by Scott Moon
The town was deserted. Wind ripped down empty streets. The ocean swelled over docks and washed away the small fishing craft that had helped feed the people of the town for years. He saw Clavender’s humble dwelling on the dune. There were no hopper birds there now. He wondered where they would go if the wormhole consumed the planet.
He climbed higher and attempted to see the landing site of the Imperials, but the mountain range blocked his view from this point. He wondered if Commander Westwood had known they were coming and if he knew more about the wormhole storm than he had revealed. The Imperials seemed unconcerned by the imminent destruction of the planet. Somewhere in the night, Crashdown wolves howled. Other strange creatures of the planet added to the chorus. Rain and sleet joined the destructive winds and cyclones tore across the bay near Crater Town.
The rock face didn’t welcome him. When he stepped onto the uneven surface, the ground shifted beneath his feet and he nearly fell to his death. He pulled back and regained his balance. The avalanche would be easy to start. The challenge would be to avoid getting dragged down with tons of rock and dirt.
Kin checked Orlan’s progress and saw the Imperials had realized his intention and sent squad after squad to stop him. Orlan ran out of ammunition and repelled them from the heights using a sword in one hand and a maul in the other. For a moment, Kin could only stare. Orlan had always been a savage fighter, but this was like nothing Kin had ever seen. The Hellsbreach veteran struck his attackers so hard and so frequently that his weapons disintegrated from the repeated impact. With no weapons left, Orlan grabbed Imperial troopers and hurled them down the mountainside.
Kin couldn’t wait. “Watch your head, Orlan.” He didn’t know whether Orlan could hear him, but at least he tried to warn the man. If he were crushed in the avalanche, Kin could at least tell himself he gave his old enemy a chance. He cut free several tons of rock using the plasma weapon and sent half the mountain tumbling down, relatively certain the contour of the slope would bounce the wave of death over Orlan and the others and into the pass below. It was impossible to see through the avalanche, so he ran back along the trail to a place he could meet Raien and Orlan’s team if they survived.
The wait seemed a lifetime and he was about to return to the launch site alone when the others staggered up the trail. They were wounded, out of ammunition, and their armor was badly damaged.
“Bet you’re surprised to see me, Kin,” Orlan said. “Balls! That was a lot of mountain coming down.”
“You’re hard to get rid of.”
Raien spread her gauntleted hands. “Are you two going to hug or can we get back to the ships before we get left behind?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DROON trembled on the floor, realizing he should not have marked both Cla-ven-da and Kin-rol-an-da as victims. The links were too much. He had been separated from them for too long. The Fleet humans poisoned him with long needles, making him sad and tired, wanting to sleep, but knowing it would be his death.
Regret was a strange emotion. He wasn’t sure what it meant. His decision to bite Kin-rol-an-da had not been a choice, but necessity. He had put his venom in the man, establishing the strongest possible link to his nightmares so he could track him anywhere.
He had recovered the spirit of his kindred and blood knowledge that had been lost when Kin-rol-an-da betrayed them. The man should never have been spared, healed, and trusted, but the wisest of the kindred had believed he was different from other humans. Now that Droon possessed the blood knowledge, all warriors would follow him, but he didn’t understand the knowledge or know what to do with it. He saw the world differently. There was a time called the past. There was a time called the present. And there was the most terrifying unknown called the future.
Droon wanted to die.
Biting Cla-ven-da and binding her nightmares had been wrong, but her dreams had promised to heal all wounds, to change him in ways he never dreamed. Only now did he understand why he had been compelled to save her from the Clingers. They wanted to destroy her, but as soon as he touched her, he understood the Clingers must never have her. He wanted to consume her but understood it was foolish and deadly. Devouring Clavender would kill him, and he would like it.
“Cla-ven-da,” Droon said. He would go to her and take her to his kindred. He would make her his queen and mate with her. Every corner of the universe would open to his kind. But he could not get up. He was trapped in this man-made place. The future was destroyed.
The heavy door slid open. A man came in. He wasn’t wearing armor. “Who are you?” Droon asked.
The man laughed in surprise. “You can speak. Good. That will make things much easier. I thought I might have damaged your vocal cords during our first session.” He spread needles and knives on a table by the wall and turned toward Droon, pressing his palms together with his fingers pointed up. “I am Lieutenant Raker. I am here to take all your secrets.”
Yes. I remember you. But I think you put too much faith in your drugs.
Droon lifted his body from the floor with great effort and looked at the man. He sniffed the air but smelled nothing. When he stood, the stink of fear blossomed in the room. Droon smiled. He had learned the expression of a monster scenting prey terrified humans.
The man called Raker backed away.
“There are fifty troopers just outside the door,” Raker said.
“You lie.”
Raker swallowed and picked up one of the needles that had weakened Droon when armored men first put him in the room. The man didn’t seem reassured, but he gripped it like a knife and edged toward the door.
“Open the door,” Droon said.
Raker moved and stopped near the palm reader that would allow him to open the door. He hesitated. “Just stay there and I’ll open it.”
Droon squatted on his haunches and worked hard to feign dizziness. This was how a human deceived people. Droon learned he was good at it.
