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  “Interesting,” Queen Shamilorah murmured, settling back down. “I have sixty ships still here in system. Prepare the largest of those sixty, the older dreadnaught, all five heavy battlecruisers, the three light battlecruisers, and those old destroyers. I know they don’t have the new launchers and lasers, but thirty ships must be ready at a moment’s notice. If your new spy reports a fleet of any size leaving Salvage System and you do not receive a scheduled call from Gorligthah after the third day, you will ensure the second fleet embarks to Salvage System.”

  “Yes, my Queen,” confirmed Zikorah. “It is three days gate travel from Salvage to Nazrooth; if communications are cut off, it will be the only explanation, though we have yet to discover how they blocked all Galaxy Network communications during their battle for the Barlat System. Surely the Bith did not involve themselves in the Barlat system. It is not as if it were a new colony.”

  “Your human contact could not tell you?” asked the Queen.

  “Unfortunately not, your Highness,” the intelligence advisor answered. “He would only divulge the information he was paid to collect.”

  “Yet he warned you of this Harmon Tomeral,” she mused. “It makes no difference. Admiral Gorligthah and General Fellgothah are veterans from as far back as the Krift skirmishes. They know their duty. They will not need to communicate from the Nazrooth System to succeed.”

  “And if the Bith decide to intervene and hire mercenaries to free the Salvage System after we take it?” he asked. “My Queen,” he added hastily after seeing her squint her eyes again.

  “They will not,” the queen assured him. “You should know they rarely get involved with system wars if the colony has grown, and the victor will use the gates and provide the credit to the Bith.”

  “I do, your Highness,” Zikorah explained, “but Salvage System is relatively new.”

  “In age, not size,” the queen stated, “and not truly age. The infrastructure was in place, so it is years ahead of any normal pace for a new colony. It is something I would be most pleased to acquire. I hope the fool does attempt to free Nazrooth.”

  “As you wish, my Queen,” Zikorah said, dipping his head low before he left her presence.

  “And Zikorah,” she called out, “have you located where that human contact of yours ran off to? Is he dead?”

  “Not yet, your Highness,” he answered, “but we are working on it.”

  * * *

  Rincah System

  Basher

  “Are ye sure about this, lad?” Captain Rogers asked the Lormell standing beside him on the bridge.

  “Well, yeah,” Cameron answered, pushing his glasses back up his nose again. “With that frigate engine placed underneath up front, you can engage it, raise the front of your ship quickly, and tear into the underside of another. We also put the channels in to vent exhaust out either side up there so it will turn faster than it ever has. That reinforced fin we added up front looks cool, too.”

  Dustin Rogers chuckled and shook his head; his curved horns were heavy, but with his neck and shoulders, it was as if they weren’t even there. Like all Rincah, he was five and a half feet tall and muscular. He reached out and clapped Cameron on the back in delight, knocking him forward a foot or two.

  “Thanks, lad,” the Rincah said, his brogue coming through.

  Cameron raised his arms to help catch his balance, showing the wing membrane under his arms. The Lormell were a race descended from mammals similar to Earth’s bats. Cameron had to push his glasses back up his nose.

  “Hey!” he said with a smile. “You didn’t have to try and launch me into flight. You’re welcome. Ralph and the guys had fun figuring it out. It sure was nice of Commodore Tomeral to give us the engine and thrusters. It wasn’t one Mike and Mike could use because it was too weak, but it’s perfect for quick maneuvers.”

  “Aye, that it is,” agreed Captain Rogers. “Speaking of those two, when was the last time ye went to Salvage System?”

  “It’s been about seven months or so,” Cameron answered after he added it up in his head. “I’m thinking of going there next. You want to come?”

  “I wouldnae mind the trip,” the Rincah answered, “but now that I’ve left our system’s reserve forces, me and me clan are working for ourselves. I cannae just up and go visiting. There’s mouths to feed.”

  “Yeah, you’re like us now,” Cameron said. “Mercenaries gotta work to afford stuff.”

  “It’s too bad Harmon…” Captain Rogers started to say.

