A Fistful of Credits: Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 5)

by Chris Kennedy

  His knife nearly slipped from his hands as it pushed into a groove near the top of the wall. He’d found the compartment. Now to loosen it up a little. After sawing back and forth, Rosethorn pushed on the hilt of the blade, and the wall creaked open. This was the bulkhead all right. He pushed upward on the hilt, allowing his leverage on the blade and gravity to do the rest. The panel in front of him fell, and Rosethorn hopped backward to avoid getting his toes smashed. Inside was a bunch of strange tubes, wiring, and electronics. “This what you’re looking for?” he asked.

  Jeb’s eyes went wide at the sight. He crouched down in front of the open panel and whistled. “Pay day.” His scanner dropped from his hands as he eagerly went to work trying to remove some of the components inside.

  A voice came through Rosethorn’s suit comm. It was Palmer. “Creature…firing…no effect…getting Montas…need backup!”

  “Shit,” Rosethorn said. The alien metal must have blocked some of the comm signal. It should have been hours yet until the creature arrived at the village’s sacrificial altar. What happened? “Jeb, how much longer do you need?”

  Jeb looked up. “I just started and need to be careful. Twenty minutes?”

  Rosethorn grimaced. He looked to the guide. “Lead me back to the village. Jeb, I’m gonna leave a couple of men with you. When you’re done, get back to the ship and prepare for takeoff. The rest of us are going to see what the hell happened and get our people to safety.” Before Jeb could respond, Rosethorn jogged down the hall and slipped back through the crack. The guide came with him.

  “We can’t interrupt the ritual. The Great Protector—” the guide said.

  Rosethorn glowered at him. “I’ll tell you where you can shove your Great Protector. What you’re going to do is lead us back to your little altar before I decide to get trigger happy. Now move.”

  The guide didn’t stop to think. He nodded and ran toward the repeating gunfire.

  * * *

  Grace screamed, but the sound was dampened by the gag in her mouth. Bullets ricocheted off the hide of the giant lizard-beast in front of her—far too close to her for her own comfort. The thing had a scaly, silver hide and eyes like multiple shiny black bulbs. It looked vaguely like the dinosaur her captors had described, though with longer arms ending in devastating claws. Those claws, about as long as one of Grace’s arms, ripped through one of Palmer’s commandos, body armor and all. The shredded man spun to the ground, his blood pooling in front of her.

  When the creature stood erect, it nearly blocked out one of Threndark’s suns. The shadow cast by its fifteen-foot height spread over Grace and the altar.

  One of the commandoes fired a rocket launcher at the creature. The projectile exploded, booming in the air, and shrapnel flew everywhere. The blast forced Grace to cringe and shield her eyes. A fragment clipped her shoulder. It stung, but there was little she could do for the wound. When she looked up again, the creature was still rampaging toward her.

  She was stuck on the altar. Her guards had not only gagged her, but had also bound her hands behind her back, anchoring the bonds with weights to keep her immobilized. Although Meynard had made an agreement with Captain Rosethorn, the local had double-crossed him. Rosethorn had underestimated the settlers; they had been smart enough to split the force that had invaded their village, and had taken an unguarded route from the back door of her cell directly to the mesa.

  Fortunately, some of the crew was scouting the altar, and they had ambushed the settlers when they arrived, but when they did, they found the creature already lurked there, and all hell broke loose.

  Jason Palmer crouched behind her, using his machete to snap her rope. Grace didn’t have time to thank him as the creature came bounding toward her, swiping at the altar with its claws. She rolled off the platform, and the creature’s claws narrowly missed turning her into diced Human. Palmer distracted the creature by opening fire with his assault rifle, its bullets just as ineffective as everything else the mercs had tried. All they had managed to do was piss it off.

  The creature speared one of the other commandos, piercing him through the chest with its claw and lifting him off the ground. The commando flailed, kicking helplessly as he tried to find footing, before the creature opened its gaping maw and ripped the merc’s head off with its sharp teeth. It swallowed the head whole and tossed the body aside. Then, the creature let out one of its ear-piercing screams.

