Warlord's Property

Chapter 1

Janna

The Kraaj hate me.

Unfortunately for them, the feeling is mutual.

“Here she comes,” a tall Kraaj soldier laughs, his eyes following me as I walk past the sentries. He gives me a mock salute, and then clutches his rifle against his chest as if he were on a parade. The rest of his buddies burst out laughing, their deep voices echoing throughout the camp. “All hail the Queen Bitch!”

“Hello, guys,” I say, offering them a sardonic grin while I give them the finger. That just makes them laugh even harder. What a bunch of annoying assholes. “Missed me?” 

“Never,” one of the silver bastards says. “Just don’t cause any trouble.”

“Me? Never.”

Leaving the soldiers behind, I let out a sigh as I take in the camp in front of me. Stretching for almost two miles, it’s completely packed with tents, the entire place like an ocean of canvas and mismatched fabric. The smell isn’t as terrible as I thought it’d be—as brutal as they might, the Kraaj have ensured sanitary facilities are at hand—but the noise is slightly disorienting. Children run past me, laughing as they run barefoot through the mud, and an elderly lady curses at them. Somewhere ahead, a man shouts repeatedly as he pushes a car filled with jugs of water. Voices, hundreds of them, chattering and laughing and crying all at the same time. 

“Excuse me,” I say, spotting a woman sitting next to a tent’s entrance. She’s busy scrubbing a couple of tattered shirts, and she takes her time to acknowledge me. “Do you know where the medbay is?”

“Why?” Letting go of her clothes, she allows them to fall into the small plastic tub between her legs. “Are you sick? If you are, I don’t have good news for you.”

“I’m not sick. I’m a doctor.”

“A doctor?” She echoes, her tired eyes finally lighting up with interest. “It’s been awhile since a doctor has come here. But I’m afraid there’s no such thing as a medbay in this place. It’s just an old tent with a couple of rusty stretchers. See that pole there, right behind the water pump? That’s where you’ll find your tent.” Then, not entirely sure if she should believe me, she repeats her question. “Are you really a doctor?” 

“Yes, I am,” I patiently reply, throwing in a smile for good measure. I’m used to people doubting my credentials. I look slightly younger than my age, and the smooth lines on my face give me an air of inexperience. But looks can be deceiving—despite my appearance, I spent the last three years working as an ER doctor on the busiest city hospital. That until the Kraaj came knocking. Now, I’m more of an itinerary doctor, hopping around the city while trying to put a bandaid on the massive gash the entire district has turned into. All courtesy of the silver-skinned brutes that have decided to make Luvon their home. 

Once I find the medical tent, I push my way past its flaps to find the three rusty stretchers I had been promised, a worn looking desk and two chairs, one of which no longer has the padding for someone to sit on. In the corner there’s a small trunk, no padlock in sight. State-of-the-art medical facilities in this place, it seems. 

How generous of the Kraaj. 

Doing my best not to dwell on it all, I head straight for the trunk and open it. Inside it there’s a folded white flag with a red cross stamped on it, a symbol meant to let everyone around know a medic has arrived. Heading to the pole with it, I hoist the flag and watch as the breeze makes it dance over the camp.

I spent the next four hours sitting behind the desk, trying to see as many people as possible. I start by keeping a note of their names and tent location, right next to their condition and medication they’ll need, and it doesn’t take long before I have a stack of scribbled pages sitting next to me. And to think that Luvon used to have one of the best healthcare systems in the whole of the IHC. 

Of course, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. As a planet sitting on the border with the Ataxian Coalition, it was inevitable for us to be pulled into this mess of a conflict. The city officials knew it, and they even tried to lobby the IHC for some extra defense. Surprise, surprise—the wheels of the IHC bureaucratic system turned too slowly, and when the first enemy ships cut through the atmosphere and landed...well, suffice to say there wasn’t really anyone around to put up a fight. 

Surprisingly, we weren’t invaded by the Coalition.

No, we were occupied by the Kraaj.

A reclusive space-faring species, they had always been content to remain in their little corner of the universe, bashing each other’s skulls in as they jockeyed for the title of “Meanest Looking Bastard Around”. But as it would turn out, the rise of the Coalition would soon peak the interest of the Kraaj, and they ended up joining the fray. 

Now, what would a reasonable and logic species do when going up against the most dangerous coalition this side of the galaxy has ever seen? Probably try to find allies, or join the Trident Alliance, right? Yeah, that would be the sensible thing to do. 