  “Sir,” called out Basher’s communications officer, “you’re to be having a call. And a direct call it ‘tis.”

  “Main screen, then,” Captain Rodgers said.

  On the main screen, an image both of them knew well appeared. Harmon was sitting in his command chair on the bridge of Salvage Title. He finished imprinting his thumb on a slate for a young crew member. Neither of them knew the race, a sort of grey-spotted furry biped, which wasn’t surprising. Many different races had moved to Salvage over the last year or so. Harmon looked up and grinned.

  “Hey Dustin, hey Cameron,” he said. “I didn’t realize I would get both of you on one call. Zerith will be happy about that. He hates spending any kind of credit, the miser.”

  “He is pretty cheap,” agreed Cameron, adjusting his glasses, “unless he’s buying fruits and vegetables.”

  “The lad has more credit than he could spend in five lifetimes, to be sure,” added Captain Rogers. “Not that I blame him, mind you. Direct calls cost more than a credit or two, and that’s a fact.”

  “Well I’m glad I caught you together; it saves time,” Harmon said, sitting back. “You guys busy for, oh, say the next month or so?”

  “Yes!” Cameron exclaimed. “I mean…no were not busy, I mean I’m not. Captain Rogers might be. Yes, I’m glad you asked, because we were just talking about you.”

  “Harmon, you tell us where and when you need us, and we’ll stock up on a few wee things and me, me clan, and me ship will be on our way, lad,” Captain Rodgers said.

  “I’ll take it!” Cameron said. “The job, I mean.”

  Harmon couldn’t help but smile again. “You two. It’s good to have friends. Neither of you asked what it was or what the chances of success were, yet you agreed to come.”

  “Bah, the chances are slim, to be sure. Doesn’t matter,” Captain Rogers dismissed.

  “Yeah, you’ll think of something or find a way, Commodore,” Cameron agreed. “Should we leave now? We can leave now.” He turned away from the screen and shouted, “Hey Ralph! Pack it up, we got places to be.”

  “Tell you what,” the Rincah warrior said. “Give us a day, and we’ll be headed to Salvage System to link up. We can talk credit later; you’re not the type to be cheating an honest merc.”

  “Sounds good, guys,” Harmon said. “Oh, and for a signing bonus, I already had Mike run your specs through a replicator. There’ll be extra shield busters for you, Dustin, and several of the different missiles you use as well, Cameron. They’re waiting for you.”

  “Great!” Cameron exclaimed. “Any shockers?”

  “Bradford said he had a pallet of six already,” Harmon answered the excited Lormell. “See you guys in about five days.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Bolts’ Headquarters

  Banktown, Salvage

  “Sir, you wanted to see me?” asked Staff Sergeant Rinek.

  “Staff Sergeant Rinek, come on in,” Captain Nate Brink said as he stood to come around his desk.

  Rinek came in and took the seat his commander offered him in front of the desk. Nate went back around, sat down, and came right to the point. “I wanted to add to your duties,” Nate said. “Not only will you have your platoon of Monitors, maintaining the peace and keeping an eye on things in the towns and domes, you’ll be in charge of everything while we’re deployed.”

  “Everything, sir?” Rinek asked, surprised. “Sir, handling the Peace Monitor side of t
he house is one thing, since I had the experience as a member of law enforcement on Laytor before I moved here, but you have a training unit in the middle of their initial training right now. There are the basic training instructors, mech instructors, and the Taylahh waiting on their mechs. Sir, I don’t know anything about mechs, the trainees or the Taylahhs.”

  “You were in the infantry in the Laytor Federation military before you became a law officer, right?” Nate asked.

  “Yes, sir, I was a sergeant when my contract ended,” Rinek admitted. The tall blond man ran his fingers through his hair. “I got out and became an officer of the law to spend more time with my new wife. I joined the tactical unit. There were a few dangerous situations every now and then, but nothing like being a member of the Laytor military. Then it got bad in the cities when the regent attempted a coup and had the young king murdered. His own nephew. Who could do that? Anyway, that’s when we started looking for somewhere else to go. The military’s split into three different factions, and most of the law enforcement is backing the regent. Anyway, that planet’s not ideal for raising two young boys now.”

