Enforcer Read online

  Sv’rha patted his arm as Hr’ent rose to his feet. With great strides, he stepped around the table and began making his way toward the stage. He moved carefully between the tables, and the proximity of some of the seating areas gave his wide frame trouble, but he weaved through them with little effort. As he approached the stage, the crowd grew strangely quiet, even more so than it had for the other graduates.

  As he tried to figure out why, an old GenSha sitting at a table halfway to the stage caught his eye. The old male’s fur was almost white with age, and the stripes, normally green, bordered on yellow. He wore the sash of a Peacemaker, but it was a style that Hr’ent had only seen in old images of past heroes within the guild. There was a “Retired” patch just below the Peacemaker patch, and the rest of the sash was covered with ribbons, citations, awards, and even two Apex Achievement medallions with the crossed daggers for Combat Operations. The Triple-A for Combat was the highest award a Peacemaker could receive. Period. Very few were ever handed out, and only for the most valorous comportment of a Peacemaker when faced with impossible odds. Most were awarded posthumously, but there were exceptions. And Hr’ent was looking at a Peacemaker who had earned two.

  As Hr’ent’s eyes met those of the old GenSha, the Peacemaker veteran held up seven of his fingers and nodded solemnly. The meaning was clear, and Hr’ent felt a genuine surge of pride swell within his breast—the first he’d felt in a while, and certainly the first since before the crash.

  I am only the seventh Oogar in the entire history of the Peacemakers to take this walk. The thought resonated inside his skull.

  As much as he hated to admit it, his mother had been right. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t made valedictorian. What mattered was that he’d become a Peacemaker. And it seemed as if the attendees watching him—at least some of them—felt the same. He could feel it in the silence and see it out of the corner of his eye as the assembled family members and guests watched him stride forward. In their eyes, he was a titan—a great, purple instrument of galactic justice who would stand or fall to keep them safe. It didn’t matter what the other graduates had done to him during his years at the Academy. And looking back from this very fresh vantage point, he realized that his reactions had been foolish, even juvenile. All the ridicule was now and always had been schoolyard antics, and when that badge was pinned to his chest, he would be a Peacemaker.

  He felt the whole galaxy change around him in that instant.

  He strode forward, his back straight and his previously clenched paws now relaxed and open. He locked his eyes on Rsach. Where once there was only animosity, he now felt something else. The smirking Jeha’s face, as he stood there on the stage, looked almost tragic, or perhaps comical. Rsach had achieved valedictorian, but his behavior left a great deal to be desired.

  For a flickering moment, Hr’ent contemplated grasping the insect by the back of his vest and casually hurling him into the audience like a sack of ore, but then he realized such behavior—like so much Rsach had done—was unbecoming of a Peacemaker. A chilly stillness settled over his heart. He was in a room full of Peacemakers. Their families sat with them, faces full of pride that this one group of sentients represented the next generation of law and order in the galaxy. Their duty—their sacred charge—was to be shining examples of fairness and justice and equanimity, especially in the face of injustice, no matter how large or trivial in nature. He didn’t know if he was going to stay in the guild, but so long as he wore the vest and badge, he would act as if he were the greatest of all Peacemakers.

  Up until that moment, Hr’ent hadn’t had even the slightest inkling of what he wanted to say to Rsach, but now he knew precisely what had to be said.

  He stepped easily up onto the stage, skipping the stairs altogether, and although his anger still simmered within him, he held it easily at bay with a very different emotion. He crossed the distance to Rsach with slow, steady steps, almost like a predator stalking prey.

  The Jeha posed in a positively apologetic way; even his antenna were drooping. “I’m so sorry,” Rsach said in a sickly smooth tone. “It seems the cases were placed out of order…it didn’t even occur to me…”

  “Of course they were,” Hr’ent grunted.

  Rsach opened the case and casually applied a large Peacemaker patch to the back of Hr’ent’s blue duty vest. As he did, Hr’ent heard him whisper, “The better candidate won, Hr’ent. It doesn’t matter how I did it. You should have done everything you could. I did.”

