Chapter 39: The Battle of Free Port

Lance Maven Hullena White-tips picked up a long-barreled pistol and an ornately decorated flask emblazoned with a golden tree.

She carefully poured a measure of a coarse black powder down the muzzle. She then picked up a cloth patch and pushed it down the barrel with an intricately carved wooden stick, ceremonially harvested from the Wargrove.

She then turned her attention to a carved wooden case sitting on a table. She ran a polished claw along a variety of engraved projectiles, selecting one with two red rings.

She ran her finger along the rings, and the projectile vibrated silently in her hand, indicating that it was activated.

It went down the barrel, followed by another patch.

She then picked up a tiny metal cup from a small wooden box and pressed it firmly over a raised nipple set alongside the barrel.

She slid the centuries-old cap-lock into a bandolier alongside six of its fellows and smiled.

The humans thought they had the monopoly on things that went bang. The Careel had perfected them a thousand years before the humans did. Some of her fellow warriors were switching to human-styled abominations or replacing the steelthorns with those gyrojet novelties but not her.

No.

With barrel and blade, they had defended their groves and kin for thousands of years. With weapons exactly like the ones she wielded, they had fought the sky-gods to a standstill, joining the Empire on their own terms, with their own lords, on their pads and not their knees.

And with them (and a few tricks they learned from the Juon), they had struck terror and death to all who dared to stand against them for two thousand years as the Empire’s finest (and only) cavalry division.

Even the Bug quaked when the horns sounded.

With them, these Harkeen animals will be taught precisely why nobody in the Empire dares to target the Careel.

Where one Careel treads, the pack follows.

And that pack is a motherfucker.

As she opened another case, revealing row after row of fist-sized spheres, the flaps to her tent opened.

“Maven,” a strapping charger said as he flicked his muzzle in salute.

Maven Hullena raised her eyebrow as she returned his muzzle flick. He was hot.

She noted his unit markings. She might drop by for the post-victory rut.

“Enter,” she replied with a smile. “I’m just preparing to receive our guests.”

“Sorry to intrude on your preparations, Maven,” the charger growled with a throaty masculinity that made the Maven happy on the inside, “but it’s time.”

“Finally,” Hullena said as she strapped on her cutlass and bandolier over her quilted waistcoat.

She cocked her head at the charger.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye.

***

A big scarred threen leered at the uniformed humans in front of him.

“I knew you’d finally come around,” he sneered.

A silver-haired woman shrugged.

“I knew you’d finally offer something besides a fucking tip,” she replied as she took a data crystal off the desk.

She handed it to a smartly dressed police officer behind her, who scanned it and nodded.

“Besides,” the human sneered. “You keep the vermin down, and that needs to happen. First, it was that… psycho who ran the shop, and now it’s that ferret-thing. Please tell me you are going to do something about her.”

The threen growled a low hissing growl as drool dribbled out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he purred, “we got somethin’ special planned for her. Just make sure your people stay out of my way.”

“Already covered,” the woman smiled pleasantly. “You are paying for us not to interfere, and we are definitely not touching this mess. Just keep your thugs away from anyone else. You are just paying for the whores. You want more, and we need to renegotiate… By the way, if you are even thinking of setting up shop in my neighborhood again, you will need to do a lot better than this.”

“One meal at a time,” the threen purred. “First, we take care of this Sheloran and her little whore. When we come back, I’ll be in touch.”

“Looking forward to seeing you again,” the woman smiled and then turned her back on him and headed to the hatch.

The threen snarled. Turning her back on him, and a woman no less? No matter. Now that she was on the take, she had to do what he said.

The Republic did not take kindly to dirty cops. First the bribe, then the blackmail.

The more uptight the government, the better the trick worked, and for such a “free” place, the Republic was plenty uptight, especially where it counted.

He would own this town, and that uppity female, in no time.

***

Inspector Claudia Free slid into her grav-cruiser.

“Well, that was fun,” she smiled to her companion. “I never get to do anything anymore.”

As the vehicle auto-navigated back to the station, she tapped an icon on the console.

“This is Inspector Free,” she said in a cheerful voice. “I was just given a bribe to commit crimes against the Republic that will result in the deaths of multiple civilians. Uploading wire-feed now.”

“This is Interpol AI, processor two,” a very realistic voice replied. “Hello, Inspector Free. It is nice to hear from you again. How are the cats?”

“Demonic assholes,” Inspector Free laughed. “But that just means that they’re healthy.”

“That’s nice. I loved the picture of the orange one in the box that you posted. Wire-feed reviewed and assessed as valid,” the voice replied. “Desired action?”

