A Fiery Sunset Page 9

  Drizz yanked the controls hard to the left to avoid crashing into the building on the other side of the street, then back to the right to avoid a parked car. He was just passing the entrance to the building when the doors opened, and the two Besquith from his office raced out. They must have been in communication with the ones on the street, because they already had their pistols out and began firing as soon as they exited the building.

  Drizz lost his rear window in a second spray of shattered glass, and several of the warning and caution lights on the dashboard illuminated as he made a right turn and put a building between him and the mercs. Sitting up, he tried to focus on the warning lights, but something was running into his right eye, making his vision cloudy. He wiped his forehead with the back of his paw, and it came away bloody. Great.

  A horn sounded as one of the lights began to flash an angry bright red. The hover system had been damaged, and the car was reverting to ground mode. Awesome. He’d be less maneuverable now. He stopped to allow the wheels to come down and lock in place, then started forward again as the car next to him exploded.

  Somehow the rear-view mirror had survived the earlier laser fire, and Drizz peered up into it to see a Besquith with a large rifle aiming at him. He slammed the throttles forward again, and the car started forward with far less power than it had earlier. Not only had he lost the hover feature, but the motor must have taken a hit that had decreased its efficiency. It would have to do. Drizz weaved through the afternoon traffic, trying to make himself a harder target, and saw a hover car stop next to the Besquith merc, who tossed his rifle in and jumped in after it.

  The chase was on…and Drizz knew he was in the slower, less maneuverable vehicle.

  * * *

  Golden Horde HQ, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “I’m going to turn myself in to the Mercenary Guild,” Sansar announced at the Golden Horde’s strategy session. The collective intake of breath from the assembled officers and non-commissioned officers of the Golden Horde indicated that particular course of action wasn’t one they’d expected to discuss.

  She raised a hand to stop the questions she knew would follow.

  “You can’t,” Staff Sergeant Walker said anyway. Although one of the more junior members of the assembled group, rank-wise, he’d previously owned his own merc company and still often thought like the colonel he used to be. “For all we know, the Merc Guild is behind this. If they get their claws in you, who knows what they’ll do. Certainly, they’ll try to use you to control the Golden Horde if they find out we still exist.”

  “You’re right,” Sansar agreed. Walker sat back with a smile. “But,” she continued, “that’s exactly why I have to go. While we think they’re behind everything that’s happened to the Earth mercs over the last year or two, we aren’t sure of it, and even if they are the instigators, we don’t know why they’re doing it.”

  “How about profit?” Lieutenant Lewis asked. “Since Earth came into the Galactic Union, we’ve certainly been cutting into their profit margins.”

  “Well, maybe not at the start,” Lieutenant Martin added. “The early CASPer models were pretty crappy, but the latest ones are surely giving us an edge over a lot of the other races. They’re probably trying to stop us now before we get any new tech that gives us a further advantage they can’t overcome.”

  “They may also be worried about the timing, too,” Major James Good said. “Earth is about to come up for full membership in the Union; once we do, it’d be a lot harder for them to pull this kind of shit. They had to do it now, before their window of opportunity closed.”

  Sansar paused to consider. The arguments weren’t new; they’d debated the topic on a number of occasions as they tried to figure out the shadowy enemies’ intentions. Who were they? What were they trying to achieve? More importantly, why? While all the arguments made sense and had a profit-based motive—even the idea the guild hoped to make them slaves—something still seemed off. Everything that’d been done to the Humans seemed to be to control them, not eliminate them as a source of competition. While it probably couldn’t completely sterilize the planet, the battleship in orbit could’ve easily wiped out most of the major cities on Earth, yet it hadn’t fired a single shot or conducted any attacks of mass destruction.

  Obviously, they didn’t want humanity dead, just controlled. Even the attacks on the Four Horsemen seemed to have been planned with that in mind—get rid of the mercenary leaders, and the rest of humanity would be easier to control. But why?

  Her best technicians and analysts had been unable to answer that question. If the information existed, it was nowhere to be found in any of the normal civilian or military channels accessible on Earth or anywhere the Horde had monitoring stations.

  “No,” Sansar said. “Well, yes, they’re probably acting before we become full members of the Galactic Union. Whatever it is our enemies are doing, it’s easier to do it to us before that happens. Unfortunately, we still don’t know who they are or what they’re planning. The few times we’ve been successful recently have been when we’ve done something unexpected. We need to do that again.”

  “Doing what they’ve asked us to do will be unexpected?” Major Good asked. “Why would they tell us to turn ourselves in if that wasn’t what they wanted?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they have a plan for what happens if we turn ourselves in—Peepo’s too good a tactician not to have a plan for it—but I don’t think that’s what they really expected. All along, everything that’s been done to us has been based on our normal reactions. Someone analyzed humanity and found out we have a fight or flight response to stimuli, and their plans were designed to counter both outcomes. When we didn’t immediately do one of those, the enemy forces were unprepared. I seriously doubt they think we’ll capitulate here; therefore, it’s what we need to do.”

  “Capitulate?” Walker asked. “Give up? I’m not ready to give up.”