  The comment surprised Hr’ent, and a flare of anger threatened his calm. Rsach’s implication was clear, but even he found it hard to believe the little insect was capable of open sabotage. Rsach’s character flaw was more subtle, and actually more damning, but Hr’ent would get to that shortly. For now, he had to ask the question.

  As Rsach stepped around Hr’ent’s left shoulder and stood in front of him, Hr’ent growled softly, “Are you saying you were responsible for the shuttle crash?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t claim that particular honor, even if I had done it. You did that all by yourself.” Rsach chittered softly as he handed Hr’ent an Oogar-made sidearm. Rsach had to struggle with the weight of the weapon, and it made Hr’ent smile. If he wanted to, he could crush Rsach in one massive paw. But he wasn’t going to do that.

  He looked down at the weapon and smiled. One of the perks of graduating from the Academy was that you got your choice of sidearm, and he had chosen only the best, hardest-hitting pistol he’d ever even heard of: a Marauder PK-40.

  The Marauder line was the finest example of heavy-duty pistols his people had to offer, and the PK-40 was the top-of-the-line in every category. The Oogar considered the weapon’s slim frame and light—to them—weight to be superior to all of its closest competitors. It’s modular design and incredibly compact 15-round power cells made it a versatile weapon, with interchangeable barrels for increased range, and an attachable stock for increased stability. It also had an off-angle scope mod that allowed for open-sight firing and long-range sniping. To any race except perhaps the Lumar, it would be considered a heavy-weapon platform, but for an Oogar, it was just a dependable weapon that hit like a meteor strike.

  “Besides spinning up the rumor mill about your temper and animalistic rage, I merely watched you literally crash and burn. You walked right into it, to turn a phrase.”

  Hr’ent’s voice came up. “What did you say?”

  “You didn’t deserve the Triple-A. That you could have even been considered for it sullies the very honor of the award. No cadet who barely made it into the Academy should wield it. You’re a disgrace.” Rsach’s voice seethed but it stayed between them.

  The word “disgrace” caused Hr’ent’s rage to blossom once again. He felt it rise within him like a ball of fire. He bowed up, and he felt his fists clenching.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw uneasy movements in the room around him. Several of the wait staff moved forward. He recognized two things very quickly. One, if he attacked Rsach in any way, he would be stunned, hauled away to the containment cells, and stripped of the badge he’d not yet received. The shame of such an action would be too much to bear, and his mother would likely disown him. He’d never wanted for credits. His mother’s employment paid for all the creature comforts he could wish for, and an incident of that magnitude would cut those funds away in an instant. He would have nothing. The second thing he realized was that every eye in the room was on him. For a microsecond, he thought about grabbing the microphone and announcing Rsach’s actions. The slippery Jeha bastard had all but confessed to sabotage or at least delighted in Hr’ent’s failure, but Hr’ent’s training in the tribunal process also calmed his gut in a strange manner.

  He whispered, “A disgrace, am I?”

  Rsach reached for the Peacemaker badge and held it for a moment. Hr’ent eyes fell from Rsach’s to the platinum badge reflecting the stage lights into their faces. Seeing it for the first time sent a shiver of electricity down his spine. Rsac
h moved it around in the light. Straining to reach that high, he placed a pincer on Hr’ent’s right upper arm. The intent was to show he was sympathetic to the audience. It was all Hr’ent could do not to flinch away.

  “I wonder how fast you’ll turn this in or end up on the memorial wall for doing something stupid,” Rsach said.

  The little insect raised the badge and pinned it to the upper left area of Hr’ent’s vest. Hr’ent calmly whispered, “You should wonder when your bravado will get the best of you in a combat situation, Rsach. Maybe you’ll even care about those around you instead of looking down to see whom to step on.”

  “Big words, even from an Oogar.” Rsach laughed and used his pincer to pat Hr’ent like they were two old friends. Hr’ent brought up a massive paw and slapped the Jeha on the upper left portion of his body. The ripple it sent through Rsach brought a smile to his maw, and Hr’ent let it stay there, perpetuating the idea that they were having a grand old time.

