The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4) Read online

  She rose slowly to her feet and looked up at the soldier who stood almost a foot taller. “Is this how you want it?” She asked, still trying to blink away some of the stars.

  “You and me together? Sure, First Sergeant, I’d love to have a little piece of your ass while there’s no one here to witness it. After I’m done, I think I’ll also show you what a real man’s like.” He chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “this is going to be fun.” He dropped the private, who collapsed in a heap. “Whatcha got for me, First Sergeant?” he asked with a sneer.

  She approached him slowly, looking for an opening. Not only was he a lot taller, he also outreached her by a long way, too. He approached her slowly, too, and she launched herself toward him as he took a step, trying to catch him off balance so she could kick him in the groin. He had obviously expected that, though; he turned to protect himself and took the kick in the thigh. Jones grabbed her ankle in one hand and threw it up and back, causing her to somersault in the air to land on her hands and knees.

  It hurt, but the pain helped clear her head from the earlier slap.

  “Typical girl,” he said with a laugh. “Always going for the man’s balls.”

  “That was just to get your attention,” Mun said, standing up, her fists clenched. “If you want another round, I’m still here.”

  “Sure thing, First Sergeant,” he said. He approached slowly, fists up and ready.

  Mun charged the larger man, yelling a primal scream.

  Jones’s hands dropped, ready to swat her away again, but she came to a halt a step away. As he reached down to grab her, she threw the handful of sand in her right hand into his face. As he reared back, she stepped forward and kicked him in the shin. The steel-toed boot cracked the bone, and Jones staggered to the side, trying to clear the sand from his eyes.

  Mun raced around to his back, jumped up, and threw an arm around his throat. Jones brought his chin down to protect it, but she was already locked in.

  Jones reached back and grabbed her uniform sleeve, then bent over suddenly while pulling her over and down. Mun slammed into the ground, losing some of her breath as she hit.

  He leaned forward to look her in the eye. “Nice try,” he said with a chuckle.

  Mun’s hand shot up, her first two fingers in a “V,” and she drove her fingers into the man’s eyes as hard as she could, fear and desperation giving her added strength. Jones reared back, roaring in pain. He slammed the heel of his boot down, trying to stomp her head, but Mun was already moving, rolling to the side and to her feet. She took two steps and swept Jones’ good leg out from under him with a hard kick.

  Jones fell to the ground and tried to roll toward her to grab her, but she was on her feet, and she launched a snap-kick that terminated on Jones’ chin. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell backward, unconscious.

  “You okay, First Sergeant?” Corporal Khunbish Enkh asked, running up. Several other troopers were behind him. “What happened?”

  “Take Jones to the stockade,” Mun replied. She flipped the cover off her holster, pulled out her pistol, and handed it to the corporal. “You may need this,” she added; “I suspect he’s going to be pretty pissed. The rest of you, give him a hand and look after Private Berkelun.”

  She strode back to her CASPer with a grim look on her face and boarded it, able to get the canopy closed before the shaking fit began.

  The Golden Horde Headquarters, 20 Miles East of Tashkent, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Sansar Enkh asked. The mercenary commander was seated at a table at the front of the room, flanked by Lieutenant Colonel James Laverno and First Sergeant Muunokhoi Enkh.

  Sergeant Jones stood five paces in front of the table at a loose position of attention, flanked by two other soldiers wearing both arms and personal armor. Fifty members of the battalion sat in chairs behind him.

  “What do you mean, Colonel?” Jones said with a snarl. “I didn’t do anything wrong. She deserved it.”

  “Have you no compassion for your fellow soldier?” Sansar asked.

  “Passion?” Jones asked. “Yeah. I got plenty of passion. My passion is being successful and staying alive, something Private Enkh was endangering with her complete lack of competence. I was showing her how important it was to have that same level of passion.”

  “She said compassion, and what you did was totally out of line,” Mun replied. “You beat her until she was senseless, and then you continued to slap her.”

  “Well, she didn’t meet the standards,” Jones said with a shrug, “and people who can’t meet them are a danger in combat. I was just showing her the importance of meeting standards.”

  Sansar shook her head. “The way you were doing it goes against everything we stand for.”

  Jones shrugged. “Someone had to help her get her shit together.” He looked around the audience behind him for support. “Right? It obviously wasn’t happening on its own, so I figured something a little more intensive was called for.”

  “You’re fired,” Sansar stated.

  “Fired? Seriously? For hitting a private who couldn’t do her job? You’d get rid of someone who knows which end of the laser rifle the beam comes out of, and keep the incompetent private who’s just as likely to throw the pin instead of the grenade?”

  “You were in a leadership position,” Lieutenant Colonel Laverno noted, speaking for the first time. “It was your job to train her, not physically abuse her.”

  “I was training her. I guarantee she’ll think about it before she breaks formation the next time.”

  “You won’t be around to see it,” Sansar said. “As I told you, you are fired. We will take you into town and give you your final paycheck, but you are no longer welcome here.”

  “What? You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just like that? When there’s a mission on the horizon? You’re going to screw yourself. You’ll never find a replacement who’s as good as me in the time you have remaining. What do you think you’re proving with this?”

