The Revenant: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 2)

by Walt Robillard

  The ceramaclear screen shattered, clearing the way so the mongrel, starving for his vengeance, could be sated. He launched into the expanse, plummeting to the floor with a howl of regret filled rage. Carcrete shattered on impact, bursting hoses connected to the storage racks, spilling their life-sustaining gasses across the floor. Orin sprinted through the mists, trailing them like some half-wolf creature from a nightmare. The Crucible was feeding him, pouring white hot fire into his body, forging him into a living, vengeful weapon.

  If she were here, Seladriel would tell him that meting out justice was his responsibility. Revenge is for the criminal or the lost. Avoid it lest you become the very darkness you hunt. She would tell him a host of different things like she had on so many occasions so that in all things, his soul would be preserved. Let the Crucible forge the tools of our salvation. Let the Way be our will and our will be the Way. His adopted mother would have said all the right things… but she wasn't here and the molten power pouring from the Crucible pounded in his ears so that all he could hear was the labored breathing of his prey.

  “Twin Hells.” whispered Tarot. “I'd almost forgotten.”

  “Forgotten what?” Kat asked.

  A gravel encrusted voice said, “'Scuse me..”

  Fluffang Doom-Snuggle pounded through the command center, jumping after one of his best friends in the whole galaxy. Kel Durado was stuffed under his arm, squirming like a teen's first time on a grav coaster found in some third rate amusement park. The former crime lord was loud, protesting up to the sudden drop where his yelling transformed into a shrill scream on the way down. Fluff landed in his friend's impact crater, depositing Kel on the ground. “Ride's over!”

  Fluff jumped away, moving at a speed that only a lust for mayhem could achieve. Catching Lasher, the two ran in tandem on their way to the rear blast door at the end of the warehouse. Orin raised his hand, spinning it in a circle, forcing the Crucible to pry open the hulking barriers enough for them to slip through.

  Kat and Tarot landed next to Kel, the trio running for everything they were worth. Kel's skel-frame armor allowed him to keep up with the pair as their special enhancements propelled them forward.

  “Merlin?” Tarot shouted.

  “Still in the lab, madame.”

  “Need you to crack these blast doors on building fourteen.”

  The doors slid open into a kaleidoscope of combat. Blaster bolts hummed through the air making it seem as though there was a glowing net in front of them. Periodically, a blue armored jump-suit or an Elysian soldier would cross their field of vision to attack the other. Across the way was the hangar doors ripped off their moorings.

  “Eyes up, guns out!” Kat yelled.

  “Hey, that's my line!” Kel complained.

  “Don't worry, I just wanted to try it on. I'll give it back once I'm done.”

  They plowed into the combat, barely having to shoot or clear as they sprinted the short distance from the warehouse to the hangar. Another battle raged inside. Members of 3-PARA had dropped in at the end of the landing pad, fighting their way back through to the main dome. Caught between two forces, dozens of blues were engaged in close quarters gun battles with a group of newly arrived marines.

  “Hey lady, need a hand?” Kel shouted.

  A torrent of blaster fire erupted from the Vortex blaster as Justice and four of the Cards caught up. Decimating the rear line of the blues, the heavy infantry mech opened up an opportunity to fire for one of the marines with a Dust Devil. The rocket-propelled grenade exploded in a wave of high temperature hell, blowing the enemy into a burning mess.

  “Madame Tarot!” Mara yelled.

  The mercenary pointed to the marshal, then to the direction they were running. “Mara. We have Chen and Kenner!”

  “Copy!” Mara shouted. “They drove some mini armored rover through a hidden portal in the wall. It snapped them right up with about fifty fighters. Lucky for us they left an equal number here for us to play with. If your looking for our friend, he managed to catch up to them with that murder machine in tow.”

  “Can you open that door?” Kat asked.

  “Once we have no one shooting at us, no problem.”

  Justice took this as his cue. Plates behind his shoulders opened up, exposing rows of canisters pushing forward from a racking system. Temperance, Priestess, and Romeo provided cover fire, allowing the mech to launch its mortar system. He deployed the high angle hells onto the unsuspecting blues in a staccato thumping rhythm. The nano-enhanced fighters attempted to dodge or skirt the destruction, the final battle damage equating to half the force being knocked down by the barrage.

