Soul of the Reaper: A military Scifi Epic (The Last Reaper Book 11)

by J. N. Chaney

Bug looked at the cockpit speaker. “What does that mean if you’re right?”

  “Shall I tell him, Reaper Cain?”

  “Might as well,” I said, seriously annoyed we started down this rabbit trail and lacking the energy to deal with it. My internal struggles took a lot of energy to jam back into the shadows of my mind.

  “The rogue scientist, Doctor David Scheid, was furious at the Lex project and the eternals. He accused the oversight committee of sabotaging his research and possibly had one of them assassinated, then fled Union space. Halek Cain, the cybernetic version, believed the prime copy of himself—the original Halek Cain if you will—held the secret to defeating Dr. Scheid.”

  “Like the chosen one,” Bug said. “I grew up on folktales like that on Dreadmax.”

  “Do you have questions or details to add to the theory?” X-37 said. “In the spirit of full disclosure, I cannot prove or disprove this theory without more information.”

  Bug leaned his rifle on a bench, laid down, and closed his eyes. “I think you’re all crazy.”

  I waited until his breathing found a rhythm. “Can you work on the nerve-ware integration, X?”

  “Would you like this conversation to be private or may I continue to use the speaker? It is nice to have a voice. I forgot what it was like talking to the Jellybird and crew before everything changed.”

  “Use your own judgement, X.”

  “Very good, Reaper Cain. I should be able to complete several percentage points of the integration before the ship is ready to be operated. I will forward a list of repairs you should work on while I do my thing.”

  “Perfect.” I followed his instructions, doing as much work as I could on the inside under the assumption it would minimize one of our enemies spotting us from a distance and coming to investigate.

  Three hours later, I took a break and checked in with X. Bug was still sleeping.

  “How are we doing, X?”

  “Not well, Reaper Cain. I have discovered a coding error. If I haven’t completed the integration before the time limit, I will shut down entirely. An air conditioner will be smarter than what’s left of me in that unfortunate circumstance.”

  “How long?”

  “Either two weeks or two days. There are several confounding factors that make an accurate estimate problematic,” X-37 said. “I will assume the shorter deadline is the one we must beat.”

  “Forty-eight hours,” I said.

  Bug sat up. “What happens in forty-eight hours?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said before thinking it through.

  He sat up, checked his gear, and stretched. “And I thought we were starting to trust each other.”

  18

  Bug and I teamed up to properly clear the vehicle center and surrounding blocks while X-37 finished the ship repairs. The physical components looked rough. We had things on the military shuttle that didn’t belong there, including a panel from a sports car on the fuselage complete with red and white stripes, fake exhaust ports, and a bumper sticker of a crocodile. Another portion was welded out of scrap metal. We may or may not have used some tape.

  But it was all there, one fully functional Maglan military grade assault shuttle minus the weapons. All we needed was for X-37 to cross-check the programing and reinstall security directives to include a certain Reaper clone-not-clone and a kid from Dreadmax.

  Compared to our earlier adventures, the patrol was easy. Once we returned, Bug set up a shaving station outside, groomed, and practiced martial arts forms for an hour. Each stance transition flowed, snapping powerfully into place as his fists found targets in the air and his forearms blocked incoming attacks. There wasn’t any jumping or rolling. These were practical moves Grigori Path, our sword saint friend, had taught him years ago. It seemed life had driven these lessons home.

  I watched the young man, if thirty was young. Parts of his body looked older than others. He had a lot of scars and his eyes had clearly seen too much.

  “Need a sparring partner?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay, then. Just trying to help.” I sipped a water packet and backed away, drifting into deeper contemplation of my own situation. How did I know about Path, and Elise, and the Jellybird? If I were the original, how could I know any of that unless someone transferred the memories. Had that been my predecessor’s mission to the station? Story time for the sleeping Reaper?

