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

by J. N. Chaney

I couldn’t turn my LAI off, so I gave him the silent treatment as Path talked to the gate guards.

  X dropped the topic.

  Mac and the others closed each door in the maze after us as we left. Path didn’t talk, and that was fine with me. Every part of my body hurt, I was tired, and my friends weren’t my friends anymore.

  Bug and Tom had believed me, but maybe the reason I couldn’t find them after our separation was because they didn’t want to be found. X-37 might have a better answer, but LAI pragmatism wasn’t what I needed right now.

  Dragon horses howled in the night. Dogs yipped and ran away. I spotted a group of Razors lurking in one of the shadows, then pointed them out to Path.

  He studied them without emotion for several moments, then went another direction. The only good news so far was the lack of mechs stomping around or JFT popping up where they weren’t wanted. The city was dark and cold, despite the heat.

  Two blocks later, I heard a lone dragon horse snarling and razor monkeys grunting their strange language as they wrestled the animal to the ground.

  “Stay back, Path,” I warned.

  He stalked to the next corner like a panther, staff gripped loosely in both hands, and slowly edged to a place we could watch.

  Razors squatted around the fresh corpse of a dragon horse, ripping flesh away in chunks. Grunts of satisfaction punctuated the wet sounds of eating. The dead monster looked more like a sad, oversized lizard now.

  “I’ve heard of these creatures but never seen them,” Path said. “Something is changing on Maglan for them to have come so far.”

  We backed away and found a new route through the city. Path didn’t talk much. My mood improved the more work we did. Moving tactically to avoid fights was enough to keep me occupied and that was enough to make me happy. Going with the flow was easy around Grigori “Path” Paavo.

  “When you were with Tom and Bug, did you encounter the JFT or the Obsidians?” he asked.

  “Both at the same time,” I said.

  “That is unfortunate.” He changed course and cut through a warehouse district.

  “We split up to escape.”

  He raised one hand slightly, something he did instead of nodding. “They may have been captured. I will take you to their base here, and we will see.”

  “Path moves well,” X-37 said. “There has been no need to alert you of dangers because he has preemptively avoided several problems.”

  I signaled X that I heard but kept my mouth shut.

  The nearer we came to Scheid’s base, the easier it was to detect the man’s military presence. Path pointed to a thirty foot pile of rubble. “They compacted the debris, then buried it with gravel made from other buildings.”

  I studied tire ruts to the top, quickly identifying this location as part of a patrol route around a perimeter of streets and vacant lots. “Observation point. The inward slope of the hill looks like a tank revetment—defenses aimed outward. This isn’t meant to be held indefinitely or permanently manned but could be used to slow an enemy advance or stage a tactical retreat to a stronger position in the center. Let me guess, there are more of these around the perimeter and another ring inside this one. The closer we moved to the base, the more permanent the defenses will be. The base itself is probably ringed with fences topped with razor wire and guard towers with snipers.”

  “You are correct because the Obsidians use Union tactics,” he said. “The forces of Oroth do not build their facilities this way. On other parts of the continent, you will encounter their bases. They create concrete ziggurats in a matter of weeks and guard them with long range flame throwers. No one goes near them. Not even the Obsidians.”

  “Are we facing Union forces?” I wanted Path’s opinion. He wasn’t a soldier or a tactician but a pure warrior who could operate as either. But he was from the Deadlands, and that meant he knew about our old enemies.

  “No,” he said. “Merely from the Union, as we are.”

  “How close can we get to their inner perimeter?” I asked.

  “If I am with a true Reaper, all the way to the center, perhaps into the personal quarters of the faceless man if necessary. But I hope it is not. One mistake will cause the need for bloodshed.”

  “I’m okay with that,” I said. “But I know that isn’t your jam.”

  He pushed me deeper into our hiding place, moving slowly so that we would be just another pair of shadows. “The key to not being seen is to not move like a pair of men who fear for their lives.”

  I really liked working with Path. Few people were better at this stuff than I was. He was on that list. The man brought mastery to a small set of skills, while I got by on meanness and stubborn determination. The idea of attempting infiltration with Jacob and Roadkill tagging along made me cringe inwardly.

  Neither of us spoke until a vehicle approached. I heard it long before I saw the rough looking machine. It didn’t appear to be a local design, like Scheid had brought it with him. Which made me wonder where his real base was located. On a starship? Another planet? A secret space station like the one where I had started this miserable crusade?

  “The vehicle will circle the block twice, once quickly and once slowly, then climb the hill and park in the carved space—the space you called a revetment. There will be eight soldiers who will divide into squads and take turns standing watch while the others rest or make repairs to their equipment,” Path said.

  “Obsidians?” I asked.

  “No, but their uniforms are similar—black with red rank insignia and accents.” Path watched without moving. The guy would make a hell of a sniper if I could get him to take up the trade. He would use guns, but I knew he had to be pushed into a truly desperate situation to pick one up.

  “You studied their movements before this?” I asked.

  He raised one hand a fraction, turning it palm up to approximate a nod.

  “Is this the only patrol on the outer perimeter, or will there be a second following it, or running a counter route in the other direction?”

