They jogged at a brisk pace for several blocks before they realized that they were both catching several second glances from various passersby, and Gresham looked down to realize that in all the excitement he was still running around with a loaded machine gun hanging from his shoulder and a pistol tucked in his belt.
“We should find a ride,” he said sheepishly, looking around for a serviceable HUVR. His eye finally fell on one parked haphazardly in a cluttered garage. A fat old krokator was asleep on a lawn chair about ten yards away.
Gresham approached the krokator and nudged him. “Sir, please wake up.”
The krokator stirred and blinked. “Who? What?”
His eye fell upon the Triple-One barrel pointing straight at his face and he gulped. Gresham stuck his hand out and wiggled his fingers for emphasis.
A few moments later they were barreling down the road in the most beat-up, junk HUVR Gresham had ever suffered the displeasure of driving.
“How do you plan to return this vehicle to its owner?” Zurra asked over the rattling of the vehicle’s ancient engine.
Gresham glared at Zurra. “I don’t. I just instigated a gukka bar gunfight in the middle of the Zone and watched you shoot a krokator point blank in the face. The last thing in the galaxy I care about right now is whether or not that old bum gets his piece-of-shit HUVR back.”
An obstruction came into view up ahead and Gresham pulled to a stop, leaning out the window to inspect further. Zurra squinted at the pile of rubble lying in the middle of what had just a few blocks south been a busy road. “What is the meaning of this, cooker of foods?”
Gresham scratched at the back of his neck when he heard a noise from behind the HUVR. He turned around to see a large, sinister shape moving into the street about twenty-five yards away. “Uh oh. Zurra, you still have some needles, right?”
“Several. Why?”
There was a loud hissing noise and Gresham looked to the left. Two Orracowans were climbing out through the door to a boarded-up building, both their interior and exterior mouths salivating. Gresham turned his attention to their rear again. There were now three of the towering, muscular, multi-limbed beasts approaching the HUVR.
“It’s a trap.”
An Orracowan neither of them had noticed pounced from the top of the debris pile blocking their way forward, landing on the roof of the old HUVR and placing a huge dent in it, almost so much that the thin metal ceiling touched Gresham’s head.
Gresham pressed his foot down on the gas pedal as hard as possible and put the vehicle into reverse, careening backwards towards the three charging, snarling Orracowans.
“Shoot them!” he bellowed and fired his Triple-One straight up into the air, the recoil sending tremors through his whole arm and upper body and causing him to lose control of the HUVR’s steering wheel. The vehicle spun out and slammed sideways into a large dumpster. One of the Orracowans leapt up onto the driver’s side, snapping its two mouths in anticipation, its clawed arms ripping away at the door. Gresham peppered the beast with bullets only to hear the smashing of glass as one of the aliens leapt onto the back of the HUVR and kicked through its rear window with one of its powerful, sinewy legs. Zurra deposited two needles into the monster’s calf and the alien let off a hideous screech, toppling off the vehicle in its death throes.
Two more landed with a thud on top of the HUVR, their fangs and claws tearing through the thin metal of its canopy like a knife through paper. A hole large enough to fit their mouths opened, and the creature’s snout poked into the interior of the HUVR, foul-smelling and acidic saliva drenching the two occupants. An okka needle right into the flared nostrils ended the roaring beast’s attempts to get into the vehicle and Gresham fired blindly into the roof above his head, hoping to hit the other shrieking Orracowan. He heard a thump and saw a hissing form fall past his window, hitting the ground next to his door.
Gresham put the HUVR back into regular drive and rammed into an Orracowan that was stampeding at full tilt towards them. The creature clawed at the windshield, leaving deep scratches in the glass. Gresham sped up and then hit the brakes, sending the alien soaring through the air into the debris pile. It rose briefly, hissing in anger, only to receive a needle right between two of its five eyes.
“Are there any more?” Gresham wheezed as he started driving back the way they had come, frantically looking around.
