by Scott Moon
Kin laughed.
Orlan clenched his jaw. “Zelig was part of the campaign, but he never touched down. He thinks he’s my friend — always buying me drinks and telling stories. Can’t say anything when he lies. He’d put me in isolation for a year.”
Several long moments passed. Neither of them knew what to say. Kin finally found his own bottle of water but didn’t open it. “When are we going to kill each other?”
Orlan smiled, then shrugged. “We should have some shore time granted if we survive this planet and the armada waiting for us. I assume the commander told you about the Imperials. He gave their Seventh Fleet a thrashing, but the Eighth and Thirteenth were bearing down on us before we crossed the wormhole. Uncharted piece of shit.”
Kin remembered how the wormhole had appeared in the path of the Goliath. The ship captain and his navigators swore it wasn’t supposed to be there. Most of them died during the crash. The captain and many ship officers died during the first year because they wanted to explore the planet and look for other survivors.
“If we hadn’t gone into the wormhole, we would’ve been annihilated. Our strength was depleted, half our ships lost with all hands and the rest damaged. I hate space battles. All you can do is sit in your room and wait for the crewmen and Marines to either win or lose,” Orlan said.
“When did we start fighting in space?” Kin asked.
“Right after Hellsbreach, when the Imperials came. Occasionally, our brilliant commanders used Planetary Forces to board an enemy ship, but mostly the Marines do that. They have the gear and the training. Dangerous business. I never wanted any part of it.”
“But you did it,” Kin said.
Orlan nodded. “Twice. The first time we established a coupling tube and swarmed in. Most of the Imperials were already dead, but it’s a hair-raising experience. You’d love it. The second time they shot us across the gap between ships, in our planetary assault armor, knowing that if we missed, we’d float away and die of starvation and insanity.”
“Sounds familiar. A bit like being shot into space inside of a funeral casket,” Kin said.
Orlan laughed. “You did that, didn’t you? But you weren’t in danger. Becca had already paid the pirates and equipped your casket with insulation and breathable air. Wait until you have to board an enemy ship. Then you can tell me which is worse.”
He stood and went to the door. “I need some rest before my next round with the Reaper. If the commander lets me take you, I’ll make sure you have a good suit, so long as you promise not to kill me when we’re outside. That’s all I came to say.”
Kin watched him leave. He tried to open the door, but it was locked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CREW doors, three inches thick, held him captive. Kin lacked a cutting torch, explosive charge, or miracle password to escape. What he had was time. He tried to sleep though quarantine. When the door opened, he wouldn’t get a chance to rest for days.
He turned around to discover Orlan had left something — pictures of Zosia Milton and Jack Tenderfoot.
Boot Camp. Advanced Infantry School. A few from the front line, posed with weapons up and helmets down. Happy times, although it hadn’t seemed that way.
The images were not temporary copies made to be easily recycled, but studio prints. Someone had spent money on them. Kin had never bothered with mementos.
But Orlan had.
You’re still a homicidal maniac. A backstabbing thug.
The door opened. Becca entered. She was taller than he remembered, but not by much. He assumed his memories had reduced her height to match his image of her as a girl. It seemed unlikely being a Shock Trooper had actually made her taller. Her hair was short. Her uniform was neat and she was as fit as any solider Kin had ever met, although not so muscular as Captain Raien.
“Do you want out of here?” Becca asked.
“Where are we going?” Kin asked. He saw Raien and her bodyguards waiting in the hall.
“Captain Raien wants to talk with you and then we’re going for a walk,” Becca said. She moved aside and the captain walked into the small room.
Raien closed the door, leaving the two guards and Becca in the hallway. She stepped near him, hips touching his, hands on his body, her chest an inch away because she leaned back slightly to look at him. She held each of his eyes.
Kin didn’t speak.
She looked at his face, his neck, and his shoulders. She touched the side of his face with one hand and rested her other on his oblique muscles.
