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Karma Star System, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm
October 2nd, 2037
“I don’t entirely approve,” Madison said, scowling.
Terry knew better than to get involved in such a conversation. He’d learned over his short life that opening your mouth at the wrong time when grownups were having a discussion involving something you wanted to do often resulted in things not working the way you wanted them to.
“I’ll be there,” Doc said, “and my men are there as well.”
“Karma Station is a den of killers,” she insisted, her mouth set in a thin line.
“Mercs,” Doc corrected her. “Am I a killer?” Caught off guard, she looked away, and Terry knew he’d scored. “You’ve got four million credits at your disposal, thanks to us. Call it what you will, but merc life is a reality to humanity now, and will be forever. It’s no different than all of our history, really. People have always sold their swords for money.”
“But why does my son have to be exposed to that?” she insisted.
“I’m not making him part of the company,” Doc said. “I need to meet the men, and afterward Terry can see some of Karma Station. The station is a huge transportation hub. Merc business is only a percentage of the commerce that goes on there.”
“Commerce,” she said and snorted. Doc sighed.
Terry decided to play one of the only cards he had. “Mom, my birthday is in 10 days.”
“And I suppose you think a trip to a...a...mercenary den is a suitable birthday present?”
“Merc pit,” Terry corrected, then cringed. Shit. His mom looked at him, then turned her head to glare at Doc.
“Madison, the kid’s been confined to three freighters for months, exercising every day to avoid losing bone mass. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to feel some gravity and maybe see some of the Union before we’re off again?”
She looked at the former SEAL for several moments before sighing, and Terry knew he’d won. “You won’t let him out of your sight for even a minute?”
“Promise.”
“Okay,” she said, looking at her son.
“Woohoo!” Terry crowed.
“You be careful,” she said, and gave him an awkward zero-G hug.
“I will, Mom.”
“I’ll be sure one of the assistants takes up your jobs today, but you still have to do your studies tonight. Understand?”
“Yes, mom,” he yelled over his shoulder, because he was already heading back to their shared compartment.
“Take good care of him,” she told Doc.
“Guaranteed.”
In their room, he grabbed his backpack and a light jacket. He’d read that often space stations were cooler than most Humans preferred. Afterward, he rushed to Teddy Roosevelt’s hangar deck. Doc was waiting in the lock, a bag on his back and a gun around his waist.
“Ready, kiddo?”
“You bet,” Terry said.
“First, a word.” Doc moved so he was only a short distance away and face-to-face. “If I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Second, alien mercs are dangerous. Some are simply hostile for the sake of being hostile. Humans are a new factor in their trade, and we’re already getting a rep of being trouble. Don’t talk to any aliens unless I say you can.” He pointed to the translator fixed to Terry’s coat.
“Got it.”
“And last,” Doc said, “don’t spend all those credits on the first interesting thing you see.”
Terry laughed and nodded. “I won’t.”
“Good, now come on.”
They boarded the shuttle through an airlock. Inside, one of the Teddy Roosevelt’s pilots was already working at the controls. The woman looked back as Doc and Terry entered and found one of the dozen open seats. Two other people were already on board; Terry didn’t recognize either of them.
“All set?” the pilot asked.
“Good to go,” Doc said. Terry said he was, and the other two did, as well.
“Undocking, buckle up,” the pilot said. There was a bump and a dull clang through the hull, followed by the sensation of the shuttle rolling around. “Thrust,” the pilot said, and they were gently pushed back into their acceleration couches.
“How long to Karma Station?” Terry asked Doc.
“Oh, an hour or so.”
Acceleration built up until Terry guessed it reached a half a G. He glanced at the uniform and other accoutrements of Doc’s gear, in particular the gun. He’d never seen anything like it. “That’s not a Human gun, is it?”
“This?” Doc asked. He drew the pistol, checked its condition, and removed a cassette from the handle. “Here.” He handed it to Terry. “Safety’s on, it’s unloaded.”
“Uhm,” Terry said and took the weapon, “are you sure it’s unloaded?”
“Smart kid,” Doc said. “Never take another person’s word for it; no matter how much you trust them, check yourself.” He pointed at the controls. “Pull that back and look at what the display says.”
“There’s a red zero,” Terry said.
“Then it’s unloaded.”
Terry examined it. It looked like a gun; the basics all seemed the same. The barrel didn’t end in a hole, but rather a strange piece of glass. There were several controls on the side and the handle, along with writing he didn’t recognize.
“This isn’t from Earth,” he realized.
“No, it isn’t,” Doc agreed.
Terry continued to examine it. “And it’s not a firearm.”