  “There will be a second unit consisting of two to three vehicles and a drone. They will arrive in less than thirty minutes but more than ten.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “Five minutes after these kids leave, we’ll move forward and see what we see.”

  Path didn’t respond, which I took as agreement.

  Scheid’s perimeter patrol arrived right on time, though the first unit was still holding their observation post. Path was wrong about another thing—there were Obsidians. One in each of the armored cars. The vehicles weren’t tanks but faster vehicles with lighter armor and gunners standing from openings on the roof.

  Each truck had two drivers, a primary and a backup, and each of these were protected by their own bubble of clear material—probably stronger than most steel. The Obsidian riding in the backup driver’s seat looked bored but alert.

  The bubble around the gunner was more complex and articulable. I watched as the gunner of the lead car swiveled right, left, up, and down. He was more vulnerable than anyone inside but definitely not an easy target.

  The gunner of the second vehicle operated a rocket battery instead of a heavy machine gun.

  “My rifle won’t pierce that armor,” I said, not expecting, and not getting, a comment from the sword saint.

  He stiffened, his posture preparing for a fight. “Third vehicle. That is new.”

  Focusing on the column’s rear guard, I saw a weapon to strike terror into the heart of a reaper—a flamethrower that looked like it could cook anything within fifty to a hundred meters.

  “I thought the JFT used flamethrowers,” I said.

  “To defend their forts, yes. The Obsidians have stolen the technology, which suits them. They are instruments of terror—worse than the Reaper Corps ever was. If this man represents the Union in this sector of the Galaxy, things have gone from bad to worse,” Path said.

  “Scheid isn’t part of the Union. They fired him from the project for a lack of moral
s.”

  Path laughed darkly.

  I stared at him in surprise.

  “If you tell the truth, clone, we are in trouble.”

  31

  Staying low, I examined our back trail. “Now isn’t the time to fight.”

  Path led our invisible retreat, not saying a word. He moved slowly, without wasted movement.

  I followed, thankful for the sword saint but wishing I had a squad of my friends wearing Archangel armor.

  Seeing with both eyes and using both hands felt intensely surreal. Maybe this should have been a mundane condition not worth attention, but it caught me off guard from time to time.

  I wanted my old, broken life back—because that was where memories of Elise and all the others still lived. I hoped that kid was all right.

  “What are you smiling about, Reaper Cain?”

  “Nothing. Just wondering if Path forgot we’re fleeing a superior enemy force,” I said. “Did you see something, Path?”

  He stopped to watch and listen. Not a problem, but when he did it I was never sure if he would start moving again.

  “Tell me if you lose sight of them, or if they are overtaking us,” he said. “I must move slowly to remain unseen and cannot watch behind us.”

  “I got your back,” I said. “Slow and invisible, that’s the ticket.”

  “Your biometrics suggest you would prefer hauling ass,” X said.

  I gave my LAI a thumbs-up but didn’t press the issue.

  Path had always been a consummate swordsman, a quiet companion who listened more than he spoke and had a knack for showing up where and when he was needed. The man was one of a kind.

  Our journey into the blast zone emphasized the skills he had been perfecting during the last decade. Grigori “Path” Paavo could teach shadows how to creep. He’d been good at covert movement before, but a lot had changed while I was asleep.

  Each time he ranged more than a few strides ahead of me, I lost sight of him. He chose the darkest route through mountains of rubble and moved in harmony with his environment.

  “He’s good, X.”

  “Twenty-three percent more efficient at moving undetected than you were in your prime, Reaper Cain.”

  “Gee, thanks for that.”

  “You must remain silent,” Path said when I caught up to him. “Use the hand signals to communicate with your LAI if you must.”

  “Do the clones have limited AIs?” I asked.

  “I have never been close enough to ask them,” he said. “It seems unlikely. Perhaps you are a more advanced model.”

  Now might have been a great time to argue who and what I was, but I didn’t. The armored cars crept after us, driving slowly and shining powerful spotlights over the terrain. Four drones, one for each vehicle, zipped over the craters and debris.

  “Was this a nuclear attack?” I subvocalized to X.

  “There is more convincing evidence of a kinetic strike from orbit. That doesn’t guarantee the absence of radioactive fallout or other dangerous elements. Dropping space rocks can have unintended side effects. Proceed with caution.”

  Path moved, and I followed. Lactic acid burned my thighs and glutes from walking in a crouch and mixing super slow stealth movements with periodic sprints across open areas.

  Dogs, rats, and small lizards fled our approach. The Obsidian vehicles frightened a flock of birds that filled the sky with motion and noise. Moments later, the squadron parked where they could command a large portion of the debris field.

  “They have never parked like this,” Path said.

  “Keep moving. They’re calling reinforcements. Smart, since this is a large area with lots of ambush points,” I said. “I’ll lead.”

  “Have you been this way before?” Path asked. “The terrain will confuse you.”

  “No doubt,” I said. “But I know what to look for. If they sent a blocking team ahead, we might walk right into them. They could have raced around to this part of the city, or deployed teams from airships. Another standard tactic in the Union.”

