The Immortal War Read online

  “The mercenary pickings could be sparse here,” Copernicus Smith commented as the Davion landed at a narrow, beach-front spaceport south of one of the larger alien settlements with a local Priority Acquisitions office. The natives and off-worlders didn’t mix well, so they stayed more-or-less segregated. The town even had a modest wall surrounding it, although no guards were stationed on the ramparts.

  “We only need a handful, just enough to fill out a strike force,” Adam pointed out. “I just hope we can find some ships for the trip into the nebula. From the look of the spaceport, there aren’t a lot of candidates to choose from.”

  With Sherri and Arieel about to take the Davion to Formil, Adam was desperate to find a way to speed up the process. An idea came to him and he contacted Kaylor and Jym back at the Klin Colony Ship in the Formilian system. On a number of occasions over the past twenty years, the Klin had used secret navigation charts to move fleets through the turbulent Core of the galaxy, rather than transit the major gravity lanes above the ecliptic. This cut down on travel time moving from one side of the galaxy to the other. He was hoping Kaylor and Jym could find some of these navigation charts in the ship’s computer system, allowing Sherri and Arieel to cut their travel time to Formil by half. If not, then they would have a forty-two day journey ahead of them. By then, the fate of the team and the TD array would have long been settled, for better or worse.

  When the hatch cracked on the Davion and the team stepped out onto the surface of Vadon, they were hit with blasts of hot, sticky air. They were anticipating this; thick jungles didn’t exist without a lot of heat and humidity. Still, it took some getting used to. Now, while Sherri and Arieel remained inside the ship, the rest of the team took an open-air transport into the town to shop for mercenaries and starships. They were soaking wet when they arrived.

  3

  The town was called Rosnor-Unikor, and there were about forty-five thousand people in the area, mostly aliens. Adam had trouble deciding which were alien and which were natives, since none seemed more prevalent than the other. According to the Library, mostly miners lived here, flitting back and forth between Vadon and the nebula, scooping up floating debris and gases which were then sold to merchants and energy companies. The inhabitants were a hardy and tough group, and most knew the Juddle like the back of their hand, paw, or tentacle.

  The buildings were mainly low-level wooden structures and coated with a thick type of paint to fight the constant ravages of moisture and dry rot. It seemed they’d gotten a deal on the color purple, with nearly every structure displaying the same gaudy look. It clashed with the vibrant green of the nearby jungle.

  Tidus stopped at the first financial establishment he came to—a type of bank with advanced comm systems. Adam, Riyad and Copernicus entered with him, just to get out of the oppressive heat. It didn’t help. It seemed air conditioning was a luxury no one in the town was interested in. The Juirean left a few minutes later with an impressive stack of Juirean credits, having drained his bank account.

  “We must make these count,” he said to the others. “They are all I have.”

  Before leaving the Davion, Tidus looked up the address of the local PA office. He had been to a hundred worlds in his day, but never to Vadon. A datapad led him to the address.

  Like the bank, this office also was without air conditioning. The team walked in, finding the lobby empty and the air stale.

  “Are they still open?” Riyad asked. He approached a counter and looked behind it. A computer was on but no one was there.

  “Assistance?” said a female voice from behind them.

  They turned to see a long-armed creature with glistening brown skin following them through the door. She had a box with her.

  “I am Tidus Ne Landon,” the Juirean said. “My PA number is six-one-0ne-eight-green.”

  The slender being slipped past them and stationed herself behind the counter. She placed the box on the desk and then opened it. Something moved inside. She picked up a sharp rod about a foot long and stabbed inside the box several times. Whatever was inside stopped moving.

  “You are a supervisor, according to your code,” she said. “I am Bracios Carn; I manage this facility. Are you here to inspect? I was not notified of your coming.”

  “No, no inspection. I am here seeking operatives. How is your inventory?”

