The Tactics of Revenge (18 page)

The two men looked at each other and smiled. “Pretty laxed,” Tindal said.

“Seems to be the norm around here,” the Chief said. He looked up at the five meter high chain link fence. “Shouldn’t be a problem getting inside the perimeter. But we still don’t know how many hostiles we’ll be dealing with. A recharge team could consist of five men or twenty, we don’t know.”

“
They
might.” Rutledge followed the younger man’s gaze, focusing in on a group of blue-uniformed aliens, all with their hoods dangling down their backs, and entering a building across the street. As the door opened, the SEALs could see the darkened interior and hear the sounds of loud conversation punctuated by the clinking of glasses. It was a bar.

The men looked at each other again and grinned, their eyes lighting up. SEALs had a reputation for seriousness and dedication; they were also hard-charging party animals, familiar with every dive bar along the coasts of San Diego and southern Virginia – and it had been months since the two of them had last enjoyed a good brew.

Kaylor had divvied out a fair number of Juirean credits to each of the SEALs before they left on their recon mission, so the men were ready. They headed for the door with renewed purpose.

It only took a couple of seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. As was expected, the odor was pungent, but in a moment Tindal and Rutledge had dismissed it as simply an occupational hazard. They spotted the group of recharge techs crowding around three tables off to their left. There were nine of them, and from the casually-unzipped uniform fronts, it looked as though they had just got off work.

The SEALs moved to an empty table next to the aliens and sat down. At the center of the table was the blood sampling device they were intimately familiar with; they slipped their fingers inside without hesitation. Once their drinks arrived, the two men sipped on the potent alcoholic beverages and waited for the techs to loosen up from their first round of drinks. When the second round was nearly consumed, Tindal made his move.

He sent another round of drinks over to the aliens, who looked over at him almost in unison when the waiter brought over the glasses. Tindal wasn’t sure if this was kosher or not, but the near-instant compliments cast his way by the mildly-inebriated aliens put his mind at ease.

“We admire so much what you do,” he told the aliens, feigning an advanced state of inebriation. Rutledge played along as well. “We’ve come to Zinnol seeking work. Who do you work for?”

The nearest alien, a creature with some of the blackest skin he’d ever seen, yet with yellow eyes that seemed to glow against the contrast, leaned closer to him. “We’re a Junfen ground crew. Just come off a triple charging today. That’s good credits, with the bonus.”

The others at the table all bobbed or nodded their various styles of heads in agreement. Out of the nine aliens seated at the tables, there were four different species of Primes represented.

Tindal looked over at Rutledge. “We’re more orbital ’chargers ourselves; came over from the Fringe. Anyone hiring for orbital crews?”

“The Fringe!” the gregarious, yellow-eyed alien exclaimed. “I hear it’s been overrun by the invaders.” He looked back at his companions at the tables. “What are they called,
Hubeens
?”

“No,
Humans
,” corrected a furry creature seated at the middle table. “Supposed to be vicious flesh-eaters who don’t even bother to cook their kills first. They prefer the flesh of newborns, from what the reports say.”

“We’ve heard of this war,” Rutledge said, entering the conversation. “We left just before they arrived. That is why we’re here. Do you think the –
the Humans
– are coming this way?” The Chief was quick on his feet when it came to fabricating a story.

The furry creature – pretending to be the most-informed at the table – continued, “They’re coming this way all right, but the Juireans will stop them. There have been a lot of ’charging’s done on solo warships for a while now, most heading for the Fringe. They’ll stop the invaders. No one can stand against the Juireans.”

“I hear the Juireans attacked their homeworld first,” said Rutledge, even though he regretted the statement the moment he said it. He knew better than to get into a political discussion is a bar.

“I heard that the savages tricked the Juireans and destroyed a peace delegation,” the know-it-all responded. “The Humans are not to be trusted.” All the drunken aliens nodded and bobbed their heads again in unison; Tindal was feeling the effects of the alcohol by now himself and nearly busted out laughing at the goofy, bobble-head scene.

The dark-skinned alien leaned over closer to Tindal. “Inside, we are growing worried. The Juireans are retreating in the face of the Human invasion. This is not something we are comfortable with.”