  The more likely explanation was that he came to exterminate me like an unwanted foot fungus, but maybe he was passing the torch. Hell, we were part of the same big happy family—twin brothers, exact in every detail except mileage.

  Stop punishing yourself, Cain. I rolled my neck right, then left and wondered if I should develop a cigar habit. In my head I was a connoisseur, but my body didn’t feel the cravings—unless the creeping uneasiness that grew throughout the day was part of it.

  “Are you going to just sit there and brood?” Bug said.

  I put away my water. “What’s your problem this morning? I thought we were making progress.”

  “I let my guard down before. Never ends well,” he said as he finished gearing up.

  “You have to trust someone eventually. Even a Reaper knows that. How did you survive Dreadmax? By yourself, or was there a group of you in that security tower?”

  He shook his head in disgust, then turned his back on me to board the ship.

  “I’m not your enemy.” I followed him. “What did you do with the last HC like me?”

  “I killed him. Made my life simpler. You are just the first I couldn’t put down. Don’t think for one second it changes anything,” he said. “Are you going to fly or do you want me to, since I know where I’m going.”

  I moved behind the controls. “My LAI reprogramed the controls. Let me do it. And besides, I know where I’m going.”

  “To your estate?” Bug asked.

  “Good guess.”

  “It’s not a guess. That was where the last three wanted to go.” That flicker of doubt I had seen earlier emerged but he wiped it from his expression. “You’ll want to find your mother and friends, but you won’t.”

  “Because Halek Cain clones killed her. I heard. X already told me that story.”

  “You’re heartless.”

  I faced him without leaving the pilot’s seat. “Don’t push any farther, Bug. Maybe it would be easier for me to be one of the bad ones. You’re getting on my nerves.” I faced the controls. “Wish I had a cigar.”

  Bug’s reflection in the window shifted. I looked back and found him deep in thought. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He went to the passenger area and shut the door between us.

  “Help me out, X? What do you make of that?”

  “Nothing new, Reaper Cain. There have been HC units before you, as I said.”

  “What about the last part? Why is he back there sulking now?” I asked.

  “He reacted strangely to your demand for cigars. Shall I inform him that you do not have the same chemical addiction as your predecessor? Would that place his mind at ease?”

  “Forget it. Get the navigation computer up. It’s wonky.” I moved the controls, then adjusted the sensitivity of the steering yoke, pedals, and electronic interface.

  “The problem has been corrected. You are welcome,” X said. “Bug is coming back.”

  “Great. Should be a real laugh fest,” I grumbled.

  The door slid open. Bug took a seat. “You can’t just go straight to your estate. This shuttle doesn’t have the range, and none of the refueling platforms on the open seas can be trusted. Head inland to Marsi. It held out longer than Maglan City. What civilization remains is there. There are starships if you can afford them.”

  I made the adjustments to my course.

  Bug alternated his attention between the navigation map, the window, and numerous gauges needed to keep the ship in the air. Conversation didn’t seem to be on his list today.

  Something I said had gotten under his skin mo
re than our previous arguments or attempts to murder each other. I replayed the dialogue and stayed away from theories of my existence. At the end of the day, none of that mattered.

  “Over there, two hundred thirty degrees along our forward azimuth.” He pointed for emphasis.

  I zoomed in and spotted a family running across a bridge. On the other side was a small fortress but they were too slow to reach it. The raiders would catch and overwhelm them. One man among the runners was an adult. He had a rifle, but little chance of fighting off a dozen armed men with a kid in one arm.

  I turned that way and accelerated.

  “There are more, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said on the speaker. “The raiders deployed from vehicles, which are now racing a mile down river to ford the shallow water. They also have an overwatch vehicle in the air—most likely a commercial transport with considerable range.”

  “Weapons?” I asked.

  “Rifles, shotguns, and pistols. Clubs and axes. One of the wheeled vehicles has a machine gun but no belt fed into it. The ship lacks any evidence of weapons,” X-37 said.

