Page 34 of The Forbidden Army


  Jerven smiled and conceded, “High Prod Nikkwill is an inspiring figure.” Moss’s concern reminded Jerven of his own pressing issues. He hadn’t heard from Zurra in two days. Nikkwill would be furious that his prized soldier had gone missing.

  A ramp opened out of the bottom of the transport and seven aruntuk emerged, surrounding High Prod Nikkwill, who was dressed plainly in civilian attire with a cloth cover tied around his braids. General Godford approached and greeted Nikkwill in the krokator fashion – they clasped each other’s forearms just below the elbow and took turns kissing one another on the forehead. Nikkwill next turned to Jerven and they exchanged the same formalities as the small press contingent took their obligatory pictures.

  “It is a great honor to welcome you to Terra personally,” Godford said to Nikkwill as they moved towards a second transport on the other end of the platform.

  “Thank you, General Godford,” Nikkwill answered slowly in limited Standard. He indicated for Jerven and whispered something in his ear.

  The ambassador turned to Godford. “The High Prod apologizes; he does not know much of your tongue. He appreciates your hospitality and would like to extend the gratitude of Emperor Urkus Orkann and the whole Empire for this warm welcome.”

  Godford smiled as they entered the low-altitude transport. “We want to afford every courtesy during your stay. I guarantee the friendship between the humans and the krokator will improve thanks to what we accomplish here.”

  Jerven relayed this sentiment to Nikkwill, who nodded approvingly. The human and krokator delegations segregated themselves on the transport and the door closed. The hum of the craft’s engines shook the interior of the fuselage and the transport picked up off the landing pad.

  Nikkwill checked to make sure the humans were out of earshot before quietly saying to Jerven, “So, Ambassador, what is the situation here?”

  “Bad. Your favorite pet got himself into trouble. More than once.”

  “I will handle him personally.”

  “Good luck. He vanished two local days ago. No word of him since.”

  Nikkwill clicked his tongues. “That is unusual. Zurra is very reliable.”

  “All we know is that he went to go meet an informant of ours in the city. The informant told me that Zurra went off to follow a lead and that is the last confirmed contact.”

  The aging High Prod sighed. “Sharm Zurra is too good to lose. Have you heard the accounts of his achievements?”

  “In passing.”

  The transport started circling. Jerven peered out of the window at the krokator embassy below. “Here, this is our enclave. Follow me.”

  Once the krokator delegation had disembarked, the transport took off towards Crest Ave. Moss looked out the window at the glowing silhouette of Malibu Spaceport, scratching at his unshaven chin before stating, “I think those Crocks are up to something.”

  “Of course you do,” Godford replied dismissively and leaned back in his seat. “Any idea why Gresham wasn’t here? I thought he would be excited to meet Nikkwill.”

  “You’d think he’d be out of bed by now,” Moss said with distaste. “He would normally have taken the day off if he planned on being a lazy shit.”

  The transport approached the Department of Defense and Godford stretched. “No matter, we’ve got other things to worry about. Are you coming tonight?”

  “Oh, why the hell not. I need to get out more.”

  #

  “Wake up!” a voice roared in Standard and the bag was yanked forcefully off of Gresham’s head. He blinked and received a vicious slap across the face. He spat blood out on the floor along with the rag and looked up to get a feel of his surroundings.

  He was in a windowless concrete room, barren of anything but the pipes on the walls and a plasma ceiling light that illuminated the small cell. A green-skinned krokator towered over him, and out of his peripheral Gresham could see at least two more similarly massive aliens by the door. There was a groan from behind him and Gresham craned his neck around to see who his fellow captive was. The back of Zurra’s head was unmistakable.

  “Good afternoon,” a new voice said from behind the towering thugs in Krokam and a short, overweight tan-skin entered the room. He sat down on an empty chair so that he was only a few feet from Gresham, who coughed after breathing in the krokator’s stench.

  “Do you two know who I am?” he asked in Standard, relishing Gresham’s fear.