“Correct again. It’s a laser pistol. One of the lessons from the alpha contracts was that our weaponry was sadly insufficient. We have cartridges that can kill most alien mercs, but you just don’t get many shots.”
“So this is an alien-made gun?”
“Yes, it is.”
“How many aliens have hands like ours?” Terry asked.
“Not many,” Doc confirmed. “Only one merc race is really close.”
Terry gripped it in his hand and tested the feel. It was too big, of course. He was about to turn 12, but his hands weren’t as long as an adult’s. Even so, the handle looked rough. “It looks like it’s homemade.”
“Pretty close,” Doc said. “My friend Janet Cross, who’s in our unit, is an armorer. We got ahold of a case of Pushtal laser pistols.” Doc saw the confused look on Terry’s face. “Pushtals look like Bengal tigers, though luckily not as big, and tend to be black and white instead of orange and black. Anyway, the handles were all wrong. Janet used an alien machine called a manufactory to take the Pushtal guns apart and make new handles for these.” He held up a hand. “Bonus is we sold a bunch to another Human unit we ran into.”
Terry handed the gun back and watched Doc’s movements. Just like he’d shown Terry, he verified it was empty, then slid the cassette back in place. Terry guessed it was a power pack. Doc flicked a control and slid the weapon back into its holster. “They’re serviceable,” he said. “Someday an alien manufacturer will be making new ones for us.” He shrugged. “Maybe even a Human manufacturer.”
Doc changed the subject, and they talked about Terry’s studies, passing the time in conversation until they finally arrived at Karma Station. Terry watched the multi-wheel shape of the station approach from his tablet, linked to the shuttle’s cameras, with awe and wonder. It just kept getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger!
“How big is that thing?” he finally asked Doc.
“Just over five kilometers across the outer ring,” Doc replied. Terry whistled. “Yeah, and a couple hundred thousand beings live there.”
The closer they got, the more traffic Terry spotted. From tiny darting shapes like their own, to huge donut- and egg-shaped transports, and even dart-shaped warships. It was like when they’d looked at a drop of pond water in a petri dish; everywhere there was life.
“Is this the busiest place in the galaxy?” Terry asked.
Doc laughed and shook his head. “No, Terry. Karma’s in the middle of nowhere, just like Earth. I’ve heard about systems in the center of the galaxy, known as the core, where a trillion beings live, and you have to wait weeks for a chance to use the stargate.” Terry kept gawking.
The shuttle soon got so close to the station that Terry couldn’t see it all on the tablet, and he truly realized the scale. He thought of the old movie Star Wars as they flew toward the Deathstar. Three concentric rings were spinning around a central hub. The hub stayed unmoving in the center, where dozens of starships were docked. Their shuttle was heading toward a rectangle of light. After a few moments, he could see it was a big open space with ships hanging on all the walls.
“Docking bay dead ahead,” the pilot told them. The shuttle had been coming in tail-first for some time. The pilot increased thrust for a few seconds, then it cut altogether. They drifted slowly until Terry could see they were inside. The shuttle’s maneuvering thrusters fired several times, and there was a jolt. “We’re docked. Stand by for boarding collar.”
The pilot came out of his chair and floated back to the airlock. He watched the displays until there was an audible beep, and a status light turned green. “We’re good to disembark,” he said and cycled the doors open.
An elSha in a spacesuit floated there, looking inside the shuttle. “Cargo?” it asked the pilot.
“Passengers only,” the pilot answered.
The alien floated inside and looked around. It had a slate it tapped on, and after a minute, the alien nodded in approval. “That will be 25 credits docking fee. Fuel is extra.”
“Refill the tanks, please,” the pilot said and handed the alien a card. “Purified hydrogen, if you would?”
“No problem.”
“Come on, Terry,” Doc said, and Terry realized he’d been staring.
“Sure,” he said and floated toward the door.
The connecting collar was a big metal reinforced plastic tube designed to dock with hundreds of different kinds of shuttles. Terry thought he saw rust and cracks in the plastic and tried not to think about why the elSha wore a spacesuit. Not encouraging. He didn’t breathe until they passed through the lock at the other side and entered Karma Station proper.
“Where’s the pit?” he asked Doc.
“Out in one of the gravity rings,” Doc replied. “Glad your mom didn’t hear how eager you are.” Terry gave an embarrassed grin in reply.
Doc took him through a series of corridors that led them to something he called a glideway. To him, it looked like a plastic tube.
“When you get in, the air will lift you up. After you get in, spin around so you’re going feet first.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to be basically falling to the higher gravity areas of the station. If you go head first, it’s gonna hurt when you try to get off.”
