Capture Death (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 20) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Kurtherian Gambit

  Dedication

  Legal

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Author's Notes

  Seven Sons

  Social Links

  Series List

  CAPTURE DEATH

  The Kurtherian Gambit Book 20

  By Michael Anderle

  A part of

  The Kurtherian Gambit Universe

  Written and Created

  by Michael Anderle

  The Kurtherian Gambit Universe

  (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are

  Copyright (c) 2015 - 2017 by Michael Anderle and LMPBN Publishing.

  DEDICATION

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  To Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  To Live The Life We Are

  Called.

  CAPTURE DEATH

  The Kurtherian Gambit 20 Team

  Beta Editor / Readers

  Bree Buras (Aussie Awesomeness)

  Tom Dickerson (The man)

  S Forbes (oh yeah!)

  Dorene Johnson (US Navy (Ret) & DD)

  Dorothy Lloyd (Teach you to ask…Teacher!)

  Diane Velasquez (Chinchilla lady & DD)

  JIT Beta Readers

  Sarah Weir

  Kimberly Boyer

  Joshua Ahles

  Micky Cocker

  James Caplan

  John Findlay

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Larry Omans

  Paul Westman

  Veronica Torres

  John Ashmore

  Thomas Ogden

  If I missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editors

  Stephen Russell

  Lynne Stiegler

  Thank you to the following Special Consultants

  for CAPTURE DEATH

  Jeff Morris - US Army - Asst Professor Cyber-Warfare, Nuclear Munitions (Active)

  CAPTURE DEATH (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2017 Michael T. Anderle

  Cover by Jeff Brown (http://jeffbrowngraphics.com)

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  Internal Artwork © 2017 Michael T. Anderle Drawn by Eric Quigley

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, December 2017

  The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2017 by Michael T. Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.

  CHAPTER ONE

  QBS Shinigami, In Space, Location Unknown

  The darkness was enveloping. The woman was transfixed in her nightmare, and the raw emotions roared out of the darkness and pummeled her body. She was twitching, half-frozen, half-thrashing against unfathomable pain as her raw nerves reacted to the subconscious agony.

  WAKE UP, BETHANY ANNE! TOM yelled through their link.

  His friend continued to thrash, unable to hear his screams as he sought to locate the places he could try to take over her neuro-transmissions.

  She was beating the hell out of the bed.

  >>This mattress is going to be sub-optimal after this.<< ADAM commented.

  You mean it’s going to be fucked, TOM corrected.

  >>You seem to be using more of Bethany Anne’s colloquialisms lately.<<<br />
  Yes, I’m cursing a lot more, TOM admitted. After this long as her closest organic friend, she has rubbed off on me. I like to think I’ve provided a modicum of restraint and mathematical understanding in exchange.

  Bethany Anne’s arm swung, slamming into the bulkhead behind her head and denting it.

  Well, shit. TOM mentally ground his teeth. I hate this.

  >>What?<< ADAM asked.

  BABA YAGA, WAKE YOUR ASS UP! TOM yelled through their connection.

  The thrashing slowed over the next minute.

  >>That is rather confusing and disconcerting.<< ADAM noted.

  No shit! TOM sighed. I’m concerned we are losing her, ADAM.

  >>She is still there, TOM, but based on my research into multiple personality disorders, she isn’t a classic case. She chose to switch to Baba Yaga, for better or worse.<<<br />
  Yeah, you can do all of the research you want, but we need to catch these seven Kurtherians or I could lose my best friend.

  >>Her mental waves are coming out of REM, so she will be with us in just a moment.<<<br />
  What the hell just happened? Baba Yaga’s red eyes slammed opened and she looked around, taking in her room before speaking aloud. “Shinigami, turn on lights twenty percent.” The cabin’s lights came on and she looked at the bulkhead before looking at her fist. “Ohhhh, that left a mark.”

  I’d say.

  “Still wondering what happened here.” Baba Yaga turned over and looked around the room for additional damage before she made an ugly face. “This mattress is trashed.”

  >>That is an understatement.<<<br />
  I’d say you probably produced the equivalent of a nuclear explosion in the Etheric. If you had been on a planet it would have been a challenge to hide the effect. I’ve no idea what it did throughout the dimension itself.

  Baba Yaga reached down to the end of the mattress and started rolling up what was left. “Shame the mattress didn’t come with a warranty.”

  You aren’t listening to me.

  “I’m listening, TOM,” Baba Yaga admitted as she stripped the ripped sheets. “I’m just not responding to you. That’s different.” She padded out of her cabin carrying the remains of her mattress and linens. “Teach my ass to thrash around with claws on a cloth mattress.”