  “I’ll take a guess,” Gresham said. “Kalenn Jurkken. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Jurkken smiled and nodded as several new krokator came in through the door. “A pleasure, I’m sure. I should have you know that I don’t like having SIS looking into my business. Or having the sukuda out after one of my good friends.” He turned his attention to Zurra. “But you two aren’t SIS or sukuda, are you? No, didn’t think so. You’re both in over your heads.”

  “We are after scum like you,” Zurra said in Krokam. “We are here to kill you so that you cannot continue your heresy against the Emperor.”

  “Standard!” Jurkken screamed and slapped Zurra in the head. “This is Terra, bunchu, learn to speak it!” He looked at Gresham. “You, Major Gresham, made the wrong people angry. If you hadn’t run into French’s office throwing punches, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be down here and your little girlfriend would still be alive.”

  Lara! “You motherfucker, what did you do to her?”

  Jurkken put on a mock face of surprise. “Me? I didn’t do anything! Why are you looking at me? I can’t speak for my men, though. Pretty thing she was. A shame.”

  Gresham growled under his breath, feeling anger building. “Bastard…”

  “Cooker of foods, he just wants you to react. Pay him no heed,” Zurra warned. “This is what they do.”

  “Cute nickname,” Jurkken chortled. “Anyways! You’re alive for a reason, Major Gresham. I have a friend who wants to talk to you. That goes for you too, Sharm Zurra.”

  A lean blue-skin and a human entered. Gresham recognized the dark-haired human immediately from the pictures he had seen. “Perry!”

  “I don’t believe we’ve had a proper introduction yet,” Perry said before punching Gresham square in the face. Stars erupted in his eyes and his head swam.

  “A simple hello would have sufficed…”

  Perry crouched down in front of Gresham. “Who else have you told?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Perry rose and removed his jacket. “I don’t play games, Major Gresham. Who else have you told?”

  Gresham glared up at him. “Told what? That you’ve been playing Jack French for a fool just as much as everyone else? That you broke into Supernova using his access codes to funnel guns to your buddy Lugrash for some quick profit?”

  Perry massaged the hand he had struck Gresham with. “You’re smarter than I thought, Gresham. Tell me who you’ve told, I won’t ask again.”

  “Nobody. Nobody knows. I don’t have any proof. Turns out it was true, but I’m dead anyways, right?”

  Perry looked at Jurkken. “He’s lying.”

  “Tell me something, Perry,” Gresham said as he spit more blood out of his mouth. One of his teeth felt loose. “Did you really think that you would get away with this? Somebody was bound to track you down eventually.”

  “Oh? You really believe that SIS was just going to stumble across Lugrash? Keep in mind that it was you who suggested that lead to Agent Taylor. Her blood is on your hands.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  Perry smirked. “Oh, nothing you need to worry about.” He glanced at Jurkken again. “Find out what else they know and who they’ve told. When they crack, give me a call.”

  Gresham watched Perry pull his jacket back on and leave the room. He glared at Jurkken, who was grinning from tusk to tusk. “What has he promised you, huh?”

  “Please don’t make the assumption that I actually like Mr. Perry,” Jurkken said with a chuckle. “However, I ha
ve friends who ally themselves with him. Friends who keep me in business here and help my friends in the Empire. Speaking of which, I believe you know my friend here, Sharm Zurra!”

  Jurkken indicated the blue-skin who had entered with Perry and Zurra sighed. “You must be Kamaan Dakkal.”

  “You wanted to find me, and here I am,” Dakkal sneered in Zurra’s face. “When I heard about what you did to my operation in Ankina, I was at first furious, but not now. My duties to the cause are more important. I have no score with you to settle.”

  “The same cannot be said for our friend the Scarred Tarl,” Jurkken said with a vicious sneer. “Grakko will be very pleased to hear that we’ve got our hands on you, Sharm Zurra.”