“Oh.” He did as Doc said, and a gust of air pushed him up. As soon as he was moving, he spun around feet first. It was a little like a water slide, without the water. For a second, as he began to accelerate, he was afraid it would go bad quickly. Then he felt Doc’s hand on his arm.
“Don’t worry, it’s only scary the first time.”
Terry tried to relax and look around. They were passing between decks, and he saw other tubes nearby with a variety of aliens. One or two he recognized; most he didn’t. There were tubes where the occupants were going back the way he’d come, too. The glideway was kinda fun.
“We’re getting off on Ring B, Deck 12.”
“How do I tell where that is?” Terry asked.
“Right, I forgot you don’t read the lingo yet. I’ll pull us off, don’t worry.”
They passed through a long section without decks, or even windows. He was aware that now air was blowing up at him, keeping his pace from getting too quick. A couple of signs went by in glowing languages he didn’t recognize, and he felt Doc gently pulling him to the side. Before he realized it, they were on a cut off, like a train moving onto a new track. A floor appeared below their feet, moving with then. Their feet touched, and the floor slowed them to a gentle stop.
“That was cool!”
“Told ya,” Doc said.
“What if the air goes off, or the floor doesn’t work?”
“It could get messy, I guess. But the tech is actually kinda simple.”
Doc led him out of the station where they’d landed. You could get on or off a glideway there. Outside was a long, wide avenue lined with shops and a myriad of aliens moving in all directions. Above them was a continuous window through which he could see the ring closer to the hub. He was somewhat aware that the floors curved upward in the distance in both directions. They were standing on the floor of the spinning station. Unlike when Pegasus had spun them, he didn’t have a slight dizzy feeling, either. Karma Station was beyond massive.
“There are bigger stations, aren’t there?” he asked.
“How do you know that?”
“Well, every time I think I’ve seen the biggest thing around, I’m wrong.”
Doc laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, this is big, but not huge. Come on, it’s not far.”
They walked along the promenade, as Doc called it. He said there was one on all three rings, and they served as a big business district. You could buy anything from food to missiles, according to him. Terry had a hard time understanding what any of the little shops were selling, or if they were selling anything at all. The bigger ones were sometimes two or three stories tall, reaching up to the glass roof. The scale had him dizzy in just a minute’s walking.
“Here we are,” Doc said outside a doorway with a symbol over the top. It looked like a gun, a sword, and diamond, and again he couldn’t read the other writing.
“What’s that mean?” Terry asked.
“Symbol for the Galactic Mercenary Guild,” Doc said. “The place is called the Pit of Occo.”
The doors opened, and a spider the size of a family sedan came skittering out. Terry squealed and jumped out of the way. It was one of the Tortantulas he’d read about, but there was no chipmunk on its back.
“Move it, meat sack,” the Tortantula said. Well, it made clicks and rasping sounds, but its translator said the words.
“Pardon the hatchling,” Doc said, and the Tortantula trundled past without another word.
“Is that one of the dangerous ones?” he asked after the spider was out of sight.
“Very,” Doc confirmed. “It didn’t have a Flatar, so that probably means it’s a small one, likely a courier.”
“D-did you say small one?”
Doc took him by the shoulder and guided him into the pit. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Maybe the Star Wars cantina crossed with a wild west saloon? It turned out to be a big open room with a service area off to one side, Tri-V screens in the center showing all kinds of data, and small private rooms all along the walls.
“This is a pit?”
“Yup,” Doc confirmed. A man, the first Human Terry had seen since they’d left the shuttle and its other occupants, popped out of a private room and waved.
“Yo, Doc, over here, Captain!”
Doc waved back and patted Terry on the shoulder. “Come on, kiddo, meet the crew.”
They walked over to the room, and Doc went in first. Inside, five men and a woman sat waiting. They all greeted Doc, then looked at Terry.
“Men, this is Terry Clark. I’ve been telling you about him.”
“Who the hell you calling men?” the woman asked.
“Don’t let her fool you,” one of the men said, “she’s got a bigger dick than any of us.” Terry turned bright red, and everyone laughed uproariously.
“That foul-mouthed lady over there is Tina,” Doc said. “Watch your mouth, Sergeant.”
“Sorry, sir,” she said. “Hi, Terry.” He smiled and said hi back.
“That’s Honcho,” Doc said. A dark-skinned man with a cowboy hat touched the brim and nodded. “Over there is Toothpick.” A man smiled back, missing several teeth.
“Why do they call you Toothpick?” Terry asked. The man pulled out a pair of shiny knives, grinned, and made them disappear. “Okay,” Terry said, and more laughter broke out.
