Gilrox the Mercenary’s Rules for Retirement

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Know when to walk away

My mentor told me once, not long before he disappeared, that there would come a day when I would have to leave the mercenary’s life. He said, “You’re gonna stop doing this, or you’re gonna die doing this. The most important rule of this business is knowing when to walk away, Gilrox.”

I have a vague memory of laughing at this, because at the time, I was a hotheaded youngling who couldn’t imagine ever not being a mercenary.

What would I do? For me, there was no other life.

There was literally nothing else for me and walking away from the only thing I’d ever been good at was simply unimaginable. Earning credits didn’t hurt either.

That was a long time ago, but the words pounded in my head. He’d said I’d know, and the knowing wasn’t in the body, but in the gut. And that if I didn’t listen when my gut told me to quit, all those credits I earned would be wasted on a corpse.

I suppose, thinking back on it now, I hadn’t fully considered the aging process on the body.

I thought about it now, though, as I trudged through the wreckage that I and about fifty others, a combination of mercenaries like myself and hired guards, had just wreaked on an ancient alien forest. In front of us, a pristine shuttle, clean, iridescent and white, had just touched down.

It stood in sharp contrast to the charred, ruined landscape.

There, we would scan our chips, and credits would be deposited into our accounts.

Not the full amount, but still a good sum.

My boots were coated in ash. My footfalls crunched on the still-smoldering remains of ancient trees that had been soaring giants just yesterday.

The stench of plasma, fire, smoke, and charred things was familiar to me, but today there was something different about it.

It smelled repulsive. It stank in a way that made my stomach turn.

I had never liked jobs that involved destroying nature.

I took them, of course, because I went where the guild sent me, but I didn’t like it.

A mercenary’s life afforded few scruples.

I spent mine refusing to hurt innocents, children especially.

If my clients considered them collateral damage, I wouldn’t hurt them.

Even had it written into my guild contract.

There were enemies, and there were bystanders.

But how was this forest not a bystander?

It had been filled with creatures the day before. How were any of them not innocent?

Our objective had been straightforward: find the drug growers hiding in the forest and exterminate them, but preserve all the little purple mushrooms that were growing in this forest. It had turned into a battle, of course.

The growers fought back and, in the end, a fair number of growers died, and no one got the little purple mushrooms.

Pitrid, they were called, and they refused to grow anywhere but in old forests like this one where the soil and humidity were perfect.

They could be distilled into the most addictive drug currently known to the quadrant.

It sold on the black market for obscene sums. My client was just another cartel hoping to cash in.

Today my side had won. I would get paid.

Next week, I could be fighting for another syndicate, and those who were about to deposit credits in my account could be my enemy.

I stifled a wince and tried to ignore the soreness in my back.

And my knee. It had been rebuilt after a solid blaster hit three years ago and had never stopped hurting since.

My steps slowed. Fleck, that smell was absolutely rank.

I looked around to see my fellow guild mercenaries walking in the same direction as me.

Most of them were younger, of course. Some in their prime, and some so green it was painful to look at them.

Unlike myself, they were not yet covered in scars.

Their horns—those that had them—were intact.

Their minds were not yet filled with memories they would never be able to erase.

And none of them seemed bothered by the smell.

“Hey, old-timer,” one of the new ones called out to me. “You’re moving a little slow. What happened? Forget to change your diaper?”

I could hear elation in the voice of the young mercenary and knew exactly what he felt. The rush of victory. The high of conquest. I remembered the feeling, but it wasn’t even a whisper in my mind.

I was about to suggest the young one check his own diaper, but the words died on my tongue when my gaze caught on a small, trembling ball of fur trying to wedge itself between the husk of a fallen tree and the ground.

Curious, I deviated from my path and went to whatever it was.

As I approached, I saw a small creature.

It had a long body and four legs, with a pointy snout and upright ears that rotated back and flattened against its skull.

What was left of its fur was dark purple.

I crouched down for a closer look and it hissed, made a pitiful squeaking noise, and curled into a tight ball.

I didn’t know what species this was. I’d never been to this planet before, but it was one of the few survivors from the wreckage we had just created.

Without thinking, I stooped down and scooped it up into my two hands.

It was an unwise thing to do. It could’ve bitten me, but I saw raw, angry burns on its small paws, areas where the fur had been burned away completely, and something in my chest just kind of broke apart.