He was answered by the head of one final Orracowan bursting through his open window, its mouths gnashing and all five of its eyes searching wildly for a soft spot in its prey’s anatomy. A clawed limb managed to find a fistful of the upholstery millimeters from Gresham’s throat and a fountain of green spittle sprayed all over Gresham’s hands and clothing.
There was a succinct zip and the Orracowan’s flailing tongue was pierced with one of the long green needles from Zurra’s gun. Gresham glanced out at the twitching body and nodded in approval. “You’re pretty good with one of those, Sharm Zurra.”
“I have had a lot of practice, cooker of foods.”
“I bet.”
Zurra grimaced. “As appalling as I find your non-human policies, I think you should find an exception in the case of these things and make them even stricter. Why exactly do you let them immigrate?”
“Preaching to the choir, big guy. Come on, let’s find the A9 and get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Three: Summit
Planet Terra, Sol System
“…so the reporters will sit over here,” the tall event planner told a half-interested Colonel Moss, who was busy inspecting the shapely legs emerging from her delightfully short dress.
“Fascinating,” he answered and acknowledged her with a smile. “So how is your staff planning on segueing from the cordial dinner to the top-secret security summit? A challenging transition, I would imagine.”
“No, not really. When the reception ends, President Paine will thank all the guests for coming, and the VIPs well retire to the meeting room in the back,” the planner replied, indicating two doors behind the raised main stage.
“And you have everything checked out with security?”
The event planner laughed. “Yes, Colonel. General Godford’s given me and my caterers a full itinerary for tonight. As long as the security information I got this morning is still current…?”
“Shit, I got mine yesterday, so I hope so.”
The event planner guided Moss out of the reception room, where staffers were busy setting up tables and chairs, into the spacious lobby outside. Marble pillars supported the high ceiling of the Catalina Convention Center and a huge glass atrium formed the far wall, displaying a view of the city Avalon on the right and the Catalina Bridge, the longest suspension bridge in the Alliance, on the far left.
“I can’t imagine living out here,” Moss said with a sigh. “The bridge alone is a twenty-five minute ordeal without traffic. I don’t see how people can do it on this rock.”
The event planner smiled and tapped something on her portable screen. “Oh, it’s not that bad. I’ve lived on Catalina for years.”
Moss saw Godford approaching from afar and thanked the event planner for showing him around, stealing a glance at her flawless legs one last time.
“Well, what do you think, Gary?” Godford asked with a broad smile.
“I think that that atrium is a shooting gallery,” Moss said, indicating the wall of glass overlooking the water. “The event staff seems to have everything under control though. They’re good at what they do.”
“That they are,” Godford commented and checked his watch. Unlike Moss, he was dressed in his formal uniform, pressed and bleached to a perfect, crisp whiteness. He had even shaved off his characteristic beard. The general glanced back up. “You heard from Major Gresham at all?”
“No, sir. Not a word. Rang up his apartment and everything, but his AI was turned off.”
“Christ. I wonder if Gresham is okay.”
“When it comes to John, it’s hard to tell,” Moss said
with a knowing smile. “It isn’t like him to just not answer, though.”
A man appeared from behind a pillar and motioned for them to come over. “General Godford! Good to see you again.”
“Ah, Mr. Barkley, a pleasure,” Godford said and shook the balding man’s hand. “Colonel, this is Kevin Barkley, he’s handling security.”
“What department are you with?”
“I’m with Special Intelligence,” Barkley replied. “We’ve got a number of fine men and women from SIS fanned out across the complex. I have the latest security briefing and schematic, if you need to make any changes…”
Godford waved him off. “No, no, I think you’ve got it under control, Mr. Barkley. Just make sure the event planning staff is up to date and that you’ve touched base with them.”
“Yes, sir. When do you believe the first dignitaries will be arriving?”
Godford consulted his watch again. “Probably sixty to ninety minutes. Paine will arrive last, and he’ll arrive by armored airborne transport.”
“I still can’t shake the feeling that we’re sitting ducks out here,” Moss muttered, studying Barkley’s face. The little SIS man bothered him for reasons other than his general dislike of the agency.
