The Good, the Bad, and the Merc: Even More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 8)

by Chris Kennedy

  Laybourne nodded his thanks. “Thank you Father. We should be fully unloaded and operational in a matter of hours.”

  “Good,” Father Powell replied. “You are free to move about our home as you wish. If you need anything, or there is anything at all we can do to assist you in your efforts, you have but to ask. May the Lord’s blessing be upon you in the work that lays ahead for you and your men.”

  Laybourne stood watching as Father Powell and his bodyguards disappeared back into the busy chaos of the city. Workers hurried about their jobs, mostly on the city’s wall, but also on what would soon be its streets and its central temple. Though only in the early stages of construction, the central temple was already a stunning sight. Its architectural style seemed to be based on the great temples of Rome from humanity’s early days. Already there were several stained glass windows in place as beautiful as any Laybourne had ever seen.

  Shaking his head, Lieutenant Alex Laybourne tore his attention away from the city. It was time to get to work. As smooth and charismatic as Father Powell was, Laybourne wanted to be back in space as soon as possible, before Powell could work his charm, and he found some of his men converting to the colonists’ faith.

  For all his intentions of returning directly to the transport, however, Laybourne ended up taking a quick walk through Father Powell’s city. The people he ran into were friendly and insanely kind. Most everyone spoke to him. Some were awed by his uniform while others ignored it entirely, treating him as if he was just another member of the colony. One kid came up to him and asked, “Do you pilot CASPers?”

  Laybourne knelt down to the kid’s eye level before the boy’s concerned mother could run over and lead the boy away.

  “I do, kid. It isn’t as romantic as you think it is though,” he answered the boy honestly.

  The boy’s mother didn’t quite know what to make of his answer, but she hadn’t fully been listening to the conversation, anyway. All that concerned her was getting her child, as politely and respectfully as possible, away from the man she knew was a hired killer.

  That moment had been the only one of his stroll through Father Powell’s city that had been awkward. Laybourne couldn’t blame the mother. In her place, with her faith, he likely would have done the same. He figured she knew it was hard to get into the heaven she believed in if you were covered in alien blood and entrails.

  By the time Laybourne returned to the transport, Wagner had the squad’s CASPers unloaded and was busy running them through the standard pre-mission check protocols. All eight of the CASPers were MK 7s. There had been no way in Hades the colonel was going to deploy MK 8s for a contract like this one. The Hell’s Banshees’ MK 8s were needed elsewhere, likely for a big money contract, while Laybourne handled this one. Father Powell and his flock were clearly paying the Hell’s Banshees enough to make it worth the Colonel’s while to send him and the MK 7s out here. Every contract mattered, but Laybourne was under no delusion the Hell’s Banshees would be retiring after getting paid for this one. Still, it was probably taking a pretty good-sized chunk of Father Powell’s resources just to be able to afford him and the MK 7s.

  Laybourne spotted Wagner approaching him. Wagner shot him a thumbs up. “All the CASPers are ready to roll, sir, and I have the transport set up to act as our CIC.”

  Nodding, Laybourne asked, “Munnie will be staying behind with you to run it?”

  “Yes sir,” Wagner answered. “She’s fine tuning the transport’s sensors as we speak. There’s a lot of EM in Ki-a’s atmosphere, so she’s trying to make sure we’ve compensated for it as best we can.”

  Laybourne stretched his arms, loosening them. “I guess it’s time to suit up then.”

  Wagner nodded at him. “Good hunting, sir.”

  Though the MK 7 was an older style CASPer, it remained an impressive sight to Laybourne. Each of the suits stood eight feet tall and weighed in at roughly one thousand pounds. Their armored forms bristled with weapons, and it was the first suit to feature the pinplant links, allowing a user to integrate with the suit’s system to fire its weapons with mental commands. These MK 7s were lacking the detachable laser shield that many of their kind often had. There was no point in having such tech when you knew your enemy was going to be throwing spears and firing arrows at you, and Colonel Drake liked to trim expenses any way he could, as long as it didn’t threaten the lives of his men. Some of them carried magnetic assault cannons, or MACs, and others machine guns. They all were equipped with arm blades and belts of K-bombs, something Laybourne had asked Colonel Drake for. Nothing delivered shock and awe to a bunch of primitives like a K-bomb detonating inside their ranks.

