by Scott Moon
“Great work, Kin! I thought you were going to kill it for sure,” Orlan said.
“Kin-rol-an-da,” Droon rasped.
They stared into each other’s eyes. Kin could scarcely comprehend the pain and loneliness he saw. He clenched his jaw and jammed his weight down harder, remembering his moment of weakness on Hellsbreach. His mission had been to annihilate all life from the planet and eliminate the Reaper threat. But he had hesitated.
Prior to the Hellsbreach campaign, lone Reapers roved the galaxy committing a score of horrific murders. Earth Fleet broadcast scenes of carnage until everyone agreed the Reaper threat was real. But he had been the one called upon to actually commit genocide against a race that had killed fewer humans than humans had.
Kin had stood on the launch pad of the last Fleet base on Hellsbreach with the controls for a dozen World-Breaker Class Nuclear Warheads. Engineers had bored deep into the rock, placing the charges in strategic locations. If detonated in the correct order, the explosions would have ruined the planet and murdered every living creature. His wounds burned and throbbed. His heart overflowed with anger and hate for the Reapers who had slaughtered his friends and tortured him, yet he couldn’t destroy an entire world. So he detonated the warheads, but in no particular order. The Reapers were not exterminated, but their limited technology — most of it stolen — was damaged beyond repair. They died by the thousands.
Fleet Command and Control had immediately placed him in the stockade, not believing for a second that his failure had been unintentional. They had already minted the Hero of Man medal for him and planned to name a battlecruiser in his honor. Instead of weeks of celebrations, they spent weeks of orbital bombardment, pounding the surface relentlessly. In time, other threats drew the Fleet away from Hellsbreach. The planet appeared lifeless, but the orbital nukes could not penetrate the surface deep enough to break the planet open. That had been Kin’s job and he had failed to perform it.
Droon’s eyes searched right and left. They were deep yellow orbs, multilayered and full of more emotion than seemed possible. The Reaper spoke in his language, rambling, pleading, and lamenting.
“What’s he saying?” Orlan asked.
“He saw his people but was afraid to go to them because they were strange. He says his race never changes, so the new Reapers must not be his kind, but monsters,” Kin said.
“It sounded like he said something about your girlfriend Clavender,” Orlan said. He twisted one of Droon’s legs into a submissive angle, lost hold of the other leg, and put his knee on it to maintain control. Droon snapped his teeth, but missed.
“He thinks Clavender can send his people home,” Kin said.
“Tell him that his home is a radioactive wasteland.”
“He already knows,” Kin said. He hadn’t lied to Orlan, but hadn’t offered a full translation either. Droon believed his home was Crashdown, that his people were near, and that he must be released to lead them.
A feeling akin to what he felt during the last moments on Hellsbreach assailed him. He was making a mistake but didn’t know what it was yet.
“Kin-rol-an-da,” Droon wailed. “The wolves are dead!” He mourned with human intensity for the monsters that had become his pack.
That’s new.
“Droon,” Kin said. Both Orlan and Droon looked at him.
“Kin,” Droon said. “You are a bad man.”
“Droon, I would feel sorry for you if you didn’t want to eat my friends,” Kin said. He looked at Orlan. “Where is that transport? If it’s not here in five seconds, I’m going to kill this monster.”
“You’ll be next, Kin, I promise you,” Orlan said.
“We can’t put him in the same ship with the people of Crater Town. He can’t be contained. He’ll break through to their quarters and slaughter every man, woman, and child.”
“You should’ve thought about that on Hellsbreach. We wouldn’t have this problem if you had done your duty.” Orlan freed his right hand and armed the pistol mounted in the armor between his elbow and wrist. He didn’t point it at Kin’s head but was ready to.
“That won’t penetrate my helmet,” Kin said.
Orlan smiled. His helmet had been destroyed by the Clinger and his sweaty face was visible. “I know how to kill a man in an FSPAA unit, never doubt it. I almost started to like you today, but I have debts and I need a million credits. No one will question the death of a traitor, not out here on the field of battle.”
