Hell's Rejects (Chaos of the Covenant Book 1)

by M. R. Forbes

  “I have no doubt you would, if anything untoward was taking place. Those bastards killed thousands of my people, Captain. My family. I want them caught. I want them dead. And I want my ships back.”

  Olus caught her eyes with his for a moment. He didn’t sense any dishonesty, but she wasn’t the type of asshole he normally dealt with. He was willing to bet all of her lies had a ring of truth to them, and all of her truths were laced with lies.

  “Thank you for this, Mars,” he said. He started walking toward the ancient Earth doors, pausing halfway. “I forgot to ask you about the ships.”

  “What about them?”

  “Everything. Defensive capabilities. Offensive capabilities. Weaknesses.”

  She smiled. “It’s on the disc, Captain.”

  “Right. We’ll be in touch.”

  Then he left.

  He had somewhere else he needed to be.

  13

  They came three days later, in the middle of the night.

  At least, Abbey thought it was the middle of the night. It was difficult to be sure on the cell block, since there were no windows to look through. There was only the coming and going of the guards bringing them food and water, and Major Klixix and Mr. Davis taking each of the imprisoned members of the Fifth Platoon for questioning. None of them were gone very long, and when they came back they always looked more broken than when they left. Especially Sergeant Coli. Abbey had given up on trying to get him to talk to her. At times, she was tempted to give up on everything.

  It was after lights out, so she knew it had to be some time during the night. She was awake, as she usually was until shortly before the lights came on again, going through a routine of exercises to keep her body fit while she challenged her mind by trying to work out new encryption algorithms. It was a habit she had gotten into during Breaker training, using it to memorize the countless different schemes that existed in the universe, from the Plixian ixilix-secure to the Rudin’s niaisisisi-duplicator. It had worked, too, and now adding a new methodology was as simple as integrating it into the exercise a few times.

  The lights went on too early, and were much, much brighter than usual. It was enough to both wake the Fifth and blind them at the same time, leaving all of them, including Abbey, with a sheet of white pulled over their eyes. She could hear the door open, and feel the energy field that held her drop. Then someone grabbed her arm, rewarded with a sharp elbow to the jaw for their effort before a second hand grabbed her, the two attackers holding her tight. She didn’t know who they were or what their plan was, so she kept fighting, letting them give her balance while she lifted her legs and swung them sideways, catching one of her assailants in the gut. Her feet hit the tough shell of a battlesuit and she gave up. There was no point to even try, unarmed and wearing only a simple tank and pants.

  “Lieutenant Cage, Stand down,” Major Klixix said immediately following the decision.

  “What the hell is this?” Private Illiard said. “Sarge?”

  There was no sound from Coli.

  “Take them,” someone said. Abbey was pretty sure it was Mr. Davis.

  Then something was draped over her head. Then she was being lifted and dragged away from her cell. She could hear the motion around the room, and she knew the same thing was happening to the others.

  “Where are we going?” she said. “Major?”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Klixix said. “You’ve been found guilty of treason. All of the members of Fifth Platoon have.”

  Abbey fell limp in the arms of the soldiers, her entire body first feeling a warm chill, and then falling completely numb. There was no thought to accompany it. No words to describe it. The emotions burned too quickly to capture in total. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Hayley. She felt the tears spring to her eyes, suddenly thankful to have them covered so Mr. Davis wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing them. What had just happened? How?

  “Guilty?” she heard Illiard say. “How can we be guilty? What about a fragging trial?”

  “Republic military code section ten fourteen, Private,” she heard Davis say, his voice smug. “I’ll paraphrase it so I don’t confuse you, but you can look it up or ask someone smart like Lieutenant Cage later. It says that traitors don’t get a fair trial, because they’re sacks of shit and don’t even deserve the air we’re continuing to allow them to breathe.”

  He was enjoying himself, Abbey realized, the thought bringing some of the life back into her. The son of a bitch liked sending them away, sending her away, with little to no evidence of wrongdoing. Because he didn’t like her? Because she wanted to be with her daughter?

  She could feel the blood begin to flow through her body again. She licked her lips, tasting the tears that had run down to them. She had never been a quitter. She wasn’t going to start now.

  “Mr. Davis?” she said.

  “You had your chance, Abbey,” Davis said, not using her rank this time.

  That was fine with her. She just wanted to know how close he was.

  She jerked her arms, the speed of her reaction catching the soldiers holding her off-guard. They reached for her, but she ducked below them, somersaulting forward and to the right. She came up and threw her fist out, using her memory of Davis to guess his height, and gaining a satisfied smile as her fist cracked into his jaw.

  She could hear him thump to the ground as Klixix grabbed her with four sharp hands, holding her until the guards could regain control.

  “That wasn’t wise, Lieutenant,” the Major said.

  “Frag you, too, Major,” Abbey replied. “You’re complicit in this mockery of justice. I hope you choke on your thorax.”

  “Wooo,” Illiard shouted from the back. “You tell ‘em, Lieutenant. Fragging shitholes.”

  The guards were extra-rough when they took her arms again, digging in hard enough she knew it would bruise. She didn’t cry out.

  “Screw you, too, Private,” she said, instead.