  Laybourne got into his personal CASPer and powered it up. He watched as the suit’s systems came fully alive around him. He’d spent so much of his career in CASPers that being in one felt like coming home.

  “All units, form up on me and let’s get this party started,” Laybourne said over the suit’s comm. “We’re wasting daylight.”

  * * *

  According to the Cha-kichi data packet Father Powell had given him, there hadn’t been a substantial attack on Alpha Sanctuary in over two days. Father Powell’s followers believed, though, that a large group of Cha-kichi warriors remained within several miles of the city, and they were right. It took less than three hours for Laybourne’s CASPers to stumble upon the aliens and engage them. The CASPers were spread out in a pincer formation that gave them the highest chance of locating the aliens while still keeping them close enough to each other to offer support if such need should arise. Laybourne hadn’t figured it would, though, and so far he’d been just as right about that too.

  Arrows struck his CASPer. Some of them pinged off its armor while others shattered against it. Laybourne watched the Cha-kichi warriors on his tactical display. His personal CASPer was at the point of the unit’s formation and right in the heart of the battle, if it could be called a battle. It was more like a massacre. His CASPer’s MAC fired, reducing the bodies of three Cha-kichi warriors to little more than clouds of yellow mist that blew about on the light wind sweeping through the trees.

  “LT!” Chuck’s voice rang out over the comm. “We’ve cleared the right flank. Pretty sure we got all the buggers over here, too.”

  “Understood,” Laybourne snapped, unhappy with Chuck’s unprofessional language. “Hold your position and stay alert.”

  “We’ve got incoming up ahead, sir!” Torgson shouted.

  Laybourne checked his display and saw Torgson wasn’t kidding. The two CASPers near his had made short work of the initial mass of Cha-kichi warriors they had run into. The ground was littered with corpses and stained yellow with ichor-like blood. But now, a group of hundred or more warriors was charging through the trees into the clearing where the fight raged.

  “K-bombs!” Laybourne ordered. “Target their center.”

  The three CASPers sent K-bombs flying at the Cha-kichi’s reinforcements. The first K-bomb detonated with such fury Laybourne imagined he could feel it shaking the ground his CASPer stood on. Two more explosions erupted in the wake of the first. The fiery light of the detonations flashed on his display. If he had thought the battle was a massacre before, he fully believed it now. The smoke cleared and Laybourne felt sick when he saw the torn and mangled bodies of the Cha-kichi warriors, bits of which seemed to be smeared over the entirety of the forest floor in front of his CASPer.

  The few surviving Cha-kichi warriors had apparently had enough, and they ran like bats out of Hell away from the CASPers. Laybourne was willing to let them go, but Torgson wasn’t. His CASPer kept firing at the retreating primitives as they tried to flee.

  “Hold your fire Torgson,” Laybourne ordered. “That’s enough for now.”

  “Ah, come on, sir…” Torgson griped.

  Laybourne shut him up quickly. “Our job is to make sure the Cha-kichi learn to stay away from Alpha Sanctuary, not to kill them all. We need some alive to spread the word about what happened here. Do I
make myself clear, Torgson?”

  “Crystal, sir,” Torgson responded coldly over the comm.

  “Left flank clear,” Smith reported.

  “Roger that,” Laybourne answered. The battle was over. The Cha-kichi in the forest surrounding Alpha Sanctuary were broken, and the few survivors on the run. Everything had gone as planned. It almost felt too easy to Laybourne. Still, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Walking away from an engagement without losing a single member of his squad or having any of their CASPers damaged was a rare and blessed thing.

  “Smith, you and Torgson meet up and hang here in case the Cha-kichi rally and come back. I want to make sure this area is really cleared out,” Laybourne ordered. “Everyone else, return to the transport. I want your CASPers rearmed and at full power before the sun sets.”

