The Revenant: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 2)

by Walt Robillard

  A hint of worry passed through Fluff's voice. “Maybe we should have detonated the wall instead.”

  “Spilled milk.” Lasher hit the switch to seal the armored car.

  “Who cares about milk, we should be more worried about the explody boom that's going to bury us under tons of rock.”

  “Ziella, this is Lasher. Does this thing go any faster?”

  “Yes,” the comm chirped, “But it's not safe.”

  Fluff interjected, “There's more not-safe chasing us up the rail. Go faster.”

  The engine in the front of the tram whined in protest at being coaxed faster along the rail. The box they were in started to shudder.

  “Oh! That's what she meant by not safe. We're moving faster than the magna-harness' ability to keep us on the rail. That makes sense.”

  “Really?” Lasher said with a cocked eyebrow.

  He reached into the Way, finding the space around the car. The flame gout was just behind them, heating up the metal outside as it bounced even harder against the repulsors. Despite it scalding his hands, he held onto the door plating, forcing the power of the Crucible to shunt off the firestorm of the tunnel condensed blast.

  The tram shot from the shaft ahead of a brilliant torrent of flame licking at the surrounding portal. Both engines and repulsors screamed against Ziella's order to bring the heavy, speeding vehicle to a halt. Something under the repulsor array coughed a shower of sparks amid a squeal. The heavy cargo car slammed into the ground, acting like an anchor to bring the rest of the machine to a grinding halt just a few meters from the wall. Another series of coughs sputtered smoke from the underside of the engine, bouncing it on the gravity field emitted by the repulsors. There was yowling screech, then a terrific bang as the engine gave up the ghost, its force emitter dying in a pressure wave that knocked the sand-mottled tiles from what was left of the dilapidated walls. The train dropped like a hammer onto a nail, sending a bellow of dust in all directions.

  “That could have been worse. She stuck the landing though. Bravo,” Fluff said flatly.

  The tram had spilled into a run down station. There were shafts of light streaming in from broken sections of roof. A sizable portion of the far wall had been blown out, allowing the desert free rein to spread its contents all about the boarding ramp. Dust swirls danced along the ruined platform, seeming like ghosts keeping the away the unwanted.

  The dust devils amplified in intensity from a windstorm outside of the broken facade. A sleek raider-style shuttle banked into view, angling itself to the hole so that its boarding ramp could drop right onto the platform.

  “Tarot, good timing on the ship!” Lasher called into the line.

  “That's not my ship!” Tarot yelled back.

  The ramp snapped open like a predator spreading its jaws to rip at its prey. The ghoulish masked adversary who'd confronted them in the tram-launch held onto one of the struts with one hand, a solid-looking black case in the other. He threw it onto the ground, bringing up a stout

  rifle from its sling. The case withdrew the handle, sprouting crab-like legs to push itself up from the floor. The unit began to power up, a light green glow showing through the seams of the newly formed bot. The energized crescendo terminated in an energy pulse that slammed into the train. Any powered system sparked and died from the onslaught of the translucent burst. Fluff and the Card Arkana all lost their footing, trying to work against the ionic pulses that were disrupting their systems.

  Tarot ran into the car with Lasher. “All my people are down and we have more of those mercs coming from his ship!”

  “How close is yours?” Lasher called out.

  “Judging by the gunfire that raider is launching outside, I'd say they just got here.”

  “I'll take care of that case. You get everyone onto your ship!”

  “Not everyone.” Tarot fired a burst of accelerated hyper charged energy into a merc, stopping his forward momentum and his heart in the same attack. “I think Ziella is dead.”

  “Go! Do what you can.” Lasher pulled the Chimera Pistol from his belt. The world dropped away as he let himself be swept into the Crucible. There was a rending, like metal struggling to retain its shape despite being savaged. A thunderous bang followed the groaning of the train's heavy plate door trying to resist the power being used against it. A second thunderclap echoed in the car as the force of the Way ripped it from its moorings, rocketing it toward the platform full of mercs running toward them. Six men in the front line were crushed by tons of duradium plate catapulting out with the force of a avalanche. The door slammed into the dirt-strewn platform, giving Lasher a shield to hide behind on his rush to close the distance to his stalker.

  The ghoul mask didn't remain idle. He jumped from the platform, rushing past the men who took refuge behind broken support columns and mounds of rock. He slid behind the duradium door just as Lasher ran from behind it.

  Incoming blaster bolts set to stun whirled around him. Their only prize were the mounds of dirt, broken tile or train they struck during the mongrel's mad dash. He let the pistol bark out several bursts which splattered armor into confetti to get at the soft meat underneath. Most of the mercs were wearing a composite plate harness meant to deflect blaster bolts and the occasional bit of shrapnel. Each pulse ripped into its target like a hungry predator, blowing out large sections of anatomy into a most certain death. Darting around the deluge of mercs emptying from the raider, Lasher put round after round into the crab case hiding behind one of the broken support struts. It shattered from the explosive rounds, coughing out its final pulse before the whirring drone of its decaying power core wound down to its death.

