Future Reborn Box Set

by Daniel Pierce

  “Is this everyone?” I asked.

  A girl pointed to a low building with wide windows and doors. It was clean and tidy and two women in the unmistakable garb of nurses stared at me from the porch. “Tegan is in there,” the girl said, her piping voice filled with worry.

  “Who’s Tegan?” I asked her, since the girl seemed to be the only person willing to speak to me. For the moment.

  “My ma. She’s sick.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked.

  “She got the bloodworks and went to fight, and then she got sick, like everyone else. Happened fast to her, though.” The girl’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  “Will you show me?” I asked, holding out my hand. “With me, Dayne. Meerni, you and Fortas at the door.”

  “Ok.” The girl took my hand. Her fingers were tiny and light, so she wrapped them around my thumb and tugged at me as we walked toward what I knew to be a clinic. “Can we see ma?”

  The nurses looked at who was missing, saw the blood on me, and drew their own conclusions. “You can. But not all of the other people,” one of them said.

  “What’s wrong with Tegan?” I asked.

  The same nurse went to speak, and the other cut her off with a glare.

  “Will you go inside with your mom? I’ll be right in,” I said to the girl. She bolted through the doorway without looking back. “I take it she’s not at risk? So, not a disease?”

  “No, but—no. Not a disease,” the nurse said. The other remained silent.

  “I’m Jack Bowman. Just killed your big guy, and after I leave here, I’m either going to wipe out your Konnodar or die trying. If you like to gamble. I’d pick me,” I said. “What are your names?”

  Both nurses stared. They knew me. I could tell.

  “I’m Ondarin,” the first said. “She’s Carbel.”

  “Mind if I see Tegan now, Ondarin? I’m assuming this is because of the Procurators, right?” I said.

  “Yes, it is, and Tegan won’t last the day,” Carbel said.

  “Before I go in there, tell me what the Procurators did to Tegan, and then tell me why you’re not dead,” I said.

  “We—dead? Why would we be dead? The Procs have never done anything to us. We’re medical. We just—” Ondarin said, starting to protest.

  “Never mind,” I said, breezing past the nurses. I was done talking.

  I entered the clinic and stopped. It was no primitive hut with medical capabilities. It was an actual clinic, with tables and supplies and things that looked suspiciously like blood transfusion systems.

  It was a ‘bot plant, and Tegan was on a table, her daughter next to her with tears in her eyes. “Tegan?” I asked softly. I heard Dayne behind me, but no one else entered.

  “Me,” Tegan said, her voice paper thin and quiet. She’d been pretty once, but now she was thin, with skin that seemed almost translucent. “Not long now.” There was a long scar on her arm, like a blade wound.

  I approached carefully, like she would blow away if I made a breeze. “What happened to you?”

  “Who are you?” Tegan asked. Her eyes were bruised orbs in a sallow face. There was no fat on her body at all, and her joints looked swollen.

  “Jack Bowman, from the Free Oasis. How did you get that scar?” I asked, looking at her arm. I didn’t touch her. She seemed too frail for even that.

  “Got jacked with syrup from the Procs and went on a raid. Took a couple hits when I fell off the Konnodar, and by the time my squad circled back, I was hard wounded. It didn’t take,” Tegan said.

  “What didn’t take?” I asked, but I knew.

  “The syrup. It was supposed to give me—give me so much, but it didn’t. Not like everyone else. Sometimes, we don’t make it long. I gambled, and I failed. They offer you so much. You’ll do anything for what they offer, you know?” Tegan said. Her eyes fluttered, and she began to snore softly. She was asleep, and dying.

  I’d seen and heard enough. “Outside. We need to speak to these people. And others,” I said.

  We gathered the entire village in a sullen group, staring at me with unified resentment on their faces. “Tegan is dying because the Procurators gave her nanobots. The syrup, she called it. How many of you have had blood treatments in there? With those nurses?”

  No one raised their hands.

  “The Procurators are lying to you, and eventually they’ll kill the very best people you can offer them. One at a time. I’m sure of it.” I glared at everyone, but they were filled with a kind of fear that defied logic.