Liquid black eyes stared up at me before it made another pitiful noise and shoved its face into the palm of my hand, as if readying itself for the worst. I looked up to see those young mercenaries laughing at me again.

A year ago—no, much longer than that—I’d have taken offense.

Maybe I would’ve challenged them. I definitely would’ve won, but I just didn’t care anymore.

Let them laugh. If they were lucky to live as long as I had, one day they would be standing in my place, remembering a conversation with a long-gone mentor and feeling the ground shift beneath their feet.

A little voice whispered in my head. It said: You don’t have to keep doing this. Walk away.

And so, I did. I tucked the little creature into the crook of my arm.

A quick glance around revealed absolutely nowhere for this thing to live.

There was some forest left in the distance, but it was unlikely this little creature would survive there with its injuries.

This forest would grow back, but not in time to give the creature a home. I’d have to find it a new one.

I resumed my pace toward the shuttle. It looked disgustingly pristine against the ruined landscape.

As I got closer, I saw a figure standing near the open hatch, holding a device.

It was an android, scanning the chips of each mercenary and hired guard who approached, in spotless white armor that matched the exact hue and shine of the shuttle.

I looked down at my scarred, soot-blackened hands.

My mentor was right. My gut was telling me that I was finished with the mercenary’s life. My body was done. Most of all, my mind was done, and if I was being honest with myself, I’d been done for a while and had been too scared to admit it.

I would have to rewrite the rules of my life.

Start from scratch. Learn to live differently.

But there was one thing I was sure about, and that was this: I didn’t want to die on some flecking drug field.

The little purple animal pressed its face deeper in the crook of my elbow as I arrived before the shuttle.

I held out my wrist, where the credit chip was embedded in my gauntlet armor.

The smooth, faceless android did not acknowledge the creature in my arms. It pressed its device to my wrist, and a chime sounded, indicating the credits had been transferred.

That sound was the loudest thing I had ever heard. Like a closing bell. The last payment I’d ever receive as a mercenary.

I turned away from the iridescent shuttle toward a larger, more battered transport vehicle that would deliver us all back to our ships.

Not all of us owned one. We had to work and save for them, but I had my own, and she was impressive, if I did say so myself.

A few fighters gave me strange looks as I boarded the transport with the shivering little creature in my arms, but most were nursing their own wounds.

“Look what the old-timer found,” said that irritating young mercenary. “A new pet? Or did you catch your supper?”

I sat down in an unoccupied section of seats, noticing that there were a few less of us leaving than had arrived. I tipped my head back, closed my eyes. “Mind your manners, boy,” I murmured. “Might find yourself on someone’s plate one day.”

He said something back, trying to taunt me, but I tuned it out.

My entire body hurt. Every joint, every muscle.

As one of the highest-ranking guild members present, I didn’t have to wait long.

My ship was the first one the transport docked at, and I rose slowly.

No point trying to hide the soreness in my body.

I wasn’t trying to impress these fools, and the other veterans who had been doing this a while didn’t give two flecks about anyone.

The young mercenary smirked as I passed him.

I stepped through the air lock into my ship, the Andromeda, feeling like my world had just tipped over and dumped me on an unfamiliar planet.

I didn’t know the rules of whatever came next.

All I knew was this: I would fight no more.

I had more than enough credits to retire comfortably.

Once, I’d had to take a long break when thirty percent of my skin had to be regenerated and one of my legs reconstructed.

During my convalescence, I spent two months on the resort moon of Sigra Minor and took up fishing.

I loved fishing. Since my home world had been eighty percent water, I was capable of breathing underwater.

Hadn’t used my gills in a long time, but I loved swimming, as a boy.

And reading. Maybe I could find a nice place to fish, put together a little library, and live out the rest of my life without ever picking up a blaster again.

It sounded glorious. A tremble went through my body. The little creature in my arms felt it and lifted its head from the crook of my elbow to blink up at me.

“It’s okay, little one,” I said in the most soothing voice I could muster. “You’re going to be all right.” I was beginning to think it would.

I headed straight for the medbay, which was an essential add-on for any mercenary’s ship, to scan him and see what medical treatments he needed.

It was the least I could do for him. After that, I didn’t know.

I had no idea what would happen next. My mentor’s words, uttered long ago, and likely without realizing how important they were, had probably just saved my life. Know when to walk away, Gilrox.

And so, I did.