Omega Force: The Human Factor (OF8) Read online

  So while his friends adjusted and settled into the new arrangement and before Omega Force sought its first real mission since being reborn, Jason packed a bag and was on his way well before Lucky could lodge any protests or come along uninvited. The long flight was a good opportunity for some personal reflection, a little planning for the future, and a chance to unwind before being tossed into the crucible of Dorxamich, the name of the massive Legion training exercise.

  It was every bit as brutal and trying as Jason had assumed it would be given the very nature of Galvetic warriors. He was also unsurprised that the small, pink alien was singled out and abused at every opportunity by the younger warriors. Mazer, now serving as a training advisor for the Seventh Legion, watched it all with detachment, letting things play out as they would. After more than a few painful object lessons, the young warriors soon discovered that not everything was at it appeared to be with the comparatively small being. In spite of having the strength and skill to hold his own during the spectacle, Jason had to admit that he was very glad it was drawing to a close. He would need the entire three-week flight back to S’Tora just to recover.

  “So why are we walking so far away from the transports?” Jason asked after they were out of earshot of the training battle aftermath.

  “Our intelligence has stumbled across something that you need to be aware of,” Mazer said evasively. “My brother will brief you. He’s flown over from Galvetor and is in the administration building near the barracks. Do not worry, I will get you back in time for your final time in the pit.”

  “I wasn’t exactly worried.” Jason suppressed a sigh. The ‘pit’ was the name given to the shallow impression scooped out of the dirt that served as the one-on-one combat arena during the duration of the event. It was a brutal spectacle that allowed personal grudges to be settled every evening before the horn blasted to signify the end of the training day. So far Jason had been called out every single day and had been required to fight nearly every time. Though his record was impressive, it was taking a serious toll.

  “You weren’t planning on sneaking off before the last night of fights, were you?” Mazer smiled slightly.

  “What?” Jason poured as much indignation as he could into his voice. “Of course not.”

  Chapter 2

  “Captain Burke, you’re looking—”

  “You can say it, Morakar,” Jason sneered at his friend’s loss for words. “I look like shit because your warriors have taken a special interest in pounding me to a pulp every day.”

  “It’s just a sign of respect,” Morakar said.

  “I’m honored.” Jason winced as he lowered himself into a chair unasked. He’d been escorted into a sparse office where he found his friend, Morakar, the current head of Galvetic Intelligence and older brother of Mazer Reddix. If the stoic Morakar Reddix had summoned him Jason had to assume it wasn’t just to laugh at his bruises.

  “It is good that you are,” Morakar said, Jason’s sarcasm going far over his head. “You are something of a legend here. The events of Lord Felex’s return are not forgotten, nor is the fact the Lord Archon chose to serve under you rather than to continue leading them. It’s not something that is taken lightly. Many simply wish to test themselves against you.”

  “Ah,” Jason said noncommittally. “So what’s up?”

  Morakar blinked at the expression before seating himself behind the desk and clasping his clawed hands before him.

  “We’ve been receiving reports from our deployed assets that are … troubling.”

  “How troubling?” Jason asked, assuming he was being primed for a mission that the Galvetic government couldn’t officially sanction and they’d want to contract Omega Force for. It was the type of work they’d normally take on from trusted sources like Morakar.

  “You’re being hunted,” Morakar said simply.

  “That’s it?” Jason said after a pregnant pause. “While I’ll admit it’s strange that it’s happened before we’ve even got our legs back under us, I’m sure there are some people out there that would still love to take a crack at us. We have measures in place to—”

  “No. You, Jason Burke, are being hunted.” Morakar waved him off with an uncharacteristic display of irritation. “We have several confirmed, unconnected reports of a known bounty hunter inquiring as to your current whereabouts. Descriptions of your crew and ship have also been circulated.”

  Jason was speechless a moment, trying to calculate in his head who he had pissed off the most in the last twelve months.

  “My name isn’t exactly a secret,” he insisted. “Anybody with a passing familiarity with Omega Force could have heard it. What makes you think they’re specifically targeting me and not the entire crew?”

  “They know you’re human, and that you’re from Earth,” Morakar said, making Jason’s blood run cold. “They are specifically mentioning both of those things.”

  “Well now,” Jason said softly, leaning back in the chair. “That’s an animal of entirely different stripes. My species or home planet is not something widely known.”

  “Precisely,” Morakar nodded. “These are also very discreet, very covert probes by someone who very much wants to track your movements without you knowing about it. Does anyone come to mind?”

  “Not especially,” Jason exhaled loudly. “That crazy ass synth, Deetz, is dead, and he wasn’t known to have any trusted associates. I also can’t imagine that someone liked him well enough to hold a grudge all these years for killing him. The species he was working with when Earth was attacked never knew the specifics, and they aren’t supposed to be travelling outside of their home system anyway. I don’t know … this is a head scratcher.” He didn’t want to admit to his friend that there was someone else out there who knew that information. Besides, if Kellea Colleren was looking for him she knew where he was currently living. He didn’t think his ex-girlfriend would carry that sort of grudge anyway … even though he did almost get her removed from her post, and then did help get her boss executed by a foreign government. Come to think of it …

  “Very well,” Morakar broke him out of his reverie. “I will provide you a synopsis of our analysis as well as the raw data from the field. It will be waiting for you after the close of tonight’s ceremonies.”