“Riella’s excrement!”
the loud, furry creature shouted, overhearing the comments of his companion. “The Juireans will prevail. They must!”

Tindal dismissed the outburst. “So there should be plenty of work for orbital ’chargers; is Travess hiring?” Tindal asked.

“I believe so,” boomed another alien at the table nearest to Tindal, a pale green creature, huge, with bulging muscles stretching his uniform. “I’m working on a transfer myself. Orbitals pay better. But the security checks are tough for warship crews.” He looked around at his fellow rechargers and raised his glass, “But that only means more credits – and more mates on our pads!”

There rose from the three tables of aliens such a discordant and offensive sound as all four of the different species exhibited their own form of laughter. Evidently, the third round of drinks was having the desired effect.

Rutledge sent another round to the tables.

“Like my friend said, we are new here. Where do the orbital crews for Travess assemble? We would like to speak with them about employment possibilities.”

The loud, furry creature spoke up again, “You need to go to the dispatch building for hiring. The crews can’t help you.”

“We just want to speak with them about the working conditions for Travess.”

The black-skinned creature leaned over again toward Tindal, this time almost losing his balance as he did so. “They meet at Gate 43-B at the start of their shifts, all except the security crews. They enter through 43-A. You will not get on the security crews initially, not without working for Travess for a while or having prior security-team experience.”

Gate 43-A. Good.

Even as they all spoke, Tindal couldn’t take his eyes off the light green creature with the muscles, a beast that looked like a smaller version of The Incredible Hulk. Even though the SEAL still only had limited experience with the vast variety of aliens available in the galaxy, he and Rutledge had yet to find any that challenged their skills, strength or coordination. However, this green creature was tempting. Tindal locked eyes with the creature.

“Your species is very strong, are you not?”

The alien was surprised by the question, but did manage to fashion a grin of sorts. “Yes, we are. We are of the warrior class, and ones not to be challenged.”

His companions at the tables all laughed again and nodded, sharing an inside joke. Tindal cocked his head, questioning.

It was Tindal’s friend with the black skin who spoke next. “A few weeks back, Lornius was challenged in this very tavern by a Hedanlese. It was not to the death, but Lornius played with the offensive creature for several minutes before throwing it out on the street rather unceremoniously. You should have seen it!”

“If wish I had. Where we come from, we have a test of strength called an
arm-wrestle
. Would you care to try it?” Tindal asked Lornius. Rutledge quickly leaned over to Tindal and whispered forcefully, “Knock it off, petty officer. This is
not
our mission.”

“It’s okay, Chief,” Tindal said, lifting from his chair. “I know what I’m doing.”

The aliens cleared a path for him. “First let us have this table,” the SEAL said, beginning to explain the rules of the game. “And then you and I sit across from one another, lock hands and then try to pull the other’s arm down to the table. First one to force the other’s arm down wins.”

Lornius appeared to beam at the simplicity, as well as the machismo of the game. He displayed an overabundance of confidence as he moved into position. Tindal sat opposite the alien – and then they grasped hands. Immediately Tindal noticed the mushiness of the flesh; he would have to be careful not to crush the creature’s hand.

Lornius had pulled back the sleeve of his uniform to display the mounds of ripping muscles. Tindal had never seen anything like it before, even on the arms of a world-class bodybuilder back on Earth. He was beginning to have second thoughts about the whole affair.

Petty Officer 1
^st
Class John Tindal was no slouch himself when it came to muscular definition, but the alien’s arm was easily four times thicker than his. However, the SEAL had discovered that out here in the galaxy, size was not the only thing that mattered. In the four months that he’d been down-range with Adam and his team –
killing aliens
– it hadn’t taken him long to realize just how special Humans were in the whole scheme of things. But this could be different….

The alien eyed him good-naturedly, yet with a slight baring of his teeth through green lips. The other aliens were all whooping and hollering, enjoying every moment of the contest, and didn’t notice the slight implied challenge issued from the green alien. Rutledge stood near the back of the crowd, glowering at Tindal. There would be hell to pay once they got back to the ship—

“What now?” Lornius asked.