  * * *

  Father Powell was waiting on Laybourne when he got out of his CASPer. Leaving his CASPer for Wagner to tend to, Laybourne went to speak with the priest.

  “I trust it went well,” Father Powell smiled as Laybourne walked up to him.

  “It was a total rout,” Laybourne assured the priest. “Our CASPers ravaged them. I don’t think you’ll be having any more issues with the Cha-kichi for some time, if ever again. I’ve left two of my men to make sure they don’t come back. I’d say the odds are pretty good that if they don’t return soon, they likely never will.”

  “That’s a rather bold statement, Lieutenant,” Father Powell cautioned him.

  “I call them as I see them, Father,” Laybourne said with a frown. “A lot of primitive races, once they see something like our CASPers and what they are capable of, get so spooked by them that they see the CASPers as monsters or gods. Once they see the kind of carnage we dished out this evening, fear will become the ruling force for them.”

  “Ah, but there are those races who fight to the last warrior in the name of honor, home, or faith as well, Lieutenant. What will we do if the Cha-kichi fall into that category of alien?” Father Powell pressed him.

  “I find that unlikely, Father,” Laybourne answered. “The CASPers I left in the forest will keep a lookout for any signs the Cha-kichi aren’t as broken as I think they are. If the Cha-kichi do make another move against us before we depart, we’ll hunt down the local tribe and eradicate them entirely to ensure the safety of your flock.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that, Lieutenant,” Father Powell said with a sigh. “All life is sacred. None of us wanted to go to war with the Cha-kichi. Sadly, for whatever reason, despite our attempts to make peace with them, they offered us no other choice.”

  “For what it’s worth, I hope it doesn’t come to that either.” Laybourne nodded. “The sooner we’re done here, the better. Colonel Drake may have need of us elsewhere.”

  That last bit was an outright lie. Laybourne knew full well that Colonel Drake could spare a squad of ten troops and eight outdated CASPers. Heck, if the intel about Ki-a had turned out to be as wrong as intel usually was, and it was them that had gotten massacred, the colonel would have just written them off and been done with the entire matter. Father Powell didn’t know that, though, and there was no need for him to.

  “I shall see you in the morning then, Lieutenant,” Father Powell said. “May God grant us all peace in this world in the days to come.”

  “Amen,” Laybourne agreed, not knowing what else to say.

  Father Powell and his two bodyguards left Laybourne standing alone in the field between his unit’s transport and the partially finished wall being built around Alpha Sanctuary. Laybourne couldn’t help but like the priest. He had met hucksters and con men who ran supposedly religious colonies like this one, and knew full well what they were after only a few words with them. Father Powell, though, exuded an undeniable sincerity that set him apart from that kind of leader. The more Laybourne spoke with him, the more he believed Father Powell was exactly what he claimed to be. The short, self-guided stroll Laybourne had taken through Alpha Sanctuary was further proof that he and his flock were good and decent people.

  Running his fingers through his hair, Laybourne took a deep breath as he looked up at the sky. True night had fallen, and the stars were sparkling above him. Ki-a was a beautiful world, and aside from the Cha-kichi, was a place Laybourne imagined was almost paradise.

  Father Powell offered Laybourne and his men a place to stay inside Alpha Sanctuary, but he didn’t take the priest up on his offer because he wanted his men to stay close to their CASPers in case he was wrong about the Cha-kichi. Should the blue-skinned aliens return, he wanted to be ready to meet them with a fast and hard response that would drive home the lesson he had tried to teach them today.

  Laybourne walked past the line of empty CASPers that were still being serviced and rearmed. His boots clanged against the metal of the transport’s ramp as he headed into it to turn in for the night. He was exhausted, and he knew getting some sleep would do wonders for him.

  * * *

  Smith had his CASPer run another scan of the nearby forest. Like all the others, it was clean. There was nothing out there but trees and darkness. It was going to be a long night.

  “What the frag man?” Torgson’s voice came over the comm. “How did we end up being the ones being stuck out here?”

  Smith sighed and thought, Yeah, a really long night.

  “Let’s just do our job, Torgson. Personally, I’m glad we don’t have to worry about being shot at for once,” Smith answered.