“Well, yes, neither can I,” Godford said, grimacing. “But that’s what security is for. You’ve done one hell of a job, Mr. Barkley.”
“I tried my best. Oh, I forgot to mention, but there’s been a last minute change to the dessert caterer.”
“Oh? Does the event staff know?”
“Yes, we’ve discussed it. Just wanted you to know in case it came up.”
“Of course. Thank you, Mr. Barkley.”
Barkley took his leave of them and Godford smiled at Moss. “Oh, stop wearing that scowl, Gary. Go change into something more appropriate.”
#
The small transport touched down on the roof of a warehouse in San Pedro. Not far away, the Catalina Bridge loomed, the dominant feature of the local skyline. Seagulls cawed and the distinct sounds of crashing waves from the nearby seaport were audible.
Hess disembarked from the transport along with Perry and a half dozen of Hess’s men. The sun was low in the sky but it was not quite yet sunset. He checked his watch. It was almost seven.
“We should get going,” Perry suggested and indicated a staircase leading down into the warehouse itself.
“Yeah, sure,” Hess said. “After you.”
Perry nodded and adjusted his bowtie. Both men were attired in expensive tuxedos and wore their finest watches and shoes. Hess had combed his thinning hair back while Perry wore his usual short-cropped style.
Hess reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded photograph. It was his son’s wedding picture, his gorgeous daughter-in-law’s smile leaping off the paper.
“What do you have there?” Perry inquired, glancing back. Hess quickly stuffed the picture back into his pocket.
“Nothing.”
“You alright, Colin? You look a little uneasy.”
“We’re about to commit high treason, Eli, can you blame me?”
“Think about your company,” Perry said soothingly as they descended the stairs. “Think about why you’re doing all this.”
“I’m not doing this for the company,” Hess said flatly. He rubbed the photograph in his pocket between his fingers. “I’m not doing it for the company,” he said again, this time under his breath.
Perry raised an eyebrow as if to inquire further, but they had arrived down in the large central storage space of the warehouse. Sixteen krokator and fifteen humans were loading and assembling okka rifles and pistols, checking to make sure their ammo clips were full. The humans were all attired in white caterer’s tuxedos sans four of them, who wore coveralls with Paradise Desserts stitched into their breasts.
In the back end of the warehouse, three SHIPRs were parked in front of a pair of rolling doors. Their white sides had Paradise Desserts painted in massive letters. Behind the white SHIPRs, two additional, unmarked blue SHIPRs of an older model were stationed to the side. In the very rear, Hess’s LUXR was parked perpendicular to the other vehicles.
Hess regarded the scene before him. So this was it – he was past the point of no return.
Perry nudged Hess. “May I present Kamaan Dakkal, the krokator in charge of these lovely soldiers from the Hudda Kugrall?”
A lean, blue krokator who exceeded seven and a half feet approached Hess and extended his hand. “Mr. Hess, my warriors and I will follow you, to victory or death.”
Hess was taken aback by the krokator’s warlike getup: Streaks of paint across his face, spiked hair, and numerous sparkling rings in his nose and ears, not to mention his imposing, tattooed build. His comrades were all attired likewise.
“Has Grakko discussed the stakes with you?” Perry asked, snapping Hess out of his stunned amazement.
“We will gladly die for our cause,” Dakkal said with a sneer, revealing that he had sharpened his tusks to potentially lethal points. “Sixteen of us in exchange for the death of the High Prod – it is a fair trade.”
Perry smiled. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He turned to Hess. “Colin, I feel it is most appropriate if you address your men.”
Hess squeezed the picture in his pocket and stepped up onto a box. Dakkal roared to get the attention of the room and everyone gathered around Hess’s box.
For a moment, he thought about all the board meetings he had sat in, all the negotiations he had conquered, the number of speaker’s fees he had received for giving lectures at universities, conferences or seminars, and the court rooms he had waltzed through in his corporate career. All his experiences would pale in comparison to tonight.