“That’s Piano,” Doc said. A thin Asian man with sharp, hard eyes nodded slightly. “And the two who can’t stop playing cards are Hutch and Peyto.” Two men wearing ballcaps who looked like brothers waved without looking up from their cards. One hat was the Boston Red Sox, the other the Chicago Cubs. They both looked more like football players, with necks thicker than Terry’s waist.
“Welcome to the Last Call merc company,” Tina said. Everyone raised a glass. Doc picked one up, apparently waiting for him, and raised it as well.
“Do I get a drink?” Terry asked with a mischievous grin.
“No!” they all barked. Terry turned red again, and they all laughed.
“Any word on that contract?” Doc asked after the laughter died out.
“Not yet,” Piano said, his voice rich with the accent of whatever Asian country he was from.
“You catch the spider just leaving?” Tina asked.
“Yeah, almost ran us over,” Doc said. All eyes turned to look out into the pit, searching. “Wonder what’s going on?” They looked at each other and nodded.
“Toothpick, see if the bar has something the kid can drink?”
“Sure, Captain,” the man said and got up to leave. “Whatcha like, kid?”
“Soda, or water is fine.”
“Be right back.”
“Pop a squat, Terry,” Tina said and patted the bench next to her. Terry sat down. It wasn’t comfortable, more like a padded steel plate, he guessed because the pit probably catered to dozens of different races. “Doc says you’re studying to be a marine biologist?”
“Not really,” Terry said, “but I’ve been studying pinplants.”
“No shit?” she said.
“Hey,” Doc growled.
“Crap, sorry kid. We’ve seen a lot of aliens with them, especially pilots. I heard some are researching making them work for Humans. Maybe you’ll figure it out?”
“I’d like to,” Terry said. “Our cetaceans all have them.”
“We know,” Honcho said and took a drink. “That’s why we’re all stuck out here.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Terry said, looking away from the man’s hard stare.
“It’s not the kid’s fault,” Doc reminded his man. “Not anyone’s fault, really. Aliens pulled one over on them, from what I hear.”
“Even the kid’s old man?” Honcho asked.
“Drop it,” Doc said.
“I was just—”
“I said drop it, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir,” Honcho said and went back to his drink. It was uncomfortably quiet for a minute until Piano came back. He was carrying a bottle of Coca-Cola.
“Holy cow,” Doc said, “where the hell did you get that?”
“Bartender said it was stocked by Jim Cartwright!” Piano said and handed it to Terry.
It was a glass bottle. He’d never seen one like it. He looked at the label and saw it had been bottled in Saudi Arabia, and there was Arabic writing as well. He couldn’t figure out how to get the metal top off, either.
“Here,” Doc said and took the bottle. He pulled out a tool from his belt and pop, the top came off with a fizz. Terry took it back and drank.
“Holy shit!” he said as the carbonation and sugar went down.
“Hey!” Doc barked.
“Oops,” Terry said. The SEALs cheered and raised their drinks.
“To Terry,” Tina said, “we’ll make a no-shit SEAL out of you yet!”
“Salute!” they called out and downed their drinks. Even Honcho gave Terry a wink.
Doc did a facepalm. “Madison is going to kill me.”
Terry sat and listened as the seven mercs talked. They went from weather in Houston to scuba diving, parachuting, driving cars, and on to fighting aliens. He stayed quiet, and they almost forgot he was there. Until Tina let out a string of profanity, and Doc yelled at her.
Then Tina looked up and tapped her ear. Terry hadn’t even noticed she was wearing a radio. It was the tiniest thing he’d ever seen, and he wondered if it was alien origin like the laser pistols they all wore.
“Whatcha got?” Doc asked.
“Someone down at Peepo’s said she’s coming this way,” Tina said.
“Got it. Okay, Terry, someone’s coming I need to talk to. You can stay because there’s nowhere to stash you. So sit back there between Honcho and Piano and keep quiet, okay?” Terry nodded. “Cover him, okay?” he asked the two.
“Will do,” Piano said. Honcho just nodded.
Terry slipped around the rear of the crowded room and sat where he’d been told. Despite being surrounded by big armed men and women, he felt a jolt of fear.
“Don’t worry,” Honcho said in his gruff voice, “we got this, kid.”
Terry watched out the door into the Pit of Occo, breathing faster than he liked. After a few seconds he called on the dive training Doc had given him way back when they first met. “Never let fear win. If you do, you die.” He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath, and it helped. When he opened his eyes, it was just as a dozen MinSha came into the pit.
