by Scott Moon
“Wrong.” Droon stood without rising to his full height. “Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Kin-rol-an-da is — ”
“Wrong. Yeah, I get it. What do you want?”
More clicking sounds. Droon spotted William and the others behind Orlan. He seemed to laugh. “Not a Reaper.”
“I don’t trust you, Droon. Talk, or we start shooting.”
“My Kindred have pleasure with boy-Reaper,” the Reaper King crooned. “Good fear. Best fear on the planet!”
Orlan advanced from cover, his rifle aimed at Droon’s face. “You keep them away from my son.”
Kin held up a hand for Orlan to stop but continued to watch Droon.
The Reaper laughed and laughed, and snorted and laughed again. He moved near Orlan, studied him, then retreated. “I must show you the future.”
Kin thought of the Slomn, fighting down the fear and panic that came with the memory. He saw Droon differently. The Reaper King wasn’t the most deadly creature in the universe. A Slomn warrior would destroy him if they fought. The idea wasn’t comforting.
“I’ll go with you. My friends stay here.” He was about to say, “where it is safe,” but Droon interrupted him.
“No. They come. This place will die in darkness.”
Kin turned his face toward Orlan but kept his feet and hands ready to move against Droon.
The trooper nodded. Moments later, Kin’s desperate band gathered behind him.
Droon led them through the mountains. Several times, he stopped to fight with his Hellsbreach-horse.
“Where the hell did he get that thing?” Orlan asked.
“No idea. Don’t follow too close. I’m not sure he has complete control of it.”
Darkness descended on Crashdown as Droon led them to the center of a bloody battlefield. He gestured at slain Reapers, Ror-Rea, and Imperials. “This is the future. A good future, but the wrong one.”
“You want peace?” Kin asked.
“What is peace?” Droon waited for an answer.
“You really don’t know what it means?” Kin couldn’t restrain his curiosity.
Droon pondered the question. “I understand your words. To the Kindred, peace is starvation. Peace can’t exist for us.”
“Then you’re wasting my time.”
“No, Kin-rol-an-da. You waste time. You are a great warrior. Get ready for a fight. Get ready for the air to turn black.” Droon wheeled his steed away and galloped into the Crashdown wilderness.
Orlan pulled Kin away from the others as they stared at the monster riding a monster.
“I don’t know why he brought us here, but it could be a lucky break.” He flicked his eyes toward the mangled bodies.
Inwardly, Kin grimaced. “You want to scavenge the battlefield?”
Orlan shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “It’ll take time, but I don’t think we can afford not to steal what we can.”
Some decisions were harder than others to make. Kin looked at Rickson, then at Orlan. “Take Rickson. He needs to learn what to look for and how to take it.”
“If we find usable armor, I’ll be amazed. But there’s always something.” He stepped away from Kin with disturbing enthusiasm. “Hey, Rickson, you ever been on a treasure hunt?”
Kin spent the next hour considering the changes in Droon. He pondered the Slomn encounter under the mountains and considered Nander. He seemed old for a trooper, but Earth Fleet had its share of salty dogs too stubborn to promote or retire.
Orlan and Rickson moved from body to body. From time to time, they stopped and argued loud enough to draw enemies from space, or from under the earth.
Kin looked at Nander and wondered if a Mazz Imperial officer would trade Captain Raien for one, mostly unharmed, trooper.
AFTER witnessing the carnage of Droon’s three-way battle, Kin hoped the fighting was over. But after another night moving through Crashdown’s wilderness, Kin and his companions came upon an epic conflict. Squadrons of Ror-Rea warriors climbed into the sky, paused, and dove to attack. Each squadron returned to the air diminished.
“Where does Dax get his warriors?” Orlan asked.
Kin counted formations and listened to the distant sound of gunfire. “I don’t think he is in charge. Hasic has the support of the High Lords.”
“You know what I mean.”
Kin made a quick visual check of his party before answering. “Warriors arrive from the Ror-Rea each day. They might be outnumbered now, but that will change. Clavender never revealed where her home is, but Dax implied it’s a long journey.”
