There were ten thousand highly skilled and highly specialized X-Forces troops on board the starship.
Their firepower and combat technology were always vastly superior to that found on the planet in question, plus the troops were as much in the business of helping out populations of reclaimed planets as fighting them. Once it was determined which side was being oppressed in any conflict they came upon, the X-Forces troops would intervene on the side of the underdog, and the war would end soon after that.
They’d ridded half a dozen planets of space pirates and other assorted scum in this manner. Some of the fighting had been bitter, some relatively light. Some populations welcomed them with open arms, some were fearful, some panicked. But the social scientists and the diplomats assigned to Hunter’s ship were also top-notch. Through a combination of these efforts, most of the reclamation missions went smoothly.
Until they came to a planet called Guam 7.
This was a place where the Empire was known, a place that was supplying a good part of the Outer Fringe Fifth Arm with weapons to continue the thousands of wars being fought throughout the tens of thousands of star systems in the sector.
The AeroVox’s special ops soldiers seized the planet’s one and only major city — the place called Nails — without firing a shot. They quickly established martial law, ending the out-of-control weapons trade but allowing the distillation and distribution of slow-ship wine to continue.
In the course of this action, Hunter’s troops came upon two of the planet’s biggest weapons dealers.
During a routine interrogation these two men passed on their story about a strange conversation they’d had with a priest who was looking for weapons for a beleaguered band of mercenaries facing long odds in the most isolated point in the Galaxy: the Dead Gulch System. A fierce war was being fought on a tiny moon there, orbiting the last planet.
“The last place anyone could be…” was their direct quote.
Hunter immediately tried to locate the Dead Gulch star system, not an easy task in this part of the Galaxy.
Even the people in Nails weren’t exactly sure where it was. Finally Hunter’s men tracked down some other individuals who had spoken with the priest that day. They indicated the priest had traveled twenty-two star systems to get to Guam 7. Hunter went to the ancient maps again, started doing calculations, and eventually found it, the last place anyone could go before plunging into the forbidden depths of intergalactic space: the Dead Gulch system.
And here he found the last moon spinning around the last planet and discovered that the name of this place was Zazu-Zazu.
And that’s why he was here on this fateful day.
But just as in his dream, there was a catch…
By the time Hunter’s aircraft settled into a hover over the main square of Qez, a large crowd of astonished civilians had gathered below.
He lowered himself into the center of the square, inducing gasps from the crowd and sending some fleeing in panic. They had never seen a machine such as his before. Wings, wheels, a tail section, the long, sleek body bulked up by Z weapons and bomb racks— this was an alien craft to them.
Hunter touched the ground, felt only a slight electric jolt, then popped his canopy and climbed out. The crowd took a collective step backward. They had seen visitors from space before, both welcome and unwelcome, but no one who looked like him. In a place where bald was beautiful — at least for the male population — and thin wasn’t exactly in, Hunter’s overgrown mane and lean physique marked him as different right away. But after bouncing around the Outer Fringe for the past few months, he was used to this reaction by now.
He scanned the faces in the crowd, trying to locate a high-ranking officer or someone in authority. Finally a man in a bright red uniform pushed his way through, followed by several heavily armed soldiers. Hunter saluted the officer, then held his hands out in front of him palms up, the traditional gesture of peace in the Galaxy. The officer looked wary but signaled his men to lower their weapons.
A fierce barrage of X-beam fire hit the north wall not a second later, sending the rest of the civilians scattering.
“We need to go somewhere and talk!” Hunter yelled to the officer in the midst of the confusion. “Right now.”
He was rushed to the nearby war room, dodging all kinds of flying debris as the Nakkz started pounding the city’s walls again. Their army might have been stalled, along with their supertank, but apparently this was not going to stop their long-range gunners from pummeling the city while their main forces regrouped.
About a dozen Home Guard officers were in the war room praying over a well-worn battle map when Hunter walked in. There were also some very nervous-looking civilians on hand, no doubt part of the city’s government. Every head turned and looked up at him as he entered, their eyes a mixture of weariness and surprise.
“This is the man who stopped the enemy’s attack,” the escorting officer told the group. “He has a fabulous machine parked right outside.”
Their faces brightened — he was undoubtedly their hero of the moment. But Hunter already knew that these were not the people he was looking for. Just like every other person he’d met out on the Fringe, they looked different from him. He felt no spark, no immediate sense of kinship with them.
His heart sank.
Another dead end.
Finally Poolinex, the top Home Guard officer, stepped forward. He thanked Hunter profusely for his actions above the battlefield just minutes before, but then asked the question that was on everyone’s mind: “Just who the hell are you?”
At least Hunter had an answer prepared. After doing this for the past five months, he was used to people asking him who the hell he was. So he launched into his standard reply, even as the walls of the war room began shaking from X-gun blasts, and plaster and dust began falling down around their heads. This moon and its mother planet are part of an Imperial structure run from Earth, blah, blah, blah…Hunter could recite this stuff in his sleep these days. Even under these dire circumstances, the words spewed out of him automatically.
Not that it made any difference. At the moment, the defenders of Qez had bigger problems than someone falling out of the sky and telling them that they were part of a wondrously immense Empire. In a few hours there might not be any Qez or Zazu-Zazu for the Empire to worry about.
So Hunter decided to pass over most of the “we are back” crap and cut right to the bone.
“I represent the Fourth Empire — let’s leave the details for later,” he said. “I mean, you’re obviously in a bind here.”
“How true,” Poolinex said, looking back at the map. “For even though you stopped those devils in their tracks, it was just a temporary solution. I expect they’ll batter us with artillery all night — and at first light, they’ll attack again. And once that army starts to move, and the monster tank as well… they’ll be unstoppable.”
All eyes were now locked on Hunter.
“So you’re from this Fourth Empire, did you call it?” one officer asked. “Does that mean you can help us?”
Another officer asked excitedly: “You have a warship in orbit? Troops that can come to our aid?”
Hunter felt his heart sink even farther. Yes, he had a ship. The AeroVox was parked up in orbit. And true, it was a warship and outfitted to carry a ten-thousand-man division of heavily armed X-Forces special operations soldiers.
But…
“Well, I do have a ship,” he finally confirmed.
The knot of men tightened around him.
“Yes… but?” Poolinex asked him.