“Gentlemen, many of you don’t know me beyond what you’ve heard about me on the news or in the papers,” Hess said slowly, scanning the expectant eyes in the room. He coughed and paused before adding, “I know that it must be difficult to go along with a stranger who asks you to commit what is universally considered an act of terrorism or treason. What I ask of you tonight is easily hardest task any of you will ever embark upon. But when we look back on this night decades from now, we will recognize it for what it represented to each of us – an opportunity to shape the galaxy in our vision.”
Unsure of exactly what the assembled men knew, Hess decided to avoid the darker realities of their situation and smiled. “As you all know, in a few short minutes we will leave this warehouse and head to the Catalina Convention Center. We have an inside man with the summit, who is personally in charge of tonight’s security. He knows exactly what is going on. When we arrive at the defense summit, we will have very little time or flexibility. The goal here is to maximize casualties. When I send the word out, we will have exactly ten minutes to head to airborne transports I have arranged to pick us up nearby. Do not miss the flight.”
He indicated the assembled krokator. “We will be using okka rifles due to their high kill ratio and their stealth. These fine members of the Hudda Kugrall will join us and be on standby to combat any significant threat to our operation.”
The krokator pounded their chests, roaring in an excited fury. Hess was beaming. “And when we are done, gentlemen, we will have struck a blow these pampered politicians and bureaucrats will never forget!”
And you, Colin, will be not be buried alone.
Ten minutes later, the bay doors opened and three white SHIPRs floated out, followed closely by a lone LUXR. Not five minutes later, two unmarked SHIPRs slid out, the weight of the eight krokator in the back of each barely weighing them down.
#
Gresham returned to manual drive as his commandeered HUVR pulled off of the A9 at the Marble Heights exit. He almost knew the roads to Lara’s apartment instinctively, driving well over the speed limit and praying under his breath that they weren’t too late.
“Where is this?” Zurra asked, blinking and waking after having dozed off briefly. They were both exhausted and starving after almost
twenty-four hours without food or water.
“Marble Heights,” Gresham replied, going fifty miles an hour through a sharp turn. “Lara lives a few blocks away.”
Shortly thereafter he pulled into the courtyard of Lara’s apartment complex and barreled up the stairs to her apartment, with Zurra in tow. He reached her floor and knocked furiously on the locked door.
Zurra put a hand on Gresham’s shoulder. “Cooker of foods, she is likely not home. Jurkken would not imply she was gone had he done nothing with her.”
Gresham grunted in frustration and rammed his shoulder into the door twice, unable to budge it. Zurra motioned for him to step aside and with one single, sharp kick broke it off of its hinges.
There was no protest from inside. Gresham peered through the open doorway to see that the apartment had been ransacked. Both couches in Lara’s living room were overturned and there was a crack running the length of her screen. Every cupboard in the kitchen appeared to have been rummaged through.
Gresham pulled his sidearm out of the back of his pants and stepped into the apartment. Maybe he should have brought the machine gun with him from the HUVR?
“Lara!” he called out, raising the handgun to eye level and quickly moving across the kitchen into the living room. He glanced to the right at the door to the bathroom, which was ajar and the room beyond unlit.
“Cooker of foods, this does not look good,” Zurra said, indicating a blood stain next to the living room window. There were droplets of blood across the floor and scuff marks in the carpet.
Gresham lowered the gun after looking more carefully at the blood. “This is dried. Whatever happened here happened hours ago, if not yesterday.”
He breathed out deeply as he approached the bedroom door and carefully nudged it open with the end of his gun. Only a few nights before he’d been enthusiastically disrobing as he followed Lara through this door. How quickly things had changed.
The bedroom was empty, but there had clearly been a struggle. The nightstand had been knocked over and there was a large amount of blood on the sheets. One of the lamps was completely smashed and the door into the bathroom had been kicked in violently, barely hanging off of its hinge.
Gresham glanced into the bathroom. The mirror was cracked and covered with what was certainly not the blood of a human. He nudged the door open somewhat more and saw more evidence of a violent encounter. The blood of both a human and what he assumed was a krokator was splattered across the shower walls, and its glass door was smashed to pieces.