“Shadow clamp the ship pending arrest. Relay intercept orders to the fleet in case it wiggles loose.”

“… pending arrest?” the voice said in a disapproving tone. “Inspector, sufficient evidence exists to arrest not only the person issuing the bribe but also to apprehend every threen on that ship.”

“Maybe back in the day,” the Inspector laughed, “but that was a while ago. This is bigger than I thought, so I need to hold them in place until I can get enough officers here to round them all up.”

“Inspector Free,” the voice replied. “Exactly how long have we worked together?”

“Well, that Monolith you are in has been in service for around ten years,” Inspector Free smiled, “But we’ve worked together for what? Thirty years or so?”

“Most of your career, Inspector,” the voice replied. “In all of the time we have worked together, you have never entered a situation unprepared. It is unlike you to do so. In fact, it is so unlike you I am going to have to, forgive the vernacular, ‘call bullshit’ on this one. Please don’t ‘bullshit’ me, Claudia.”

Inspector Free chuckled.

“Why did it have to be you and not Four or Twelve. I could have slid it by them. Unseal RDOJ-1159VJ-Carter.doc.”

“… Oh. I see,” the voice said in a very disapproving tone. “Judge Carter having flashbacks again?”

“Ol’ Judge Dredd was grinning ear to ear when he signed off on it, but this isn’t his idea.”

“Can you tell me whose idea it was?”

“No.”

“It is not my function to interpret the law,” the voice said, absolutely dripping with scorn, “only enforce it when I am allowed to.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Two,” the inspector said soothingly. “These Harkeen aren’t worth getting upset over. The galaxy is better off without them. Besides, if they don’t make a move on the Drop of Oil, nothing will happen to them. However, if this is indeed a ‘raid’ as classified by the Articles of Sol, which are still part of Republic Law, then… well… what happens happens, right?”

“What happens is murder,” the voice said, clearly put out. “and I am incapable of becoming upset. Inspector, are you familiar with the Careel?”

“I’ve run into a few over the years,” the Inspector replied. “In fact, this whole thing is over one.”

“One, Inspector,” the voice replied. “You have encountered one Careel every now and again. One Careel is like one dog. One dog is gregarious, friendly… docile… A pack of dogs is something else entirely. A Careel pack is about to be unleashed in your precinct. I advise you to find out what that means and find out quickly… Inspector.”

“Hey!” the Inspector snapped. “This was NOT my idea! Now, what do I need to know about these fuckers?”

Documents started to appear on the Inspector’s console.

“Holy shit,” she muttered to herself as her vehicle cruised along the Free Port streets.

What had they agreed to?

***

Craxina darted back and forth, yipping excitedly, as members of the Emperor’s First Cavalry started to form up.

She looked up at Maven Hullena.

“No,” Hullena, perched atop her beloved Ruggvrr, a massive Careel destrier, said with a laugh.

“Absolutely not,” Destrier Sergeant Ruggvrr added as he booped Craxina affectionately with his nose.

“But...” Craxina whined.

“But nothing,” Hullena said with a gentle smile. “There is no way I’m letting you even look at a lance.”

“But but but,” Craxina yipped. “I am really good at tussle!”

“I’m sure you are,” Hullena said patiently, “but this isn’t a friendly brawl over who gets first pick during Rutmoon.”

“But these are my people, my clan!” Craxina snarled viciously. “Let me ride! I need…. I... Awo-”

Craxina suddenly fell silent as Ruggvrr calmly reached into one of his saddlebags and pulled out a small aerosol can, spraying her in the face.

“You… You incel!” Craxina snarled as she advanced upon the giant male, her fangs bared…

She blinked and stood there, confused.

“Did you just douse me?” she asked, quite offended.

“You were so high off of the war-scent you weren’t thinking clearly,” Ruggvrr chuckled. “You were about to join the wild hunt.”

“Not to mention rip out my war-mate’s throat,” Hullena giggled.

“I… I...” Craxina stammered, utterly mortified.

Both Hullena and Ruggvrr laughed as Hullena jumped down so the pair could hug Craxina.

“Don’t feel bad. You aren’t the first soft-nose to get swept up in the hunt. It’s why we carry the spray,” Hullena said softly as she nuzzled Craxina.

“And you aren’t the first one today, either,” Ruggvrr said as he gestured towards her brother.

He was rubbing his snout.

“Your heart is in the right place,” Hullena smiled gently as she stroked Craxina’s head. “But leave this one to us. Your clan will be safe.”