  “Big words from a Peacemaker,” he growled, “just like you. Beyond this ceremony, nobody gives a shit about the Apex. It will look really good on a wall in your office when you’re running a Peacemaker barracks someday. You know? When you let the real Peacemakers do the dirty work?”

  “You’re just a big, dumb animal,” Rsach hissed.

  He’s baiting you. The words floated up out of Hr’ent’s mind. If you even touch him in front of all these Peacemakers, you’ll prove everything he’s saying. He let out one, long breath and unclenched his fists. He’s not worth it.

  “You know what?” Hr’ent said slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the diminutive insect before him. “You’re right about one thing.” It was all so clear to him now. He had made a mistake, and it had cost him the title of valedictorian as well as the Silver Blade.

  Ego.

  For one fleeting moment, when the pilot had asked to do that flyover, Hr’ent had let his ego get the better of him, and it was that mistake that caused the crash. He was a Peacemaker, and they didn’t let ego or vanity or greed get the better of them. They didn’t.

  “That crash was absolutely my fault,” Hr’ent admitted, “but you can’t deny that I earned the right to wear this badge…no more or less than any other Peacemaker who has ever worn one. And I’ll be honest with you, I’m not even sure I’m going to stay a Peacemaker. I may just walk away from it all.”

  Rsach went still. It was obviously not the response he’d been expecting. His antennae quivered with confusion.

  “And there’s something else. The stunt you pulled with putting me at the end of the list…Would you like to know why I’m not ripping your arms off one by one right now in front of all these people?”

  “Why is that?” Rsach replied a bit snidely.

  Hr’ent settled the holster of his pistol onto his belt, drew the weapon slowly, and inspected it. He saw the staffers reach into their garments, presumably to pull weapons if Hr’ent drew down on Rsach.

  Rsach’s eyes went wide, not knowing what Hr’ent was about to do.

  Hr’ent slid the pistol home, feeling its weight settle comfortably on his hip.

  “I’m not going to kill you, because as long as I wear this badge, I’m going to act like a Peacemaker. You hadn’t been valedictorian even a nanosecond, and you were already abusing your position of authority…reveling in the spotlight as you openly ridiculed a fellow officer. You did that right out of the gate…” Hr’ent let his voice trail off for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “We’re supposed to be Peacemakers, purveyors of justice. With your very first official act, you took advantage of your position and inflicted harm on another being. If ever there was a testament to the nature of your character, I’d say it was your starting off with a mouthful of shit. Believe me when I say I’ll be keeping my eye on you. As it stands, you are a poor excuse for an officer of the law. From this day forward, we all have to be better than we are. All of us. If I don’t deserve to be valedictorian, then you sure as the stars don’t deserve to be a Peacemaker. Do you?”

  Without another word, Hr’ent stepped away from the stunned Jeha, whose antennae drooped sideways like damp reeds in stilled air.

  Hr’ent stepped around Rsach, shook the chancellor’s outstretched claw, and made his way down from the stage. The staffers coolly watched him as they eased back to their positions along the walls. Applause started up again, and Hr’ent focused on moving through the crowd and back to his table. As he moved, he noticed the Guild Master and the Selector re-enter the room from their private conference. Aware that the Guild Master was staring at him, Hr’ent felt his exuberance at telling Rsach off on stage fade into a quiet unease. What if they heard the exchange? Would something come from it? Had he messed up by saying something? Flushed and agitated, Hr’ent returned to his table and sat next to his mother. She spoke, but he wasn’t listening.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked, placing her paw on his arm. “I said that Raw’wna sends his regards.”

  Hr’ent clenched his fists slowly and took a long, deep breath. Raw’wna had decided to pursue his VOWS at the same time Hr’ent applied for the Academy. For three years, his friend took contract after contract and piled up enough credits to buy a mansion rivaling his mother’s. Raw’wna’s entourage of fellow mercenaries and their potential mates threw legendary parties which his friend shared over the Aethernet. Raw’wna’s success, achieved through his effort and decisions, knifed Hr’ent in the heart. He’d wanted nothing more than to win the Apex and show his mother and his friends that he could be successful, too. That he mattered.