“Hmm.”
Kin almost believed Orlan was thinking like a leader. “Commander Westwood told me the other side of the planet is teeming with humanoids. He wasn’t sure if they were Reapers or Wingers.”
“Both give me the creeps,” Orlan said.
Morning light stretched across the broad valley, striking wings with golden brilliance. Weapons glinted. Ailerons flared. Fierce warriors roared in unison.
Imperial cannons boomed, sending flak to tear flesh from Ror-Rea warriors, blowing off wings, decapitating unarmored men and women. Machine guns chattered. Plasma bolts sizzled like lightning. And when the two armies met on the ground, they fought hand to hand. Swords of the Ror-Rea sliced through armor with surprising ease.
Reapers rampaged among the Imperial troopers and the winged warriors. But it was the numbers involved that shocked Kin. The Ror-Rea were the smallest group, although their mobility made them a force to be reckoned with. In the distance, Winger reinforcements soared over the horizon, landed on the heights, and soared again.
An Imperial armored column commanded the high ground, pounding the Reaper center with explosive shells. The Reapers charged again and again. The suicide assault went on until Kin thought the universe would soon be cleansed of Reapers. Then, in a tactic never used by the demons of Hellsbreach, a strong force of mounted warriors attacked from the flank. Droves of Reapers dismounted and swarmed against tanks turning to face them.
Kin watched as the first machine tipped over a ledge. Hundreds of Reapers pushed and pulled until it tipped, then went over. It shouldn’t have been possible even if every Reaper heaved at the same moment, yet three more battle tanks suffered the fate. Other Reapers shoved long rods down barrels, inducing malfunctions and explosions when tank crews fired.
Memories of Hellsbreach overwhelmed Kin. He remembered the destroyed tanks and how he couldn’t understand how Reapers defeated them. He remembered retreating, watching his men get slaughtered.
He remembered Orlan’s escape. He remembered being taken prisoner.
Orlan grabbed Kin’s arm. “Are you okay?”
Past events clouded Kin’s awareness. He saw that Orlan seemed concerned, in the gruff manner of a veteran soldier. Wariness and doubt showed clearly in his direct gaze.
Kin pulled away. He shook his head. “I think about the Reaper warrens sometimes.”
Orlan grunted. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“You were never their prisoner. You wouldn’t understand.”
Grim silence spread between them. Orlan avoided eye contact. He checked his gear as he spoke. “I was. Just didn’t report it. Didn’t want the scientists poking me with needles and interrogating me.”
Kin studied his nemesis. The admission confirmed the claims of Commander Westwood that Orlan had been changed by Hellsbreach much as Kin had. He should feel sympathy or at least a stronger bond between prisoners. Kin’s captivity remained in his nightmares, haunted his waking thoughts, and colored every event — past, present, and future — in Kin’s life.
But knowing the truth about Orlan only caused him to back away. He hid his reaction, but Orlan sensed it.
“I escaped. No thanks to the Fleet or the famous Kin Roland. So it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re full of surprises, Orlan. A shape-changing son, a secret fascination with the literary works of the Brighten Saga, and Reaper immortality. What’s next? A conscience?”
Orlan grun
ted. “I’m surprised you never figured out the Reaper infection. They want victims that live a long time so they can torture them. It’s a psychic all-you-can-eat buffet for them. Fleet scientists are a bunch of idiots.”
Kin felt the truth of the claim. “Westwood thought it was some kind of grand Reaper destiny. A deal I made to betray Earth Fleet.”
“Nope.” Orlan spat. “You’re just a damn coward who couldn’t pull the trigger.”
The insult should have hurt. Kin turned from the sergeant, exhausted.
Rickson, Tass, Nander, and William followed Kin as he led them away from the battle. Even from miles away, it seemed the conflict would overwhelm them. Orlan waited a long time before moving. Kin looked back several times, wondering if the trooper had finally given up. He understood how hard it was to face each day when dark thoughts whispered. You’re ruined, tainted, no longer a man.