  “As for the mission, we will find someone,” Sansar replied. “It is in the cards. I thought it was you, but I was wrong. You were, however, right about one thing.” Jones smiled at the perceived compliment. She continued, “Even mercs have to have standards, and you don’t meet ours. Mun, get this piece of shit out of here.”

  “I’d be happy to, ma’am.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 2

  Commander’s Conference, Uninhabited System

  “General Peepo,” Rear Admiral Grakapoonga said, looking up from his slate. “I was just informed that Nigel Shirazi escaped the trap you set for him on Planet Moorhouse.”

  The general lifted her goggles to stare at the Bukulu admiral, and his eyestalks fluttered nervously under her glare. After a moment, Peepo’s gaze shifted to the large wolf-like creature next to him. “Brigadier General Sharith, do you have any additional details on how this is possible? Like how, for example, he wasn’t killed when I allocated vastly superior forces to the task, both in numbers and in capabilities?”

  “The reports do not give any additional details at this time,” the Besquith general said. He looked at the table, unable to meet her stare. “The only other information I have is that the Shirazi boy absconded with the entire year’s worth of production from the red diamond mine on the planet. When our ship arrived to pick up our payment, the Caroon in charge of the mine had nothing to turn over to us. Apparently, the Shirazi boy said it was for ‘reparations’ for not telling him about our presence on the planet.”

  “What are we going to do about that?”

  “There does not appear to be much we can do,” General Sharith replied. “There was a clause in Asbaran Solutions’ contract that allowed for this. ‘Hiring party will advise mercenary force commander of any hostile activity noted, or will be held liable for any losses which ensue.’ They had insisted on the clause, and we never figured it would be a pro
blem; they weren’t supposed to survive, after all.”

  “And how much did this ‘boy’ get away with?” the general asked. Her voice had dropped to nearly a whisper, a sure sign of her anger.

  “At least several hundred million credits’ worth.” General Sharith bowed his head in submission. When the general didn’t say anything, he continued, “Under additional questioning, the Caroon mine manager admitted that it might be more than that, and it was possible it may have been as high as half a billion credits. Maybe a little more.”

  General Peepo turned her gaze to the senior MinSha general, Lieutenant General Chinayl, who held up to her scrutiny for several seconds before shifting his compound eyes away from her. “Is this true?” the general asked. “How did you allow this to happen? While I am not surprised at the incompetence of the Besquith forces, your forces were supposed to provide the leadership required to make sure everything went according to plan. If the Humans were not destroyed, it is possible they also left with evidence that the Besquith used banshee bombs to take over the original Asbaran Solutions’ base there. What is your plan for countering this claim when they bring it up with the Mercenary Guild, as I am sure they will?”

  The MinSha general stood up a little straighter. “I am happy to report that, although the Humans did survive and get away with the red diamonds, the second half of your plan was accomplished successfully. We used the uranium smuggled off the Humans’ home world to make a nuclear bomb, which was detonated at the mine site. The evidence will confirm the fact that the Humans felt so betrayed by the Caroons that they destroyed them with a nuclear weapon in their anger. As I understand it, nearly one thousand innocent miners were killed in the attack, along with their families. There were some rather graphic photos taken of the remains of several Caroon younglings which will be distributed to the GalNet when the time is right.”

  “Good,” the general said, gazing at the screen that showed the ship being built at the shipyard nearby. “We may still be able to salvage the plan, after all, despite your incompetence. Now, let us talk about those damned Winged Hussars…”

  Downtown Tashkent, Uzbekistan, Earth

  Sansar walked into her house and set down her pack, dreading what she knew was coming—another fight with her mother, who had stopped taking her medications because she said it was, “her time.” Sansar squared her shoulders. Putting it off wouldn’t make it any better. She walked to the back room and knocked on the door. She thought she heard a muted, “Come in,” so she did.

  “About time you came to see the elderly,” her mother scolded, her voice thin and reedy. It was amazing how quickly she had gone downhill.

  “Mother, you know what it’s like to run a Four Horsemen merc unit. You did it for over fifty years.”

  “Yes I did, and don’t think I didn’t go see my mother all the time while I was in charge. The elderly have experience the young don’t even begin to comprehend. You would be wise to consult me more often.”

  “Mother, war has changed since you retired. It is more technical now; I doubt you’d understand.”

  “War is always changing. Commanders who continue to fight the same way they did in their last battle are destined for defeat. People, though…people remain constant. The same needs and desires that drove us to the stars continue to drive us now.”

  “We went to the stars because the aliens showed up and brought us into the Union. Humankind had pretty much given up on the stars until the aliens made it easy for us.”

  “Were you there at the time?” her mother asked, pale blue eyes looking piercingly at her. Sansar shook her head. “I didn’t think so; therefore, you don’t know.”

  “I know what I read about it.”

  “Bah. Scholars write history books, and they are notorious for writing them to push their own agendas, rather than to accurately detail what happened. Usually it is to make themselves look better.” Her eyes took on a far-off look, and Sansar wondered if her mother could see into the past. She shivered; it wouldn’t surprise her.