  Bracios reached into the box and pulled out a smooth-skinned rodent of some kind, now dead and dripping with blood from several puncture wounds. “Forgive, it is my midmeal time.” She ripped off a generous portion of the still warm animal with her sharp teeth, chomping away on meat and bone alike. She eyed Tidus and the others while using her free hand to dab away the blood on her mouth with a gray cloth.

  “You are a Juirean,” she said. “I believe I have heard of you. There are not many of your race in PA. As for the others…obviously Human. I find this an odd affiliation.” She took another bite of her lunch. “Do you seek location services or other? And is this PA business or outside services; do you need them for your Human clients?”

  “They will be part of an operation I am leading,” Tidus said.

  “So… an employee discount.” Bracios sounded disappointed.

  “I seek assets for a military operation.”

  The office manager showed signs of alien surprise, a widening of her eyes and a shake of her head. “Mercenaries; how strange. I was not aware of any operations in the region.”

  “I will need only a small unit. Do you have candidates on Vadon, or will I have to go to Tel’oran?”

  Bracios’ head wobbled again. “We have operatives, and in surplus,” she said. “There are more veterans of the various wars then there are assignments. As you know, Tidus Ne Landon, skilled operatives for our other company functions are hard to come by, but not so mercenaries. How many do you require, and any particular skills?”

  “Infantry,” said Adam. “And with piloting skills.”

  Bracios eyed the Human. “Do you need Humans, or will others suffice?”

  “There are Humans here?”

  “A few. I only mentioned it because you chose to speak at this time.”

  “Knowledge of the Nebula is preferred over race. And of course…the cost,” Adam added.

  “Humans are too rare and skilled to come cheaply. I would suggest a few of the natives, such as myself.”

  “You’re a native?” Copernicus asked. “Which one?”

  “I am Navnin. Depending on the assignment, all three of the native castes have different specialties. Ours is in climbing.”

  “Can you pilot spaceships?” Copernicus continued.

  Bracios recoiled slightly. “We are not primitives, Human. We have technical skills and abilities, just as you.”

  “He did not mean to insult,” Tidus said, stepping past the Humans to resume control of the conversation. Humans were still relatively new at dealing with aliens. They more often than not insulted when they didn’t mean to.

  “What would be the cost for a team of six? They must possess weapons skills, have up-to-date translation bugs and be inclined to follow orders. Also, no bulky beings. Our size or smaller.”

  Bracios set the bloody corpse that was her lunch aside and wiped her hands on the cloth. Then she typed on the computer pad. “Duration of contract?”

  “Ten days, maximum. Six-day guarantee.”

  “Thirty-five thousand JCs, minus your ten-percent employee discount for the guarantee period. Five thousand for each additional day. You mentioned piloting skills and knowledge of the Juddle. Will you provide the ship or will you need one?”

  “Four small mining vessels, capable of transiting the Dysion Shield.”

  Bracios looked up from her screen, a look of curiosity on her smooth, brown face. “A Shield transit? Will you provide the guide? I do not believe any of the operatives would have such skills. That is another category unto itself.”

  “I might know someone,” Riyad said. “A Tel’oran named Ruszel. I worked with hi
m before.”

  “I have heard the name,” Bracios said. “I believe he is retired. We have used him in the past ourselves. The Juddle is not a place to travel unprepared.” She looked at her screen. “The ships will be twenty thousand each.”

  “Each? For only ten days?” Copernicus exclaimed. “That’s too much.”

  “They are worth more than the flesh assets,” Bracios countered. “And much more expensive to repair. And for a transit through the Shield, damage is guaranteed. The price is the price.”

  “Then only two,” Tidus said. Adam knew that would just about clean him out. And they still needed weapons, ammo and explosives if they were to do a job on the portal array. And then Sherri and Arieel needed their own supplies for the trip back to Formil.

  “Then two it is. Would you like to choose the operatives?”

  “Yes,” said Tidus.

  “It will take a few hours to call them. Go to this address—” she handed him a data chip. “It is an eatery two building blocks from here. The candidates will appear there for your interview. Now I will need fifty thousand as a deposit.”

