Star Brigade: Resurgent (Star Brigade Book 1) (19 page)

The Rothorid did not respond in kind, rattling his tail in a threatening bearing. “You ssshould be on Hollusss by now.” The hiss in his
s’s
carried unabashed venom.

Habraum sat down. “Well, I’m not Honaa. I have a life and a son that needs to be packed up.”

The Rothorid’s eyes narrowed into deadly amber slits. “Ssso? I have four hatchingsss on Rothor IV. If the Brigade isssn’t your priority, walk away. It’sss not like you’re unfamiliar with doing that.”

Habraum barely choked back fury. “I know my priorities as a Brigadier
and
a father, unlike you—!”

“
God,
can you at least fight about something interesting?” Sam rolled her eyes at her teammates, “like me quitting to become a merc if you two idiots keep up your cock measuring contest.”

Habraum and Honaa turned and gaped at her, their mutual bile briefly forgotten.

“I’m. Kidding,” she bit out in exaggerated annoyance. “But not about you two being dumbshits. Can we get back to business already?”

The Rothorid nodded, his tail wilting in acquiescence behind him.

“I’m willing if he is,” Habraum said in acid tones, his eyes never leaving Honaa. The Cerc knew immediately his own reaction had been poorly done. He was Brigade Chief Executive Officer now. Being weary was no excuse to blow his top like that. Sooner or later he and Honaa would have to sort their business out—using either words or blows. Both choices suited Habraum just fine. “Let’s start reviewing available combat operatives again. Find something to work with.”

“You were sssupposed to review the Brigade’ssss rossster already,” Honaa hissed unhelpfully.

“I did,” Habraum threw back. “Twice.  All I saw were wide-eyed rookies so green they probably piss moss water,” he growled and slumped into his seat. “We had at least twenty-four active and mission-tested operatives after I left. What happened to all of them?”

“I wasn’t just wasting oxygen when I said they’d all left for greener pastures.” Sam shrugged. “When our charter was suspended, JSOG was ordered by the Ministry of Defense to distribute those ‘vital assets’ into other mission units. The rookies all need to complete one full year of active service before they can leave Star Brigade. We’re stuck with them.”

“Have we tried bringing any of those who left back to the fold?” Habraum asked.

“Several times,” Sam replied dryly. “With less than encouraging results.”

“What about Lt. Col. Nyell? Or Major Azohl’ozyma?” Habraum asked, referring to Star Brigade’s former Chief Operations Officer and Chief Intelligence Officer respectively. Some of their former colleagues had to be interested in returning.

A glance between Sam and Honaa lasted half of an instant, which Habraum didn’t miss.

The earthborn woman was about to speak, but Honaa silenced her with a look. “Nyell and Azohl’odym aren’t welcome back,” he stated flatly.

That assertion was as surprising as it was spare on details. Habraum studied his fellow Brigadiers searchingly. Sam’s face was a mask, giving away nothing. Certainly not remorse. The Cerc wasn’t surprised, remembering the nasty acrimony between her and the stone-skinned Aesonite Enothor Nyell. But Azohl’ozyma, a stout fireplug of a Voton with skin that glowed neon lavender, had been Sam’s former boss. Habraum recalled the pair getting along mostly. He noticed Honaa’s expression was also closed, his ginger eyes hard and narrow. Nyell and Azohl’ozyma had been with Star Brigade longer than Honaa, and were the Rothorid’s close friends.
How’d they get expelled?
Habraum wondered. But no one was talking.

“Right, then.” Habraum massaged his temples, soured by this setback. Out of respect owed to his former mentor and the need to start this meeting, the Cerc didn’t pry. So they had to start from scratch with almost two dozen Brigadiers he didn’t know and that weren’t battle tested. The training alone was going to take longer than Habraum anticipated.

“The Brigade’sss drought of experience isss ssomething we’ve had to deal with,” Honaa’s snide rasp interrupted his thoughts. “What do you suppossse we do then,
Captain?
”

The Cerc leaned forward, rubbing his goatee.
Start with what you know best and go from there
, he told himself. “Fill out the required positions for at least two combat teams—field commander, tech, medic, ordnance, recon, comm and helm.”