She sighed. “There is no time now, and I’m afraid that once you make peace with your girlfriend, you won’t have time for me at all.”
“Please,” Kin said. He liked Raien, but his heart ached for the woman waiting in the hall. Other men would know what to say to a jealous lover. Kin searched for words and found none.
She kissed him on the lips but didn’t linger. “I’m better than she is, just so you know.”
“Says who?”
She shrugged and backed away, starting a tour of the small room. “No one says anything. I just know I’m better. You can tell by the eyes. She doesn’t know anything about men except how to be one. Her Shock Trooper brothers trust her absolutely. She has bled for them and they’d die for her.”
“What do you want, Raien?”
“She’s pretty,” Raien said. She considered the water dispenser but let her hand fall without opening it.
“What do you want?”
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. For a trained killer, she had the vixen act down perfectly. “I want to make her uncomfortable. We don’t actually have time to get it on, but it must feel like forever for her. Or maybe we could play a little? No. I am not that cruel. I don’t start things I can’t finish.”
Kin wanted out of the game. He waited in silence. She opened the door, simultaneously assuming the aura of a captain again. “You should have come straight to me once you found the Reaper. The commander was not pleased. And you should have waited for a Fleet unit before pursuing it. You owe me, Kin Roland, and I will collect.”
Becca watched from the hallway, impassive. She could have been standing guard on the bridge of a warship or watching an execution.
Kin focused on Raien, because she wasn’t done with him, but he also watched Becca in the background.
“The commander is sending Sergeant Orlan after the Reaper for the Weapon’s Research and Development Division,” Kin said.
“Predictable,” Raien said. “It’ll end badly.” She turned to Becca. “Don’t keep him out too long. The commander must know where he is at all times.”
“Yes, Captain,” Becca said. Raien and her guards walked away. Kin sensed the two men didn’t like him.
“Becca, it’s good to see you,” Kin said.
She brushed the side of her head. The movement echoed her long-ago mannerisms. Her hair had been longer and she often pushed it behind one ear. Now she merely smoothed the buzz cut. He saw her well-defined biceps and scars on her forearms. She’d been in some conflicts where armor hadn’t protected her.
When she smiled and took his hand, Kin almost tripped because his knees started shaking. He dreamed of her often. Now that she was here, he felt like a boy. The darkness afflicting him since Hellsbreach fell away like a shroud. Light and color flowed into the world, terrifying him. Life was suddenly precious. He had something to lose and felt he would lose it as soon as she spoke.
“I have things to tell you, Kin. I paid people to rescue you, but it didn’t work out.”
“I’m alive.”
She smiled and faced him. “You are. Now I can stop feeling guilty about prolonging your death. I thought you must have lived for days in the cold of space.”
They walked. Kin remembered the feel of her soft, girl-like hand. The hand he held now could have been his own, except for size. Her grip was strong and her skin was calloused. She abruptly let go and continued to walk. They entered the cafeteria of the ship. The enormous room was
mostly empty, but a few men and women ate quietly at distant tables.
“The pirates picked me out of the jettisoned garbage field. I worked with them until I paid their transport fee and disembarked at some shady port on a dark moon,” Kin said.
“Greedy bastards. They were paid in advance. I sold Father’s holdings on Earth.”
Kin was stunned. Property on Earth was priceless. Becca could have hired every pirate in three sectors for what one acre of land on Earth was worth. He studied her, but her outrage didn’t match the extreme injustice of the fraud. “That’s a lot of money.”
“I don’t need money. I have the Fleet,” Becca said. “After I realized you were gone, I volunteered for the first Shock Troop Brigade I could find. They didn’t want to take me, but I killed a few people and changed their minds.”
They sat at the table and talked. Kin savored every second and guarded their privacy. Two crewmen approached the table, but Kin glared at them and they walked away. Unlike Orlan, Becca was an experienced space warrior. She had boarded fifty ships and been repelled during half the attacks. Nothing was more dangerous than retreating from a failed ship-to-ship assault.