  Dayne stepped forward with a sad smile on her face. “Do any of you know me?”

  No one spoke, but several of the dozens of people shook their heads.

  “I’m Dayne. From Kassos before, but now I’m with Jack. I thought I was an elite. One of the powerful. I wasn’t.” Dayne unlaced her tunic and pulled it over her head, dropping it to the ground. She turned to show her back, and the crowd gasped in horror. “I asked questions. They cut me to make me . . . understand my place.”

  There were scars across her back in a regular pattern, lining her like a roadmap of pain. They ran from her shoulders to her buttocks, and I knew I’d felt them when we were making love, but not understood what I was touching. There, in the glare of the sun, I saw the truth of her status as a ruler at Kassos. She was more slave than anyone I’d know before except the ogres, and she had the scars to prove it.

  Fury rose in my core at the sight of her scars. I let it burn all the way to my gut, reveling in the fuel. I would use it. All of it.

  I spoke to the village, and my voice was little more than a growl. “If they do this to their elite, then what are they willing to do to you? What do you think they did to Tegan?”

  “She wasn’t the first,” someone said.

  “By far,” someone added.

  “I figured as much. The Procurators take your best, dose them with ‘bots they manufacture somewhere with shitty, second-rate tech, and see who survives it. The winners get to ride Konnodar and fight and die for the Procs, and the losers—well, they die here. Or in the desert. Do you want to keep dying like this, or do you want a chance to be free? Really free?” I asked.

  An old woman came forward, knitting her fingers together. When someone spoke to her, she quieted them with a thunderous glare. “I’m Betany. We choose freedom.”

  I nodded. “Good. Care for Tegan. I’ll return after you’ve had time to speak to the other villagers. It’s a choice to join us, but it’s also a choice to be against us. Do you understand?”

  “We do,” Betany said, her brown eyes flashing. “Where will you go now?”

  “Home. To receive your . . . army. And save who we can,” I said.

  Betany took my hand in hers. There were callouses on her ancient palm. “The big man you killed? His cousin will be at the lead. He’s a vicious snake. Kill him, and you cut off the head.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked her.

  “Calibrus, and he loves blood more than anything in the world except himself,” Betany said.

  “Betany, his love affair is over, and I’m the one who’s going to end it.” I let her hand go and smiled at Dayne. “We leave our new friends here. They have work to do, and so do we. Let’s go.”

  “If you need to go fast, take one of our four-wheelers to get back to your truck. You drove, yes?” Betany said. “From the Oasis?”

  I smiled. “I accept. We’ll leave the keys in it. Save your people, Betany. Work with Fortas and Meerni. They’ll help.”

  Her only answer was a nod. The desert waited, and time was short.

  23

  We sped toward home in our truck after leaving the borrowed vehicle behind. Now that we were retracing our steps, the klicks flew by, leaving me with time to think, plan, and talk to my inner circle.

  I quizzed Dayne on her opinions of the Konnodar, and what she said was enlightening.

  “They’re big and vicious, but can you think of a landscape they can’t handle? Think of them a
s all-wheel drive trucks that can intimidate the hell out of small forces. I look at them and—well, I’d keep ‘em around. If nothing else, they’re a part of this new landscape, and understanding them might help you grasp what happened while you were sleeping,” Dayne said.

  “You’re right.” I tapped my connection and got lucky. It was Andi. “Need a favor.”

  “Name it,” she said.

  I explained what I needed in detail, only to hear her chuckle wickedly on the other end. “You’re thinking like a commander now, Jack. I’ll implement everything and have your plan good to go. Aristine has the berms ready per your design, with a few additions of her own. I’m going to tell you—that woman knows more about war than I ever imagined possible. I kinda hate her for it.”

  I laughed at that. “Why?”

  “Are you shitting me? With that face and body? It’s unseemly,” Andi said.

  “I could say the same thing about you and engineering,” I told her.

  Andi snorted, but there was a smile behind the noise. “Darling, let me give you a helpful hint—when you come home, you can have me. No need to butter me up on the radio.”

