To have and to hold, p.1
To Have and to Hold, page 1
To Have and to Hold
Book Nine of the Four Horsemen Sagas
By
Zane Voss
PUBLISHED BY: Seventh Seal Press
Copyright © 2022 Zane Voss
All Rights Reserved
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Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”
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For a listing of all the Four Horsemen books, go to:
https://chriskennedypublishing.com/the-four-horsemen-books/
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Cover Design by Brenda Mihalko
Original Art by Ricky Ryan
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Dedication
For my Mom and Dad. I can’t say thank you enough for all the time you spent reading to me. I wouldn’t be here without you. And for my wife, Anna, who could not have been more supportive of my crazy hobby.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 28
About Zane Voss
Excerpt from Book One of The Last Marines
Excerpt from Book One of the Echoes of Pangaea
Excerpt from Book One of the Abner Fortis, ISMC
Excerpt from Book One of the Chimera Company
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Prologue
Red Diamond Extraction Facility
Efmaht
Treeta padded silently across the plush crimson carpet, every step serving to fan the flames of her contempt for her pampered employers. Her light-gray fur was neatly groomed, lightly spotted with darker gray and two tan stripes trailing down the back of her neck onto her narrow shoulders. Like others of her species she wore tinted goggles, shielding her sensitive eyes. Eyes which now narrowed in anticipation.
She maintained a measured pace as two hulking, purple Oogar peeled off at the outer doors. The two bodyguards assumed positions flanking the lavishly decorated opening. They cared not one whit for the two Lumar who had occupied those spaces previously.
One of the four-armed security guards squawked comically as the Oogar muscled him out of the way. The other tried to resist and earned a smashing blow to the head. He collapsed in a boneless heap against the priceless wood paneling, unconscious or dead, it didn’t matter to the Oogar or their Veetanho principal.
She allowed no hint of satisfaction to cross her furred face as she passed through the arched entryway toward the open doors of the conference room. Like other Veetanho, she was much shorter than most sophonts, making the portal seem enormously out of proportion. Somewhat ironic considering her hosts were no larger than she.
Her stride never faltered, even if she felt as if she was wading through the carpeting toward the spacious room ahead. That opulence alone was a statement to anyone paying attention. Caroons were a small species, although a little larger than Veetanho, and were well adapted to living underground in close confines. The mine administration facility was positively airy by comparison to any other Caroon building Treeta had ever visited, an obvious sign of the self-esteem in which the owners held themselves.
Her current employer and his staff stood arrayed inside the conference room, awaiting her arrival. She had made a study of Caroon body language prior to taking this contract, and Da’randel was more than a little discomfited at the display of dominance by her bodyguards. Her eyes hardened behind her tinted goggles.
This negotiation will be satisfying, indeed.
The long-eared, long-nosed Caroons faced the doorway draped in floor-length robes dyed in rich shades of purple and crimson. The taller male mine administrator and his shorter female assistant were covered in elaborate jewelry replete with gold, silver, and gemstones. The female, Va’alezia, the only one who Treeta believed actually worked for her riches, wore more subdued clothing and jewelry than her superior but was still ostentatious compared to almost any other being Treeta had ever met. And she had met many fabulously wealthy beings in her time. Even their translation pendants were lavishly decorated in gold and semi-precious gems.
The third Caroon, another male, wasn’t as weighed down with precious metals as his companions but chose to display his wealth in an even more ostentatious manner. A masterfully crafted earring dangled from his right ear. The device looked to be made of delicate, intertwining chains of gold, silver, and platinum holding a gem set in palladium. The metals alone were worth thousands of credits but were nothing compared with the radiant glory of the centimeter-wide red diamond encased within.
Red diamonds of that size were rarely used to make mere credit chits. No, these jewels were reserved for physical exchanges of funds between sector branches of the Trade Guild. The fact that an unknown, unremarkable Caroon assistant mine administrator wore one hanging from his ear disgusted Treeta.
The flamboyant displays of wealth through the administration building caused Treeta’s blood to boil every time she visited the edifice. But as with every other visit, she controlled herself, and not even a whisker twitch betrayed her true feelings. To Treeta, wealth was only a tool. An extremely useful tool, but a tool nonetheless. A tool in the pursuit of the only thing that really mattered. Power.