Of course, the Kraaj are everything but sensible.

The bastards refuse to cooperate with either the IHC or the Trident Alliance, and they seem hellbent on waging war against the Coalition by themselves. Apparently, that’s the glorious thing to do. Now, usually I don’t care much about assholes with a deathwish, but the Kraaj have made it hard to ignore them.

Luvon used to be a resource-abundant colony, a stable oasis at the edge of a galaxy tethering on discord. But that was then—now, we’re slowly turning into a muddy pit as the Kraaj try to make the planet into a forward military base. Buildings have been seized all over the planet, most resources being directed to the Kraaj war effort,  and people have been kicked out of their homes and forced to live in these refugee camps. Sure, there are promises of having all these people relocated, but can we really trust the Kraaj? 

No, we can’t.

In fact, there’s really no one we can trust—Luvon stands alone. 

The Trident Alliance has washed their hands off the whole affair, since they don’t share a border with us, and the IHC doesn’t have the strength to go up against the Kraaj by itself. It seems like everyone has forgotten about us in their grand crusade against the evil Coalition. 

In the end, we’re just collateral.

Raking one hand over my face, I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. My last patient of the day, an elderly woman that should be in an apartment with central heating instead of a squalid refugee camp, hobbles out of the tent while I follow her with my gaze. 

Tired and exhausted, I rise to my feet and head outside to pull the flag down. Then, carrying all my notes under one arm, I make my way through the camp and head back to the entrance. The Kraaj soldiers are still there, listening attentively as one of them tells some bullshit story about what sounds like a made-up battle. I stand there for awhile, listening, and eventually have to clear my throat so that they notice me.

“Look who she is,” the soldier that’s closest to me grins. “Queen—”

“Yeah, it’s the Queen Bitch herself.” Most humans are terrified of the Kraaj—which I think is a sensible thing—but I have little patience for their antics. Whenever they sling shit my way, I’m always happy to return it. Of course, that has earned me a bit of a reputation among the soldiers. 

“I’m going to need this by tomorrow,” I continue, pushing my notes into the soldier’s hands. “And you’ll have to double supplies for the week. A lot of people in here are showing signs of malnutrition.” 

“What is this?” He grunts, looking at my papers as if they were a detailed inventory of all the insulting things I’d like to call them. “Do I look like a secretary, woman?” 

“Spare me the attitude,” I snap back at him. “I need those things taken care of.”

“And I need to be District Chief.” Looking straight into my eyes, he crumples all of my notes in his hands. Then, with a hint of a smile on his lips, he opens his hands and allows the bunched up papers to drop into a dirty puddle. “Now get out of here before I—”

I don’t let him finish his sentence.

Cocking my arm back, I send my fist flying in a straight line, only stopping when I feel my fingers crash against the bastard’s nose. Granted, this will probably hurt me more than him, but still. 

“What the—?” Blinking, he looks at me, his face turning into a mask of surprise and confusion. The other guards start laughing like madmen, some of them stomping into the mud with their boots, leaning over as they grab their bellies. The one I hit, though, doesn’t look to share the other’s amusement. “Now you did it, you little fucking—”

Sigh.

Here we go.

Moving fast, I duck under the soldier’s arm as he tries to slap me. I reach for his belt with both my hands and, pulling as hard as I can, manage to yank his taser out. Pressing on all the buttons at once, I shove the tip of the taser against the Kraaj’s armpit, and he falls back in such a way that I’m tempted to yell ‘lumber’.

The laughter dies after that. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Janna,” one soldier says, and they all start forming a circle around me. I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I quickly spin around to deliver another blow with my taser. The soldier’s hand becomes limp on my shoulder, and his eyes roll back in his orbits right before he collapses.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t behave like assholes,” I growl, waving the taser in front of me so that they keep their distance. Admittedly, I might have not thought this through. As much as the Kraaj enjoy my sass, I’m not sure if they’ll let me go with a slap on the wrist after this little stunt I pulled. But what the hell—I’ve been dying to do this ever since the first refugee camp was set up.

“Come on, ladies,” I grin, daring them to come closer as I brandish the taser. “Or are you afraid?” 

Fast and coordinated, they move in at the same time. One of them slaps the taser out of my hands, and other punches me in the stomach. I double over, my knees meeting the dirt, and then I feel my arms being pulled over behind my back, the cold touch of handcuffs biting into my wrists.

Yeah, they weren’t afraid. 

Shit.

I think it’s time I start saying my prayers.