  “That Laybourne’s a real jerk,” Torgson growled. “We should be in Alpha Sanctuary drinking and finding some ready and willing women.”

  “Alpha Sanctuary is a religious city, Torgson.” Smith shook his head inside his suit. “It ain’t like the other fringe worlds we’ve been to. You’d be much more likely to be handed a Bible here than find a bar.”

  “Everywhere has a bar,” Torgson argued. “Everywhere. You just got to find it.”

  Smith noticed a flash of movement on his tactical display. What in the devil?

  “Torgson, did you just pick up some movement on the right?” Smith asked.

  “Nothing moving out here,” Torgson replied after a moment of apparently checking his own sensors. “It’s just us and the trees.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Smith started but never got the chance to finish. The thing came out of nowhere, a fast-moving mass of scales and muscles. It plowed into Torgson’s CASPer, sending it flying through the woods. It crashed through two trees, splintering them, before it landed hard on its back. Torgson whelped in pain from the impact, and then let loose a litany of curses that would have made a sailor blush.

  Torgson’s CASPer struggled to its feet as Smith’s head darted about in search of the thing that had hit it. The creature had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His CASPer’s systems weren’t even picking it up. Smith didn’t know if it was because of the EM interference in the planet’s atmosphere, or if the creature had some way of hiding from them. He caught another glimpse of movement and yelled, “Eyes left!”

  Torgson whirled his CASPer about as the thing came at him again. His CASPer’s MAC opened on the creature, hosing it with a stream of high velocity rounds. Smith watched in disbelief as the rounds sparked from the creature’s scales without penetrating. He saw a flash of the creature’s claws in the dim starlight as it took a swipe at Torgson’s CASPer, then disappeared once more into the trees. Torgson’s scream sent a cold shiver up Smith’s spine.

  Kicking his CASPer into gear, Smith gave it a shot of jumpjuice and leaped in the direction of Torgson’s CASPer. He landed only a few feet from Torgson. The entire front of Torgson’s CASPer was shredded, and through it, he could see the red glint of his squad mate’s blood.

  “Transport One!” Smith shouted over his suit’s long range comm. “We’ve got a man down out here! Requesting immediate support!”

  Smith’s eyes scanned the trees and his tactical display. He had no idea where the creature had gone, but he knew the thing w
ould likely strike again at any second. Smith brought every weapon his CASPer had online and held them at the ready. He rotated his CASPer in a circle of slow steps, eying the trees.

  The last thing Smith ever saw was an open mouth, filled with rows of razor like teeth. He didn’t even have time to scream before he was torn apart.

  * * *

  Laybourne was ripped from sleep by Wagner’s voice over the transport’s internal comm. He sat up so quickly, he banged his head on the low ceiling above his bunk.

  “Mother fragger!” Laybourne rasped, rubbing his head and coming fully awake as the adrenaline began pumping through his veins.

  “Sir!” He heard Wagner yelling over the comm.

  “What is it?” Laybourne snapped, already dressing in his combat gear.

  “We’ve lost contact with Smith and Torgson,” Wagner told him. “The last we heard from them was Smith saying Torgson was down, and they needed immediate support.”

  “I’m on my way. Get everybody suited up and ready to roll,” Laybourne ordered.

  “Already on it, LT,” Wagner assured him. “We’ll be ready.”

  Laybourne sprinted through the transport’s corridors. When he reached the exterior door and started down the ramp, he saw the rest of his men were already busy getting into their CASPers. Wagner was overseeing them, which meant that Munnie was still in the transport trying to figure out what was going on with the ship’s sensors.

  “Any further word?” Laybourne asked Wagner as he rushed to his CASPer and got into it.

  Wagner answered him over the suit’s comm. “No sir. We’re totally in the dark about what’s happening out there.”

  “Bugger it,” Laybourne muttered. He knew this job was too good to be true. It wasn’t a real day in the Hell’s Banshees unless someone bought the farm.

  “Have Munnie shoot Smith and Torgson’s location to everybody,” Laybourne yelled at Wagner.