  “We went to the stars because we wanted to be part of something greater than ourselves,” her mother continued. “We could easily have sat on this planet and watched Tri-V movies and used the aliens’ virtual reality things, content to sink into abject welfare. Many people did.” She stared at Sansar’s pinplants, obvious with her hair pulled back. “But we didn’t. We went off-planet to become part of the Union…to follow our destiny.”

  “We went off planet to earn some credits,” Sansar corrected. “It was the only way to get ahead.”

  “Some people may have gone off-planet for money,” her mother said in her mother-knows-best tone. “There are some, even today, who are only focused on ensuring their basic needs are met; we, however, left to pursue bigger goals.”

  “I know, Mother,” the merc commander replied. “It’s our job to see to the future of Humanity.”

  “And how do we do that?” Sansar rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything. Her mother continued, “We do that by going and killing the aliens in their system—”

  “I know, Mother,” Sansar said. “You must kill the alien in his system, lest he come and kill you in yours. Blah, blah, blah.”

  Her mother sat up straighter in the bed. “Do not mock me!” she scolded in a loud voice. “It is in the cards. It is the destiny of our family to save the world from the outside invaders.”

  “You don’t think there’s something vaguely ironic that the mercenary group supposed to save the world from outside invaders is the one named after one of the greatest invader groups ever?”

  “I do not,” her mother replied primly. “It is as it should be. It is precisely because of the connection that we have been given this task. Completing our duty will balance the sins of the past. The yin and the yang, the—”

  “Got it, mother.” They’d had this discussion before, and she was tired of beating that particular dead pony. “Look, I know you believe in all of this stuff, but I have never seen any evidence that your ability to foretell the future actually works.”

  “That is because I wasn’t old enough.” She sniffed in her prim, self-assured way. “It is only at the end that the wise truly begin to see. It was the same with my mother and her mother before her. You will have it too, when the time it right.”

  “But Mother, I was adopted. Nothing of yours will be passed down to me.”

  “Leadership does not come from being in a position of authority; it comes from exhibiting the qualities of a leader. The ability recognizes these qualities and goes where it needs to in order to guide those who will listen.”

  “Well, I hate to tell you this, but the person we hired, the one you said would, ‘save us in battle,’ didn’t work out, and I just had to fire him. So, I don’t see how your ability is really worth considering.”

  “Fool!” she exclaimed, before falling into a fit of coughing. The coughing went on for longer than Sansar had ever seen.

  “Are you okay, Mother? Would you like a glass of water?”

  Her mother waved a hand weakly as the coughing fit wound down. “I am fine,” she gasped when she could breathe again. “It is almost my time.”

  “Bah. You’re as strong as a horse and far too mean. Death is too scared of you to come and try to claim you.”

  “Nevertheless, it is true. I have foreseen it.”

  “With your cards, mother? The same ones that foretold my new squad leader was ‘the one?’”

  “Yes.” She turned to get the stack of cards on the bedside table, but they were out of reach. She looked totally out of energy as she feebly tried to reach for them.

  After watching her mother struggle for a moment, Sansar sighed in frustration and walked over to the table. The cards. Always the damn cards.

  “Help me up, please,” her mother whispered. Sansar helped prop her up against the headboard. When she was settled, her mother held out a hand. With a second sigh, Sansar handed her the cards.

  “The man who was here. Who was h
e?” She cut the cards and flipped over the top card. The Fool.

  She looked up at Sansar. “An end and a beginning…obviously, the problem is you picked the wrong man. You chose too soon; the error was on your part, not mine. The man you chose was not the savior you need.”

  “Well, I didn’t need a deck of cards to tell me that,” Sansar replied. “It was pretty apparent.”

  “Who is the one that comes?” her mother asked, cutting the cards again. She flipped a card, and turned over a picture of a man sitting on a ram-adorned throne with an Ankh scepter in his hand. The Emperor. “He comes!” her mother exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “He comes!” She flipped over another card on top of the Emperor. A naked woman stood with one foot in a stream. The Moon; Sansar’s personal card.

  “The Emperor?” Sansar asked, exasperated. “And me? Are you trying to marry me off again? I don’t need a husband, or a lord, or anything else. I’m too busy as it is.”

  “The Emperor symbolizes the top of the secular hierarchy and the ultimate male ego. Someone is near who…” she struggled to catch her breath. “He is…who you need.”

  “Okay, Mother. That’s enough for now.” Sansar leaned over and scooped up the cards. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for today.”

  A hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Who…you…need!” her mother said, straining to get the words out. Her hand fell away, and her head fell to the side. A last gasp of air escaped her throat; she was dead.

  A tear ran down Sansar’s face. Although their relationship had been…complicated, she would miss her mother, who had always been there to guide her. Now, though, just as matters seemed to be coming to a head, she was suddenly bereft of that guidance. She felt lost and alone, adrift in the currents moving swiftly around her. She wasn’t ready…but then again, how could she be? If her mother’s tarot cards were to be believed, the future of the Earth rested squarely on her shoulders. No pressure there.