  “We have to get the hell out of here,” Grace said. With all the gunfire, it was likely no one heard her. She backpedaled toward the trail but lost her footing on some rubble. Before she could fall off the mesa and tumble down to the forest below, a hand gripped her by the arm. It steadied her. Grace turned back.

  Behind her stood Captain Rosethorn, eyes set on the monster in front of them. “Status?” he asked her.

  “I’m okay. But we won’t be for long if we don’t figure out a way to deal with this thing,” Grace said. Seeing Captain Rosethorn, her heart felt as though it would leap out of her chest.

  Rosethorn nodded, quickly surveying the situation. “Two down already? Entropy. Where are our rocket launchers?”

  “Palmer’s already fired one. It didn’t faze the thing,” Grace said.

  Not much broke Rosethorn’s usually stoic composure, but a small twitch on the left side of his mouth betrayed his stress. Grace had seen it on a few occasions, and each time it had been a portent of ill tidings for the crew. The last time had been when they nearly ran out of fuel before returning to the Trentiri starport. This time it meant he didn’t know what to do about the creature any more than she did.

  One of Palmer’s men fired another rocket at the creature. Rosethorn covered Grace to protect her, even as he recoiled from the blast. “You’d think they’d warn us when they’re about to do that!”

  The creature stumbled, then screamed for a third time, sounding angrier than before. It charged the man who fired the rocket.

  Palmer and several of the others used the opportunity to retreat, heading straight for Grace, Rosethorn, and the trail behind them. “Run!” Palmer yelled, his voice muffled by his helmet. Rosethorn’s men looked around, confused.

  “You heard him!” Rosethorn shouted. He still had Grace by the arm, and he tugged her along. They hurried down the trail, the steep slope and gravelly surface making it difficult to gain any traction. Grace didn’t dare look back or slow her pace. The pounding footsteps of the beast were enough to keep her moving full speed ahead. Rosethorn dropped back behind the rest of his team, ever protective of his crew. Grace wanted to curse him; if the captain died, they’d all be screwed. They needed him more than the others.

  Out of breath and running as fast as she could, she didn’t have the time or ability to harass him. She only prayed he could come up with a way to deal with this thing before the creature slaughtered them all.

  * * *

  Rosethorn chased the rest of his crew down the trail, back to the village. Without some way to kill the thing, there was no other option but to retreat toward their ship. All their weapons had proven ineffective against it. He understood the terror the cities must have felt when they faced actual Canavar all those years ago.

  In the village ahead, settlers pointed and screamed. Many ran in circles, haphazard and panicked. So much for their ‘Great Protector.’ Rosethorn felt guilty for bringing it back where it could rain destruction on so many innocent lives, but by the same token, the villagers had betrayed him. His agreement with Meynard was that the locals were supposed to wait until Rosethorn returned before bringing Montas to the altar. Happily, he’d had the foresight to leave some of his men behind; otherwise, Montas would be dead. As much as the loss of a couple people bothered him, he wasn’t sure if he could have lived with himself if he had been responsible for her death.

  His whole plan was idiotic in hindsight; it had been pure hubris to think he could handle this situation, despite not having an accurate assessment of the creature. If he made it out alive, he silently vo
wed to never order such a harebrained scheme ever again.

  The creature came barreling after them, far too quick for its size. It knocked over several trees at the edge of the village, which crashed with a crack to the ground.

  “Keep running,” Rosethorn commanded. “Move, move, move!”

  His people did just that, and there were enough of them that the creature, although still gaining on them, hadn’t decided on a target. It was more than just hungry; it was enraged, and that was likely Rosethorn’s fault, too. The mercs came to the center of town. A nearby village woman scooped her children into her arms and took off toward the forest.

  Meynard rushed out of the council building. His face was bright red, incensed. “My village! My people! I should have had my hunters shoot you all on sight. You brought down the Great Protector’s wrath!” He maneuvered himself into the path of the mercs, forcing them to slow in the square.