“Then let’s start with this one.” Sam pulled out a paper-thin datapad and typed something into it.

An instant later, the life-sized holoimage of a short and bull-necked sentient appeared in front of Habraum. At first glance the being with its malleable metallic casing resembled a near-human mechanoid, but the Cerc was too well-versed in nonhuman species to confuse a Thulican for a robot. Despite how difficult most had in telling male and female Thulicans apart, something about this techno-organic’s burly physique exuded a more masculine air. He stood just taller than Sam, which was considered gigantic amongst his species. But given how this Thulican’s physique bulged with corded muscle, his legs alone akin to iron tree trunks, height clearly didn’t matter. The silvery organic metal sheath covering his body stretched like skin and covered his entire body, sans a cobalt blue face sporting perfectly circular and pupil-less gold eyes yet lacking a nose. The Thulican wore a blithe smile reaching from ear to ear.

“2
nd
Lieutenant Khromulus Threedwok,” Sam announced with that lopsided grin of hers, giving the earthborn woman a mischievous look, “hailing from Ferros Arietis of the Thulican Twin Planets.”

“One of our mossst promising recruitsss,” Honaa added, his resentment giving way to a business like tone Habraum hadn’t even realized that he missed. “Threedwok’sss been with usss about two yearss, only ssseen a few active missionsss after his fifteen-month training wasss completed.”

Habraum intensely disliked the taste of such inexperience. But he knew this was the dish he’d chosen when returning to the Brigade.  “Why should this greenhorn impress me?”

“Khrome’s a genius,” Sam gushed, barely able to contain herself, gesturing excitedly with her hands. “A jack of all trades in technology, aerospace engineering, scything. Plus, the kid’s a goddamn powerhouse. Strongest operative I’ve seen in years, and a bit of a jokester—which I love,” Sam gushed the last part with a twinkle in her eyes, “but he gets along well with most everyone.”

“Background?” Habraum asked curtly. They had over twenty-four Brigadiers to assess. No time to waste on confectionery compliments.

“He ssserved three yearsss with the UComm Corps of Engineerss mainly ssso he could travel around Union Space,” Honaa picked up where Sam left off, conveying actual amusement about this Thulican wunderkind. “Before that, after the Thulicansss became a Union member race, he served two years in UComm Applied Technologiesss. But left becaussse he got bored.”

Habraum laughed at that.
A seasoned sprout needing a challenge, this one. How familiar.
 And if Sam and Honaa both favored this ‘Khrome,’ that was a good sign. But the Cerc needed more. “So he’s solid on tech experience and maximal abilities, both which we need. What about combat experience?”

Sam’s eyes flashed excitedly, clearly ready for that question. “Unlike most of our recruits, the kid has a background in unconventional warfare.  He was an active member of the Free Scions of the Twin Spheres when he was just an adolescent.”

Habraum gulped. He knew all about the Free Scions. The Thulican resistance faction had opposed the Technoarchy presence on their worlds long before the Ferronos Sector War through their innovative guerilla tactics. It was the Free Scions that had reached out to the Union on the Thulicans’ behalf for military assistance at the end of 2391, initiating the three year-long conflict.

The Cybernarr communication disk stuffed deep in Habraum’s pocket suddenly felt like a fifty-ton meteor. “I’m sold on Khrome.” he said stiffly. “Who’s next?”

10.

Habraum Nwosu rejoining Star Brigade had already put Honaa in a black mood for days. That senior staff meeting only worsened his temper. By the time the near four-orv meeting had ended, Honaa could scarcely look at his new superior officer without wanting to strangle him. The arrogance, the self-obsession. The Rothorid currently paced back and forth in his ovular captain’s office, seething over every aspect of Nwosu’s attitude. Many of Honaa’s concerns over or recommendations on certain operative, Habraum had vetoed emphatically. And Sam D’Urso backed every decision the Cerc made.
That’sss no sssurprise
, the Rothorid fumed. Even when they were both recruits, Nwosu had her wrapped around his finger. Were all Cercidaleans filled with such mountain-climbing alpha male bravado? Good thing that insufferable Cerc wasn’t actually on Hollus yet or Honaa might have throttled him to death—.