  “Well, in the last eighteen months you’ve performed remarkably,” Nate said. “That’s why you were promoted to staff sergeant, and you’re in charge of the Monitors. I don’t intend to put an officer over there. If I do, you can get ready to be one. Don’t be surprised when it comes.”

  “Oh no, not me,” Rinek said. “I have no interest in being an officer. No offense.”

  Nate continued, “Now I need you to reach way back and draw more on your military experience as well as law enforcement background. You have seven sergeants handling the trainees and mech training, and some of the unit’s techs to help you. With the Taylahhs, you have seventy troops, plus the Monitors. There are a few prior service beings as well. I don’t foresee any issues.”

  “No sir, you’re right,” agreed Rinek. “We’re all Bolts. Just because we handle the monitoring side of the house doesn’t mean we aren’t all troops first. We got this. When you come back, you’ll have forty basic graduates, ten soldiers fully trained on mechs, and the Taylahhs should be good to go in their new mechs. What do you want me to do about any new potential Bolts?”

  “If they have experience, place them in some of the new barracks until we get back. Pay them normal rates on contingency. If you get any beings with no experience, they stay in trainees’ barracks with trainees’ pay. Keep them busy with maintenance and repairs, run them through the beast every day, teach them how to shoot, simple stuff like that until the unit gets back and they can be properly vetted.”

  “Will do, sir,” Rinek confirmed, feeling better by the minute about his position for the next month or so. “Who’ll be in command of the system forces while the fleet’s gone?”

  “Captain Bentalt will be on the ship Skrittle out near the gate, with Cube and several other reserve ships,” answered Nate. “Commodore Tomeral has already set it up.”

  “Which Bentalt? Twiggy?” Rinek asked. “Are all the reserves called up?”

  “Well, we don’t have very many in the reserves, but a select few are going back on status until this mission is over. Administrator Bentalt and his wife will be out there as well, and Vice Administrator Moroath and her staff will step up and handle planet administration, immigration, and that type of stuff.”

  “Sir, you can count on me,” Rinek said, standing. “I know you’re busy with the upcoming deployment, and I need to go see about the Flargosnet in the drunk tank. From the reports I’m getting, he’s apologizing profusely and offering to compensate the owners of our Bar and Grill for eating one of the tables.”

  “I heard about that,” the Bolts’ commander said. “Ate the whole table? I heard he went through it like a buzz saw.”

  “It was on a dare,” confirmed Rinek. “We got the two Zaylinks that put him up to it as well. Still, if a drunk insectoid eating a table is the worst situation of a weekend, I’ll take it every time. Beats the stuff happening on my home world any day and that standoff last week.”

  “I imagine,” agreed Captain Brink. “It beats the Whirl addicts back on Tretra, too.” He paused a moment before continuing, remembering he used to live life in the haze of the drug. “Colonel Arthok will let me know who your NCO contact will be in the Ground Forces. He’s a sergeant, but I think a young lieutenant will be in charge over there. The colonel wants to make sure you know the deal. If you get my meaning.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rinek said. “He’s in charge of all the Ground Forces…we fall under them, but I make all decisions concerning the Bolts.”

  “You got it.” Nate grinned. “And the colonel wants you to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up over there, either. I’ve met him. He’s young, but I think he’ll be a good officer. Make sure you go see Top before you leave HQ in case he has anything he needs you to handle on the NCO side of the house.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rinek said. “What’s the word on the proposed academy, anyway?’

  “Well, from what I hear,” Brink said, “it should be up and running in twelve months. It’ll be the first advanced learning center in our system. The military training will be attached to it. Right now, the system relies on prior experience and hands-on training, but that can’t go on forever. The Kashkal have a military training system in place to train their fleet members, and we’ll be using the blueprints. It’ll ensure officers, technicians, and pilots are ready to join the fleet as it grows. I don’t doubt recent secondary school graduates from other systems will apply—some with service in our Fleet in mind—so I think it’ll be good for the system.”