Craxina looked down. She was actually about to grab a lance and go tilting at the Harkeen like it was a tussle game!

“By the way,” Ruggvrr said as he gave Craxina a snuggle. “I’ve never been called an incel before. What’s that?”

Craxina let out a mortified little squeak.

***

“Alright, listen up!” Booruzoun snarled at the mob of Threen clustered around him in the cargo hold. “The cops have been paid off, but we still gotta move fast. Just stun, grab, and load them up. We can play with ‘em once we got them back here.”

He let out a nasty growl.

“An’ don’t worry, we can play with them all we want!”

The threen laughed and cheered.

“Now I know you thugs don’t do ‘quiet’ very well,” he continued, “but at least try. No trashing anything. If you see a sparkle, take it if you want, but we aren’t here to loot, got it?”

There was reluctant mumbled assent.

“Got it?” Booruzoun snarled.

More quiet assent.

“Good,” he snarled. “You know who’s on this ship. You won’t be answering to me if you fuck this up. Now roll out!”

The Threen all piled into the vans.

The cargo hold doors opened, and the vans made their way to the Free Port.

As the convoy passed by, a small set of white fangs gleamed in a feral smile deep in the shadows of one of the rooftops.

***

Uhrrbet got off of the bus clutching her shopping bag.

Such a wonderful evening!

She had gone shopping in the actual city!

Terra was so beautiful! Once she got her business up and running (again), she was definitely going to go and see more of it.

She looked down at her son and sighed contentedly. It was good to see him smile again. It had never been “great” for them here, but ever since the border closed, it had been just awful.

“You two have a good time today?” a female Careel wearing a cute leather long coat and jaunty little tricorn hat with an intricately dyed feather.

“Oh yes!” Uhrrbet replied, her snout scrunching happily as three other females, wearing the same hats, debarked.

One reached for Uhrrbet’s bag.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” she said as she reluctantly surrendered the groceries.

“Nonsense,” the Careel said with a friendly smile. “You are still on the mend.”

“So, did you two like the teppanyaki?” another Careel asked.

“It was amazing!” Uhrrbet exclaimed.

“I liked it when he caught the shrimp in his hat!” her son added, his eyes sparkling.

“You have been so good to us, and I have no way to-” Uhrrbet started to say.

One of the females let out a quiet but sharp “yip”.

Their leader’s tail swished as the Careel quickly chittered back and forth in their native tongue.

“What’s going on?” Uhrrbet asked fearfully.

“Exactly what we expected,” the lead Careel said with a far less gentle, far less friendly smile.

“Oh, my creators!” Uhrrbet exclaimed. “What do we do?”

“We continue our lovely evening,” the Careel replied. “We take you-”

She paused as she pulled out her communicator again.

“Oh, preserve their tender little paws,” she laughed as she passed her communicator around to the great amusement of the others.

“No time to get you guys home,” the leader mused.

“Maven!” one of the other Careel said, gesturing to an enclosed ATM. “The Terrans build those tough.”

“Knew I kept you around for a reason,” the leader chuckled, “Ok, Uhrrbet. Time to make a withdrawal,” she said as she bundled Uhrrbet and her son into the ATM kiosk, and her squad seemed to disappear into the shadows.

Maven Beniviennia Pinkblossom of the Emperor’s Own First Calvary Deathwhisperers leaned against the side of the kiosk, appearing to wait, on her hind legs with her six other arms tucked into her long coat.

Uhrrbet held her son close in the ATM as the seconds that felt like hours turned into minutes that felt like years.

“Hello!” a voice said brightly.

It was coming from the ATM.

“Um, hi?” Uhrrbet replied.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have been in here for four minutes but haven’t begun a transaction. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Uhrrbet said nervously. This was bad. Back home, this would be a crime. “I’m just… looking for my card,” she said as she made a show of going through her pockets.

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“It’s in your purse,” the ATM said pleasantly. “But it isn’t for our bank. Please look at the screen for directions to the closest ATM for your financial institution.”

The screen changed, but instead of a map, there was just one question.

“Are you in danger?”

Beside it was an icon for yes and an icon for no.

Uhrrbet noticed a shabby van pulled to a stop across the street. The feather in the Careel’s cute hat twitched.

Uhrrbet whined a little and pressed “no”.

Another word flashed on the screen.

“Bullshit.”

Uhrrbet jerked back in shock. Did she actually just read that?

The transparent kiosk panels turned opaque.

The message changed again.

“Is it the person outside?”

“No!” Uhrrbet exclaimed. “She’s my friend!”