  Path fell in behind as I picked up the pace. Stealth could only get us so far. Advance optics would catch us, especially if there was a blocking team with motion sensors deployed. I searched for small things—the tip of a rifle, the reflection off a sniper scope, the partial profile of a helmet silhouetted against the star filled sky.

  Ten minutes later, we had crossed five times the distance Path had traversed. Did I feel great about our chances of avoiding detection? No. Every move felt like a signal to the Obsidians.

  Dread dancing in my chest, I wanted to break into a sprint and just get the hell out of here. Moving too slowly was a death sentence, and so was charging blindly ahead. Finding the balance between the extremes was like building a house of cards with edges as sharp as razors.

  The armored cars rolled forward at ten or fifteen kilometers per hour, more than enough to over take our previous pace. Powerful engines gurgled above a steady background noise of heavy tires crunching gravel.

  Path motioned for me to continue leading. Grim faced, he also appeared ready to run for it—an expression I hadn’t expected to see on his face.

  “It won’t be long now,” I said. “Their reinforcements will be here soon.”

  Dropships fulfilled my prediction. Several landed a half kilometer ahead of us, and even more landed behind. Worse, an even larger flight of ships from the stratosphere headed for Scheid’s base, which meant he was building up his force to launch a major operation.

  “There are several routes too narrow for their vehicles. Pick one of those and move quickly,” Path said.

  “Stay close.” I picked up the pace, running across open areas, then slowing to scan possible ambush points through my D3D scope. I regretted surrendering the silver helmet, even if the thing reeked of halitosis and stale sweat. The optics and cooling system would have been nice, not to mention the protection it would have offered.

  Two piles of concrete, steel, and other debris loomed ahead of me on my right and left. The main passage between them looked like a great place to get ambushed by armored cars, or worse, mechs. Small trails cut off to the right but looked like they might circle back on themselves.

  I glanced back at Path. He shook his head. That way was a no-go.

  “Your options are surprisingly limited, Reaper Cain.”

  “Thanks, X. Figured that out all by myself.” I studied the mountains of twisted junk. “We’re going over.”

  “Are you certain?” Path asked.

  “As a heart attack. We can move unseen if we stay lower than the contours. If it comes to a fight, at least we will have the high ground,” I said.

  “That is not the hill you want to die on, Reaper Cain.”

  “I’d rather not die on any hill, X.”

  Sneaking through the worst destruction of Marsi became like hiking to the top of a once great building. The stolen Obsidian armor, especially the boots, collected scrapes despite my efforts to avoid stepping on or bumping jagged pieces of rusted steel. Path didn’t seem to have a problem despite his lack of armor, but he was Path.

  Two of the cars approached on the same street I’d used to get here, then stopped at the base of this mess. Path and I squatted low and waited. The Obsidian commander of the first vehicle climbed out and scanned the area with his helmet’s advanced optics.

  I tried not to breathe. No smart ass comments came to mind, and I didn’t even think about pulling out one of the crappy scavenger cigars—though a long smoke and a cold beer sounded pretty damn good right now.

  The Obsidian completed his scan and placed his fists on his hips. The armored car engine idled, its crew invisible inside while units patrolled elsewhere.

  “We could draw them out of that vehicle and deal with them,” Path said.

  “Not a bad idea if not for the ships deploying troops around this section of the city,” I said. “We would have to be fast as hell.”

  A second armored car arrived, which meant there was a
gap in their perimeter. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see where it was. Another flight of ten dropships cruised overhead, destined for Scheid’s main base. The man was definitely making a big move. I wished I knew what it was.

  “Let’s see what lies ahead,” I suggested. “If we’re going to ambush these jerks, we need to choose the terrain.”

  “I will leave that to you,” Path said.

  Created by chance rather than foot traffic, the trail twisted upward, stopped in places, and restarted where it was least convenient. I picked my way over nasty barriers, ducked under I-beams, and crawled through short tunnels to reach my objective.

  “Your biometrics are highly elevated, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “I recommend avoiding small spaces, especially those that resemble the building collapse that trapped you.”

  “This building already fell, X. Get completely off my back about my biometrics,” I grunted as I navigated a very tight corner, crawled to the surface, and thanked the gods I hadn’t gotten stuck. Path emerged as calm as always from the same tunnel.

  “My job is to monitor your well-being and make suggestions. When I detect fear, there is a reason,” X said.

  “I wasn’t scared.”

  “Reaper Cain—”

  “Shut it, X.”

  “Of course, Reaper Cain, but I should advise you that I detect vibrations you might sense naturally if you paid attention,” X-37 said.

  “Just tell me what you’ve got.”

  “The Obsidians have deployed into this debris pile—each with four of their regular troopers.”

  “Are you sure about those numbers, X?”

  “Of course not. Tactile sensations, especially at this range, are the least reliable data you provide for my analysis. There is a thirty-seven percent chance my prediction is accurate. I can say with a much higher degree of certainty that there is more than one enemy searching for you on foot,” X said.

  Path pointed above us as a drone passed.

  “What about that, X?”

  “The drone is a problem. Do you want to know how greatly aerial surveillance reduces your chance of avoiding detection?”