  “I wasn’t, but now that you’re putting this on an open channel, start churning butter,” I said.

  “Weirdo. Bye,” Andi said, laughing.

  Dayne turned to face me as we sped along the darkening track. “Are you seriously going to put butter on her? What kind of wasteful sex did you have back then?”

  “It’s—it’s just an expression. No butter was ever harmed in my bed, I can assure you.”

  Dayne looked at me askance. “Good. I’m willing to bend on a few things, but being slathered in butter seems a touch oily for my tastes.”

  “Same here. I’d rather just taste you.”

  “Now you’re buttering me up. Stick to driving. You can get naked with someone later, after you get us to the Oasis without crashing into a well or a dragon or some such thing,” Dayne said.

  “Aye, Captain,” I replied, accelerating as we hit a relatively smooth patch of desert.

  In two hours, we saw the Oasis treeline, and five minutes after that, we stood around a large table covered by a detailed map. Aristine, Andi, Yulin, Silk, and Mira waited for me on one side, and I slid in between them, happy to be home.

  “Tell me where we’re at,” I said, and Aristine moved smoothly to the map and began pointing with a thin lighted rod. This was clearly something she’d done before, and her confidence was as natural as gravity.

  “There are three groups of Konnodar spread out over five klicks. We have a live feed on them from a Condor; they’ve been stationary since full dark. The Konnodar are good in the low light, but night seems to limit their speed and range. Could be the temperature as well, but for now they’re camped just north of here, here, and here,” Aristine said, indicating three locations thirty klicks out.

  “What’s their rate of travel?” I asked.

  “Ten klick an hour when fed. We’ve been seeing the Konnodar tear apart herds of boar, lizards, and even a pair of massive rhino beasts I’ve not seen before. They feed fast and messy, and they don’t seem to drink unless a well or pond is in their path. The riders don’t leave the saddle except to scout dangers. As a unit, they move well. As an army, they move even better, and their numbers have grown since they swept north. Yuli, the tab?” Aristine asked her sister, who held out a tablet with a glowing image on it.

  “We think they went north for these ten people. Notice the weapons,” Yulin said.

  “What are they? Rifles?” I asked. They looked like guns, but the tech was somewhere between ours and the Chain.

  “Of a sort. They’re post-virus, that we know for sure, but I think they’re powered-round snipers. We’ve caught chatter of such things, but never saw them until now, and tracking their movement back on the sat data tells us why. They move ahead—and behind, mind you—of the Procurators as they go east to west. I’m betting they’re an elite guard, and the reason they needed a lift is because they’re in town ahead of the next Procurator visit. That leaves us with a problem,” Yulin said.

  Silk spoke up. “If we take out their advance guard, the Procurators won’t come to Kassos.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “But we take Kassos next regardless of whether or not the Procs are there. I don’t think we know nearly enough about them to assume we’ve seen all they can do. Or all they have, for that matter. We know little of the east, and even less of the west. They operate in both those areas, and that means they might have other strongholds, or even a permanent one. Kassos is on our list for a lot of reasons, but at some point we have to treat the cause of this problem, not just the symptoms.”

  “Agreed. How do you want to play it in the morning?” Aristine asked.

  “Andi, did you finish my wishlist?” I asked.

  “Done and ready,” she said.

  I nodded, looking down at the map. “Yulin, take the shooters to their positions, and make sure Neve is on point, dead center. Put everyone behind their berms tonight with eight guards. Rotate the guards back at dawn—they’re out of the fight. I want the shooters awake and ready by dawn, but I think the Konnodar will arrive an hour after, perhaps two. Andi will be at her control board, and Aristine is in direct command of the shooters. Breslin, Derin, and their twelve are to the west. I’ll count on them to hammer the flank if they start spreading too wide. I want those fucking dinos herded in the middle, where I can get at the commanders. If it turns into a bloodbath, I’ve lost. Pull back and listen to Aristine. Silk is in command of the rear, as well as the shooters around the Oasis. They’ll send a probing scout here because they’re sneaky bastards. I want Silk to save one, alive. Put the others down.”

