The Zayar feels no concern over these mercenaries knowing who he is. “You could collect a reward for me—for a one-time payment. My value to you will increase exponentially if you choose to stay within my employ.”
“What’s the consignment?” A burly man, possibly too tall to fit in a standard Mecat, asks. The man has a cartoon image of a green man with bolts in his neck.
“The humanoids on Summersun scatter outside from the growing Mokarran presence. This planet’s rotation and orbit keep it in a constant temperature zone. A nice eighty, or so, even if it does feel warmer today. Allowing for a year-round crop growth.”
“But this planet offers little else.”
“Humanoids must eat. If the Mokarran cut off the food this planet supplies to other worlds, tens of billions will starve.”
“We’re anything but farmers,” a male with muddy dreadlocks chuckles. On his vest is the cartoon face of a hairy-faced wolfman. “And what does a Zayar care for the farms of Summersun?”
“A valid question.” From the murky, dusty corner, a robed figure escorts Eli to the group. He pulls back his hood.
“I told you there was a second Zayar.” Eli jerks away from his hold. On her vest is the raven-haired cartoon figure of a female vampire.
“You have to be Admiral Maxtin.” Confident, Vlad waves to Eli to rejoin his team.
“It amazes me how, after the Iphigenians scattered the Osirian people, you keep your culture alive by naming your mercenary units after mythical figures and icons. Vampires, Frankenstein and The Wolfman filled your planet’s legends. Of course, blood-drinking humanoids developed on several planets.”
“You know our culture…impressive…for a Zayar. Since you only care about Zayars.”
“I care about stopping the Mokarran from destroying much of the known galaxy. My people lock themselves away on their planet and choose to ignore the threat the Mokarran create, but the Mokarran won’t ignore them.”
“What concern should we have?” the man with the muddy dreadlocks asks.
“The Tri-Star Federation has failed to re-establish the expired territorial treaty with the UCP.”
“You being on this planet is an act of war.”
“Without treaties in place, no, but neither am I protected by the law here.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Vlad admits.
“The Mokarran face a war on two fronts. Something no military leader wants to entangle themselves in if they want absolute victory. The UCP may not be strong enough to win, but certainly powerful enough to gut the resources of the Federation, leaving it vulnerable to utter defeat by the Throgen Empire.”
“Then they should just re-sign the treaty,” Eli suggests.
“Satisfying the Mokarran, but not those who wish to remove this solar systems from their rule.”
“Whatever you want to happen will force a new treaty with the Mokarran. One better serving the UCP.”
“Just the beginning. I want to hire you to be a part of a coup d’état.”
“You want the seven of us to overthrow a Mokarran-controlled government. Crazy talk.” The Wolfman howls as his namesake suggests.
“Not just your Lance alone. Enough mercs to remove all Mokarran from Summersun’s surface.”
Vlad contemplates this. “Why not hire us from the safety of your office?”
“Mercenaries or not, I value the lives of those I command. I’m here as proof of my support and seriousness of my offer, not just a blind figure throwing cash at a problem.”
Curious, Vlad asks, “What’s the offer?”
“Since your Lance has been on the planet for a while, you won’t appear as suspicious to the Mokarran as newly arriving mercenary groups. Scout and report the military strength of the Mokarran forces. I need to know how many mercs it will take to successfully drive all the Mokarran from the surface of the planet. Not just defeat them. Remove all living Mokarran.”
“We’re not into the espionage business,” Frank adds.
“You are now. You’re all skilled warriors and know how to assess a battlefield situation.”
“No pandering, Admiral. We expect to be well-paid. Preventing the UCP from being dragged into war and still gain territory costs. You Zayars are vicious in your tactics,” Vlad compliments.
“And good Lances fail to be cheap.” Maxtin says nothing to dispense myth about his people.
“We understand you’re going to pay us a bonus for all this extra legwork,” Eli negotiates.
“I’ll arrange a substantial bonus once the planet has been liberated.”
“With enough money to hire mercs, but how do you explain your presence on the planet? As far as I’ve seen, you’re the only two Zayars not currently on your home world, and one of the five UCP VP Admirals stands out on any planet.”
“Zayar is not a completely self-sufficient planet. They need to import some foodstuffs, especially the Bannis Root. It will no longer grow on Zayar,” the second Zayar explains.
“Some kind of chemical holocaust?” Eli inquires.
“Internal conflagrations are not shared with off-worlders.”
Merc hands reach for their side arms.
Maxtin defends his kinsman. “Forgive Darian Thierry. He’s not experienced diplomatically with off-worlders.”
“My visit to Summersun officially pertains to the purchase of the Bannis Root,” Darian explains.
“It makes a good cover, and if anyone spots the Admiral they’ll assume it’s Darian. Zayars don’t leave their planet.”
“You put yourself at unnecessary risk, Admiral. But I do respect it,” Eli says.
“I take no more of a risk than what I ask of you in our fight against the Mokarran. My question is, why meet here in the abandoned storehouse? Our conference could have transpired in cleaner quarters and with the same amount of risk.”
“Mercs aren’t always welcome in the luxury hotels, even with handfuls of credit chits.” Vlad points at the only non-Osirian in the Lance. “Mummy there remembered an interesting fact.”
The hairy arboreal speaks, “I was around before the Battle of the Twin Suns and the Mokarran abandonment of the Osirian Coalition, which led to their expulsion and near-extinction from the Tri-Star Federation. I was a pilot in the minimal planetary defense