“What’s wrong with him?” Rickson asked.
“Memories.”
Rickson took several steps before speaking again. “You both act like you’re seeing ghosts.”
“We all have our ghosts.” Kin’s attention was drawn by a Ror-Rea attack. Winged warriors swooped low, wave after wave, slashing Imperial troopers with swords. The Imperials returned fire, missing more often than not.
“I think about Bear every day.” Rickson’s voice quieted. He glanced at the battle but focused on Tass, who didn’t speak as she stared toward the conflagration of death.
“He was a good friend.”
Rickson nodded. “I wish he was here. He made me laugh.”
Kin pointed to a rock outcropping. “We’ll rest here for a while.” He checked on Orlan and saw him moving to catch up. “Bear made his choices. I miss him. I’ll never have another friend like him. And I miss that too.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RICKSON sat beside Kin as Orlan left to scout the area.
Kin finished stowing what little gear he had left. “What is it? You look upset.”
“Tass knows where they’re keeping Captain Raien.” Rickson hesitated. “I think you should talk to Nander. Maybe he can confirm what Tass says.”
Kin nodded. “I’ll need some time with Tass. Keep the Imperial occupied. I don’t want him listening.”
Moments later, Rickson plagued Nander with a thousand questions, asking about Imperial life, food, and their ships.
Kin bowed to the Ror-Rea woman and joined her. She narrowed warrior eyes, even as she blushed.
“You honor me too much. I am not a great hero. Do not bow your head to me. Eye contact is sufficient.”
Kin resisted the urge to nod understanding. He looked into her eyes. Brilliant courage and sadness glowed like windows to utopia. “I spoke to Rickson. He told me you know where they are holding our captain.”
She bowed her head, nearly touching her chin to her chest.
Grimacing, Kin studied her and wondered what else he didn’t know about the winged race. Dax never bows to me. Not like that.
Tass raised her gaze. “My squadron leader believed his twin captured. We went to the Imperial camp to rescue him.”
“The fortress city on the coast or the mountain base?”
“The mountain base.”
Kin waited for more.
“The Mazz were preparing for battle. We slipped past them, liberated Gasid, but he could not stop babbling about the salamander. Guards discovered us. Only I survived.”
“Did you see Captain Raien?”
“I would have died as well, but the shepherd helped me flee.” She swallowed as she finished speaking, eyes on the ground.
“You’ll fight another day. I don’t doubt your courage.” Kin felt she would answer his question, given time. Grief and humiliation stressed each of her words. This was a hard tale.
Tass touched her left shoulder with her right hand, which Kin had learned was a sign of acknowledgment similar to a nod. She settled into a sitting position with her back to the rock, ignoring Kin.
Kin nearly asked again about Captain Raien but understood she was gathering her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice resounded with confident detail.
“They held Gasid beneath a battle tank, in a bunker. Imperials park war machines astride such underground fortifications for added protection. Gasid was alone but claimed a human officer was kept in a similar arrangement.”
Kin imagined the Imperial camp, deciding Tass’s description fit. “Do you remember any markings?”
Tass touched her left shoulder without breaking eye contact. “The tank over Gasid’s prison bore the numbers BT-M 587 and two words I could not read.”
“What about a picture?”
Tass grimaced. “A pair of torn-off wings covered in blood surrounded the words and numbers.”
“What about the tank covering Raien’s cell?”
Tass concentrated for several minutes. “I cannot be sure. Gasid remembered it was close.”
“Did you look for it?”
“No, we left with Gasid. He was already making too much noise.” She paused. “I am sorry we did not find your leader.”
Kin gripped his hands together. He wasn’t certain what the gesture meant but thought it conveyed understanding and acceptance. “This helps. Thank you.”
Tass touched her shoulder again but paled visibly.
“Can you tell me about the salamander?” He waited, although she didn’t hesitate long.
“Gasid was confused. He claimed the salamander was a man and commanded fire that melted stone. The Mazz tortured him. He was hurt.” Tass touched her temple and looked to Kin for understanding. “Hurt in his head.”