Her short stride brought her through the doors into the opulent conference room. The table occupying the center of the long room was a single beautifully polished slab cut from a native Vashe tree, another statement of incredible wealth. The high metal content of the trees made them ruinously expensive to cut and shape. The legs of the weighty table were intricately carved in flowing designs incorporating branches, leaves, and a host of fruits.
If Treeta were to guess, she would say that the carvings were made by Fasheeli artisans imported by the Caroon at enormous expense. The tiny rodents were even smaller than a Flatar and were renowned for their ability to create intricate carvings and inscriptions, along with a host of other fine luxury goods like the jewelry festooning the Caroon. The Fasheeli were a quiet, unobtrusive race rarely found off their home world. Their low birth rate made them uninterested in expansion to other planets, so the fact that the Caroon coerced them to decorate this table was yet another display of fabulous wealth.
Treeta came to a stop and gave a slight bow to the mine administrator. Appearances must be maintained, after all.
“Commander Treeta, it is wonderful to meet with you, as always! Please, come in. May I offer you refreshment?” The Caroon, positively bubbling with enthusiasm, swept his arm around to take in the side table near the door, covered in a bewildering variety of containers filled with food and drink from many different worlds.
“My thanks, Administrator, but not at the moment.”
“Well, please let us know if you reconsider; we are happy to accommodate whatever your needs may be.”
“My thanks again, Administrator.”
“Yes, well, would you take a seat? We shall begin at once. I know you have much to do maintaining the defense of our humble facility.”
“Of course, I look forward to our discussion.” Treeta once again suppressed her distaste of the Caroon as she stepped to one side of the table and moved toward the Veetanho seat that had been placed in the middle. As with almost all furniture in the Union, the table was somewhat high for a Veetanho, so she was forced to climb up into the seat as her hosts sat in their chairs across the extravagant table.
The auburn-furred Caroon administrator twitched his ears and clasped his hands once again, waiting until his companions had seated themselves to either side. With the table being at near eye level for Treeta, she had noticed the interesting fact that the administrator’s chair appeared to be several centimeters higher than the others, leaving him taller than anyone else at the table.
As everyone settle
“Commander Treeta, as we have expressed to you on many occasions, we have been thrilled with your company’s performance on your garrison contract here on Efmaht. The past three years have passed in absolute security with your company protecting our operations, and we could not be more pleased!”
Da’randel paused, as if waiting for some acknowledgement from Treeta. She inclined her head marginally to the mine executive but made no reply.
“Yes, ah, quite pleased, indeed. Although your company did not have the opportunity to earn a combat bonus on this annual contract, the board of directors has met on this subject and has decided to award your company a performance bonus of 5% of your last quarter’s payment as our thanks!”
Treeta blinked in surprise. That was unusually generous for the Caroon and his coterie of directors. They were frugal to a fault and never paid an extra credit for anything. The administrator’s charity was an entirely new development, and at a contract renegotiation meeting no less.
Interesting behavior…
“That is generous of you, Administrator, my company greatly appreciates the bonus.” Another incline of the head conveyed her gratitude and allowed her a few moments to think through the implications.
There must be a reason for the bonus, as they have no cause to think we will not renew the contract. That means they have some new motivation to continue protecting the mines and processing facility. A new rich vein of red diamonds? There could only be a few reasons for this kind of behavior, and a new strike in the mountains seems most likely. So, the rumors were correct. Excellent.
Before she allowed her head to rise, a tiny smile crossed her lips.
Administrator Da’randel beamed across the table at Treeta, his long snout slightly open to display a flash of his teeth, with his tall ears rapidly twitching to and fro. The tall Caroon was normally a calm negotiator; his current mood struck Treeta as nearly comical. He was going far out of his way to appease the Veetanho, nearly shouting his nervousness to the silent room. He mindlessly twitched his fingers against the stone-hard Vashe wood, and the disjointed bouncing of his female companion’s left leg only added to Treeta’s growing conviction as to their purpose. Da’randel gave one last rapid twitch of his lightly tufted ears and picked up the cream-colored slate in his clawed fingers.
“We have also spent a great deal of time discussing your company’s pending contract renewal, and we would like to make this offer to you. I believe that you will find it quite generous, with substantial increases in the base amount of the contract, the typical language on the damage to diamond processing equipment, and,” here the Caroon stumbled over his words and wrung out his hands before continuing, “…ah, a small consideration for, um, yourself.”