  “We aren’t on a planet, nor are there probably any Kurtherians within a hundred thousand miles at the moment.” She took a right, and five steps later there was a place in the wall to shove the ruined mess so the ship could consume the debris and recycle it. She walked back to her cabin. “So what’s the big deal?”

  TOM’s voice came over the speakers. “If you don’t handle the reasons behind these nightmares, you are going to scream loudly enough for something nasty to find us.”

  Baba Yaga chuckled as she stepped back into her suite. “Like what, some creature large enough to eat our sh
ip?”

  “Yes, that’s a possibility.”

  Planet N’Var, Non-allied Space, Industrial Shipping City of Cleerk, Two Blocks from the Spaceport

  The alien had three legs, three eyes, three tentacles coming out of his head, and a nose about three feet long. The three eyes looked from Leath to Leath.

  And counted seven.

  “No way,” Jermom shook his head. One of his tentacles waved above his head, pointing at the Leath in front of him. “I cannot hide you, Levelot.”

  “Why not?” asked Levelot, the prime Leath of the Phraim-el Clan, as she looked down at the alien. “Our coin is good, even for someone like you.”

  The alien looked across his desk at the prime Leath in front of him, then one of his eyes slid quickly to the left when two hushed voices hissed at each other under the hood.

  From the same Leath.

  All three eyes focused back on Levelot. “I know who you are.” His other two tentacles lifted as they pointed to the seven aliens in front of him. “You were the gods of the Leath.”

  “Then you should know to fear us, you insufferable little slug,” The male Leath who had introduced himself as ‘Behome’t’ snarled.

  “I know why I fear the Witch of the Empire. She has killed many, including your people. Why should I fear you more when it is obvious you are running from her?”

  Behome’t ground out, “We run from no alien. We are—”

  Levelot cut him off. “Looking for a place to rest for a moment. Our people decided they would like to try another way, and after we allow them the chance to live with their decision for a year or two they will again be receptive to moving forward on the path which—”

  A tentacle went up in a “stop” motion. “Won’t happen. You will be dead, and so will I.” He looked at the aliens. “Do you have any idea what the Witch of the Empire did back on Alchemist 441?” There was no recognition in the Leaths’ eyes as Jermom turned his head and spit into a dish on the floor before turning back.

  “Tell us.” Levelot pulled her robes tighter. “Let me understand why you fear this one being so much.”

  “Me?” Jermom chuckled. “It isn’t just me, Levelot. If the Empress sends her Witch after you,” his tentacles pointed at them again, “and yes, she has sent her after every one of you, you either find a way to disappear forever or you die when she finds you.”

  His tentacle stabbed a couple controls on his desk and a video screen blinked into existence in an orange frame, displaying a newscast showing a bunker of some sort. Black smoke billowed into the green sky as blue flames licked the air. “This was a group of Skaine that got in the way of some of her Rangers. They called the Empress last year, and she sent the Witch.”

  A tentacle stabbed the hologram. “This was a very heavily defended base that most police would have negotiated with, or called in an air strike or kinetic round to deal with.”

  “Kinetic wouldn’t have worked,” Levelot murmured. “You can see the berms and support effort.”

  Jermom eyed the Leath; she wasn’t as clueless as he had thought. “You’re right, it wouldn’t have.”

  “So,” Levelot looked at him, “how did she rain fire on their base and destroy it?”

  Jermom shut down the newscast. “From the inside. It blew up from the inside and there was only one survivor, a child, and a recording of the radio chatter as they tried to find and kill the intruder.”

  “How many did she have with her?” Behome’t asked.

  Jermom looked at him. “Was I stuttering?” he asked. “There was one! The Witch herself.” He turned his head and spat once again before turning back. “That’s why you seven are wanted criminals that even we don’t want to touch. You are the walking dead, and you aren’t nearly scary enough to stop the Witch.” He cursed a moment. “It’s been what, somewhere around a hundred and fifty years since the Humans took over the Yollins? In that time, only the Leath have stood against them and that was for the greater portion of that time. But,” one of his tenticles stabbed down on his desk before he used it to point back at Levelot. “This is the important part. You are running from them!”

  Silence descended on the room as those in front of Jermom absorbed what he had said.

  “There is no information that cannot be helpful.” Levelot turned to her right. “Terellet, it is time to separate.”

  The Leath who had spoken to itself in two voices looked from Levelot to the alien and back. “Now?”