Raker smiled. “Reapers are stupid. Thank God for that.” He opened the door and stepped quickly through the gap.
Droon sprang at the man in the hallway as he desperately flailed his hand at the palm reader.
The door began to close, but Droon was already sailing through. He pinned Raker to the metal floor and unhinged his jaws. He put his mouth over the man’s head and began making clicking noises in his throat. The smell of urine and human feces permeated the air. Droon pulled back and closed his mouth. He smiled and allowed some of his venom to spill from his jaws and drip on Raker’s face.
“There is another door you must open,” Droon said.
“No. I won’t. You’ll kill me. Let me go.”
Droon began clicking the inside of his throat again. He wished he still had the Clingers, because the sight of them would have driven this man insane with fear.
“You will never figure out the door. You can’t kill me,” Raker said.
Droon looked at the man’s hand and the man began to sob. Droon grabbed his wrist and pulled the arm out of the shoulder socket. He twisted and pulled until it came completely off. The sound of the man’s screams was delicious.
He took the bloody arm to the next door, flipped it in the air, and caught it. He waved the hand over the palm reader until the portal opened.
Raker continued to scream behind him. Droon liked the sound, but there was no time to feed. He stalked through a hallway and found more doors. In one direction, there were many people, men, women, and children. In the other direction, an exit led outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
WHEN they ran out of the mountain pass and across the foothills, Orlan laughed, not like a madman, but like someone who thoroughly enjoyed life. Kin muted the helmet communication system and focused on reaching the transport ship.
“Kin, you will go to the Flagship with me and my men,” Captain Raien said.
Becca was on the Flagship. This could be his last chance to see her. Once the Fleet Armada entered space, there would be no moving between vessels un
til they reached a port, and by that time, the ships would be reassigned to new missions. And Kin’s identity would surely be revealed. Commander Westwood had plans for him, but as soon as he killed the Reaper, his value as a countermeasure to the monster would be gone. The commander would have him executed as the Traitor of Hellsbreach and the only thing people would remember about Kin Roland was that he betrayed mankind and was executed twice.
“Roger that,” Kin said. He could go to the Flagship. Or he could do his duty.
Orlan and his men headed for their ship. Raien and her injured bodyguard waited for the loading bay of the flagship to open and entered without delay. Kin paused. He looked at the transport ship where Laura and the others were and told himself they probably wouldn’t be able to open the cargo doors for him even if he tried to enter. He imagined being left behind, incinerated by the multiple blastoffs or being hunted down, interrogated, and killed by the Imperial forces.
He thought about Bear, Maiden’s Keep, and Gold Village, wondering how many of them had made it to Crater Town before the evacuation began. He was still thinking about these things and watching tendrils of the wormhole stab into a dozen parts of the ocean when he realized he was marching quickly toward the transport ship. The doors didn’t open to greet him and his radio communication had no effect. Claxons sounded across the launch field and steam began to pour from dozens of powerful rocket boosters.
With no other options left, he stared at the cargo bay, willing it to open. When the huge metal door slipped down, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He had accepted his fate as an appropriately undramatic end for such a chaotic and pointless life. His epitaph should read: Kin Roland, who killed man, beast, and monster, died here of inaction.
“What are you waiting for?” Rickson yelled. He shielded his eyes from the wind and sand with one hand and beckoned with the other.
Kin climbed the ramp of the transport and shut the door behind him. Rickson tugged at his arm, which was like trying to pull a three-hundred-pound robot against its will. “Hurry, Kin. We have to strap in or we will be pulverized during liftoff.”
“Relax, Rickson. I’ve done this before,” Kin said. He climbed out of his armor and magnetized it to one of the cargo hold areas designed for general machinery.
He followed the boy to the personnel hold. People were strapped into seats, even the small children who had to be separated from mothers and fathers for the liftoff. Laura was the only person other than Rickson not wearing a safety harness and murmuring prayers.
“I thought you had abandoned us,” Laura said.
“Slight delay. I hope you saved me a good spot,” Kin said. He went to the far door and opened it.
“Where are you going, Kin?” Laura asked.
“I want to check on the Reaper and the containment fields. Go to your seat. Rickson, you too,” Kin said, pointing at Laura. He shut the door behind him and began searching for the doors that led to the makeshift prison meant to hold Droon. Rickson and Laura followed him through the door a moment later. Kin shook his head.
“I’m glad that sergeant isn’t on this ship. I didn’t like that guy and never believed what he said about you,” Rickson said.
“What did he say?”
Laura gave Rickson a warning glance. “Rickson.”
Rickson ignored her. “He showed me some medal and said it was supposed to be yours, that it was the Hero of Man medal, whatever that is, but said you wouldn’t get one unless they made a new medal for the Enemy of Man.”
Kin felt like someone had opened his guts and spilled them on the floor. For a second, he was standing on Hellsbreach watching the explosions that would not eliminate the Reaper threat and regretting his moment of weakness, but at the same time feeling a huge weight lift from his shoulders. He forced aside the memory and looked at the young man.
“They don’t even make medals like that, do they, Kin?” Rickson asked.