This Caroon is trying to bribe me? There must have been a strike of unequaled magnitude to prompt this sort of behavior.
Da’randel slid the slate across the table to the commander of the Erith Mercenary Company. In the otherwise silent chamber, the rasping of the slate echoed the inaudible desperation of her current employers for her to sign the contract.
Treeta allowed no trace of her pleasure at the Caroon’s discomfiture to show and instead looked down at the contract, noting its value at a small fortune. But only a small one. She had much larger goals in mind.
Her gaze lingered on the slate just long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable. Her shaded green eyes rose and met those of Da’randel for a moment, then she reached out a paw and delicately slid the slate back toward the Caroon with a single finger.
“Unfortunately, Administrator, the Erith Mercenary Company will not be renewing our contract for another year. We have decided to seek other employment for the foreseeable future. You will have to find… other means of protection.” Treeta couldn’t help but let a measure of menace seep into her silky sweet tone and was rewarded when the administrator’s jaw dropped open wide, giving him an absurdly Zuul-like expression.
The male assistant blinked rapidly several times, trying to process the news. The female administrator jerked as if someone had struck her, staring at Treeta in horrified understanding.
Treeta pushed her seat back from the table and dropped to the plush carpet, knees bending to absorb the impact. She took a measured pace back toward the doorway before the administrator was able to summon the wits to respond to her.
“But, but, Commander Treeta! Your company has been our protector for almost four years now! You personally laid out all the defenses, the road network, the sensor net, all of it!”
The petite Veetanho didn’t deign to respond to Da’randel’s panicked bleating and only slowed to wait as the automatic doors opened to allow her to depart.
“Commander, you know every detail about this facility, everything!”
Her pace slowed to a stop, and a cruel smile twisted her thin lips. She slowly turned to look over her shoulder at the three Caroons and finally acknowledged the horror in their expressions. She no longer tried to hide the dark exultation in her voice.
“Yes.”
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Chapter 1
Little Tripoli
Bartertown, Karma
Major Curtis Adams scowled as his finger left a messy streak of tzatziki sauce across the face of his slate. He carefully laid his gyro down on the plate to keep it from spilling the delicious contents from the enfolding pita and reached for a napkin. He carefully wiped his hands before picking up the slate and cleaning the creamy cucumber sauce off the screen.
Satisfied with the clean display, he set the slate down and returned to the savory Greek sandwich. He’d been skeptical two weeks ago when Tech Sergeant Ronnald Vasquez, one of his senior NCOs, told him about the little place in Bartertown. The lanky, dark-haired Venezuelan was about the last person Curtis would have thought to be fanatically devoted to Greek food, but Technician Mitchell had told him that Vasquez had eaten at Little Tripoli at least seven times in the past two weeks.
He glanced up at the raucous laughter from the next table over, the half dozen members of Rawlins’ Raiders laughing as the earnest Tech Sergeant Vasquez extolled the virtues of Little Tripoli’s gyros. He suppressed a grin as Vasquez vigorously defended his position that the Greek place held the crown of the best Human restaurant off Earth. Based on the following Little Tripoli had in Rawlins’ Raiders, Vasquez didn’t need to belabor his point, but continued anyway. The mercs all sported shoulder patches on their grey undress uniform jackets reading “Beans, Bombs, and Bullets,” the motto of Rawlins’ Raiders’ Support Group.
“He’s sure committed to this place, ain’t he?” remarked one of Adams’ companions, Lieutenant Daniel Prater. The older man was of average height, with an unruly shock of curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. Prater joined the mercenary profession late in life after his trucking business back on Earth had gone under. The fifty-something logistics wizard had immediately stepped in to overhaul the Raiders’ improvised and ad hoc supply system. Although Curtis quietly resented Prater’s ability to grow a full head of dark hair, he continually gave thanks for the day the older man had walked into his office on Earth for an interview.
“He is that,” Curtis mumbled around a mouthful of gyro. His habitual raspy voice, a legacy from smoke inhalation during a battle on Ksshtah years ago, was rougher than normal due to the zesty spices, but he wasn’t complaining. The tall, balding major growled under his breath as he lost the battle against the weak-willed sandwich; pieces of tzatziki-covered meat and toppings tumbled onto the plate with a splatter.