An armored Stryker sped toward them. The rest of Orlan’s troopers filed out. They were fast, professional, and brutal. The first two pushed Kin away and guarded him with plasma rifles. The rest clubbed Droon with stun sticks and tangled him in nets. Droon was taken alive, barely.
Kin watched them take the Reaper straight to the transport ship that would be its prison. The rest of the Fleet forces were mobilizing. Men and women rushed into ships with cargo as ship crewmen prepared for liftoff. Claxons sounded wherever a ship was ready. He saw the people of Crater Town approaching the transport ship with all their worldly possessions. They stared in horror when they realized the Reaper was being taken to the same ship.
Laura broke from the others and marched toward Commander Westwood where he surveyed the recent battle with several of his captains and lieutenants. A gust of wind ripped at her cloak, pressing it tightly to her body on one side and flapping dangerously on the other. Kin walked toward them. Orlan’s guard sneered at him but didn’t interfere.
“Commander Westwood, what is the meaning of this?” Laura asked. She screamed to be heard in the gusting wind and shielded her eyes with one hand.
“The transport ship has sufficient security to confine one heavily sedated humanoid. Each section between the Reaper’s cell and your living quarters will be without atmosphere, and the last time I checked, Reapers could not operate space suits,” Westwood said.
“You son-of-a-bitch. We will not be sacrificed for the sake of your mission. I demand you kill the Reaper before liftoff. We will require proof the monster is dead and not a threat. Then you can store it wherever you like.”
Westwood smirked and Kin saw Laura flush. She had thought she meant more to the man than she did. He should be jealous but was sad. Laura wasn’t meant to be a jilted lover.
“I’ll kill it,” Kin said.
“You will not,” Westwood said. “In fact, you will go with Sergeant Orlan and his men to conduct additional reconnaissance on the Imperial-Reaper threat. I do not want to be attacked as we launch.”
“You have an entire division of soldiers for that and I’m no longer in the Fleet.”
“Perhaps you would prefer the alternative,” Westwood said.
They locked gazes until Kin turned away. He saw Orlan receiving the same orders near the transport ship. Westwood’s determination to end the Imperial threat here and now had faltered. He was going to run.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
KIN contacted the quartermaster, who handled last minute supply issues on the open field between ships despite the inconsistent weather. One moment the air was eerily calm, the next minute it seemed banshees had descended on the coast.
Troopers exchanged new power cells for old and lined up for inspection before marching double file into ship loading bays. A small contingent deployed on the perimeter and would be the last to leave. The display inside Kin’s helmet showed he had more than half the available charge remaining, which he thought would be sufficient, but it was better to be safe.
He waited in line, noticing that Orlan and his men had been allowed to cut to the front and now loitered near a transport, laughing and telling stories. Orlan didn’t seem in a hurry to begin the dangerous mission ahead, but neither did he seem worried. He already secured his bounty. His debtors would be pleased at least.
Kin saw Laura arguing with the Crater Town council members. He saw shock register on their faces and before long she had convinced them Commander Westwood had betrayed them. Kin understood they had no options. The comman
der was all-powerful and his decision had been made. When the entire column of Crater Town refugees turned away from the ship, Kin immediately left the line and ran toward them.
“Laura, what are you doing?” Kin asked.
“We’re staying. Hopefully, someone else will come to Crashdown that isn’t a lying, backstabbing bastard. We’ll take our chances here,” Laura said.
“Did the commander tell you there’s a hostile army of Reapers just over the horizon? They have weapons and human allies. Not to mention the wormhole is burrowing into the planet. Why don’t you light yourself on fire while you’re at it? Here, let me shoot you in the foot,” Kin said.
“We’re not going to be hunted by a Reaper with nowhere to run!”
“Laura, stop. Get everyone on the ship. When I come back, I’ll deal with the Reaper,” Kin said. “I’ll be on the ship with you. I promise.”
“How are you going to deal with it?” Laura asked. She straightened her tunic and smoothed her hair.
“Trust me,” Kin said. Ideas tumbled in his imagination, but his most persistent fantasy involved a spacewalk to the exterior wall of the Reaper’s cell and a cutting torch. It could work.