  “Who are these guys?” I asked Bug.

  “Run of the mill raiders. Gangs who feed off the weak. There are warlords in every region without an Oroth JFT or Hagg presence,” he said. “There are more of them than I saw at first.”

  “We don’t have to fight them, just discourage them,” I said.

  He touched the pistol on his thigh rig. We both kept our rifles locked in the rack. “And how do we do that?”

  “X-37 will do a flyover. You and I can open the side doors and do some shooting,” I said.

  “I cannot fly this craft,” X said.

  “You can keep it straight and level,” I said.

  “Of course. Will that be enough?”

  I smiled broadly. “We’re going to find out.”

  “You’re a bit crazier than other Reapers, except—” He stopped himself.

  “Say it,” I encouraged.

  The words squeezed out of him. “Except for the original.”

  I slapped my hands together. “Great. It’s settled. I’m me.” I typed a series of maneuvers into the flight control panel and pushed my chair back. “Just keep us off the ground, X, and we’ll handle the rest. Super easy.”

  Bug followed me to the main fuselage where we grabbed our rifles. I put one hand on the door. “Better hook your safety line just in case.”

  He hastily snapped a carabiner to a line and moved to his own side of the shuttle. “I don’t know about this one, Cain.”

  “Trust me. We got this.” I flung my door back. Wind pulled it violently open and nearly jerked me out into the open air. I steadied myself on the frame, then started picking targets.

  The bridge was simple—no overhead arches or cables. All the support was below the roadway.

  I aimed, then dropped one of the raiders about to catch the man and his youngest girls. Their curly hair bounced as he yelled at them to hurry. The mother now had the older children inside the little fortress just beyond the bridge.

  Several of the wild men looked up. Others continued the chase. Bug dropped two in rapid succession. I aimed at the watchers as we passed but lost the shot.

  “We are holding straight and level, Reaper Cain. If you would like another maneuver, now would be the time for someone to take the controls. We are leaving the theatre of battle.”

  “You good, Bug?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Go steer.”

  I locked my rifle in a rack and jumped into the cockpit, cranking the steering yoke the minute my butt hit the seat.

  “You weren’t kidding about hooking in the safety harness!” Bug shouted, half out of the door.

  I banked around and saw the bridge attack had stalled but there were three wheeled vehicles on this side of the shallow river now. Their drivers raced toward the back of the pathetic fort where children were being hustled into the center while a small force of men and women who had been waiting manned the defenses.

  “Looks like the father and mother joined the defenders,” Bug shouted. “Their barricades are trash. We only bought them a few minutes if the cars aren’t stopped.”

  “Get to work on the ground vehicles. I’ll put you right above them.” I gunned the thrusters, then flared them at the last minute.

  Bug, leaning out of the door with only the safety line keeping him attached, opened fire with his HDK II.

  The first car veered away, the driver slumped over the wheel. Bug’s other shots burst glass and punched holes through metal panels but didn’t hurt anyone.

  Bug shifted targets as we passed. He put a round into a fuel tank causing an explosion and punctured tires on one side of a large truck.

  “Come around again. I want to disable all three so they can’t go for reinforcements,” Bug shouted. “Or ram the barricades.”

  I complied while keeping tabs on the airship still circling us at a distance. Banking hard, I subjected the remaining two ground vehicles to Bug’s wrath. He destroyed tires, windshields, and put several rounds in each engine.

  “Good work,” I said. “What about the airship? You want that stopped.”

  “Definitely. These outlaws are poorly trained and unorganized, but if the word gets out, others will come. This ship would be worth a lot to them,” Bug said.

  “Get ready. This will be trickier.” I feinted toward the besieged camp by the bridge, then punched the engines and went after the converted cargo ship. It was slow, but had a good lead.

  Wind whipped at Bug’s gear. Each time I looked back, he was holding the door frame with one hand and his rifle on a sling with the other. The safety line hooked to the back of his belt was a bit slack, but would pull taut if he leaned out.