  “Fifty thousand?” Tidus questioned. “We haven’t even selected the assets.”

  “It is what I demand,” Bracios said firmly. “I suspect this operation is of high risk. Although you are of Priority Acquisitions, I also believe you are operating without sanction. And it is only through my generosity that I am extending your employee discount.”

  Tidus reluctantly counted out the Juirean credits. His once impressive stack of blue and green chips had shrunk by two-thirds when he finished. He slipped the remainder into his pocket with a grunt.

  “We will await your candidates. And the ships?”

  She handed him two more data chips. “These are the locators and keys to the vessels. They are in the southern spaceport. Follow the directions. Final payment will be due before I release the assets to you.”

  The team left the office. They were on their way to building a larger team of mercenaries, and they had their ships. But none were happy. Especially not the Juirean.

  4

  The eatery was a decent-looking open air-affair with a generous helping of canvas awnings to protect against the near-constant drizzle. It was nestled against the jungle, with a number of round tables, each with blood-testing boxes and wicker chairs. There were a few patrons at the tables and along a standard bar manned by the brown-skinned beings like Bracios. Those seated at the tables and bar were a mixture of creatures from a dozen worlds, some Adam recognized, most he didn’t. Fortunately, there was a nice breeze blowing in from the nearby ocean, keeping the smell of the sweaty aliens at bay.

  They took a table at the back, near a small fountain and pool of running water. The scene was tranquil and inviting. All that was missing where the umbrella drinks. Adam checked the credits he had in his pocket. He had enough for a couple of rounds for the team, but not much more than that.

  Before sitting, Copernicus walked up to a squat plant with wide green leaves, laced with a spiderweb of red lines. Yellow flowers adorned the top of the long leaves, giving out a strong fragrance of peach.

  “These are nice,” he said. “These things look almost like blood vessels—”

  “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you,” said a voice to their left.

  Suddenly, the leaf closed on Coop’s arm, wrapping itself around him in an instant. Coop yelped and struggled against the grip, managing to pull his arm from the plant before anyone could come to his rescue. His arm was coated in a slick, burning ooze.

  “I’d wash that off as fast as you can. That shit can sting.”

  Coop raced to the nearest pool and dunked his arm into the warm water. He scrubbed with his other hand until all the goop was off. When he was done, the arm was glowing red from the strong, toxic chemical.

  “What the hell is that thing?” he asked the stranger.

  The person turned in his chair and looked around the thick bamboo-like support to the canopy. It was a Human male. He flipped back the wide-brimmed hat he wore, revealing a head of white hair to go along with his bleach-white beard. His face was deeply tanned and creased, brilliant blue eyes making him look like a more-weathered version of an old Ernest Hemingway. He wore a sleeveless shirt, displaying thick, muscular arms, one with a faded anchor tattoo on the forearm. Adam spotted the tattoo, thinking that that goes back a few years.

  “They said there were Humans here,” Adam said. He leaned over and extended his hand. “I’m Adam Cain.”

  The man raised his bushy white eyebrows. “No shit. I’m Monty Pitts. Hull Tech Master Chief Monty Pitts, retired.” The voice was like gravel on sandpaper.

  “Well, master chief, what brings you this far from home?”

  “To tell the truth, you!”

  Adam sat back, grinning. “Me? How is that?”

  “I was aboard the Bainbridge twelve years ago during the party you threw for all of us in the Dysion Void. We got hit by one of those trailing mines on the way to Elision and crashed on Olypon. By the time we got our act together, most of you had already left. So…I stayed. Been here ever since.”

  Adam introduced the rest of the team, after which Pitts locked his eyes on Tidus.

  “Funny how things change. Now you’re all sitting here with a Juirean, and an Overlord at that, acting all buddy-buddy. And what’s with the hair?” he asked, eyeing the alien’s ponytail.

  Tidus met the steady gaze of the old Human. “I am independent of the Authority. I now follow my own path.”