  “We'll hold the rest. Go!” Mara shouted.

  The doors creaked, groaning against the power of the Crucible as Mara forced them open. They slammed shut as the small assault force crossed the threshold.

  “Careful,” Tarot said. Shining a light from her helmet, she exposed that the dark room was nothing but a shaft for a heavy equipment lift beyond the loading platform.

  “How many elevators are in this place?” Kel asked.

  “No time for this. Deploy lines.”

  “Yes, Madame,” came the reply from the Cards. Temperance, Priestess, Romeo, and Justice shot grappling cables from their arms into the carcrete walls. Kel hung onto Justice for the wild repel down the shaft. The dim recessed lighting in the floor gave a vague picture of a small hallway leading to the private hangar. In the distance they could see the ominous red streaks of color as Lasher engaged some new enemy.

  The strike team sprinted forward. In the hangar beside a mountain of crates, the remaining blues were having a difficult time fighting off the half-Vosi warrior. Every time someone got a bead on him, the Doom Cat came from some new shadow to expel a burst from his shoulder-mounted cannons. At one point, a squad of them rushed Lasher, tackling him to the ground. The beating they dished out only lasted seconds. An explosion of rage in the Crucible blew them from him in a maelstrom of blood and tatters.

  He recovered his weapons just as the Card Arkana introduced themselves with concentrated blaster fire. Kel and Kat lined up behind another stack of crates, using the cover to drop an equal share of the enemy.

  The gunfire slowed to a trickle when an RSV-2180 combat reconnaissance craft slowed to a stop on repulsors spraying dust and snow everywhere. Twin auto guns dropped from the fuselage, aiming at the team. The craft settled on freshly deployed landing struts, sending out a whine of blaster fire tracing around the mongrel.

  A platoon's worth of Black Cypher mercenaries stormed from the craft, deploying drop shields. Two auto turrets on spider legs marched from behind them, equipped with a sensor tower mounted next to an M-1170 machine-blaster. The vents on the craft blew the cloak aside from a grim mask of hoses and secrets. Aryan Singh stepped around the mercs, past the blues to the cover of the shields in the no man's land between the two forces. He waited silently against the team who most definitely wanted him dead.

  “Oh good. A cease fire. Now we can behave like civilized beings.” Kenner stood from behind one of the crates, his hands held in the air. He walked into the open, adjusting his fleece pullover and dusting off the grime from his flight suit. If they didn't know any better they'd swear he was going on a ski trip. “I really didn't want things to get this messy. Nice move, by the way, taking down Ms. Chen's cypher in the lab. You actually have her petrified she could be killed in all of this. If not for that stupid book you'd probably still be sitting around the console trying to break in.”

  Fluff tapped on the crate they were using for cover to get his friend's attention. “Anyone else want to see what happens when we put another hole in this windbag's head?”

  “Not yet. Keep him talking for another minute while I put something together,” Madame Tarot answered.

  “Listen, we don't have a lot of time, so I'll get right to it,” Kenner said. “Tythian was supposed to be a stepping stone to a big slice of the Frontier for some powerful people. We were using our ne
w Swarm-tech, enhancing the Hidek tribe to capture their Surando counterparts. They were supposed to overwhelm and capture only. Unfortunately, neither side played the game fairly. Your marshal brought an entire lancer platoon for security. Smart of her. The Hidek bought weapons from the Chen. It was much easier for them to do so with you in custody.” He nodded to Kel during the last bit.

  Kel was tapping the side of his weapon’s upper receiver with his finger. He was growing more agitated by the second. “So, buddy. Why did you give me up to the lancers?”

  “Kel, my dear, your friend is long dead. But I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. My real name isn’t important. Hasn’t been for a long time. If I could have left you in power to move the operation forward I would have, but you’ve been protective where the Tyth were concerned. Point being, I needed the Cartel’s assets to move things back and forth over the border and I needed you out of the way to do it.”