  “I appreciate it.” Jason slapped his palms to his knees and heaved himself up out of the chair. “It may end up being nothing, but I’d rather not find out the hard way that it isn’t.”

  “Prudent thinking,” Morakar nodded.

  Jason turned and walked out of the office without any further discussion. Galvetic warriors weren’t known for being especially chatty, Morakar especially so, and he’d learned long ago that needlessly filling empty spaces with words was a quick way to lower one’s esteem in their eyes.

  ****

  “I challenge Captain Jason Burke!”

  The roaring challenge by one of the biggest warriors Jason had ever seen was met with an enthusiastic cheer of approval. He’d hoped that his late arrival to the arena would allow him to escape attention and sneak out without yet another brutal encounter, but that was just wishful thinking. Suppressing a sigh, he stepped into the ring.

  “I accept!” he bellowed back as loud as he could. The cheers got even louder and he could see a few enterprising warriors begin accepting bets and offering odds on the two combatants as he loosened up, eyeing the huge warrior across from him and recognizing him as the one who had almost shot him in the face during the last event outside the bunker.

  At first glance, the warrior looked bigger than even Crusher, a genetically gifted warrior who was tall and bulky compared to his brethren, but the more Jason watched the way he moved and his seeming lack of flexibility, some weaknesses became apparent. Jason had known his fair share of heavy weightlifters during his time in the military back on Earth, and he knew that the impressive size and strength often didn’t mean the person was a formidable fighter.

  All the telltale signs were there: The aw
kward, stiff gait, the swollen, almost puffy look to the major muscle groups. Jason knew he was looking at the local bad boy and bully of the Seventh Legion, but he also knew that despite giving up a lot of size and strength there was a defined and proven formula to beating him.

  “This will be a fight to submission,” one of the Seventh’s lieutenants was shouting. “No killing, no maiming! Understood?”

  “Understood!” Jason barked, hopping lightly on the balls of his feet.

  “Understood!” his opponent shouted. He was putting on a show of bunching his shoulders up and leaning forward, but standing flat on his feet.

  “Fight!!”

  As expected, the warrior charged blindly, arms wide, bellowing all the way. Jason checked his instinct to return the charge and stayed put on the far side, still balancing lightly on his feet and keeping his arms up in a loose guard. The arena was only ten meters in diameter so the warrior was able to close the distance quickly, not letting up even a bit in his wild rush. Jason dipped his knees and leaned forward and to the right, giving the appearance he planned to roll out and away from the charge.

  The warrior bit on the feint and moved to his left, his rush faltering as he tried to change angles in such a tight space. As Jason had expected, his bulky opponent was heavy-footed and not able to adjust quickly. He arched upright out of his head-fake and stutter-stepped to keep himself out of range of the impressive set of claws being aimed at him. He reared back with his right foot and pushed off hard with his left, intending to plant a devastating kick into the side of his opponent’s head and end the fight in a single blow. Almost in slow motion he saw the warrior’s eyes widen as he realized his mistake and then, improbably, he dipped his left shoulder and ducked his head while managing to grab Jason’s ankle with his right hand. The grip felt like a steel vise as Jason, knowing he was in a very vulnerable position, used what little leverage he had in his planted right leg and leapt forward, forcing his opponent to roll all the way over, hoping to break the grip.

  The ploy was semi-successful and Jason was able to extend his leap up and over the falling warrior, but the iron grip on his ankle remained. When the much heavier legionnaire went down, Jason was yanked down as well and slammed painfully into the hard-packed dirt, crushing his arm under his chest and slamming his chin down with enough force to split the skin. Wasting no time, he leveraged against the trapped foot and heaved himself up, bridging on his outstretched arms and looking down to his opponent. He drew his right leg back and kicked viciously at the warrior’s head, contracting his torso as he did to maximize his range.

  “Ungh!” the warrior grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as Jason’s kick took him full in the ridge that ran down his forehead. Even though hitting the ultra-dense crest had sent a jolt through Jason’s leg, he didn’t let up, firing back two more kicks until he felt the grip on his left ankle slacken and was able to roll forward onto his feet. When he spun about he was dismayed to see the warrior was also already on his feet and looked to be fully capable of defending himself.

  The opening contact in the match had only taken a few seconds, but in that time both fighters had discovered that a quick match was unlikely and were now circling each other warily and with a newfound respect. Jason, now playing up the limp in his left foot, was revising his strategy on the fly as the warrior watched him through narrowed eyes. Since a quick, decisive win was out and he was unlikely to fool his opponent again with something so transparent as a head-bob, the next obvious play was to try and tire the larger fighter out.