Kin nodded before he realized what he had done. He quickly tapped his left shoulder. “Have you spoke with Nander?”
“I do not speak with Mazz.”
Kin thanked her again and stood. He went to the other side of the temporary camp and separated Nander from Rickson.
“Tell me about the Imperial base we saw.”
Nander shrugged. “If you go there, you will be captured.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
Nander shrugged again. “You will be captured. In time, you will fight for us.”
Kin stared him down.
Nander didn’t flinch. “Earth Fleet fails because you rely on officers. Every Mazz trooper is trained as a leader. We would not risk defeat to rescue a single officer. A new leader would be named, and the battle would continue.”
Kin doubted Nander’s claim. Such a flat chain of command was doomed, yet evidence suggested otherwise. Commander Westwood had confessed terrible losses to the Imperial Fleet. Could this be the reason? Could a trooper trained as a general follow orders?
“We are disciplined. Only the Mazz can stand against the Slomn.”
Kin smiled. “From what I’ve heard, all you do is run from them.”
Nander went rigid. “We defended our world during a one-hundred-year battle. You might call that a war, but it was a single, ceaseless fight. The Slomn now seek Earth. Your home will burn.”
Kin’s mind reeled at the revelation. He’d expected something like this from the prisoner. Deception hung around the man like a cloak, but his fear was genuine. He probably believed the Slomn could cross the immense distance to Earth. What he didn’t understand was how humans cherished the Sol system. Mazz Imperials might win pitched battles and space campaigns, but Earth defenses were more formidable.
Nander studied Kin before continuing. “Your leaders would be wise to submit to the Mazz Empire. We take slaves, it is true, but the Slomn possess a truly alien intellect. I don’t know why they seek home worlds and destroy them, but history does not lie.”
“I think you know,” Kin said.
Nander’s eyes hardened. He didn’t seem accustomed to Earth Fleet humans arguing. Slaves didn’t get the chance to challenge their masters. “Don’t be a fool. Your reputation suggests you are smarter than that.”
“Nice try, but I’m not easily distracted.”
“Yo
u’re not curious as to how, and why, my people know of you?”
“I bet you have more in common with the Slomn than you think. You destroy and conquer worlds. The Slomn conquer and destroy worlds. It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other.”
Nander’s harsh laugh lacked volume. “But you’re not a destroyer. That’s why they call you traitor.”
“Pretty much.”
“No Imperial trooper would have hesitated to detonate the warheads on Hellsbreach.”
“How many races have the Slomn destroyed?” Kin asked.
Nander steadied his breathing much as Tass had before remembering the details of her raid. The Imperial spoke solemnly, his rancor forgotten or hidden. He listed hundreds of worlds and the intelligent masters of each. Toward the end, he named Betaoin.
“That’s a Reaper word,” Kin said.
Nander nodded.
“When did the Slomn attack Hellsbreach?”
The expression in Nander’s eyes revealed arrogant humor. “Perhaps a thousand of your years.”
“Then they failed. Your fearsome enemy isn’t as deadly as you think.”
“They didn’t fail. The Reapers rose from the ashes. Do you see now why we wanted them as battle slaves?”
Kin searched the argument for flaws, trying to recognize other worlds or star systems in Nander’s eulogy. “You want the Reapers to fight the Slomn. Why do you want the Ror-Rea?”
“They command the wormholes.”
Kin shook his head. “Many races use the wormholes, including the Mazz. From what I’ve seen, your people use them better than most. You came even after Clavender tried to close it.”
Nander’s eyes brightened and Kin saw his mistake.
“She lives.” Nander breathed the words, pushing more air than sound.
“Not for long. The Reaper King has her.”
“That cannot be. We must rescue her.”
“So you can enslave her?”
Resentment burned through Nander’s expression. “I will do anything to help you if you deliver her to us.”
The chance of Kin betraying Clavender to the Mazz didn’t exist. He stared at Nander before speaking again. “I want to rescue my captain.”
“Give us Clavender, and Captain Raien will be returned to you.”