  “I will,” Silk said without any emotion. I smiled at her, thankful she was mine. And on our side.

  “When do you unleash the package?” Andi asked.

  “When the first Konnodar hit the middle berms. I don’t want them getting cold feet. How many are there, in total?” I asked Aristine.

  “Three hundred seventy-one combat effective Konnodar as of this hour,” she answered. “Several of them are slowed by pregnancy, not injury, but they still fight.”

  “Tough critters,” I said.

  “We have several shooters with child, too. We’re tougher than they are,” Silk said with a wicked twist to her lips.

  “I couldn’t agree more. That’s it then. Get some sleep if you’re staying here, and if you’re in command of a squad under Aristine, you leave when she says. Good luck, and shoot well,” I said.

  The meeting dissolved in order, with quiet words and handshakes. There was no outward worry, only quiet confidence and a sense of purpose.

  I walked home, alone for a moment until I saw the front door open and a single light inside.

  “Come here,” Silk said to me. Her eyes were like lanterns in the dim light, green orbs lit from within. Her hair was back, and she’d gone to the trouble of removing every bit of clothing from her exquisite body.

  “I accept your gracious invitation.” I began to strip, then kicked the door closed with my foot, hopping and shaking out of clothes and boots like they were made of lava. When my shirt wouldn’t unbutton, I did the only reasonable thing and tore it in two. There are certain things I will never be late to; one is dinner, and the other is dessert.

  Silk was both.

  I took her in my arms as we leaned against the bed frame. She smelled like sun and flowers, as always, and I found her mouth with my lips like it was a favorite place on a map. We kissed long, softly, and all while easing back on the bed, where she didn’t wait a second to open her legs and welcome me in. The heat of her was electric, like a hidden source of primal warmth and desire that made my hips move without thinking. Every move she made was perfect, and in that, she made me perfect too.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and began nipping at me from collarbone to ear, her small teeth tracking higher until she crossed my jaw to my mouth again.


  “I want the first one here,” she said, pulling away from me and rotating. I grabbed her hips and slid back home from behind as she lifted herself until only her hands touched the bed. We moved together, then she moved on her own, a rhythm that began to draw me ever closer to an orgasm that had been days in the making. Silk was an artist in bed, and she made me feel like I belonged inside her for every second we were together. I came hard, pushing her face forward so she had to turn, and I could see the smile on her face as her core gripped around me when her own shaking began. Silk took pleasure from my pleasure; it was always her way.

  “The next one is here,” she said. Her hands pushed at my chest before I could slow my heart, and then I was sitting on the bed, head against the wall as she snaked backward so that her breath played across my balls in a form of delicate torture. “Long day tomorrow. You need focus. I think this—therapy—will give you focus.” She smiled at me, her full lips rounding into an o as she covered me with her mouth then began to suck and tug in a tandem motion that made the room grow hot in a hurry.

  “I can’t—” I began, but Silk hummed an affirmative noise and I knew I would, despite my wish to be inside her again. There was something beyond intimacy in the touch of her mouth, her tongue, and then the delicacy of her fingers circling me at the base as she began to use every part of her effort to draw me closer and closer to my second orgasm.

  It happened without warning, a chaotic twist to my hips as I cried out something between a shout and laugh. Silk didn’t stop until my legs were calm and the sensation began to verge on pain, and only then did she take her lips away from me, her tongue trailing behind for one last lick.

  She looked up at me and smiled. “Now you’re ready to fight.”

  “For you, woman, I’d fight the hounds of hell.” My voice was dulled by sensual exhaustion. Silk was simply that good.

  “Just come back to me. Fight hounds later,” she said.

  “Done.” It was a promise, and I kept my promises.

  24

  There’s a unique sound before every battle. It’s not really one single noise; it’s more like a concert, and all of the parts are in a different order every time but the music sounds the same. There are coughs and low, muttered words. You might hear prayer, or whispered encouragements. Sobs. Angry noises. The sound of metal being moved, and people moving against the land as they try to shape the world around them into something more comfortable than a cradle of fear, because that’s what it is every time. A cradle made of the unnatural.