“Someone yells ‘Go’ and we start to push.”

“I will do it!” said the furry creature, forcing his way through the crowd until he stood next to the table. He looked expectantly at the two combatants…and then yelled
“Go!”

Immediately, Tindal felt pressure on his right arm, as The Hulk jerked suddenly, the muscles in his arm swelling even larger. But Tindal’s arm did not move. Lornius looked him straight in the eye, a look of concern replacing the pervious toothy grin on his face. Realizing that Lornius was doing the best he could against him, Tindal began to let his arm go slack. Slowly, The Hulk was seen to be pressing Tindal’s arm closer and closer to the table. Tindal let the contest go on for about thirty seconds, doing his best Academy Award-winning performance to make it appear as if he was struggling mightily against the huge green creature. And when the back of his right hand finally touched the table, The Hulk released it and jumped to his feet, raising both his massive arms above his head.

“I have bested you!” he boomed, much to the joy and adulation of his companions.

Tindal rose dejectedly from his seat; Lornius halted his celebration momentarily. “You were a worthy opponent,” he said to Tindal. “At first I thought I would not be able to overcome. But then my superior strength won out – as usual!”

Tindal grinned and nodded. “Yes, you have bested me today. And now my companion and I must depart. The victory is yours to celebrate.”

“You do not have to leave,” Lornius proclaimed. “This was a game, not a challenge.”

“I understand that. But we must retire now to prepare ourselves for seeking work tomorrow. It has been very enjoyable interacting with all of you today.”

As the two SEALs walked toward the doorway, Rutledge whispered, “You let him win, didn’t you?”

“Had to Chief, I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends.” Tindal smiled at Rutledge. “It looks like even The Incredible Hulk isn’t much of a challenge for us.”

“Keep your big brass ones in your pants, Tindal. And next time I tell you to stand down, you had better follow orders.” The tone in his voice was unmistakable.

Tindal swallowed hard; the Chief was not someone you crossed very often.
But, damn, that was sweet!

Chapter 34

The two SEALs were not aware of the leather-skinned creature sitting near the horseshoe-shaped bar, as he nodded to another of his kind near the doorway. The second creature slipped out the front of the tavern just moments before Tindal and Rutledge did, and sprinted around the nearest corner to the building. In the alleyway were four other leather-skinned beings.

“Two of them,” the scout said quickly, as he pulled out a six-inch long blade from a pouch under his brown vest. The other four creatures each held knives as well, and two also carried clubs in their other hands. They fell back against the wall of the alleyway as they heard Tindal and Rutledge approaching.

These two have credits and they are weak and intoxicated
, the scout thought.
This will be easy.

Just as the SEALs came even with the alleyway, three of the creatures jumped out in front of them blocking their way, while two more slipped in behind. They brandished their weapons at the two half-drunk SEALs.

“Give up your credits and other valuables!” The scout said, waving his blade rhythmically back and forth in front of the two men.

Tindal and Rutledge stopped and looked at each other, wide grins spreading across their faces, their eyes lighting up. Rutledge was the first to move. He reached out and grabbed the scout’s blade arm, pulling it towards him. And then in one continuous move, he tucked it under his right arm and spun to his left, kicking out with his left foot, contacting one of the creatures behind him in the chest. He twisted his body sideways more and felt the scout’s knife arm bend upward at a totally unfamiliar ninety-degree angle. The alien gasped sharply as his arm snapped, before vomiting and passing out. The other being behind him felt the cracking of his sternum – or whatever bone was in the center of its chest –before falling to the ground.

In the meantime, Tindal had reached out toward the closest alien to him and snatched his blade away. The move was so fast that the SEAL had already plunged the knife back into the being’s own chest before it even knew it had been taken from him. And then Tindal threw a lightning-fast right cross into the face of another of the creatures. His fist impacted the skull, deforming it to half its original diameter. Next he sent a round-house kick into the side of the creature behind him. The leathery being flew through the air and landed near the middle of the street, its body bent in places that were not meant to bend in such a way.