  Gresham craned his neck to get Jurkken’s attention again. “Your feud is with Zurra, so why does Perry want me? If he’s that worried about going to jail, he should have stuck to banking and stayed out of arms trafficking.”

  “He’s not, and I wasn’t either. If you had come down here, even with a warrant, you would have found nothing. We are deep underground at the moment, Major Gresham, and we are very secure. Our friend Perry is worried, though, that after tonight somebody will put the pieces together and come after him or Hess.”

  “So Hess really is involved then,” Zurra said. “He was your contact in the Alliance.”

  “Not quite. Perry’s the contact and moneyman. A go-between for us and Mr. Hess, who was more than happy to support us financially in return for strong-arming Border World clients who needed to pay up. We are… valuable friends to have,” Dakkal explained.

  Gresham took a deep breath. “It all makes sense now. Lugrash brings in exotic weapons for you to peddle here on Earth and then ships away whatever you’ve lifted from Allied depositories using French’s Supernova access codes – without French’s knowledge, I assume?”

  “I was never directly involved in that,” Jurkken admitted. “Perry handled Lugrash and the export of arms. We wouldn’t have started stealing from the Marines had Hessian not come under scrutiny from your government. We had arrangements to honor with some very dangerous people and had to find a new supply of weapons. We clearly didn’t cover our trail very well.”

  “You all split the money from illegal weapons sales, the Forbidden Army has a reliable source of support in the Alliance and Perry’s knowledge of the banking system helped you hide the money throughout the galaxy.” Gresham shook his head in disbelief. “What a scheme. You bastards must have been making millions.”

  “Every credit helps,” Jurkken said with a cruel smile and nodded at Dakkal. “You should go get ready. It’ll be time soon.”

  He returned his attention to Gresham and Zurra, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll be back later for you two, and you had better be ready to tell me who else you told.”

  The krokator all filed out of the room and slammed the door shut. After hearing a heavy-sounding bolt slide into place, Gresham and Zurra were left staring at the blank concrete walls, listening to the sound of their pounding hearts.

  #

  Hess opened a beer bottle without the help of his home’s AI, and he thought about how good it felt to do it with his own two hands. For so long he’d relied on technology to perform simple tasks, but today Hess would be doing everything on his own. It was fitting, really, to do it this way.

  He relaxed in the armchair of his study and studied the portrait of his father on the wall. Even almost two decades after his death, Johannes Hess’s presence was felt every day at the company he had helped build and operate. The hard stare was just as real on canvas as it had been in real life.

  Turning away from the portrait, Hess sat forward and looked at his wedding photograph, taking in his expression of joy and that of his ex-wife. They had been so happy that day, so young and stupid, unaware of what lay ahead. The next picture over was that of his son barely a few days old, clasped tightly in his ex-wife’s arms.

  Hess rubbed his eyes and realized who he needed to call. He needed to make a few calls, to be precise, but one of them was the most critical in case he ran out of time.

  He dialed a number and the screen on the far side of the office hummed to life. Hess rose out of his chair and approached the screen, sitting down against the edge of his desk as his son’s happy, optimistic face appeared.

  “Dad! I wasn’t expecting a call. I thought you were on Terra?”

  “Benjamin,” Hess said with a smile. “I am on Terra; I’m calling from the house there. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” Ben Hess answered pensively. He had his mother’s smile. “How about you? How’s Terra?”

  “Hot, you know how it is.” Hess could feel tears welling up behind his eyes. “Look, Ben, I was meaning to talk to you about something…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There are going to be a lot of things about me in the news, and I just want you to know that many of those things aren’t true.”

  “I wouldn’t think that, Dad…”

  Hess nodded. “I know, Benjamin, I know. I just want you to be ready. I love you, son. You know that, right?”

  “Dad, you’re worrying me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  For a split second, Hess debated admitting to his son what was about to happen, but decided against it. He knew his son would never betray him but treason was treason, after all.