  One, two, then three minutes passed without gaining much ground on the fleeing junker. Not even X-37 spoke. I couldn’t see how many people were in the ship. Estimating how fast the craft could move was tricky.

  “I think it must be empty, X. I’d hoped it was heavy and slow,” I said.

  “Lack of cargo would definitely make the freighter move more quickly,” X-37 said. “I estimate it could hold a crew of ten or more people as long as they are careful with displacement.”

  “Isn’t that a nautical term, X?”

  “In this case it refers to individuals, or cargo, and where they are positioned in the ship. If done properly, this will enhance safety and performance.”

  Bug laughed. “These groups never do anything properly. They probably have all their fighters on one side of the ship.”

  “Why would they do that, Bug?” X-37 asked via speaker.

  “So they can storm down the ramp when they land, shouting like they know what they’re doing. Meanwhile, all of their weight will be at the back of the ship, dragging the tail down,” Bug said. “Murder on the ship’s trim while in atmosphere.”

  “Then why aren’t we catching it?” I asked.

  X-37 answered. “We are gaining, but not at the rate you want. Also, whoever is piloting that ship is burning fuel at a reckless rate.”

  “He’ll regret that,” Bug said. “Not easy to refuel in this region.”

  I continued the chase but worried about the defenders we had left behind. “We should go back. Doesn’t help to prevent reinforcements if everyone gets killed right now.”

  “Just give it another minute. The family was inside the barrier and they had other defenders. A siege takes time,” Bug said. “We can go back to help them.”

  “Shut the side doors. Better for aerodynamics.”

  Bug complied.

  We gained ground faster. “This would be easier with air to air missiles.”

  “Just get me parallel and I will use my rifle,” Bug said.

  “That kind of shooting is a lot harder than it looks,” I said. “And their crew could shoot back.”

  We raced over neglected farmland, passing dried up aqueducts leading out of the mountains. The scene reminded me of my early days in the Union army, even before spec ops. I
remembered deploying along a road like this, in similar weather.

  For a hot second, I could smell that late summer day and taste the harvest on the wind. Why had we been moving into that region? Couldn’t remember now.

  The freighter picked up speed and banked to the left. Warning bells clanged in my head. I checked the map, guessing we were far beyond visual range—which meant I couldn’t look back to see what was happening to the people Bug wanted to save.

  And they couldn’t see us.

  The ship climbed, shaking from the strain on its wings. Camouflage netting along the nearest ridge exploded with anti-aircraft fire. Alarms blared through the shuttle as I evaded incoming tracer rounds.

  “I thought these were untrained outlaws!” I shouted, nearly breaking the steering yoke and mashing yaw pedals with my feet to make our patched-together airship dance.

  “I never said they were stupid.” Bug clambered into the cockpit and grabbed the co-pilot’s controls.

  X-37 displayed vectors I needed to hit perfectly to keep the shuttle in the air, even if I had to take damage to do it.

  Anti-aircraft rounds punched through both wings. I felt the vibrations but maintained control.

  “That was close to the auxiliary fuel line,” Bug warned.

  “In the wings? What kind of design is that?”

  “Not mine,” Bug said, pulling hard to help me out of an evasive maneuver that nearly flew us into the ground.

  Once we leveled off I swung back around.

  “We’re landing,” I announced.

  “Why?” Bug shouted.

  “We can’t out fly or out shoot those AAG emplacements,” I said. “Get angry, Bug, because we’re about to land right on top of some asshats who need to die.”

  The freighter circled, exposing an open rear door with at least ten decently armed raiders waiting to disembark when it touched the ground. They were a minute or two behind us. By the time they arrived, I planned to be done with the gun crew, depending on how many there were.

  “Maybe this is a bit reckless, X,” I said, hoping Bug didn’t hear.

  “I agree one hundred percent, Reaper Cain.”

  “What was that?” Bug asked.