Only twenty vessel-to-vessel boardings had occurred during the entire Fleet history before the Imperials came. Hellsbreach had been dangerous, a suicide mission for almost everyone who made planetfall, but fighting on a ship in the void of space was equally dangerous. Becca had nerves of steel and the casual fatalism of a warrior who had fought too many times and understood the proximity of death.
“Commander Westwood has agreed to take any person from this planet who desires passage, but he’ll cram every last one into a transport vessel like prisoners. Conditions will be inhumane. Many will die, but I think your friend Laura Keen has convinced everyone it’s their only choice,” Becca said. “If Sergeant Orlan and his thugs capture the Reaper alive, Westwood will probably order the monster on the same ship, locked down and separated from the civilian quarters by a compartment without atmosphere. In theory, they should be perfectly safe, but if they realize who their neighbor is, they’ll live in terror of what could happen.”
“Has Westwood lost his mind?”
“No one has ever captured a Reaper. I wouldn’t worry about it. Orlan doesn’t have a good record with bringing back live prisoners,” Becca said.
“Orlan wants me to help him hunt the Reaper.”
“Then kill it,” Becca said.
“I’ve never encountered a more dangerous Reaper. I trapped it in the Valley of Clingers where nothing can survive, and he came out wearing the monsters as a cloak. He defeated the alpha of the Crashdown wolves and now they follow him. His tactics have improved and he has a fascination with Clavender,” Kin said. He had nearly said Droon was bound to her but decided Becca didn’t need the details. Becca was still a Fleet Trooper, loyal to Commander Westwood and the mission.
He hated holding things back from her.
“Tell me about her,” Becca said.
Kin didn’t know what to say. She was an outcast, just as he was, but her home world faced destruction and no one in the Fleet was her friend. “I need to speak with her.”
“The commander won’t allow it,” Becca said. “He’s afraid she’ll try to escape.”
“Is she a prisoner?”
“Not officially, but she won’t be allowed to leave,” Becca said. She paused, distracted by her thoughts. “Kin, you must understand Orlan was the only known survivor of the final Hellsbreach assault until we found you. I can’t explain his legendary status in the Fleet. He’s treated like a demigod. The commander knows who you are but hasn’t exposed you. He has his reasons and you can probably guess what they are. But Orlan doesn’t want to share his fame, even if you are executed. You can’t trust him. I know he came to visit you. Treat every word out of his mouth as a lie.”
“I’m way ahead of you, Becca.”
“He’ll kill you as soon as you help him catch the Reaper.”
“He can try.”
She clenched her jaw and leaned closer. “Listen, you stubborn jerk, he’s like you. Everything about his condition is top secret, but I’ve been watching him. Something changed after Hellsbreach. He’s incredibly strong. Every time I see him, he’s stronger. He has more followers. He’s more violent.”
“He was violent before Hellsbreach,” Kin said.
“I saw him twist the head off an Imperial during a ship assault. Fleet Command knows he’s a time bomb, but he can single-handedly change the course of a battle. The man goes berserk. But now, instead of getting drunk and whoring afterward — which he still does — he attends galas and award banquets, charming the civilian leadership with frightening ease. He’s untouchable. The moment he exposes you, you’re dead.”
Becca poked Kin in the chest, driving her point home.
“Commander Westwood wants you alive and has complete authority during this expedition. But when we rejoin the Fleet, even Westwood won’t be able to deny Orlan his revenge. He wears the Hero of Man medal. Don’t trust him. If I had to choose between sharing quarters with Orlan or a Reaper, I’d choose the Reaper.”
Kin considered her words.
“He has friends in high places, higher than Westwood,” Becca said.
“He’s always been a charmer,” Kin said. “Despite being built like a troll. He’d be an artist, if he wasn’t busy being a murderous thug.”
Becca nodded and smiled knowingly. “He draws me pictures.”