  The creature arrived soon afterward. It jerked its giant head to the side, its bug-like eyes vibrating as it howled. One of Palmer’s men stopped too close to it, and he barely managed to dive out of the way when the creature swung its claws at him.

  Palmer spun around, leveling a rocket at the monster. “Fire in the hole!” he yelled.

  The rocket blasted out of its chamber. A moment later, it exploded—a direct hit on the giant creature’s torso. The force of the blast pushed the creature back into a nearby cabin, and the wooden wall collapsed under its weight. The roof crashed down on the creature, and dust spread out into the square.

  “Out of the way,” Rosethorn said, not wanting to waste a second of the diversion Palmer had created.

  “You’ll have to go through me,” Meynard said, crossing his arms defiantly.

  “Gladly,” one of the commandos said, leveling his gun at Meynard.

  Rosethorn reached out and forced the merc to lower his weapon. “No shooting civilians. We can go around him.”

  “Captain,” Meynard said, desperation apparent in his voice and facial expression. “You can’t leave my people like this. The Great Protector will destroy us all!”

  Behind them, the creature writhed under the rubble of the house, trying to escape, but was pinned down. For now.

  Rosethorn clenched his jaw, once again cursing his own sense of ethics. He had agreed to keep the children of this village safe, even if he hadn’t verbalized it to them. By the same token, he didn’t want to waste another breath on this nut job. Wait. Breath. Something clicked in his mind. Even if this creature could fend off all the weapons they had, it still needed air to breathe. He had an idea. “Palmer,” Rosethorn said. “Keep pissing that thing off. Make sure it follows us. We’re going to lead it back to the shuttle.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it,” Rosethorn said. He stepped forward and clasped Meynard on the shoulder. “I’m going to help you, despite the fact that you tried to kill my first officer. Let us do our jobs. Get the civilians out of the way.”

  Meynard looked confused, but he nodded. “People of Threndark,” he yelled. “Run for the council chambers. Let these men handle the Great Protector!” The remaining villagers in the square followed his orders, and Meynard jogged off after them.

  That was enough time for the creature to get free. One of Palmer’s men fired another rocket into the rubble, managing to collapse one of the side walls onto it. The wood caught fire.

  Rosethorn motioned his men forward, and they ran across the square toward the opposite edge of the village and the shuttle. Rosethorn tapped his comm. “Jeb, come in. You back at the shuttle?”

  “Ready and accounted for,” Jeb replied.

  “That equipment; you didn’t use the cargo pod, did you?”

  “Nope. What we needed to retrieve was a lot smaller than we anticipated. I would like to excavate that ship more—”

  “We don’t have time now. Maybe on the next drop. Get the ship ready. We’re taking off immediately. Keep the back ramp open. We’re going to be bringing a very large visitor with us.”

  “What?”

  “Captain out.” Rosethorn ran as hard as he could, guiding his men to their destination. The creature let out its loudest shriek yet, the sound drowned out by continuous gunfire from several assault rifles. With a glance back over his shoulder, he saw the creature was back on its feet and on a rampage. It trapped another one of Palmer’s men between its jaws, and paused to rip the man to shreds.

  “Filthy Phil!” Palmer cried. It was one of his best men. Palmer fired on the beast again.

  The rest of the unit ran back into the forest to where the ship waited. The creature followed in hot pursuit, just as Rosethorn had hoped. “Palmer. I need you on the cargo pod ramp. The rest of you, cease fire and get into the shuttle. We’re going to lure this thing into our rear cargo pod and take off. Palmer and I will draw its attention.”

  “Aye, sir,” Palmer said. His voice relayed his feelings; he didn’t like the plan in the least.

  Rosethorn wasn’t about to let his men bear the brunt of the danger. He raced up the cargo pod ramp, scanning to make sure that Montas, in particular, made it to safety. He turned and opened fire on the creature, and it charged toward him. “Jeb, get ready on the ramp and take off.”