“
Honaa
,” Sam’s sharp voice broke through his angered musings. “Unclench!”

The Rothorid stopped his pacing and turned toward his subordinate. Sam had slipped out of her Commander uniform jacket, the scoopneck tee she wore underneath heather grey and long-sleeved. She was now leaning against the desk of the captain’s office, watching the Rothorid with an inappropriate amount of amusement.
Does her concern have to come with such mocking sometimes?
It was then that Honaa physically recognized how ridiculously clenched up he was; the needle-like teeth in his jaw grinding together unbearably, claws gouging so deep into his clenched palms he didn’t notice the shooting pain until just now. He flexed his hands and mover around his tender jaw. “Field commander of a combat team, I get. Chief Operationsss Officer even makesss sssense. But Brigade Executive Officer?
Why?
Nwosssu’s not even a Major, and he’sss been inactive for a year.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “You think
you
should have been Brigade Executive Officer?” The naked skepticism in her voice would have wounded Honaa had he not been so riled up.

“My ego isss not too large to sssee that new headssship wasss needed. But itsss Habraum’sss dedication I take issssue with. Or ssshould I sssay hisss lack thereof.

Sam shrugged. “He’s dedicated himself for seven successful years to Star Brigade.”

“Yet he ssstill abandoned it in a heartbeat, which you ssseem to forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing,” Sam said, shaking her head slightly. “I’ve just chosen to move on.”

“No,” Honaa jabbed a clawed finger accusingly at the human commander. “You choossse once again to let your feelingsss for him cloud your judgment.”

Sam’s smile curdled. “Careful with that black label, Captain Pot. Would you want Enothor or Zohl called back to lead, after the shit they pulled?”

“No,” Honaa snapped immediately. No one needed to convince the Rothorid how Habraum’s actions after Beridaas paled in the face of Nyell and Azohl’ozyma’s betrayal. Those two had been Honaa’s colleagues and close friends as well. But unlike Habraum, they had tried benefiting from the Beridaas tragedy by secretly planning to dismantle the Brigade and reorg its divisions under other UComm departments, which would have cost many Brigade personnel they served with their jobs—including Sam. Finding out Major Nyell’s plan and Azohl’ozyma’s willingness to go along with it—as he always did in regards to the Aesonite—had stabbed Honaa through the heart so ferociously the pain was near acute. Even a year later, the memory of that treachery aroused a dull ache in his chest.

With Honaa’s unreserved permission, Sam had covertly sabotaged their attempts and forced the traitors out of Star Brigade empty-handed. How she had done it, Honaa never knew entirely nor would she tell him. “Plausible deniability,” Sam had explained, wearing one of her impish lopsided grins. But the victory, though saving the Brigade from dismemberment, had ultimately been pyrrhic.

Honaa furiously recalled how quickly the Defense Ministry had smelled blood in the water at that point and sent its other UComm branches on a poaching spree, bleeding a suspended Star Brigade of its remaining seasoned operatives. And in hindsight, after acquiescing to Sam, that was the moment she had begun seeing herself as his equal, growing harder and harder to control.

Honaa grew tired thinking about how hard he had fought this past year, for what was just a shell of the once-elite Spec Ops unit he’s given thirteen years of his life to. Even more perplexing to him was how Sam D’Urso had suddenly become the calmer, more rational voice of the pair.

“Whether either of you like it or not,” Sam stated, regaining her earlier humor, “Habraum’s place is with Star Brigade. The Children of Earth attack in Corowood Zoo, while reprehensible, presented an unexpected opportunity to remind him of that.”

Honaa’s slit-like eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sam was smiling her mischievous lopsided grin, which never boded well for anyone. “Him taking down that Sssonss cccell?” he asked, turning to face her fully.

Sam’s eyes lit up with mischief. “That…and Atom Greystone,” she answered with a husky purr.

Rothorid gaped at the commander, wondering if she was drunk or japing. “Greyssstone,” he hissed with rigid scorn. “That glorified golfer with ambitions far above his station—.”

“Yea, yea he’s vile and stupid and useless I know,” Sam waved off Honaa’s mounting critique with a swift hand chop, “…but not entirely useless.”