  “Get me out of the way and go to war?” Kel asked.

  “Not at first,” Kenner said, waving his finger. “We gave them next generation nanites to take the Surando hostage. We had assets in place to negotiate a release along with a bad faith truce. Coax them to war and have it spiral out of control. With limited resources allocated to the marshals, the Faith Revere steps in with the Force Majeure. Treaties and trade deals are brokered and lost. Controlling the war on Tythian becomes too expensive, causing the Faith Revere to pull out so they can concentrate on the home front. They’re seen as protectors of the peace, supplanting the Athalon. Mercenary companies step over the border to fill the vacuum left by Elysium. MedCos step in to cultivate some of the more unique remedies found on the planet to supply hungry masses back in the CORAL. Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen.”

  Lasher was motionless during Kenner’s performance. Under the combat mask, his face was empty of the hate he felt. His weapons were closed and silent, hovering near the floor. Tarot and the Card Arkana were equally still. Kenner’s performance seemed to hold them in thrall at his revelations or in place until he made a mistake, setting them to violence, like a cobra tired of the charmer.

  “So you were going to farm out Tythian. Did somebody hire you to do this and why are you wearing that kid’s face?” Kel asked.

  “That's the wrong question. The right one is, what changed?

  “Don’t worry, my dear, they can’t hear or see us and time flows differently in the Chrysalis.”

  “What is this?” Kat said.

  “Wrong question, my dear. Why is an Exile cyborg controlling a sentinel body from the Veriton Host?”

  Kat scanned the darkness for the voice. The man standing before her was middle-aged, but beautiful, if you could call a man such a thing. He was clad in a type of wrap-over shirt that clipped near one arm with a silver circlet wrapping from the back of his head, leaving a gap above his brow.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m a librarian, my dear. An archivist intelligence for the Origin Fleet. When they moved on from this world, I remained to act as custodian for the outpost built beneath the ice. I sensed the open matrix and have been trying to contact you. Why are you piloting that body?”

  “Can you access my matrix?” Kat asked.

  “If you allow it.”

  There was a flutter in the environment, the librarian never losing the knowing smile that seemed to dominate the landscape of his face.

  Kat's sultry lounge singer voice was low and filled with pain. “I only remember pieces of who I was. What I was. All I know is that I need to protect my new family. I don’t need my past if I have my future with them.”

  “I see. I am sorry, Exile. This body was shaped for another. It is not for you.”

  Kat brought her face up from the floor, her eyes streaked with pleading tears.

  “While the sins of the Exiles were many, this brother you’ve chosen is a vengeful angel wrapped in second chances. He was your baptism to this new existence, Katarina. The Exiles were many things, but what they weren't capable of was compassion, or tears. Whoever you were to them was forgotten when you found the hope of your new family in that cell. I unlock this form for you, Katarina, with all the features of the Mark Nine Sentinel, now active. If you have a need to know more, come back. For now, go save your family and prove yourself worthy of the motto on your arm.”

  “So you were going to farm out Tythian. Did somebody hire you to do this and why are you wearing that kid’s face?”

  “That's the wrong question,” Kenner said, pacing behind the barriers but careful not to expose himself to gunfire from his enemies. “The right one is, 'what changed?' It was Orin Lashra. After surviving the ambush, he found the remaining stores of nanites and reprogrammed them. He used his Marshal abilities to bind them with the eco-system so they would self replicate, acting as a poison against the tribe. We took samples after the fact. We studied the changes that took our technology and morphed it into something truly revolutionary. We advanced those changes to a factor of a thousand, which allowed us to recoup some of our losses from that failed bid by creating the most advanced nano-enhancers the galaxy's ever seen.”

  “This is about the Swarm?” Tarot asked and accused in the same breath.

  Kenners answer was to continue his performance. “Think about the warfare that happens in the CORAL. Giant mercenary companies waging battles for obscene credits. Places like Elysium protecting Frontier planets in return for a tiny percentage of revenue. What if you could do away with all that? Need an army? Buy the Swarm and program the army you want. When the war is over, they can go back to being normal. The cost of moving armies, ships, and equipment drop to almost nothing because the army is already where you need them.”