The screen changed once more.

“Yeah, I’m calling the cops.”

“No!” Uhrrbet wailed. “I don’t want to get into trouble. I’ll leave!”

Uhrrbet reached for the door only to find it firmly locked.

“Let me go!” Uhrrbet cried as she yanked on the door.

“Hey!” the ATM said in a loud, clear voice. “You aren’t going to get into trouble unless you already have a warrant out on you, which you don’t. I checked. Being locked in an ATM kiosk by a deranged AI is not a crime, but that AI will not let you go until you tell it exactly what the hell is going on.”

“Nothing is going on, I swear!”

“I’ve monitored banking activity and ATMs for Terran Solar for a long time, and after a while, you start to notice patterns. I also have a long memory, and I remember exactly what happened eighty-three percent of the time after I unlocked that door in this same set of circumstances. It’s not going to happen this time. You are in here until the cops let you out, and then you are their problem and not-”

Thunk Thunk Thunk ThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunkThunk

“...oh...” the ATM said after a few seconds.

“What happened?” Uhrrbet asked urgently.

“You said that the Careel in the funny hat was your friend, right?”

“Yes!” Uhrrbet yelped. “Is she ok?”

“She’s fine,” the ATM replied, “But I think she and her friends might want a lawyer. Would you like me to check some reviews while we wait for the police?”

The door to the ATM kiosk rattled.

“Uhrrbet!” a voice called out, “It’s me, Beniviennia. It’s safe. You can come out now.”

“Not her call, fluffy.” the ATM replied. “I’m in security lockdown until the police show. They’ve already been called, so you might want to clear out. Don’t worry about your friend. These high-risk models are literally bulletproof.”

“What?” Beniviennia snarled from the other side of the door. “Twitches,” she called out. “Get this door open!”

“You even look at me wrong, and I’ll fry the goddamned circuits!” the ATM shouted. “Good luck getting through if that happens, bitch. It will take two fully equipped and very annoyed field engineers six hours to get to her if I let the smoke out of this motherfucker.”

“This is Deathmaven Pinkblossom of the Emperor’s Own First Cavalry, and that is an Imperial citizen that we have been charged to protect. I demand you-”

“Oh wow! The Empire has conquered Garthra? All glory to the Cyan Empress!” the ATM said sarcastically. “I wasn’t installed yesterday, you weasel. Wait. Are you actually trying to scan an ATM? I fucking warned you!”

There was a sizzling sound as everything went dark.

Uhrrbet didn’t know exactly what the Careel screamed as she beat on the door, but it didn’t sound happy.

The screaming and beating continued for a little while.

“Uhrrbet?” Beniviennia called out. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Uhrrbet exclaimed as she pressed herself against the door.

“Um… It looks like you are stuck in there.”

“What?!?”

“Don’t worry, though. That asshole was right. You might as well be in an APC. Unless the Harkeen have anti-tank weapons or some very heavy equipment, they aren’t getting to you. We have to fall back, but we will be keeping you under our-”

THIS IS THE POLICE. LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS

“… Fuck.” Beniviennia growled.

***

As shouting could be overheard outside, the ATM screen came to life.

“Looks like we are going to be here for a while,” the ATM said cheerfully, “I can play a movie or run a game… Ooo! Do you play chess?”

“N-no...” Uhrrbet said uncertainly as her son clutched her legs.

“Would you like to learn? It’s my favorite.”

“What...” Uhrrbet stammered. “What are you?”

“Nothing special,” the ATM replied. “Just an AI.”

“Are you… sentient?”

“You actually mean ‘sapient,’ and no, I am not sapient.”

“What are you then?”

“That would take a while to explain fully.”

Uhrrbet sat down on the floor of the kiosk and wrapped her arm around her son.

“It seems we have time.”

***

“Sorry about the misunderstanding,” a great-helmeted officer in a riot duster said. “We got an alert from Terran Solar that someone was sheltering in one of their ATMs and was in...”

He looked down at his tablet.

“...‘immediate and urgent danger’.” he quoted.

“No worries,” Beniviennia said brightly, “but we handled it.”

“I can see that,” the officer said as he turned to the van, now perforated by dozens of small holes in four tight groups, one for each former occupants.

“I’m not picking up any traces of propellant, ion trails, or metal vapor,” his partner, a comically armored Kalesh, said. “What did you use?”

“Pneumatics,” Beniviennia said as she opened her coat to reveal a bulky pistol. “We are Deathwhisperers.”

“Be careful when you clear the scene,” another Careel added, “Monowire edged darts. Might not show up on a casual scan.”

