Chapter Fourteen
Outlaws and Granny…
Our new office on the space station has three levels. The top level contains our offices, two interrogation rooms, a control room equipped with weapons and communication consoles and several old-fashioned cells with bars.
The second level holds the crew quarters, rec room and a mess hall. The third level was used for storage and has space for a hydroponic garden. Dad loves his fresh veggies.
Butterflies danced in my stomach as I opened the office for the very first time; sadly, alone and with no fanfare. Kaelen and Dad were handling a bar fight, and Xyler was attending Jaxor’s first blood ceremony on Sariel’s ship.
The minute I released the door locks; five thin warriors dressed like Genghis Khan wannabes walked in. Their lacquered red body armor gleamed under the lights. Funky domed helmets with antlers covered their heads. Their amber eyes glowed with a fanatical light.
Gita skittered up to my head. “Why wear funny hats.”
“Don’t know.” I stepped up to the front counter. “Can I help you?”
The warriors rhythmically pounded their feet against the floor. “Waewae tama-nur-ra. Waewae tama-nur-ra. Waewae tama-nur-ra.”
What the hell? “Do you need to make a report?”
“Waewae tama-nur-ra,” the Genghis Khan wannabes shouted and broke into an acrobatic dance with their swords.
For a moment, I watched in open-mouthed astonishment. Was I being pranked? “ Kaelen, we have visitors. Unusual visitors.” I flashed him an image of the crazy dancers.
Kaelen groaned. “Death Bringers. As soon as we get the bar fight under control, I will teleport us over. Keep them distracted until we arrive.”
“Okey-dokey.” I engaged my armor to the neck.
“Ka nate whakatu. Tutu ngarahu. Waewae,” the warriors shouted, stomping their feet to some silent beat. They stopped abruptly and pointed their swords at us.
“They silly,” Gita commented.
“Yep, let’s see how they handle my dance routine.” I clapped loudly and hooted. “Awesome moves, but I can do better.” I borrowed the Māori’s fierce tongue thrusts and added a touch of hip-hop. Smack. Clap. Stomp. Stomp. Clap. I spun, did a couple of roundhouse kicks and broke into an Irish jig.
The warriors pounded the floor with their feet again. “Ka nate whakatu tutu ngarahu. Waewae.”
I went through a series of karate kicks and punches and finished with an energetic cowboy polka. This was kinda fun.
“We proclaim our promise to vanquish the vile destroyers,” The warriors yelled mentally, and in unison no less, as they hopped over and around their twirling swords. “ Waewae tama-nur-ra. We are the death bringers”
“Good to know.” I edged away from a spinning sword. “Who are you planning on killing?”
One warrior stepped forward. “You. Mistress Lilkee wants your head.”
“Me? Why?” I mentally punched a warrior as he attempted to climb over the counter. “I’ve never met Mistress Lilkee.”
“You are a vile destroyer,” the warrior answered.
I dodged a sword thrust. “What exactly am I destroying?”
“Your foul blood will dilute the purity of the Coletti race.”
“Uh-huh” And I thought Earth was full of weirdos. “Glue them to the wall, Gita.”
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
“Tell me where Mistress Lilkee is, and I’ll keep Gita from sucking you dry.”
“Ka nate whakatu. Tutu ngarahu. Waewae,” the warriors shouted.
“Glue their mouths shut too.”
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
Splat!
The front doors slid open and an elderly Bjarke female walked in. Her purple hair was streaked with silver and her pieced together armor barely covered her. She took one look at my webbed-up prisoners and a feral smile formed on her mouth. “I want the dispatcher job.”
Gotta say. Life as a galactic cop would never be boring. “Do you? Let’s talk.”