  Pitts snorted. “Like I said, things change. So what brings the famous Adam Cain and Riyad Tarazi to our fair city?”

  Adam noticed Copernicus bristle at being left out of the lineup. Next to Adam and Riyad—and the renegade Juirean—he was the odd man out.

  Adam grinned. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “That never gets old, does it, even fifteen thousand light-years from Earth.”

  “So what have you been doing all these years?”

  “I do a little mining, but mostly I run product to Olypon. Have you heard of the place? It’s the sister world to Elision, what’s left of it. They don’t have much of anything there, but they’re willing to pay top dollar for even the most basic stuff.”

  Adam studied the grizzled old Master Chief. “Yeah, we’ve heard of Olypon. I take it you know the way there, probably through Tel’oran and the Volseen Corridor.”

  Pitts laughed—it sounded more like a growl. “Shit, that takes forever. I’d eat up all my profit just in fuel going that route.”

  “So you go through the Shield.”

  “It’s really not that hard, if you know the way.”

  Adam looked to Riyad and Tidus. Copernicus had gone to douse his arm in the water again. It was still burning.

  “Listen, how’d you like to make a few extra bucks?”

  Pitts’ blue eyes burned into Adam. “That sounds like an invitation to something shady…and possibly dangerous. And coming from Adam Cain, it could also be life altering.”

  “We need a guide. We need to get to Mon-Sim, you know, one of the outer planets in the Kryils system.”

  Pitts recoiled. “You really do know the Void. Even most of the miners on Vadon have never heard of Mon-Sim. And I take it you need to get there quick.”

  The conversation was interrupted when a Rigorian stepped up to the table. He wore double MK-17s on his waist and the ubiquitous black vest of his race around his torso. The lizard-like creatures were everywhere throughout the Expansion, although they came from the Fringe. Wherever there was fighting or criminal activities taking place, Rigorians would be there.

  “PA sent me,” he growled at the team. He couldn’t decide whether to focus his attention on the Humans or the Juirean. It was such a strange assortment of creatures.

  “I am Tidus Ne Landon of Priority. Bracios sent you?”

  “That is correct. You seek fighters?”

  “Yes we do. Please, let us sit o
ver here so we can talk freely.” Tidus knew Adam had his own gambit going. He would leave him to his conversation with the weathered Human.

  “Fighters?” Monty asked. “You’re putting together a strike force, aren’t you, made up of mercs? Could this have something to do with the recent activity taking place on Olypon?”

  “What do you know about that?” Adam asked. “And I guess I should ask at the outset, are you tight with the Olypon?”

  “Have you met them? No outsiders are tight with the Olypon. I think all those years under Klin rule made them into a bunch of mini-Klin, but without the chops to back it up. I take their money is all.”

  Adam looked over at Tidus and the Rigorian. He knew the lizards were good fighters; he’d just never felt comfortable around them. Another two, mean-looking creatures had shown up, species Adam didn’t recognize. They only needed five or six more…and if Monty came along, he would fill one of the slots nicely. Adam gestured to Tidus who acknowledged the message: save a spot for the Human. He’d rather spend the money on a Human than an unknown race—or a Rigorian.

  “We are putting together a mission. There’s a facility on Mon-Sim and we need to take it out. We damaged it recently, but we have to go back in and do a better job. We could really use an experienced guide, and especially a Human.”

  “What does it pay?”

  “We can give you ten thousand JCs.”

  Monty sat back, a heavy frown on his face. “Ten? I get twice that much during a normal run. And I take it if you’re successful, I may not be able to return to Olypon.”

  “That’s not necessarily true, but you probably wouldn’t want to. Have you noticed a buildup in warships recently on the planet? It had to be hard to hide.”

  The frown remained on the man’s face. “Yeah…I’ve seen it. I thought it weird that a planet locked away in the Void would need so many new ships. What’s up? After all, these are the Olypon we’re talking about. They ain’t much of a threat to nobody.”