The Bottom Line

By Michael J Allen

Earth depends on its mercenaries to survive...

Merc company taxes prevent mankind from starvation...

Could any mercs be so greedy as to cheat the starving?

Ronald Gerard didn't score high enough to join the companies. But he can still be a hero. Financial mischief fills the news, and Gerard knows the mercs are hiding things.

Proving their guilt was just the beginning...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael J. Allen
• Release date: Jan 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781944357559

Michael J Allen

Originally from Oregon, Michael J. Allen is a pluviophile masquerading as a vampire IT professional in rural Georgia. Warped from youth by the likes of Jerry Lewis, Robin Williams, Gene Wilder and Danny Kay, his sense of humor leads to occasional surrender, communicable insanity, a sweet tooth and periodic launch into nonsensical song. He loves books, movies, the occasional video game, playing with his Labradors - Myth and Magesty. He knows almost nothing about music. A recovering Game Master, he gave up running RPG's for writing because the players didn't play out the story in his head like book characters would - we know how that worked out. Suddenly fresh out of teenagers, he spends his days writing in restaurants, people watching and warring over keyboard control with the voices in his head.

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The Bottom Line

The smaller of the two Houston Enforcement officers opened the door to the Stag Pit Barbeque and stepped out of my way. Neither of the armed and armored men had said much since I picked them up. Tension stiffened both Martin’s and Blank’s stances, their eyes on the Humvee marked with two bloody H’s on the ears of a four-tusked war elephant. Not surprisingly, they let me enter the lion’s den first.

What’s their problem? I’m not expecting them to gun down a bunch of mercs.

Bottom line, both officers were only there to serve as official witnesses. They’d only fight in the highly unlikely event of Hannibal’s Hammers deciding to sacrifice its licenses just to kill the messenger.

Still sure you want to do this? the taller, Blank asked.

I rolled my eyes and stepped into the dimly lit restaurant. A vague silhouette of a hostess delayed my charge. Any attempt to blink away the gloom revealed it as one of the dive’s permanent features.

Can I help you?

Inhaling to speak resulted in my choking on thick smoke. Isn’t smoking illegal in a public establishment?

She pointed. A sign warned possible patrons the kitchen’s open fire grill produced smoke. I knew tobacco when I smelled it, but I wasn’t Health Department. Like those heroes that had taken down Hoffa and Capone, I faced far more important, so-called untouchable criminals.

I presented my UAAC, flipping it over to display my badge. Ronald Gerard, Internal Revenue Service. I need to see Commander Quall of Hannibal’s Hammers.

Her eyes flicked toward the dining area. She moistened her lips with a  studded tongue. I should...I’ll get Dutch.

"Get anyone you like, after you show me to Commander Quall."

Every inch of body language suggested she was a moment from flight. My pulse quickened. She wasn’t my prey, but either she feared my badge for personal reasons or knew the merc company’s sins.

Maybe this place helps launder merc money.

I seized her arm as she made her move. I don’t think so. Gentlemen, find Commander Quall.

The two officers slid by us into the dining area, splitting to either side to orbit the room and scan faces. The hostess’ focus traded off between watching me and the dining room.

What are you so worried about? Guilty of something? I asked.

Her color fled. What? No. I haven’t done anything. I mean, I pay my taxes, even on cash tips.

Of course she does.

I drew a slate and held it out. Thumb to the slate and speak your full name—for the record.

What? Why?

Martin appeared before I could answer. He’s in a private room. Most of their company is in there.

If he thought a bunch of mercs were going to stop me from performing my duty, he knew nothing about the type of men who really protected Earth. Lead the way.

An older man, muscles long gone to seed stopped us. What’s going on here?

He didn’t look like