She continued to talk. Kin realized it was time to tell her everything. He needed to say he loved her and make her believe it. He took each of her hands across the table and stared into her eyes. What a strange couple they must seem, a daughter of Earth turned Fleet Shock Trooper and the Traitor of Hellsbreach.
At first, she didn’t realize he held her hands like a lovesick boy or a man about to propose marriage. When she realized the connection, she smiled and cocked her head as she met his eyes, pausing in her monologue, but continuing with new warmth.
Kin kept his mouth shut. It was better that way.
He saw her fellow Shock Troopers before she did. They entered the cafeteria as though there was a battle they needed to find. Even in this secure setting, they spread out, visually scanning and securing the area. They regrouped at a long table. Four of the less senior members guarded the table while the others went for food, although there was no danger of losing their seats.
Three senior Shock Troopers moved toward Kin and Becca. “Are we interrupting?”
Becca stared at the men she obviously knew well. Kin didn’t like the tone or swagger of the leader. He anticipated a fight but wasn’t sure whether they were after him or her. Special units had strange rules, always centered on loyalty and exclusivity. Kin was an outsider. The Shock Troopers didn’t approve of him.
If they only knew.
Something about the situation changed; possibly it was the look in Becca’s eyes, or possibly they realized Kin was the Crater Town security chief who had frustrated Commander Westwood during the last several days. The leader, a lieutenant by his uniform, gave a hand signal. Kin barely noticed it, but he heard chairs being pushed back and saw the entire group circling him. They left a small gap where he could attempt escape, but it was obvious they didn’t expect him to make it.
Becca stood. “This is private, Randal.”
Randal shrugged and continued to approach her. Kin stood but made no move to confront the man. He had decided that Randal was not acting as an overprotective brother, but as a unit enforcer. Becca had broken a rule. Now she was going to pay.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“YOU seem to be sitting at a civilian table,” Randal said. He stared at Becca, ignoring Kin completely.
Kin’s instincts screamed for action. Randal looked tough, but Kin thought he could shove the man’s head up his ass while fighting off his buddies at the same time. He felt waves of power surging through his muscles. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, he was facing an enemy not wea
ring superior armor or gifted with alien genetics designed for killing. He didn’t move. All the Shock Troopers but Randal stared at Kin and took positions around him.
“This is none of your concern, Randal. Leave it alone,” Becca said.
Kin liked her tone. She was confident. She took her time with each word and only glanced at the others.
“I thought you were one of us,” Randal said.
“I am,” Becca said.
“Then it’s my business.”
“Yeah? Well, so is my foot up your ass if you don’t back off.”
Randal and Becca stared at each other. No one moved. After two minutes, Randal nodded at Kin but didn’t look at him. “Is this the man who let the Reaper escape?”
Becca didn’t answer. Randal moved closer, whispering in her ear while looking over her shoulder in Kin’s direction. He gazed straight through Kin. Soldiers called it the thousand-yard-stare. “Now is not the time for getting involved with a local. This mission is a turn and burn and you know it.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Becca said.
Randal stepped back and smirked. “You look like you’ve known each other all your lives. How romantic. Maybe I should tell him who you really are. Would he still be interested if he knew what you did on Perilous IX?”
“If you ladies are going to fight, get to it,” Kin said.
Randal jerked his head toward Kin and started to move, but his attention shifted to several troopers entering the cafeteria. Orlan led the group to the food line, grabbed something with his hand, and began eating as he sauntered across the room toward Kin.
“I need you ready in ten minutes, Kin, by Commander Westwood’s authority. Report to the armory for gear,” Orlan said. He faced Randal. “Your brigade is now on perimeter defense, in Mechanized Armor. Situation: I will be hunting a Reaper that may attempt to breach our security. Enemy forces: one Reaper that possesses dangerous organic armor and a pack of wolves under his command. Friendly forces: me, Security Chief Kin Roland, and God, if you pray hard enough. Your mission: observe the Reaper or other hostile forces as they approach our defensive line and destroy them. Understood?” Sergeant Orlan said, still holding a sandwich in one hand.