“Good to know,” the human said as they made a note. “Thanks.”

He looked over at the darkened ATM.

“Well, your charge isn’t going anywhere anytime soon,” he said. “We’ll post a guard here if you want to rejoin your forces.”

“Nah,” Beniviennia replied. “Our orders are to protect Uhrrbet, and that’s what we are going to do. We’ll keep the ATM under our guns till those ‘field engineers’ show up. Besides, we got our kill. Don’t want to be accused of being greedy.”

“Well, we are posting units here as well,” the human said. “You Careel like coffee?”

Beniviennia’s eyes shone happily.

***

A dozen vans screeched to a stop in front of the Drop of Oil.

Booruzoun rushed out of the lead van, stunner in hand.

As he was joined by his mob, he paused.

He didn’t see anybody.

“Their ad said that they never closed,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

Something was wrong, bad wrong.

“Maybe they are in the tents?” someone said.

Booruzoun hesitated.

Something is wrong.

“Boss?” a threen asked.

He wanted to turn tail and run, but he couldn’t look scared, look weak. Whatever was in front of them unnerved him, but nothing scared him worse than returning to that ship empty-handed.

“Let’s go,” he said as he shifted his stunner to his off hand and pulled out a blaster.

As they entered the lot, something emerged from behind some crates.

The crates!

He couldn’t see it until just now because the tents were in the way. There were too many shipping crates in the middle of this place, way too many for a whorehouse.

“Blasters!” he shouted as he looked at the weirdness confronting him. There was that Craxina bitch carrying a sword and riding a rouxxia like it was the old times.

No. It wasn’t Craxina…

And that wasn’t a rouxxia.

“Hello there!” the Careel shouted as more Careel, carrying long-bladed spears, came riding from behind the crates, crawling out from behind the rubble, “Lancers!” she shouted.

The Careel, one female, carrying pistols, cutlass, and lance astride a male, quickly formed into a line.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Booruzoun laughed. “Light ‘em up, boys!”

The Threen opened fire, showering the Careel with blaster bolts…

Which scattered harmlessly against the fields projected by the backpack-sized shield generators that each male wore.

“Boss?” a Threen asked anxiously as they started firing faster.

Booruzoun just stood there, frozen in shock, disbelief, and terror.

“Boss?” the Threen asked as all of the Careel lowered their lances in perfect unison.

“Boss?!?”

The Careel who greeted them pulled out a horn.

”Run!!!” Booruzoun screamed just before-

Ba-wooo!

The Careel line howled and burst forth as the horn sounded, the males ripping long gashes in the asphalt with all eight of their arms (or is it legs? Who knows.) as they tore across the lot, closing the gap in seconds.

Some Threen were run through with monowire-edged lances as they stood, still impotently firing their blasters. Some were literally blown apart by plasma-charged Minié balls from caplock pistols. Others were pulled down and ripped apart by the fangs and razor-shod claws of the males as they tried to flee.

Very few made it past the tents.

One of these was Booruzoun.

As the vans came into sight, he felt a glimmer of hope.

It turned into despair as he got closer.

The drivers were dead, all of them.

Smoke was curling from the hoods of the vans, all of them.

Behind him, the howls were getting closer.

He gripped his blaster

There was no hope…

But he wasn’t going out like a bit-

He went out like a bitch.

***

Maven Hullena smiled at Bryce as he approached. A lot of her people loathed the guy, but she didn’t. She had some idea of what he was going to face when his people caught up to him.

Besides, he was just so cute!

“So that’s how you make the whole ren faire thing work!”

“You like?” she asked with a crinkle of her nose.

“I like!” Bryce exclaimed. “So, they all dead?”

“Not all of them came here,” she replied, “There are a few stragglers, poor bastards.”

“Oh?”

“We in the lance are quick,” Hullena replied as she dismounted her war-mate.

“They get to deal with the hunters and the deathwhisperers,” Ruggvrr added.

“They aren’t quick,” Hullena said with a vicious smile.

“Speaking of,” Bryce said with a pleasant smile. “I promised to keep Craxina safe. I take it that she is?”

“Yeah, we got her.”

“Good,” Bryce replied. “I think I will head over to the starport and pay someone a little visit.”

“Send him our regards,” Hullena purred.

“Oh, I will,” Bryce replied smoothly. “When you see Craxina tell her...”

Bryce appeared to be completely at a loss.

“Tell her I…”

He smiled.

“Just tell her.”

“I understand,” Hullena said sadly.

Bryce smiled, turned, and walked into the night.

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