  “I just… haven’t talked to you in a long while. That’s all. Tell you what, when I get back from my trip here, you and me, we’ll go do something. Maybe go fishing.”

  There was genuine shock on his son’s face. Ben had never spent substantial one-on-one time with his father growing up. This was unusual.

  “Yeah, sure Dad… I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

  “So, anyways. How’s your mother? Have you talked to her lately?”

  “The other day, actually. She’s doing well. You two don’t talk often anymore, do you?”

  “Jesus, Ben, we’ve been divorced twenty-three years,” Hess chuckled and sipped his beer. “You and Lydia doing alright?”

  “We’re doing great. I’ll let her know you said hi.”

  “When are you two going to get me some grandchildren, mm?” Hess’s eyes shone. His son laughed and shook his head.

  “Come on, Dad, you sound like Mom. You’ll be at Jen’s wedding, right?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Hess lied and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Ben, I need to make some more calls, but I love you. Okay?”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  Hess choked back tears. “I miss you, son. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  Ben waved goodbye and then cut the feed.

  The image of his son’s smile was permanently burned into Hess’s mind. He breathed deeply and then dialed another number.

  It took a little longer, but soon the face of Bernie Rumsen, his longtime business partner, filled the screen. There were noticeable rings under the eyes of his confidant.

  “Colin? Christ, do you have any idea what time it is here…?”

  “It’s afternoon on Terra,” Hess said with a smile. “I have a big favor to ask of you, Bernie. This stays between us.”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

  “Monday morning, you call a press conference and announce my immediate resignation. You’ll succeed me as CEO and chairman and my shares will be divided amongst you, the other members of the board and senior executives equally.”

  “Christ, Colin, you’ve gotta be kidding…”

  “No, Bernie, I’m serious. You’ve got one of the most competent boards in the galaxy at your disposal. If it comes down to subpoenas and hearings, I am the last man you will want at Hessian.”

  Rumsen shook his head. “I can’t believe this. What about Benjamin? How many of your shares go to him?”

  “I’ve spent my entire life living for this company; I won’t let him do the same. He’s a smart kid and he’ll be a great asset to Hessian if you choose to retain him, but this can’t be a famil
y business anymore. The company’s buried three men in my family, and it won’t bury Benjamin.”

  “Look, Colin, we’ll talk about this when you get back from Terra…”

  Hess shook his head. “I’ve made up my mind, Bernie. I love this company and I won’t let it go down with me. One day you’ll realize that this was the only decision.”

  He ended the call before Rumsen could protest again. His old friend would never understand exactly how difficult this decision was. Rumsen and Hess had gone to hell and back together, whether in courts, in board rooms or over negotiating tables. If there was any man who could move the company forward in Hess’s absence, it was him.

  Hess turned off his screen and drafted a brief resignation letter to send to every member of his board. He made sure that his AI would not send the letter before Monday morning. After he finished, Hess breathed out.

  It was done.

  “Mr. Hess?” One of the myriad of nameless faces Hess employed was peering through the door to his study. “Mr. Perry just called. He’ll be here soon.”

  Hess nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you. I’ll get ready.”

  His employee left down the hallway and Hess looked up at his father’s portrait again, meeting the painted gaze.

  Unlike Johannes Hess, he would not be buried alone.

  #

  The smoke and debris from the collapsing caves obscured Zurra’s vision as he plowed forward through the underground complex, his rifle raised to eye height and his gas mask protecting him from the fumes hanging low to the ground. He could hear screams and shouts over the explosions, but he barely laid notice. Somewhere down here, Grakko was waiting. Zurra wondered if he knew he was coming for him. In a way, he preferred that scenario. That gave Grakko more time to fear him.

  He pushed a flailing figure out of his way, firing a single okka needle into the silhouette’s abdomen and moving on. His focus was complete. He had never declared nohoken but his brother was still about to be avenged, and his father could rest in peace.

  A heretic was trying to right himself against the wall and Zurra grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “Where is Grakko? Tell me now!”

 
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