  “Anytime, anywhere,” Illiard replied. “All you have to do is ask.”

  “Get Davis a medic,” Klixix said. Abbey could sense the heat of the Major’s face next to hers a moment later, and feel the thin hairs that surrounded the Plixian’s face tickling her ear. “You knocked him unconscious. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I tried to stand up for you. I did. He wouldn’t hear it. I don’t know why. There’s no logic to this decision.”

  “Who the hell is he?” Abbey asked softly.

  “I don’t know. Someone from higher up in the chain, with clearance I will never have.”

  “Where are they taking us?”

  “You know where they take traitors.”

  She did. It was almost enough to make her limp again.

  “Cage,” Mr. Davis said, his voice muffled. Hopefully she had cracked a few teeth, too. “I’d tell you that you would regret that, but there’s nothing worse that I can do to you than what you’re already on the docket for.” He paused, groaning softly from the pain. “I’ll see you in Hell, Cage.”

  14

  The ship they were delivered on was a standard prison transport, composed of two rows of cells with heavy doors and only a small viewport out into the corridor between them, tucked at the edges of a long, flat, wide fuselage that hung behind a more comfortable wedge-shaped tug where the crew of the transport resided. There were no windows. There was hardly any light. It was a taste of what was to come. A small taste. An acclimation.

  Abbey sat in the darkness of her cell, staring at the blank wall ahead of the mattress. The journey had given her a lot of time to think. Maybe too much time. The military had screwed her over. Davis had screwed her over. Was it really because of her plans to let her enlistment lapse so that she could go home to be with Hayley? Could the Republic really be that petty?

  She had always been a loyal servant of their nation. A patriot. A believer. She had done her best to protect the Republic. To protect innocents from the Outworlders, and to help the Republic overcome the Outworlds, to bring law and peac
e and justice to the planets beyond the Fringe.

  And now?

  She was angry. Beyond angry. The Republic had used her and then thrown her away the moment she lost that usefulness. No, they had done more than throw her away. They had sent her away, to a place that she wouldn’t have wished on her greatest enemy. A place that soldiers feared to wind up, even if some of them did. When your military was as large as the Republic’s, it was no surprise to have some bad seeds in the bunch, regardless of the destination that awaited them.

  She was afraid. She would have been stupid not to be. She had heard the stories. The rumors. She knew why the Republic sent people here. She knew what her life was going to become.

  She should have been stuck in her despair, the way Sergeant Coli seemed to be. She couldn’t see the Curlatin, but she could hear him from time to time, his high-pitched calls registering as crying in her translator. He was a mess. A pathetic mess. The most idiotic part of it all was that he was the cause of the whole damn thing. Or at least part of the cause. He was complicit, if not the ringleader, and she didn’t feel sorry for him despite his whining. In fact, given the chance she still wanted to kick his fragging teeth in.

  She should have been ready to lose hope, ready to fall apart, ready to die. She wasn’t made that way. She had never given up, no matter how shitty things seemed to be. No matter what mistakes she made along the way. It wasn’t in her to lie down. Especially now. Especially when Hayley was out there, surely wondering where her mother had gone. She had been cut off without a word. No goodbye. No I’m sorry. She knew the kid would understand. She was strong like her mom. That wasn’t the point. They were trying to steal her family. They were trying to steal her spirit. They were trying to break her. It seemed fitting in a way.

  She wasn’t going to let them. If the only means she had to fight back was to keep her head up and her spirit intact, then that was what she was going to do. Frag them.

  She sat up when she heard the sharp clang of the main tug detaching from the barge. The separation meant one of two things: either they had arrived or they were under attack and were being left to die. There was still a guard posted at the end of the corridor, so she had to assume it meant they had arrived.

  Her heart began to thump a little faster, despite her earlier thoughts. She could be strong and still be afraid. Fear was strength when used the right way. She got to her feet, moving to the door to her cell and looking out. She could see fingers on a few of the other doors, and hear Coli begin another round of bitching.

  The cries of the damned.

  She stayed silent, backing away from the door. She didn’t want to be the others. Not in any way. She was going to outlive them. Outlast them. She returned to her mattress and sat back down. The transport began to shiver as it hit the atmosphere. There would be a pilot at the back of the barge, guiding it down to the surface. He did an impressive job, and the shaking stopped within seconds. It felt almost as if they had been carried back up into space.

  Another two minutes passed. Then she felt the slight force of the transport’s inertia changing, the ship leveling out in its descent. The sound of thrusters grew louder, and the pressure from the anti-gravity coils increased.

  So did the temperature.

  The ship had heat shielding, of course. Either it wasn’t powerful enough to block out the swelter, or the crew had opened the hold up to the outside air to allow it in. Another taste of what was to come? Either way, the interior of the ship went from comfortable to torrid within a matter of seconds, leaving Abbey sweating through her clothes.

  Another minute passed. The ship’s velocity slowed, and the heat faded away, replaced with a more temperate humidity. She heard the whine of the landing gear as it extended from the belly of the transport, and a moment later they touched down, the ship rocking slightly on the gear before coming to a rest. The lights in the corridor went on full-bore, causing her to squint her eyes. A hiss and groan as the main cargo hatch lowered at the rear. Soft clanks along the metal flooring signaling someone was coming in.