  Galvetic warriors were seldom able to fight without their emotions and aggression eventually leading them to rash action. Jason had watched Lucky beat Crusher senseless in sparring matches when the latter would finally become frustrated and come in roaring, all noise and fury, but also clumsy and over-extended. This particular warrior, having been singling Jason out at every opportunity that day, was showing signs of his concentration slipping as his anger and frustration grew at his inability to crush the smaller, weaker alien quickly.

  Jason was only dimly aware of the noise created by the hundreds of spectating warriors, each cheering on his favorite … or at least cheering on the fighter they’d placed money on. If there was one thing Legionaries loved as much as fighting, it was gambling, so the opportunity to gamble on fighting created a frenzy every evening during the matches.

  Even as the thought quickly flitted through his head, Jason saw his opponent lean his weight back onto his planted foot and brought his hands up in a guard position, anticipating another charge. The warrior once again threw caution to the wind and came in roaring, his right fist raised and his left tucked in close to his torso. Jason knew that the raised fist was a decoy; he also knew that the maneuver was typically executed with the claws deployed and was grateful the warrior was still adhering to “training” rules.

  Jason moved forward like he meant to respect the raised fist before spinning to his right as quickly as he could, far too fast for his opponent to track, pinning the drawn left arm against the warrior. He continued his spin and brought his right elbow up and back, intending to drive it into the other’s throat. The warrior realized his mistake but his forward momentum was too much, and Jason had been too fast ducking under the extended right arm and pinning it up against his body. He could only watch helplessly as the human’s elbow missed its mark and smashed into his mouth.

  Jason suppressed the urge to scream as he felt the comparatively soft skin of his arm slam into the exposed fangs of the warrior. The crowd’s reaction was mixed as Jason quickly separated from his opponent and spun to face him again. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “Halt!” the overseer called sharply. “All combatants will HALT!”

  “Shit,” Jason muttered as he saw the damage he’d inadvertently caused. He had simply wanted to knock the wind out of his opponent with a well-aimed shot to the throat that, despite being reinforced and tough, still caused the same reaction as it did in most bipeds when hit. Instead he had missed, smashing the warrior’s mouth with enough force to split the upper and lower lips to such a degree that blood was pouring from his face. The hit also had enough heat behind it that his opponent was dazed and stumbling about.

  The wound itself was not especially serious, nor would it likely slow the warrior down much if it had been a real fight. What it was, however, was a grievous breach in protocol and a violation of the strictly-adhered-to standards that governed simulated combat between Legionaries. When trying to train such naturally aggressive fighters, the Legions had adopted a set of controls that would help ensure their warriors didn’t kill each other in what was supposed to be a training environment. These rules were ingrained into each Legionnaire from a very young age and they took them quite seriously.

  To make matters worse, it looked like Jason had done it on purpose: a reckless, vicious hit by a desperate and overmatched fighter. In the eyes of most Galvetic warriors, that made him the worst sort of coward. He moved back to his side of the ring and braced himself for the judgment he knew was coming, standing straight and resisting the urge to scratch at the itchy spot in the middle of his back.

  “Warrior Burke,” the overseer began formally. “You were the first to be wounded in the exchange. Do you accept the hit to Warrior Falzez’s face as complete recompense or do you demand the right of retaliation?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.” Jason furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “Your back, it was injured first.” The overseer’s impatience was obvious. Jason reached around to the spot that was itching and felt that it was wet. When he pulled his hand back around he saw bright red, human blood. He realized at once what must have happened and felt doubly bad. Falzez (he hadn’t actually known the warrior’s name the entire exercise) had his head down and looked appropriately chagrined despite the fact that neither wound was his fault.

  “I consider the matter settled, Master Overseer,” Jason called out. “There will be no retaliation, sir.” The crowd b
egan to cheer until the Overseer’s next announcement.

  “The match is concluded, the result is nullification,” he said. “No winner, and no loser.” Jason could swear he saw just the ghost of a smile on the older warrior’s face as the crowd’s mood turned once they realized that all bets made were now null and void and, according to the loose rules they played by, all money had been forfeited to the bookmakers. They were now easy to identify as they were smiling widely and, wisely, exiting the area as fast as they could manage. From the looks Jason was getting he felt that was probably a wise course of action for him as well.

  ****

  “Hello, beautiful. Did you miss me?” Jason asked as he approached a sleek, deadly looking heavy gunship perched on her landing gear. His neural implant automatically verified his identity and, with a thought command, dropped the rear ramp and turned on the marker lights on the wingtips and the vertical stabilizers.

  The ship began to rumble to life while he was still a good twenty meters away, hissing and whining as the various subsystems were commanded back on after being dormant since Jason had landed for the exercise. He also saw that the local avian life had had a fine time using the Phoenix for target practice.

  He walked up into the ship and began stowing his gear, puttering around and prepping her for flight while he waited for Morakar to deliver the intel he’d promised so he could depart. Restaria was a beautiful planet, and the Galvetic warriors were an interesting people he enjoyed being around, but he was anxious to get home. Twingo, his crew’s engineer and tech specialist, had been planning a series of extensive upgrades to the gunship that would put her out of commission for at least a month if everything went smoothly, which it wouldn’t, and who knew how long after that to complete the test program and shake-down flights.