s Bar. Malcolm had just finished reading all the mission reports, as well as the personal files on both Shadow-Walker and Uslar Kip. Vaalima, lying on the only couch in the cramped common room, was flipping through pages on Valiic and Narrisa. Even though she was a competent hunter and would occasionally offer inventive strategies, Malcolm was the type of guy who trusted only one man to make sure a job was done right - that one man being himself. So, inevitably, he would find himself reading those same files in her hands.
Vaalima snapped Malcolm out of his intelligent mind. “As a maelkii myself, I find it hard to believe both Narrisa and Valiic would do something as dishonorable as to abandon the very values they fight to uphold, especially a maelkii couple that would undergo the archaic tradition of swearing an honor pledge so they can fight together indefinitely.”
The maelkii were a unique species to Malcolm, more unique than most. He respected that fact. These days, thousands of maelkii houses, or glorified closed-cultured communities, have started to embrace more modernized values. And it's a shame some maelkii, a species known for their thick culture and rich traditions, would even consider disregarding them. However, the Quallic House, the house Valiic and Narrisa are from, is one of those houses that root themselves like a tree in traditions that have lasted thousands of years for the maelkii.
“If I were in their place, it really isn’t that big of a stretch to justify their actions, despite how wrong they are,” Malcolm responded.
“How so?”
“My theory: They found it more honorable to stay loyal to their friend… their fellow warrior, if you will… over the ARW. I’d say there's a seventy-seven percent chance of that theory being true.”
Vaal giggled. “You did it again.”
“Did what?”
“Tacked on a percentage to another one of your theories.”
“That’s
because our job hinges on odds. What are the odds target one chooses to do option three? What about option four? The odds that target three figures out a way to put a dent in plan four, intentionally or not. See… it's all about the odds and how we work our plan to capture our targets around those odds so we have the maximum chance of succeeding.”
There was a sudden bump as the ship came to a halt on the landing pad. Malcolm grabbed his gear and nodded for Vaal to follow him off the ship. “Brad, stay with the ship. This shouldn’t take long,” Malcolm commanded over the cyberwatch.
Vaal and Malcolm stepped outside onto docking bay ninety-two. The air in the Underlevel was heavy and humid. Malcolm’s black cornrows started to stand up. Even though it was morning, Kemmer’s Bar was still alive with noisy activity.
“Malcolm, take a look.” Vaal pointed a few docking bays down. “It’s a Wersillian ship; a Hauler, I think.”
“It’s powered off. I’d bet there's a ninety-one percent chance whoever piloted that is inside the bar.”
The first thing Malcolm did upon entering Kemmer’s Bar was skim. He gave quick glances in each major area of the bar. At the back, sitting at a table by himself, was a lycargan.
“There he is. I’ll go speak with him. You talk with the bartenders and see if they know anything.”
Malcolm and Vaal split up. When Malcolm sat down, the lycargan didn’t notice him; his gaze was glued to the tapestry hanging on the wall over the table, looking lost in his own thoughts.
“How did you end up out here?” Malcolm interrupted the lycargan’s thoughts.
“You’re not here to kill me, are you?” His voiced rocked with fear.
“No. In fact I may be able to help you, depending on how helpful you are to me. I’m here looking for information.”
“I can’t help you. I’m only a low-ranking pilot. I don’t know much about anything.”
“I’m not looking for Wersillian state secrets, just how you got here.”
“I… I was forced to pilot a ship here for one of yours.”
“Do you know where that unit's headed?”
“They only mentioned going after someone named Landis. But that's it. I swear.” He got defensive.
“That’s all I need to know.” Malcolm reached in one of his pockets and pulled out a few jemns. “I despise your species, but I'm a man of my word. This should help you start a life here. Word of advice… sell that ship for additional jemns.”
Malcolm got up from the table and caught up to Vaal as she was exiting the bar. “Report,” Malcolm requested as they walked back to the ship.
“One of the bartenders saw a group of ARW soldiers leave with a mercenary named Erryn Wolph. He doesn’t know where they were headed though, so I pulled up her file from the ARW database.” Vaal showed Malcolm the file using her cyberwatch. “We don’t have a lot on Erryn. She's expensive… and part of that cost assures her contractor that she won’t turncoat.”
“She has an honor code. That’s too bad for us. What else?”
“She's also a runaway omelic wanted for a crime that isn’t stated in her file. Although, she has a bounty of five hundred thousand jemns on her head. But she’s only worth the jemns if she's captured alive and brought back to face omelic justice.”
“There lies our advantage.”
Malcolm was about to step onto his starship when he noticed three individuals marching up to them. Two were wearing mechanized suits - knock-off power armor. The three were from the fight club near the bar.
“What’s good, homie?” the leader of the three asked with a smug grin.
“Don’t call me homie,” Malcolm barked as Brad stepped out of the ship.
“What’s da problem, homie? Do I scare ya?” The leader lifted his shirt, showing Malcolm his sidearm.
Malcolm didn’t flinch. He looked over the guy in the center. Decreasing the distance between the two, Malcolm reached for a coin-shaped pin attached to the man’s jacket, engraved with a symbol. “Are we going to have a problem?”