  “Aye, sir,” Jeb said.

  Rosethorn and Palmer fired simultaneously, directing everything they had at the creature. Rosethorn fired until he ran out of ammunition, then removed the sling from his shoulders and threw the rifle at it. The creature dove for him and extended its claws to impale him, but Rosethorn jumped off the side of the ramp. The creature fell off balance and stumbled on the ramp, falling into the pod.

  Palmer leapt off his side of the platform, landing much more gracefully than Rosethorn had, as the ramp ticked closed. The beast turned around in an attempt to escape, but flailed helplessly against the ramp as it trapped him inside. It attacked the ramp, biting furiously, but it couldn’t escape.

  The shuttle rocked. There was no telling how well, or even if, the cargo pod would hold the monster. It wasn’t rated for the stress of a giant creature ramming against its walls.

  Rosethorn scrambled toward the crew hatch, with Palmer behind him, and both men threw themselves into the shuttle. “Go, Jeb!” Rosethorn shouted.

  Jeb fired the shuttle’s thrusters. The rear monitor provided a view of the creature, angered beyond belief, as it threw its entire weight against the ramp wall. The shuttle lifted, and the creature stumbled and fell deeper into the pod. Rosethorn braced himself against Montas’ harness, unable to make it to his own seat.

  The creature turned its attention to the opposite wall, as if knowing where the Humans were. Though it should have been impossible, the creature seemed to sense its prey, and it pounded on the bulkhead as the shuttle continued to ascend.

  And then the bulkhead began to give. It started with a little divot, right under where the cargo pod viewing monitor had been mounted. Then, after several more hits, it became a full-fledged dent in the shape of the creature’s skull.

  Montas wrapped her arms around Rosethorn’s waist. Though it was an act of fear, Rosethorn couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation. The respite was brief as bile rose in his throat from the acceleration and his own fear of what would happen if the creature made it through. “Jeb,” Rosethorn warned.

  “Almost out of the atmosphere,” Jeb said.

  The creature crashed once more against the wall. If it broke a hole through, they wouldn’t be able to open the rear ramp in vacuum. He didn’t want to risk dropping the thing back onto Threndark and having it somehow survive the fall; if rockets couldn’t kill the creature, there was no telling what would. “Hurry!”

  “We’re clear!” Jeb shouted.

  “Vent the cargo pod,” Rosethorn said.

  His co-pilot hit the control that opened the ramp, and Rosethorn could see the paper and debris being sucked out into the vacuum of space on the monitor. After a couple of seconds, the creature, despite its enormity, was pulled toward the nothingness,
and it went overboard as its body imploded.

  Rosethorn’s knuckles had turned white from holding onto Montas’ harness for dear life. Montas relaxed her grip, but kept her arms around his waist. She cocked her head up toward him. “That was gutsy. It could have torn us all apart.”

  Rosethorn let out a deep sigh of relief. “I had to trust my gut.”

  Palmer laughed and shook his head, having managed to squeeze into his seat and harness somehow, sandwiched between two other mercs. “That was too close for comfort, Captain.”

  “What’s important is we made it, and we’re going to get a nice bonus from the Cartography Guild,” Rosethorn said.

  “What about those people down there?” Montas asked. “They’ve lost their Great Protector.” She rested her head against his hip, and it didn’t seem like she intended to let him go any time soon. None of the other mercs appeared to notice, or they were at least too polite to stare.

  “They’ll need more protection from the influx of colonists and tourists once word spreads about this planet. I may even come back some day when I retire,” Rosethorn said wryly. The monitor changed to a view of Threndark from the rear of the shuttle.

  “Seriously?” Montas asked, her arms tightening around him once more.

  Rosethorn laughed. “Yeah right. I intend to be running this company until the day I die. Let’s hope it’s not soon.” His body felt as if it were about to float away, but he couldn’t determine whether that was from the lack of gravity or from Montas’ touch.