  “Yes.” Levelot turned back to the alien, whose eyes were growing larger. His tentacles had frozen in the air. She smiled, “You are trying to move and have now figured out you can’t.” The Leath female leaned over the desk and spoke softly. “Baba Yaga may frighten you, but she isn’t the scariest thing in the universe, Jermom. Unfortunately you will only be able to enjoy this knowledge for the next few moments while your body becomes the new home of our dear friend Gorllet.”

  The Leath known as Seventh of the Seven stepped around the side of the crowded room and walked behind the desk. She took off her robe and folded it, laying it on the table.

  “Goodbye, Gorllet. May you make this transfer successfully.” The Leath sat down and reached around the alien, turning its face towards hers.

  “Goodbye, Teret,” the same Leath mouth uttered, albeit in a darker and more sinister voice. “I hope you recognize how patient I’ve been while you hosted me. I will endeavor to remember your graciousness.”

  “So it shall be,” she remarked, again in a female voice as she leaned forward to place her lips on the alien. Her body started convulsing.

  Levelot turned away from the transfer. It would either be successful and they would be eight or it wouldn’t and they would most likely be seven again, but without the burden of a mentally unstable Kurtherian.

  The math didn’t work out when the imaginary number she had to introduce for Gorllet was in the calculations.

  The symmetry was flawed.

  As glass broke behind the desk, Levelot looked at Behome’t and Torik. “We need to do something about that Empiric Witch and her people.” She took a deep breath, “Or we will never be able to rest.” she admitted as she exhaled.

  QBS Shinigami

  Baba Yaga halted in her room, her eyes narrowed in concern thinking of her comment. “Shinigami?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are there creatures that can eat this ship?” the ink-black woman asked.

  “Of course,” the EI admitted. “Didn’t you know this?”

  “Well,” Baba Yaga thought about the answer as she resumed walking through her outer room to her bedroom and past her bed to find a new set of linens, “I guess I’d heard rumors, but I never thought about running into one of the beasts.” Her voice was muffled as she stuck her head into a storage chest. “Are there any around?”

  “None that we can register,” the EI admitted.

  Baba Yaga straightened from the chest and tossed the new set of linens on the bed, then walked out of her bedroom, through her suite, and into the hallway. She stopped and looked down the hallway in both directions. “Where are the spare mattresses?”

  “Deck two, supplies area. There are only three,” Shinigami reminded her.

  Baba Yaga started down the hallway. “Remember to resupply when we dock somewhere that can provide a decent product. I don’t want some lousy lumpy mattress,” she grumped as she took the stairs down a level. She jumped down the last couple of steps and continued along the hallway. “How many large things are out there?”

  “Are you asking about organic creatures?”

  “Yes,” Baba Yaga answered as she strode toward the supply area.

  “Do you want to know everything that is large enough to hurt this ship, or just those species which can survive in the cold of space as well as hurt this ship?”

  She ran a hand along the bulkhead in thought. “Cold of space and hurt this ship.”

  “There are over twenty-two confirmed organic-type creatures which could hurt this ship. There a
re a few which can move through space, and others which tend to congregate in one area.”

  “And do what?” Baba Yaga asked as she stepped through the supplies room’s door. She looked around the large room and found the rolled-up mattresses, then grabbed one before heading back towards her cabin. “Dock me the cost of this.”

  ADAM ignored the command. She had already paid for everything.

  “Do we have any research on these behemoths?” she asked as she stepped through her cabin door and walked to her bedroom. She slid off the wrap which kept the mattress rolled up and grabbed the sheets, then laid the mattress down and started making the bed. “You would have thought the future had a better solution for sheets than…sheets,” she muttered.

  >>There are multiple types which allow you to use the product and eject it into space, where it will disintegrate in time.<<<br />
  That’s not necessarily better, ADAM, just more convenient. What happens if a ship hits one of those items that was tossed out? Baba Yaga asked as she tucked in the first sheet.

  >>The mathematical chance of that happening is rather small.<<<br />
  I’d rather not be the first to explode a ship due to my laziness.

  “There are,” Shinigami replied to her earlier question, “twelve separate confirmed engagements between organics and ships. There are hundreds of suspected encounters which lack proof.”

  “What proof do we have?” she asked as she tossed the pillow on her bed. A video popped up on the wall to her left, and she took a moment to sit on her bed. “Wish I had popcorn.”

  The view on the screen was of space, and there were three ships. One looked like a warship about half the size of the ArchAngel II, but it obviously was not as advanced. It had been hurt, but not too badly. One of the two smaller ships had been broken in half.