  * * *

  Peace Monitor Offices

  Banktown, Salvage

  “Alright, you three,” Rinek said as he looked across the conference table at the three offenders. “I’m not getting the judge involved with this one. You pay the fines, pay the damages, and we’ll let you off with a warning.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said the Flargosnet. “It was foolish of me to accept the dare from Mugti and Durgon. I knew better. It is wrong to devour that which is not yours.”

  Rinek could tell, even though the translator, the big insectoid was sincere. His two friends, a couple of spotted gray-furred Zaylinks, looked down at the table in shame. The fact that they didn’t give any signs of being confrontational and had offered no resistance when they were apprehended led him to believe they were only having a good time and hadn’t meant anything by it.

  “Sheemral,” Rinek said, looking at his slate, “is that how you pronounce it? Perhaps the translator can correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sheemral said with a slight tilt to his big head. A thin membrane flicked over one of his huge eyes. “Thank you for asking.”

  “What in all the worlds made you think you could actually eat the table, anyway?” asked Rinek.

  “Oh, that was easy; if the brothers were not as drunk as I was, they would never have dared me. They know the table was soft wood. It was simple; I extended my mouth and ate it.”

  Rinek was surprised when the brown and red insectoid opened his jaws wide, and a slightly smaller mouth with rows of sharp teeth came out. The teeth began shifting back and forth like some sort of saw blades, fast enough they became a blur. Sheemral pulled the mouth back and closed his outer mandibles.

  “Like that,” explained Sheemral. Both of the Zaylinks nodded.

  “I see,” Rinek said. And he did. “The thing is, that was imported wood from Tretra. It’s considered hard wood, which is why it’s so desirable. You called it soft.”

  “It is,” one of the Zaylinks said. Rinek wasn’t sure which one it was. “On the planet Flargosnet, where Sheemral is from, his race makes their homes in the Atnor trees. They use their mouths to create a system of caves and caverns in the giant trees. They also eat the young shoots and leaves.”

  “He is correct, sir,” Sheemral explained. “The wood of the Atnor tree is as hard as many metals. It takes others the use of Galacus Crystal–l
ined blades to cut it and use it. We do it with our teeth.” He shrugged and folded his upper two limbs with five finger-like digits in front of him.

  “Amazing,” Rinek said. “So the holding cell we had you in. The bars…”

  “Yes,” Sheemral said. “I could easily have chewed through them. I did not. It would have been wrong to devour them. The only reason I ate the table was the drink.”

  “The drink?” Rinek asked.

  “Yes, the beer,” Sheemral confirmed. “I should not have consumed eight of them.”

  “Well, I mean, eight beers is probably more than one should have in a few hours, I guess,” Rinek said. “Though if you stretched the evening, it shouldn’t have done that to you unless your race can’t handle that type of alcohol.”

  “I have had beer before,” agreed Sheemral. “That was the first time I have had Prithmar beer. It was spicy, and I liked it very much.”

  “Prithmar?” exclaimed the commander of the Bolt Peace Monitors. “You drank eight Prithmar beers! No wonder you were drunk.”

  “Yes, I will not do that again,” stated Sheemral. “From now on I will limit myself to four pitchers.”

  Rinek stood suddenly. “You drank eight pitchers of Prithmar beer? By yourself? Prithmar don’t even do that. You’re lucky to be alive. If you were a human you’d have alcohol poisoning or something. No, you’d be dead. I may need to have a word with the owners to ensure they keep an eye on that type of thing. That’s insane.”

  “We moved tables twice and had different servers,” admitted the other Zaylink. “A little slight of paw, you understand. They would have limited it. We wanted to see how much he could drink. We only had two glasses each and were in quite a festive mood. I do not like the headache that came with those two drinks, so I will not partake of that anymore.”

  “Well, I’m going to let you leave now,” Rinek said, moving toward the door. “Make sure you pay for the table. What are your plans here? Are you staying in the system or just passing through?”