by J. N. Chaney
“We’re landing in three, two, one.” I slammed the shuttle between the two anti-aircraft guns, unstrapped, grabbed my D3D, and stormed out the side door a split second behind Bug.
A heavyset man in a military jacket and vacation shorts opened fire. Bug shot him three times, but the guy fled holding his gut with one hand and his rifle with the other.
Two men jumped down from their AAG, submachine guns spraying our position. Several rounds glanced from Bug’s armor. I followed close behind him, shamelessly using his armor as cover, trying not to die. The second the enemy shots faltered, I veered away from Bug, shooting on the move and downing at least one man with a D3D round to his throat.
Bug scrambled for the cover of the other gun on our left. I jumped into the pit of the gun on the right. A giant man in work overalls and a dirty beard stabbed at me with a huge knife.
I shot him, then looked for more targets. A woman pointed a shotgun and fired in one movement. Diving away, I realized my hesitation had nearly ended the last Reaper like a bad mistake.
She chased me around the enclosed space. I fumbled my rifle.
“What exactly are you doing, Reaper Cain?” X-37 demanded.
She jumped over the AA gun chair, kicking me square in the chest with both feet. I fell backward, cracking my head on metal and nearly losing my D3D completely this time.
She thrusted the auto-shotgun forward.
I kicked the barrel aside as it went off and aimed my D3D. “Drop the scatter gun!”
Her eyes went wide as she lunged back from the sight of my rifle aimed at her, then scrambled out of the small enclosure.
I pursued.
A rifle and a shotgun went off at nearly the same time. I emerged into the bloody scene a second after everything ended.
The woman lay akimbo, staring at the sky. Bug held a shotgun wound to his shoulder.
“Maybe you aren’t one of the HC units! What the hell was that? Haven’t you shot a woman before!”
“It’s been a while!” I shouted back.
Bug clenched his teeth so hard it looked like they might shatter.
I took his weapon so he could hold the wound with both hands, then dug through his belt for a clotting agent and a pressure bandage.
“She nearly killed me. I was walking up there thinking the big bad Reaper had things under control. I killed my share. What happened to you?”
I sterilized the wound as best I could, poured in the clotting agent, and glued down the bandage. “Don’t worry about it. Fights are messy.”
He shook his head but looked ready to vomit from pain. The shotgun wound wasn’t his only hit, it was just the one that made it between the seams of his armor. Blood, sweat, and gravel from a hard fall covered him.
“Don’t forget about the freighter,” he said. “Think you can handle them?”
“Sure, Bug. I’ll be right back.”
The freighter landed twenty meters away, too close for a proper operation and too far away for what these amateurs were attempting. Using the gun emplacement for cover, I lined up my shots and unleashed hell.
Shooting from a stable platform while your enemies ran straight at you wasn’t even fair. I dropped the first five before they realized I had them in my sights.
The others sprayed my hiding place with shotguns, a machine-gun, and a crossbow. I stepped back, counted to three, then rolled out and shot two more who were standing with their feet wide, weapons held forward like they thought they were at a gun range.
That left three.
Retreating around the emplacement, I checked my magazine and decided not to bump it—i.e. switch it for a full one. This wasn’t going too take many rounds. Unlike my encounter with the woman in the AAG, I had my shit together now.
19
Silence held the scene. Only the noise of the freighter’s engine ticking and something burning behind me broke the monotony.
Fire wasn’t always bad. The crackling sound didn’t mean something was going to explode. Smoke had lots of benefits, like concealing my movements.
I low-crawled between the anti-aircraft guns with my D3D cradled between my forearms. Speed didn’t concern me. I stopped frequently to listen.
Bug crawled on his knees and his right forearm, dragging the left side of his busted body across the dirt until he could stand beneath the camo netting of the other gun. I watched him check the weapons, then his bandages. He pointed at the ground he stood on, then gave me the thumbs up.
“This would be easier if we had integrated comms, Reaper Cain.”
“Move that up on my priorities list,” I whispered. “Help me with this next scan. When I get to the very end of these sandbags, I’ll peek between some of the fallen net. Sound off if you see something I don’t.”
“Of course,” X said.
I eased into position, squinting until I spotted the freighter. Two men low-crawled frantically toward it, which made me think one of them had to be a pilot. I could hear them argue and curse.
“Where is the other one, X?”
“Unknown.”
I twisted toward Bug, then pointed up.
He rolled his eyes, mouthed something obscene, then climbed to the highest point of the AAG emplacement. The best camouflage and armor remained there as a permanent part of the weapon. It also had view ports.
The two crawlers were almost at the freighter. With the loading ramp down, they would be able to dash inside and disappear soon. “I’m out of time, X.”
“Agreed, Reaper Cain. Good luck. I have no additional data to share at this time.”
Bug lined up a shot with his rifle. I followed the angle and saw a man running for a hilltop about ninety degrees from the other two at the freighter.
“This will be sniper initiated, X. The second Bug fires, I’m on these two like a razor monkey.”
“Very good, Reaper Cain.”