Their red compound eyes moved as they spun their heart-shaped heads to take in their surroundings. They all wore black combat armor over their green chitin, the same as the ones who’d blown the hell out of the Middle East eleven years ago, within weeks of his birthday. The mercs around him didn’t so much as budge.
The leader of the MinSha looked directly at Doc, who was now standing in the doorway to their room, and pointed a viciously serrated arm at him. The others headed in the Humans’ direction. “You are the Last Call?”
“That’s us,” Doc said, his hand falling casually to his belt, mere centimeters from the holstered laser pistol. “Who are you?”
“We are Viscou Ak, and you killed our mercs on Shlee Prime!”
Doc looked at Toothpick, who was just to his side, his eyebrows going up. “Did we kill any bugs on that world?”
“Yeah, but I can’t be sure.”
Doc grunted and nodded before turning back to the MinSha. “Killing bugs is more of a hobby than a profession for us.”
The MinSha leader made a hideous rasping hiss and its troopers spread out to either side. They fairly bristled with weapons, but none were being aimed...yet.
“No fight in my pit!” an alien screeched and ran between the two sides. This alien looked a little like a sloth to Terry, and he wondered if it was a Caroon.
“Get out of the way, Occo,” the MinSha chittered.
“If the shooting starts, just dive behind these seats,” Honcho said to Terry.
Terry nodded in reply and began to wonder if his mom had been right. Staying on Teddy Roosevelt might have been a good idea after all.
“You Humans are in over your heads,” the MinSha said. “We should have sterilized your miserable world instead of a small part of it. Worthless, miserable mammals.”
“Here’s your chance to get rid of a few more mammals,” Doc said, patting his chest. “Your move, bug.”
“If you wish,” the MinSha said.
Oh, hell, Terry thought. Occo fled, squealing. The MinSha watched the pit owner go, then nodded to its partners.
“Is there a problem here?” said a woman’s voice behind the MinSha.
The alien’s head spun around to observe dozens of Human mercs spreading out behind them. Unlike Doc and his people, the newcomers wore light and efficient-looking combat armor, complete with helmets and tinted visors. They also carried short-barreled rifles that Terry suspected were lasers. Each of the MinSha had at least two pointed at them.
“This argument isn’t with your company,” the MinSha said, turning its head so it could see both groups of Humans. The armored antennae swung in a circle like helicopter blades.
“You aliens are going to have to figure something out about Humans.”
The MinSha snorted. “What do we need to figure out?”
“You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”
“Like I said,” Doc said, “your move, bug.”
“This isn’t over,” the MinSha said, and his team moved as one toward the door. The new arrivals closest to the exit moved aside just enough to let them through.
“Better hope it is,” said the woman who’d spoken as the alien leader left.
“Thank you!” Occo screeched, and Terry realized the screeching was its normal way of speaking. “You drink on Occo.”
“With thanks,” the woman said and removed her helmet. Long hair as black as night fell down her back, and small but intense eyes examined the room. She’s beautiful! Terry thought. Hutch and Peyto picked up their cards and resumed the game where they’d left off.
The woman looked at one of her men. “Sergeant Chang, make sure our guests actually leave the vicinity.”
“Yes, Colonel,” a man said and bowed. Six others fell in with him as he exited.
And a colonel?!
“Terry,” Doc called. “Come on out here. You’ve met one of the Four Horsemen, meet another.”
As he came out from behind the table, Terry got a better look at one of the newcomers. She wore advanced camouflage fatigues, and all her equipment looked new. On her shoulder was a golden patch with a black embroidered horse archer charging.
“This is Colonel Tuya Enkh, commander of the Golden Horde. Tuya, this is Terry Clark, the son of the woman I told you about.”
Tuya’s eyes screwed up into a smile, the epicanthic fold turning her dark eyes into almost pinpricks. “I am pleased to meet you,” she said. “The Golden Horde is at your service.” She gave a little bow as she smiled at him. The helmet had modulated her voice so it sounded neutral. Now, without the effect, her accent was clearly Asian.
“Nice to meet you too, Colonel,” he said and awkwardly returned the bow. She grinned even wider. “Not to be rude, ma’am, but I thought a man was in charge of the Golden Horde.”
“Yes,” she said and shrugged. “Borte is no longer in command. A change in leadership was necessary for the Horde to thrive.” Terry wondered what she meant. “Now if you will excuse me, young man, I have need of Colonel Abercrombie.”
“Just Doc is fine,” he said, “you know that.” Doc turned to Tina. “Do me a favor and take Terry shopping?”
“Sure, Colonel,” Tina said, her voice full of amusement.
“Stow that shit right away,” Doc growled. All the other men snapped to attention and saluted. “Oh, for the love of God.”
* * * * *