Laura looked at him, the desire to trust him plain on her face, but she could probably see his regret already. He wished he had killed the Reaper and let Orlan shoot him in the back. Things would have been simpler.
Laura looked at the people of Crater Town and the transport ship. “I trust you, Kin. But your plan only works if you come back alive. Orlan scares me. I don’t trust him.”
“Me neither,” Kin said. “Do you know where they’re keeping Clavender?”
“Rickson says they have her in the Flagship, under guard. Commander Westwood thinks she can control the wormhole,” Laura said. “If I believed what he believes, I’d have asked her to send us home a long time ago. We wouldn’t need spaceships.”
“That’s risky, Laura, even for you,” Kin said. “Try to make contact with her. Extended separation from the Reaper may kill them both. I need you to talk to her.” He saw a brief expression on Laura’s face and understood what she was thinking; if Kin’s theory was correct, the problem of the Reaper being on their ship would end once they were in space. All it would cost would be Clavender’s death. Kin was relieved when he detected revulsion in Laura’s eyes. He wasn’t certain, but the expression on her face looked like guilt.
“That woman is trying to get your attention,” Laura said.
Kin looked back and saw Captain Raien waving at him. “I need to go. Get everyone on the ship. I’ll be back.”
“If you weren’t so tall in that armor, I’d shove my tongue down your throat just to show that bitch captain what’s what,” Laura said.
Kin laughed.
“I’ll be back,” he said. He went to Captain Raien and her two bodyguards — the men in rougher armor he previously decided were battle hardened veterans and her go-to guys for dirty work.
“Roland, I’ve been advised you are to accompany Sergeant Orlan on a reconnaissance mission,” Raien said. “I’m going with you. I don’t like that arrogant thug.”
“No one likes him,” Kin said. “Thanks.”
They met Orlan, who had selected four of his best troopers for the mission. They synchronized their computers, navigation units, and moved out. Two hours at full speed brought them to the edge of the Imperial territory. The Reapers were still in one large group in the center. Apparently, the Imperials didn’t trust the monsters to stand guard.
Kin studied the battle lines of Reapers in armor. They carried weapons with perfect discipline. The sight chilled his blood. He used his FSPAA unit to take photographs and other measurements for his report.
Captain Raien crawled next to him and touched his shoulder. “We need to move around their perimeter. Corporal Pax located an anomaly related to the wormhole that we should investigate. Imperials and Reapers are coming out of it.”
“What type of anomaly?” Kin asked.
“Two parts wormhole, one part crater, from the way he described it. Looks like a good platform to launch an assault, if you knew where it opened,” Raien said.
“Great,” Orlan said. “Our work is done here. We should head back to the ship.”
“Unfortunately, Sergeant, I outrank you. We will continue,” Raien said.
They advanced through the mountains using ridges and valleys to conceal their movement. Kin led the way. All of them had detailed maps provided by the Fleet’s aerial survey drones, but Kin had explored this area of Crashdown many times. Some terrain features couldn’t be appreciated on a map. He moved quickly, aware the Fleet would leave them if necessary.
“There it is,” Kin said.
Raien and Orlan joined him on the ridge. They looked down to a massive hole filled with dark, swirling light and fringed with the glowing patterns of the wormhole. Kin checked the sky and saw the wormhole he had stared at for years. It stretched over the horizon.
Almost like it’s reaching for the planet’s back door. Maybe there was only one universal wormhole, just as Clavender claimed.
Row upon row of armored foot soldiers stomped clear of the wormhole in the ground and walked into the valley to form a massive army. The churning abyss in their wake reached out several times, sucking individuals and entire units back into the chaos, but the soldiers never faltered. They closed ranks and moved onto the marshaling field in perfect military order. Armored vehicles and tanks followed. Next came the Reaper Infantry, shock troops that would strike terror into any army. A strong rear guard followed.
Raien took a moment to appreciate the scene. “Combined with the forces that landed, that must be ten divisions.”
“I’ll take my men and delay them at the pass. If they reach the Fleet before liftoff, our ships will be vulnerable. Give the commander my regards,” Orlan said.