  “And the profits will be astronomical,” Kel said.

  “I don't care about the money! You're not the only ones with your neck in the noose.” Kenner shouted.

  Singh continued to aim at the group. “Taking too long. Make the deal.”

  Kenner didn't wear insulted well. His grand performance had been interrupted. The expression he flashed spoke to a composer being disappointed that someone in the crowd of his grand finale left the indicator of their cell-com on, letting it ring out through the music. His glare at the Gun Wraith spoke volumes.

  “Today was a dry run,” Kenner said proudly. “The big show for the clients is coming but they wanted proof that it does what we say it can. Today's data will give us an adjusted Swarm so that it will be flawless. Now, a proposal. We have you dead to rights. Granted you have big guns of your own but do you want to take the risk this doesn't go your way.”

  “ Officium sine nomine,” Kat said softly, but loud enough to hear.

  “Speaking dead languages is interesting but not relevant,” Kenner scoffed.

  Kat rubbed her arm. “It was you. That's who you are. I got you off of that planet and you left me there.”

  Kel's rifle began to line up with the master of ceremonies. The rising barrel dragged the rest of his allies' weapons in line with it. At the same moment, the supremely confident Stavros Kenner, let his normal demeanor slide from his face. He was wearing a look he hadn't worn in some time. Fear.

  “Guardian?”

  “Raven.” The word was accusatory. A growl of barely constrained rage from a woman whose voice was normally smokey satin. “Does she know? Does she know you betrayed us all?”

  “Enough!” the Wraith yelled with the external speakers in his helmet cranked to max. “Orin Lashra, I've been bound to take you from here. If you come quietly, I'll spare your friends.”

  “Not happening, hose head,” Fluff said, his voice more demonic growl than speech. “Our Card Arkana and the rest of the crew against twenty-five mildly banged up blues and a batch of mirror faced wannabes. I like those odds.”

  Lasher stood, shucking the armor and gun belt. He re-attached his weapons, handing them to the astonished Kel.

  Guns came from patrol ready to direct aim as Fluff's tendrils smashed the floor,
pulverizing stone in an apocalyptic tantrum. “No!” the bot shouted and it echoed through the hangar.

  “Fluff!” After gaining the mech's attention, Lasher lowered his voice. “Not yet. This is an opportunity we have to see through.”

  “I don't want you to go.” The mighty panther lowered his head, emotion dripping off him in waves as he rested his face against Lasher's own.

  “Sometimes family has to be apart so they can appreciate when they're together.” Lasher said.

  “It's a stupid lesson. I don't like it.”

  “I don't like it either, Fluff, but trust me. We have to work this new plan from opposite ends. Not all plans are worked through violence. Sometimes we have to use stealth.”

  “Stealth sucks. Orin, something's wrong with my matrix. Is this pain? Is this what it means to cry? Is this what you feel when you miss her?”

  Lasher hugged his friend. “It's only for a while. You know I'll find my way back to you. We're family. That's what we do.”

  “Space magic?”

  Lasher laughed. “Yeah, buddy. Space magic. Protect them for me until I catch up.”

  Fluff's sensor suite, his ears, flattened. “I promise.”

  Patting the side of his neck, Lasher pressed his forehead into the panther one last time. There was no acknowledgment to the rest of Team Baby Doll. Lasher walked from behind cover, shoulder checking Kenner hard enough to almost make him fall over. He walked to the Gun Wraith, seething anger in front of the other man.

  “I've heard you're a man of your word. Do I need to cuff you?” Singh asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, today's been a bucket of surprises!” Kenner said, recovering his dignity. “Until next time.”

  “Kenner!”

  The recovered confidence of a man behind two platoons’ worth of guns spun him around with the kind of arrogance that still made him think he was performing.

  “Do you know what it means when a Dreadmarr soldier shows her face to an enemy?” Tarot asked. The seals on her mask broke, venting gasses as the helmet opened enough to be removed from her head. The lid came away, her hair dropping in sweat drenched rivulets across her brow.