  “No,” Sansar replied, “I am not suggesting we give up, only that we pretend to give up. I’ll turn myself in, which will buy us additional time to organize and find out more about our adversaries that we can eventually use to bring them down.”

  “I’m all for continuing the fight,” Major Good said, “but I don’t see how turning yourself in is going to be helpful to our cause. With you on Capital Planet, they’ll be able to drag you around in front of the media and make you answer all of their trumped-up charges. Some of the things we’ve picked up, like the genocide charge against Asbaran Solutions, have the potential to be very explosive to a number of the alien races.”

  “The opposite is also true,” Sansar noted, “which is why I doubt they truly want any of the Horsemen there to answer their charges. The worst thing possible for their plans would be for me to show up and provide evidence that shows they’re lying, and all of their charges are made up.”

  “We don’t have that information, though,” Good replied. “Sure, we have some circumstantial info, but there isn’t a lot of hard evidence to the contrary. Hell, even I wouldn’t put it past Nigel Shirazi to nuke a bunch of aliens he thought killed his family.”

  “Then you’d better start digging deeper,” Sansar countered. “I’ll need everything you can provide, organized and ready to travel in 48 hours. Go on the GalNet; get videos of all the events. Gun camera videos from the AetherNet. Anything you can find that may be relevant. Hell, call their offices and see if there’s anyone still there. Maybe they have info we can use. Find it!” She turned to survey the rest of the leadership. “While intel is doing that, we need to begin organizing our forces for future operations. Staff Sergeant Walker?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You’re promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and are now commander of Strike Fighter Squadron One. Your job is to find the best SalSha pilots we have, train them, and put together as many crews as we can find space fighters for. When we have enough to split it into two squadrons, you’ll be the wing commander and promoted to colonel. Any questions?”


  “Ma’am, I—”

  “You said you wanted to fight,” Sansar interrupted. “Here’s where your experience can best be utilized. You did a wonderful job with Thorb but face it—we got lucky. Next time, we need to be prepared to exploit any advantages we have, and to this point, no Human merc organization has ever had fighters—”

  “So it’s unexpected,” Walker finished. “And since we’re trying to do the unexpected, this is important.” He sighed. “I get it. I don’t like it…but I get it.” He shrugged. “Where am I supposed to conduct this training? I have a feeling our friends in orbit won’t take kindly to us practicing there.”

  “You’re going to have to take all of the SalSha, along with most of our remaining troops, to the Huss—”

  Sansar stopped in the middle of her sentence and closed her eyes as Corporal Bolormaa Enkh broke in over her pinplant comm system. “Sorry to interrupt ma’am, but I have a high-priority message from the Houston office.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Ma’am, the agent we had watching Major Drizz of the Winged Hussars said the major activated his escape chute and is fleeing from a party of Besquith. Major Drizz is in a high-speed chase, trying to evade them. Our agent is in a position to end the chase and is requesting instructions.”

  “End the chase. Save the Hussars’ agent and bring him to Tashkent. Lieutenant Colonel Walker will be taking him off planet.”

  “Lieutenant Colonel Walker, ma’am?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Colonel Walker. That’s all; make it happen.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Corporal Enkh out.”

  Sansar’s eyes opened. “As I was saying, I want you to take all the SalSha and most of our remaining troops to a secret base the Hussars have.”

  “Fine, ma’am. How am I supposed to get there if it’s a secret base? Even better, how am I supposed to get past the battleship that’s in orbit?”

  “You’ll take the MinSha cargo ship we brought back from our last mission. Hopefully, that’ll get you past the blockade. It should still have all the codes necessary to look like a transport. Also, I have someone coming who’ll hopefully be able to give you directions to the base.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, that plan is awfully short on details and really long on hope.”

  “Well then, Colonel, I guess it’s time you start acting like a leader, put together a staff, and figure some of this shit out. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are aliens on our planet. Your days of running away from your fears are over. The aliens are here. It’s either time to be the leader I think you are, or to let me know so I can find someone who is.”

  Walker took a deep breath and blew it out, then nodded once in acknowledgement. “I’ve got more experience than just about anyone else here. It doesn’t matter whether I want to be a leader or not; it’s part of who I am, and I’m the best qualified to do it. I’m your man.”

  “Good, then stop pretending you’re not and get to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Walker said, giving her another nod. “I’m on it. Can I have Captain Cunningham as XO of the squadron and Lieutenant Gracia as a troop leader?”

  “You’ve got them. Captain Cunningham?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Congratulations, you’re promoted to major and are now squadron XO.” Her eyes scanned the room to find the other officer. “Congratulations also to Captain Gracia.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” they chorused.

  Sansar looked back to Walker. “Anything else?”

  “No, ma’am,” Walker replied. “I’m good; we’ve got this.”

  * * *

  Houston, Texas, Earth

  Drizz knew he was in trouble. Despite his best efforts to escape and evade, the Besquith had caught up to him. It didn’t help that their car could hover, and his couldn’t, or that he could only squeeze about 70% of its normal power out of it. As he reached the outskirts of the city, he knew he was screwed. The traffic was thinning, and the Besquith were roaring up on his right side with one of them hanging out the window, preparing to fire. He had to get back to the downtown area; maybe he could lose them there for long enough to jump out and go to ground.