“Only if ya don’t give us dat fine-ass ship.”
Malcolm pulled off the coin-shaped pin and flipped it. “Brad, handle these repulsive stereotypes.”
Brad didn’t hesitate or speak any words.
Five coin flips.
Malcolm turned his back on the fight. He stepped towards his ship. There was a quick swish of a blade and grasping of a jacket, then the sound of a blade digging into bare skin and the gurgling coughs of blood was crystal clear behind Malcolm. Another screamed for his life. The aroma of blood crept up Malcolm’s nose; the smell of iron.
Ten coin flips.
Malcolm was another step closer to being inside his ship.
Bang!
A gunshot ricocheted off the surface of the docking bay lot, and another one rattled the fencing of the caged fighting arena. The only sound left was a thud of a body crashing to the ground, sending a force of wind against Malcolm’s back. One left.
Fifteen coin flips.
“Please. Please! NO!” the last man begged. He was silenced by the slice of a blade. Malcolm was now on his ship.
Twenty coin flips.
“Pathetic.” Brad walked back into the ship.
Malcolm looked back to see Vaal’s horrified glare. “A self-defense instructor… hum? No self-defense instructor I know is that ruthless.” When Vaal first joined the 9 Hunters, Malcolm told her Brad was formerly a self-defense instructor. From Vaal’s expression, Malcolm knew she no longer believed that.
Malcolm muttered, “Believe what you want.”
Vaal sighed after she knew Malcolm wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted. “So… what’s the next step?” she asked.
“We have our confirmation as to the legionnaires’ motives and the location they're headed to. If this Erryn is to live up to her file, she'll first gather all the information she can before ever setting foot on Delkeedo. Now we must gather the same information she's after and put to use the bounty she has against her. And I know a place where we can achieve both.”
“Where?”
“The Galactic Hotel. It’s the go-to place for all species to meet in peace. With a rep such as that, it attracts bounty hunters to lay low in a place where they won’t be fair game to the others. And it's run and owned by a group of very wealthy and influential yuerr.”
The yuerr, a species known for their greed, are responsible for the introduction of jemns and make sure that every major intergalactic market accepts the currency. Through their continued efforts, jemns are the galaxy’s standard accepted currency. The yuerr still reap the rewards of that achievement to this day.
“Why can the bounty hunters lay low there? What stops the other bounty hunters from killing each other?”
“Simple. The Galactic Hotel is known for its infamous one rule: No life shall be taken by another on Galactic grounds. Should you break that rule, you'll die.”
Chapter 15: Infiltration
October 13, 2111
James Stone
As one of the best mercenaries in the known galaxy, Erryn paid no expenses on her ship. Case in point: This lounge full of comfort and space. Designer couches, a stocked kitchen, a few holographic monitors, a virtual game system, and more were all to add to her customers’ experience while feeding her ego. But hell, all this awesomeness was sure going the extra mile for me.
Erryn Wolph stepped into the lounge area to join me, Valiic, and Shadow-Walker. She took a seat at the table to the right of the couch I was sitting on. “We'll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Across the couch from me, Shadow-Walker took his turn in the game we were playing. “Thank the savior. I’m getting sick of playing Derrium all the time.”
I took my turn and teased him, “Or… are you sick of losing to me, Shadow?”
He took his next turn. “These stupid strategy games are rigged.”
Valiic, lying beside me, said, “Strategizing isn’t your strong suit, Shadow-Walker. Don’t blame the game; blame the player.” H
is massive legs hung over the armrest, while his head was aimed towards me.
Erryn pointed out, “There are other things to play or do. Derrium isn’t the only game I have on the hologram table.”
I responded, “It’s the only one worth playing. I need to be at the peak of my mountain if I'm going to save Landis from the Grando. This game is helping me exercise my mind to do that.”
Erryn walked over to me and placed her hand on my thigh. “You could use a break… something to ease your stress.”
Over the last few days, Erryn Wolph had taken an interest in me. It started as simple flirting, but now she looked at me like a challenge to overcome. It was as if she saw me as a trophy to collect. I, on the other hand, had no interest or attraction in omelics.
“I know what you're thinking, and the idea is ten steps below bad.”
I swiped her hand off me. She gave me a grin and walked back to her seat.
“Wow… I can’t be the only one witnessing that,” Valiic projected.
“You’re not,” Shadow-Walker answered him. “Erryn has always been a flirt.”
“Don’t worry, boys, nothing's happened between me and James. I’m simply having some fun. It’s nothing that would interfere with mission results,” Erryn retorted.
Shadow-Walker leaned over the table as Erryn looked away and whispered, “James, don’t get involved with her. Men who do… tend to have bad things happen to them.”
“It wouldn’t happen even if both of us were locked in a cage for eternity together.” I let out a wry chuckle.
Erryn returned her attention back to us. “Tell me, Shadow, what do you plan to do when the ARW’s conflict is resolved? Go back to mercenary jobs?”
“You mean war, not conflict,” I corrected her, but she paid no attention.
“I haven’t given it much thought, actually. If I had to say right now, then righto… I probably would go back to mercenary work. Why shy away from what you're good at, right? That’s why I joined the ARW’s military in the first place; I'm good at it.”