“You’re going to stop the Imperial Grand Army?” Captain Raien said.
“You haven’t seen me fight,” Orlan said. He raced toward the pass to set up an ambush.
“Corporal Pax,” Raien said through her communications link. Pax was already out of visual range. “Belay that order. Proceed directly to base. Advise Commander Westwood of the situation. Request all available Shock Troopers, Armor, and Air Support to delay the Imperial attack.”
“Roger that, Captain,” Corporal Pax said.
“We will go with Sergeant Orlan to help buy time for the launch,” Raien said. As she spoke, lightning scrambled the sky. The wormhole twisted as though it would spit out a meteor storm, but nothing appeared. Wind cut across the mountain slopes, pelting armor and visors with force. Kin was thankful he was wearing armor.
“It’s still a suicide mission,” Kin said.
“Are you coming?” Raien asked.
Kin thought about his promise to destroy the Reaper and protect the people of Crater Town during their exodus. He looked at Raien and realized he really did like her. If he had to be in the Fleet, he would want a commander like her. She was always in the field. True, the promise of plunder and loot motivated her, but she seemed willing and ready to fight. Traditionally, that was the realm of grunt sergeants and troopers who had no other choice.
“Lead the way. I don’t want to be left on this rock,” Kin said.
“It’s not so bad — violent extraterrestrial storms, deadly enemies, and gold you can’t spend? What more could a woman want?” Raien said as they ran for the pass.
“I’ve lived here longer than you have,” Kin said. “You forgot lions and tigers and bears.”
When they arrived at the pass, the battle was under way. Orlan and his troopers unleashed a deadly torrent of gunfire, plasma bolts, and grenades from the high ground, but it was clear they couldn’t sustain the fight for long. The vanguard alone was enough to destroy Commander Westwood’s forces. Captain Raien and her remaining bodyguard joined Orlan and his four battle tested fighters, expending ammunition into the narrow pass at a reckless rate.
“Orlan, move down
into the pass and direct all your fire at the rocks above,” Kin said. He fired a short burst of his plasma weapon at the unstable rock face that he wanted Orlan to target.
Orlan paused and looked over his shoulder at Kin. “Are you trying to get me killed? We can hold out until Westwood sends the Shock Troopers.”
“He isn’t sending them and you know it. Trust me, Orlan. The rocks will fall over you and down on the Imperials. It’s the only way to slow their advance. In five minutes, you’ll be out of ammunition and fighting hand to hand. A thousand to one odds are bad,” Kin said.
“Better than being buried alive,” Orlan said.
“It’s the only way. Trust me, I’ve imagined this scenario a hundred times.”
There was a smile in Orlan’s tone as he spoke. “You’ve been hiding on this rock dreaming of repelling an invasion?”
Kin shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Where will you be?” Orlan asked.
“I’m going higher to start a bigger avalanche, but it will take time,” Kin said.
Orlan reached toward Kin, grasped his gauntleted hand, and shook it as though they weren’t enemies. “Good luck then. See you at the launch site.”
Kin climbed a steep trail and followed dangerous switchbacks that promised to drop him thousands of feet if he slipped. He paused to observe the battle below and saw the Imperials returning fire in disciplined cycles. For every team of Imperial troopers that advanced, two teams provided cover fire. They couldn’t dislodge Orlan and Raien’s teams from a distance, but they would eventually overrun the position no matter how many troopers they lost in the assault.
Orlan moved downward each time his men fired over his head. If the Imperials understood what he was trying to do, they didn’t show it. They merely tried to kill him but found he was too fast and too experienced. He never exposed himself for long and the teamwork of his troopers was flawless. They provided cover fire with the skill of snipers.
There was one moment during Kin’s desperate trek when he was able to look back and see the launch site. It seemed everything was ready. The only delay was the return of the reconnaissance team. Commander Westwood wouldn’t wait much longer. For all his talk of facing the Imperials here, he would flee as soon as he understood the odds. Kin didn’t see the people of Crater Town and assumed they had boarded the transport ship.