“Hurry up, Bug,” I whispered.
Bug quickly wrapped a long piece of fabric around his shoulder, then held it with his forehand, making an extra secure connection between the front grip of the weapon and his body. No flinching for Bug, not today.
“Damn that is going to hurt,” I said.
“You are correct, Reaper Cain.”
Bug let out a long breath, then paused before drawing another.
I turned my attention to my own targets.
Bug fired once.
I jumped to my feet and rushed the men on the ground. They scrambled up and tried to make it inside, only to get shot in the back. I kept them in my sights until I reached their bodies and confirmed they were dead. Looking back, I saw Bug’s target down, and Bug leaning back in the gun turret in abject misery.
“That was a rough fight, X.”
“Agreed. You would have failed without the help of Bug. Had you not died due to your hesitation to kill the woman, they would have rallied and overwhelmed you anyway. If by some miracle you stayed alive past that point, they would have returned with reinforcements,” X said.
“Thanks for the pep talk.” I cleared the ship just to be sure there were no more surprises. When that was done, I went to check on Bug.
“Why does everyone around you get shot to hell, Reaper?”
I shrugged, hesitating to make a joke after my failure to drop the woman with the shotgun. “Let me have a better look.”
He shook his head. “Let’s fly back to the bridge first. I want to know if this was worth it. Hope those kids are still alive.”
“This will only take a second.” I opened his armor for the second time today, adjusted the pressure bandage, and re-secured his chest and shoulder plates. Both were damaged but better than nothing. “I’ll check the ships. Can you fly one? Might be good to take both.”
He shook his head. “I can fly, a little. Mostly self taught. But my head is swimming and I think a little pee came out.”
I burst out laughing and was still amused when I learned our roughly repaired assault shuttle from Maglan City was ruined anyway. Fuel leaked from the wings and
main fuselage. It stank of chemicals. Smoke drifted from inside, never a good sign.
I retrieved a fire extinguisher and handled the flames, then checked the rest of the scene after remembering the sound of something burning during the final fight. It turned out to be an overturned brazier that was easily dealt with.
The meat they’d been grilling was ruined.
Of course.
Once I removed the rough lumps of coal they’d been using for fuel, and stomped out the clothes they had been drying, I barely needed the extinguisher.
The freighter was in better condition but low on fuel. We could fly it back to the bridge or continue toward Marsi without reaching either place. I knew which choice Bug would make and owed it to him not to argue.
I transferred our gear to the cargo hauler, scavenged ammunition, batteries, and rations from the outlaws, then went for Bug. “You ready?”
“Are you going to carry me?” he asked.
“No, but that’s not all of the bad news. You’ll have to walk from where we run out of fuel to the bridge,” I said.
“Then we might as well get after it.” He limped toward the freighter and entered via the ramp.
I found my way to the cockpit, ran a systems check, and took off without asking X-37 for help. He was unusually silent, prompting me to check the computer in my backpack for power.
“The battery is holding, Reaper Cain,” X said. “But please plug it into the ship.”
I complied and made an easy trip to a spot within view of the bridge. I landed neatly, hoping the people we had helped would have fuel. Barring that, maybe they could still use it for salvage after we left.
Bug and I barely spoke as we hefted our packs, checked our weapons, and left the cargo hauler parked in the middle of a weed covered field.
A hundred meters from the little fort, I heard a challenge.
“That’s close enough, stranger.” The man stayed behind the makeshift parapet, only allowing a view of his face and one shoulder. It was pretty obvious he held a weapon just out of view. His poor hygiene was equally evident from his stained shirt and the greasy stripe of hair down the center of his head.
“They’re on high alert,” Bug said quietly, his eyes scanning the scene before us. “I don’t blame them.”
I pointed the way we had come. “We took care of those raiders.”
“Yeah? Well we handled the gaggle of them you left behind. Even managed to clean up the bodies, no thanks to you,” Mr. Hair Stripe said.
“We don’t need anything from you,” I said. “We just came to make sure they survived the attack.”
“You expect us to believe that?” another voice said, this one much younger, maybe even a teenager who sounded more than ready for another fight.
Bug leaned close to me, turning slightly away from the fort so they couldn’t see him talking. “Do you think the family is okay in there?”
“They went in there willingly,” I said.
“That’s a fluid concept around here. For all we know, they were picking the lesser of two evils.” Bug watched me intently, gauging my response.
“How far do we take this? Are you suggesting we shoot our way in, then take them to the next settlement, maybe kill everyone there to make sure they get what they want?” I asked.
“The Reaper I knew never left people behind.”
“Then maybe you’re a clone of Bug, did you ever think of that? Because if you really came all the way from Dreadmax, you know that was a load of crap,” I said.
He shook his head in what was becoming his signature move. “Nope, that’s not how I remember it. The Cain I know was always rescuing strays. He brought two, three depending on how you count them, civilizations here for a new start.”
“I didn’t hold the hand of every flea bitten family I found alongside the road,” I said.