  And he’d screwed it up all on his own.

  “I have to go,” his mother said. She leaned over closer to him. “Hr’ent, are you listening?”

  Hr’ent turned, stunned by the declaration. Sure, he wasn’t sure he’d wanted to be there, but to have her leave now? “This is my graduation ceremony, Mamma.”

  She gathered her bag from under her seat. “A message came in that I need to address. One of my largest accounts is threatening to leave the firm and go with a Human corporation on Earth. Can you imagine? Like Humans know advertising!”

  “Mamma, please,” Hr’ent whispered, “not in the middle of my ceremony.” He knew it would be one more thing for the others to ridicule him about. And while what they thought no longer mattered to him, he didn’t want the aggravation.

  “I can catch a shuttle to the gate. I have a first-class berth on hold on a ship there.” She wasn’t looking at him; instead, she tapped away on her slate with her manicured claws. “There. I’ve booked it.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Hr’ent shook his head. A fresh wave of nauseating anger washed over him.

  “We’ve lived a good life, Cub. You know what this work means to me. It pulled us out of squalor,” she whispered. “After your father left, it was the only thing that got us ahead. You know this, Hr’ent.”

  Hr’ent sighed and lowered his maw toward the table slightly. For twenty years, she’d worked tirelessly to provide for them. Moving them out of the slums of Uuwato and toward a better life had exhausted her, but she never quit. Devotion to her cub and to her work focused her efforts. She became successful and drove ever higher to provide for both of them with fierce determination.

  “I do, Mamma.”

  She leaned close and grasped his lower jaw in her paw, turning him to face her. “I am proud of you, Hr’ent Golramm. Prouder than you can imagine. But I have to go.”

  A round of applause and the standing of family members in an ovation meant the formal portion of the ceremony had ended. Mother and son stood and embraced quickly before she made her way to the rear exit. Around him, Peacemakers similarly embraced their own family members and occasionally sought out each other for embraces and pictures. No one approached him, and Hr’ent made no effort to seek out his classmates. Instead, he looked down for a moment at the shining shield on his chest.

  Gods. I am a Peacemaker.

  For a moment, the torrent of emotions eased. With his eyes
on the goal he’d striven so hard to achieve, he found a calming satisfaction in feeling the platinum badge on his chest. Smiling to himself, he glanced up and saw Rsach posing next to the Guild Master with the Silver Blade held high. The little group of friends Rsach led stood off to one side chattering in their revelry. Hr’ent glanced all around the room for a long moment.

  This is the last time I’ll be in a room with all of these Peacemakers. I’ve spent the last three years with them. Shouldn’t I go talk with them? Congratulate them?

  Hr’ent snorted. Would they do the same for me?

  After two minutes, no one had even turned to look in his direction. He collected his things, grabbed a printed program book for a keepsake, and made his way to the exit, unaware that one pair of eyes followed his every move. As Hr’ent passed through the door, he did not look back.

  It didn’t take him long to make it to the roof of the parking garage where his flightcycle waited. He’d done his best to clear his mind of everything that had happened. His emotions were raw, a turmoil of pride and anger and shame, all wrapped up in a shroud of doubt about whether he would turn in his badge only hours or days after he had earned it. He would save that decision for tomorrow…or the day after.

  The skies above were clear, and all three moons were visible. The slim crescent of Sila, the smallest of the three, squatted in russet radiance on the eastern horizon just above the dull glow of the suburbs. Mallow, the largest of the lunar bodies, was a crescent of alabaster straight above with several glowing splotches where colonies had been established, and Stiir was just settling its dull gray curve over the mountains to the west. The air was cool, with a warm breeze coming off the ocean only a few miles to the south.

  Hr’ent had the sudden urge to fly off and disappear for a few days—find some tropical island near the equator and disconnect from everything while he tried to figure out what he was going to do. But no, it would be foolish and costly. If he just disappeared, he’d likely get kicked out of the Peacemakers, or at least severely censured for it. He needed to get back to the barracks.