“Orlan talks too much,” Kin said. “Don’t worry about him or what he says about me. Just be thankful you’re alive.” He walked toward a door that seemed thick enough to repel an artillery shell.
He was ten feet away when it opened. Orlan and two of his men stepped out, followed by Commander Westwood.
“Listen to him, boy. You are lucky to be alive. Kin, on the other hand, is not,” Orlan said. He didn’t laugh but seemed in an exceedingly good mood.
Kin ignored Orlan and the others. He focused on Commander Westwood. “Shouldn’t you be on your flagship?”
“I have some regrettable business to handle first. The Reaper would have been a prize, but now that he has escaped, I have only you and your witch to deal with. I’m not talking about you, Laura, so don’t look at me like that,” Westwood said.
“Ten divisions of Imperials are advancing on Crater Town as we speak,” Kin said. “Thousands of trained, armed Reapers march with them. The planet is coming apart. Are you out of your mind?”
“Listen to me, Kin,” Westwood said. “The Fleet is here by accident, but the Reapers have come for you. Droon confessed that any Reaper who found the last man on Hellsbreach would become the ruler of the Reaper race. He found you. There are thousands of others blundering through the galaxy looking for you, but he is the boss Reaper now, and he escaped. I pray to God that you had nothing to do with that, but after what you did on Hellsbreach, I wouldn’t put it past you. The Imperials have come for Clavender and spent thousands of years doing it. So here is what is going to happen. I’ll give you to the Reapers and Clavender to the Imperials. Then we will fight our way free of this planet and run for reinforcements.”
“Droon told you that?” Kin asked.
“There may have been drugs and a little torture involved,” Westwood said. “I believe you met Lieutenant Raker. He was an expert at getting answers and solving riddles. Reapers are not good at keeping secrets. A skilled interrogator only needs the right questions and a strong stomach. He learned much before he was murdered.”
“And Clavender?” Kin asked. He moved slightly to one side. The shift would not give him an advantage on Orlan and his men, but it would give him a chance. Orlan had his helmet down, as usual. Kin might kill him at least.
“You told me most of what I needed to know about her. But she is in pain since Droon left, and tired of keeping secrets, apparently. Some of what she told me might be worth the cost of a new fleet,” Westwood said. “Sergeant Orlan, put him out of the ship. The woman and the boy will have to go as well. I will remain on this ship for the launch and transfer to my flagship once we achieve orbit.”
Laura lunged at Westwood, and since Orlan and his men were watching Kin, her fist smashed the commander’s lips into his teeth before anyone could react. He staggered, spat blood, and lunged at her. Rickson tackled him. Orlan snatched Rickson up with one hand and tossed him across the room, laughing as he helped the commander to his feet.
“Get it done,” Westwood shouted. He strode out of the room.
Orlan smiled at Kin. “You heard the man. Out you go. Give me problems, and I break the boy’s legs.”
“Give me an FSPAA unit at least,” Kin said.
Orlan shrugged. “Take the one you brought onto the ship.” He followed Kin to the loading bay, helped him suit up, and opened the door. He followed Kin outside, and to Kin’s surprise, kept following him away from the ship. His men pushed Laura and Rickson out the door and shut it.
“What are you doing?” Kin asked.
“I’m coming with you,” Orlan said. “Besides, I need to show you where we left the witch bitch.”
“Why would you leave the ship? You know it’s a death sentence,” Kin said.
Orlan laughed. “You don’t know me at all, Kin. I’m not Westwood’s lab rat.”
“You would rather be dead?” Kin asked.
Orlan laughed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THEY came to the earthworks that the converted tanks had constructed two miles from the launch site and climbed over. Westwood had indeed hed
ged his bets. The earthworks would have been a good defensive position, if the Fleet was not about to launch and burn anything caught on the wrong side. The ground beyond the berm had been excavated, making the earthworks harder to assault, but in this situation, provided more protection from the launch. Kin froze when he saw who waited for them. Two massive mechanized suits of armor, Shock Troopers, faced him. He moved to Becca’s unit and glanced at the name on the other one. The identification plate read “Lieutenant Randal Dogface.”
“Is that your real name?” Kin asked, although he knew it was. Regulations about identification plates had always been enforced in the Fleet, embellishments and macabre filigree notwithstanding.
“Better than Kin Roland,” Randal said.
Kin faced Becca. “I wish you had left with the ship.”
“We were told to bring the woman here and leave her. I couldn’t run once I heard Orlan intended to stay,” she said.
Her words hurt. She claimed to be staying for unit pride, not him. He’d forgotten more about Fleet service than he realized. Everything came back to him now. Fleet troopers were stupid about dying. They would die for a good cause or on a dare. It was all the same.
“Why leave her?” Kin asked. Westwood had said the Imperials were after Clavender and her people. On the face of it, this made sense. The Fleet could slip away during the battle to come, but Kin didn’t like it.
“I was not ordered to discuss his reasons,” Becca said.
“But he didn’t forbid you from giving an explanation,” Kin said.
She didn’t answer immediately. Randal and the others looked at him but remained silent.