“But you would have if you could have.” He walked toward the fort with his hands up. “We just need to see the family and make sure they’re okay.”
“What family? You trying to trick us? And how is that your business?”
“We saw them run across a bridge and take shelter in your fort,” Bug said.
Mohawk smiled and lifted one hand as though his point had been proven. “Now I remember. Of course. They wanted to come inside. So what business is it of yours?”
Bug stared at the man, completely at a loss for words.
I picked out other details about the fort that I had missed before. Their banners weren’t made out of fabric, but animal skin—or maybe human skin. I had no idea why parents would take their children into such a place, but they had been running from something they considered worse.
Moving beside Bug, I kept my eyes on the leader of these ragged survivors. He started to say something, then paused. Playing a hunch, I moved closer, well ahead of Bug now.
His eyes widened and he looked behind the barricade nervously, seeming to seek advice from one of his fellow scavengers.
I moved even closer, then stopped. “You see me now, don’t you? I only want one thing, the family safe and standing right in front of me. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”
Voices argued where I couldn’t hear them. Somebody was pushed against a wall. The spokesperson disappeared, then came back, checked to see I was still there, and went back to what sounded like a pretty good brawl.
Silence followed. Bug moved up beside me, hand on his HDK II.
Someone pulled the gate open from the inside and pushed a family of seven through the gap, two adults and five children from ages four to fourteen.
The gate rattled shut. The greasy hair stripe wearing spokesperson didn’t show himself again.
The children took one look at me, and three of them started crying.
Bug intervened, stepping between me and the parents. “This one’s different.”
The man went pale. The woman nodded vigorously as though she wanted to agree but was also trying to hold back tears.
“Are there any other prisoners being held against their will inside?” I asked.
The father hesitated, and it was the mother who overcame her fear first. “No one. There was a group. But no one is alive now. Please—don’t hurt my children, Reaper.”
I stared at them, not feeling appreciated. “Call me Cain. Or Halek Cain. Or Hal, I really don’t care.”
None of my new friends responded. I turned to Bug. “Take them toward Marsi, and let them go wherever they want. They can have some of our food and water, but not all of it. I’ve got one more thing I need to address with these half assed cannibals.”
“Don’t take too long,” Bug said, then hustled the family up the road before the fort dwellers could change their minds.
I shouted at the gate. “One last thing. You better have some decent cigars, and you better throw them out here right now.”
“Or what?” Mohawk said without showing his face.
“Or I come in there and kill every one of you, right after I get tired of the torture.” I watched Bug’s response out of the corner of my eye. He hesitated at the mention of cigars.
“We don’t have any,” Mohawk said. “No tobacco of any kind. Why don’t you leave us alone?”
“Why don’t you drop dead,” I muttered as the smell of cooking meat came from inside. These desperate survivors had been preferable to the ones we killed earlier. Maglan really had gone downhill.
The gate cracked open, and a young woman with a shaved head sprinted out holding a bundle wrapped in oiled leather. Angry voices pursued her, but no one dared to follow.
“This is all the tobacco leaf they had. You have to take me with you now. I can’t go back in there,” she said like the statement was one long word.
I pointed toward Bug and the others, who were fifty meters away. “Go with them, and stay away from the kids.”
I crossed my arms and stared at the fort.
“You realize they could shoot you even with primitive firearms, or perhaps a crossbow,” X-37 said.
“About time you showed up, X. I was getting worried,” I said, refusing to move.
“Why exactly are you standing here?” X-37 asked.
“Psychology. I’ll leave just as soon as I know they understand their place.”
“Please explain your intense dislike of these people that you worked so hard to protect,” X-37 said.
“I don’t like it when people turn on themselves, especially when they go after the weak. I don’t know why that family went in there, but it feels like a betrayal even though I wasn’t involved.” I waited for another minute, then turned my back on the place and walked after Bug and the others.
“It would be helpful for my analysis if you would learn the reason those parents made that choice,” X-37 said.
I didn’t respond. The answers were probably going to be bad, and I mostly just wanted them to go their own way and make better decisions in the future.
Bug greeted me when I caught up. “This group isn’t from around here, except the one who brought you the tobacco. They’re from Marsi. Might be useful when we get there.”
“Did they say why they took shelter with cannibals? I’m not sure I need someone like that watching my back,” I said.
Bug furrowed his brow. “Their answer doesn’t make much sense. The father didn’t want to talk about it, but the mother eventually told me they were running from somebody called Scheid, and those outlaws were some of his bounty hunters.”
I said nothing.
“They said Scheid comes around every few weeks with soldiers. Always in an assault craft—one that looks new and has all of its gun attachments.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, comparing the information to X-37’s revelation about the man kicked out of the Reaper Corps development team.
“Does that mean anything to you, Hal?” Bug asked.
“Maybe. I’m still putting a few pieces together.”
He walked with me for a few more steps in silence. “Just keep me in the loop. You might be just another HC assassin, but there is something different about you.”
“Bug, that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.” I fished a cigar out of the bag of loose tobacco, stuck it in my mouth, and looked for a lighter.