  He saw an opening in the opposing traffic, and he slammed the stick to the left as the Besquith fired. The shot hit one of his wheels, blowing it out, and the increased drag while in the hard turn catapulted the stricken vehicle sideways. Drizz lost control as the car flipped and rolled over several times, finally coming to a stop on its roof, which crumpled slightly, leaving only an eight-inch gap where the window used to be.

  Partially stunned, Drizz came to, hanging upside down in his straps, his arms hanging past his head. At least the blood wasn’t running into his eye anymore; it made it that much easier to see the pair of boots that came to stand outside his fractured window. Although he had hoped it was the Houston Police, one sniff was all it took to know for sure; they were Besquith.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?” asked the voice of the first Besquith from his office. “It looks like the Hussar puppy broke his master’s car. He’s going to be in some trouble now.”

  A second pair of boots joined the first, and the other Besquith from his office laughed. Drizz wanted to run—to flee—or even to say something witty, but he didn’t have the energy. He was done. Hanging upside down, his head hurt, and his thoughts were running too slowly; he probably had a concussion. It also felt like he’d broken one of his legs, and he had a variety of lesser injuries. He just wanted to curl into a ball and be left alone, but he knew that wouldn’t happen at the hands of the Besquith.

  The first Besquith knelt and looked inside Drizz’s car. “Not so smart now, are you, Mr. Horseman? In fact, I’d say you looked like the last pile of shit I used to mark my territory on your secretary’s corpse.”

  A flash of anger went through Drizz—he’d liked his secretary—then the enormity of his situation overwhelmed him; there was nothing he could do to get revenge for her. He’d had a laser pistol when he got into the car, but the holster was empty now, the laser a victim of the crash.

  “So,” the Besquith said. “Would you like to repeat what you said to me in your office before you ran off like a whipped cur?”

  “Yeah…” Drizz said, summoning up every last ounce of energy. “Fuck…you.”

  “Fuck me?” the Besquith asked, drawing his pistol. “No. I don’t think so. My boss will believe you didn’t survive this crash, and I’m pretty much done with you.” He aimed the pistol at Drizz’s good eye. The muzzle looked huge. “Fuck—”

  The Besquith’s head exploded, and blood and brains showered into both of Drizz’s eyes. He blinked as several more shots were fired, then wiped his eyes, trying to clear them. Both Besquith collapsed next to the car, with the first one missing most of his head. Yeah, fuck him. Drizz didn’t care who’d killed him, or if he was about to die himself; all that mattered was the Besquith died first.

  More boots appeared. “Well, I shot the shit outta that one,” a Human male drawled.

  “You blew his head off,” a female with a strange accent replied. “That was kind of overkill, wasn’t it?”

  “No such thing as overkill with a Besquith,” the man said. “If’n you’re gonna shoot ’em, ya put ’em down for good. You don’t want one coming back at you. Besides, I hate those fuckers. Gimme a hand movin’ ’em.”

  “Damn Besquith are heavy,” she said. “I thought you…” she grunted as she strained, then continued, “I thought you hated the Goka.”

  “Hate them fuckers, too. Hate ’em more, if’n you really want to know. But I hate the Besquith a lot, too. I mean, look at the teeth on that one.”

  “Yours doesn’t have teeth—you blew his head off!”

  “Yeah,” the man said with a chuckle. “It was a pretty good shot, wasn’t it?”

  The female didn’t reply, and both Humans gave a few more grunts as the Besquith bodies were dragged away, leaving thick blood smears.

  A larg
e Human male knelt and looked in the window. “Howdy, Partner,” he said. “Sorry it took us a minute to get here. You okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay,” Drizz said. “I am, however, better than I was a few minutes ago. Thank you for killing them.”

  “Nah, no problem. Like I said, I hate them bastards, and if they’re on Earth, they needed killing.” He paused to look at the interior of the car. “We need to get out of here right quick, and I don’t think we can get you out of that vehicle anytime soon, unless we flip it back right-side up.”

  “Can we do that?” the woman’s voice asked. She knelt, and Drizz could see she was short and Asian; she looked very similar to Sansar Enkh. Ah, they must be from the Horde and—happily—weren’t working with the Merc Guild forces. Although he’d been relieved to outlive the Besquith, if they were members of the Horde, he’d probably live to see another day, too. He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

  “You an’ me lift that?” the man asked. “Prob’ly not. But I know who can.”

  With a blaze of rocket fire, a CASPer slammed to the ground not too far away. “What’d I miss?” a metallic-tinged voice asked.

  “’Bout time ya got here,” the man said. “Ya missed a bunch of Besquith killin.’ It was a lot of fun, but we need to get the hell outta here before more mercs come or the cops decide to show. Flip that car over—gently, the pup inside’s hurt—so we can get gone.”

  Drizz was so happy to be rescued he decided to let the “pup” comment go. This time.