  Then her door slid open. She stared at it for a second before getting back up and approaching it. She looked out toward the rear of the transport. A dozen guards in what looked like older-model battlesuits, the armor thicker and more bulky, the helmets wide. Tubes ran into them, suggesting they had some kind of climate control inside. They would need to. Even here, it was at least thirty-two degrees celsius, and still pretty humid.

  One of the guards moved to the front of the line. His suit was slightly different, painted a darker navy. A small pop indicated that he had activated external speakers on the suit.

  “My name is Warden Packard. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you’re all a bunch of shitbags and the truth is, I can barely stand the thought of looking at any of you. Even so, I’m going to give you orders, and I expect you to follow them. I want each of you out of your cells, standing single file in front of your cell. I want your hands at your sides. I want you to remain silent, still and at attention. Failure to comply will result in pain. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Abbey snapped, as loudly and sharply as she could.

  She moved into the corridor, coming to stiff attention. The rest of the Fifth wasn’t as prepared, and they eased out of their cells a disorganized mess.

  “I see we have one real soldier in this bunch,” Packard said, his helmet turning toward Abbey. “Private, grab that one.” He pointed to Captain Yung. One of the soldiers moved forward and took him by the arm. “You all get one example because you’re new here.”

  The soldier punched Yung in the gut, hard enough that Abbey could hear his ribs crack under the blow. Then he punched Yung in the face, breaking his jaw and knocking him to the floor. Abbey didn’t move, holding herself at attention while the rest of the Fifth fell in line.

  “Private, take him to medical,” Packard said.

  The soldier lifted Yung easily and carried him off the transport.

  “That’s better,” Packard said, looking them over. Then he paused. “We seem to be missing one.”

  Abbey glanced around without turning her head. She noticed Coli wasn’t in the line. She looked back at Packard. She couldn’t see his face. She imagined he wasn’t happy.

  She didn’t know if she was going to get another chance. There was a slim possibility the Warden might even thank her for it.

  She burst ahead, breaking attention and rounding the corner into Coli’s cell. The guards reacted immediately, falling into a defensive stance at first until they saw she wasn’t coming their way. Then she lost sight of them, finding Coli on his mattress in the corner, head lowered into his folded arms. She almost felt sorry for him then. Almost.

  He raised his head as she approached, just in time to catch her fist on the side of it. His head rocked to the side, and then he reached out for her, trying to grab her.

  “You son of a bitch,” she said, finally letting herself lose her temper. Finally getting the chance to act out on her anger and frustration. She hit him again, ducking away from is arms, coming in quick and punching him in the chest, and then the side. The blows were weak against a Curlatin without wearing a suit of any kind. She didn’t care. She kept hitting him, cursing at him while she landing punch after punch, evading his too-slow defenses.

  She could hear the guards coming up behind her. She saved the best for last, getting one good punch in at one of Coli’s large round eyes, hitting the soft material and feeling it press in. Coli roared in pain, reaching up to hold the eye as the guards grabbed her from behind, throwing her backward and into the rear wall with enough force that it knocked the air out of her.

  “Stay down,” Packard said, standing above her as she tried to get up. “If you want to make it out of this ship with all of your bones intact.”

  She was tempted to test him. She was furious beyond words, beyond logic. She could see Coli holding his eye and howling.

  “Get him to medical,” Packard said. It took two guards to l
ift him by the arms and carry him away.

  Abbey started to calm the minute Coli was out of her sight, her rapid heartbeat slowing. She stayed on the ground, motionless, waiting for Packard to speak.

  “Cage, is it?” Packard said.

  “Yes, sir,” Abbey replied.

  “Mr. Davis told me to keep an eye out for you. He said you’re a firebrand. A real demon.”

  He bent down, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to her feet before turning her around to face him. She could see his face behind the helmet, old and weathered and scarred. He smiled at her then, his teeth crooked and brown.

  “We’ll see how long that fire lasts down here. Welcome to Hell, Cage. You’re going to be here for a long, long time.”

  15

  Hell.

  The planet was the site of one of humankind’s first efforts at terraforming. It was an effort that only partially succeeded, leaving it with a breathable atmosphere, but turning it into a lifeless inferno in the process. The external temperatures remained above one hundred degrees at all times, making it impossible to live there. Instead, caverns had been bored underground - thousands of caverns that allowed the residents there to live like ants.

  Why?

  Because the interior of Hell was rich in all kinds of rare minerals, most importantly the disterium that enabled faster-than-light travel. That made it inherently valuable. Maybe the most valuable planet in the galaxy. Which also made it important to keep as a pretty good secret. That, in turn, meant that having paid employees mining the minerals was a less than optimal arrangement, which in turn meant having to source those workers from somewhere else.

  And now Abbey was one of those workers. A miner in the pits of Hell, sentenced to a lifetime of hard labor until she died, either naturally or by finding a way to take her own life. It was illegal to sentence civilians to a place like Hell, but she wasn’t a civilian. The military had their own rules, and those rules weren’t always pretty.