  An explosion decimated the wall ahead of the train, blowing the advancing mercenary force from their feet in a hail of rock. Lasher took refuge from the explosion behind the duradium door. Risking a peek from cover, he caught sight of a small freighter hovering just outside of the crater, its ramp already open. It swung into position violently to receive the escapees. A re-skinned Priestess was at the back of the ramp, laying down covering fire for the advancing team. She was waving toward the cargo bay, beckoning the group to take flight for the ship.

  Lasher dug his hands into the sand, the Crucible blazing in his mind, filling him with power to accomplish the impossible.

  “Fluff! Get everyone to the ship!”

  “I'm coming to you!” Fluff roared.

  “Negative. I'm right behind you! Go!”

  The Doom Cat bounded from the cargo bay, launching two micro-missiles from its back straight into the Kangal mech stomping down the enemy ramp. It blew the monstrosity over onto its back, nearly crushing Kilmartin in the process. Rapid fire bursts from Fluff's back-mounted auto-cannons bolted into the enemy, killing every adversary they struck. Tarot added to the barrage, loosing bursts interspersed with rounds from her underslung grenade launcher. The battle space shifted from a one-sided conversation to a shouting match as the Black Cypher mercenaries returned fire en masse. Fluffang Doom-Snuggle was the last on the ramp, his eyes locked onto his friend hunkered behind the blown off door.

  As the ship pulled from the gaping wound in the wall, Singh cut the corner, firing a bolt from his gauntlet. It would have caught Lasher in the chest, if not for his heightened reflexes in the Way. Lasher kicked out, sweeping the merc from his feet to deposit him into the swirling dust tracing its way across the ruined floor. Lasher pushed his hand toward the Kangal, deflecting several of its incoming stun bolts. Kilmartin dumped the contents of the energy magazine in an attempt to overwhelm their prey, catching the mongrel across the leg.

  He let the leg fail him, rolling to the other side of the duradium door to use as cover against enemies still on their feet. He smashed into a chambered kick from the ghoul faced merc, slamming against his armored gauntlets. He was thankful the Crucible had primed his senses, positive that the kick would have broken a rib or many had it connected beyond the plates. He pulled on the offending foot, bringing him a hop closer to a thrust
ing kick into the other man's knee. The ghoul slapped onto the stone again, the hood slipping over his mask to obscure his vision.

  Lasher kipped into a kneeling position, bringing up the X-9-A to belch a fast pulse of high explosive hell into the merc rounding the corner. It blew large segments of armor and flesh from her body, ending her intentions before they began. A tidal wave of troops flooded around the door, placing bolt after bolt on target. The barrage was easily redirected in the Way, finding new targets among their allies.

  Lasher took a savage kick to the back of his thigh, almost costing him his hold on the Crucible. Singh struck at him with a stun baton, missing his mark but sparking against the duradium door for his effort. Lasher slashed out with the Gavoc sword whip, burning a gash into the floor to splash Singh with sand scorched to molten glass. Singh dodged the coil, firing an energized bola from one of his gauntlets. It wrapped Lasher's torso, pulsing debilitating shocks into him despite his struggle. The merc pumped the gauntlet, loading the next attack. He fired a micro-mesh net which anchored to the floor, constricting its target until Lasher was prone. Unable to keep in his grip, the mongrel's sword extinguished with a slithering THWIP.

  “Well fought,” the ghoul cooed, “but even a Marshals Templar is no match against overwhelming odds.” He signaled to the men who'd evaded the stun bolts reflected back at them.

  Lasher kept his eyes focused on Singh. Anger filled the Crucible, pulling him deeper into the Way. He reached across the expanse that was the planet Doseidos, feeling the noxious air pushing against his face. The stillness under the net was replaced by the rush of air from a rapid change in direction. Somewhere in the distance of his mind he felt a scream escape his throat, or someone's throat.

  The mercs pulled the securing pitons for the net, hoisting the mongrel to his feet. He was roughly handled during an extensive search. His belongings were dumped into a pile close to his feet. Lasher had to give them credit. Most two-bid mercs in the frontier would toss his stuff and then sift through it, taking what they wanted. These men neatly arranged what he was carrying without giving any of it a second glance.

  Singh's professionalism showed as well. He was off to the side, aiming his blaster at Lasher to avoid shooting his trooper if he had to put the mongrel down. There was a small motion to his head, the helmet cocking to one side. One of the mercs picked up on it.

  “You picking up something, sir?”

  “Mr. Ennix, are your sensors detecting anything?”

  The Kangal plodded down the ramp from the ship. It waited for a moment to respond, adjusting its detection systems to the ambient noise. “Desert terrain. Just the sounds of local wildlife until a moment ago.”

  Singh lunged at his prisoner, removing the mask from his face. The seal vented the air that kept him from choking on the dense atmosphere. Lasher locked his eyes on the soulless ghoul mask, sending a shiver of fear into the normally fearless mercenary. His eyes were a deep yellow, almost gold wrapped in a red ring on the outside of the pupil.

  “Get everyone on their feet,” Singh commanded swiftly, “even if you have to dump a bucket load of stim into them!”

  “Sir, what's the problem?” Asked one of the mercs.

  He never heard the answer. A massive serpentine bird slammed into the trooper, nearly breaking him in half on impact. It pinned him into the ground, exposing the flesh beneath the hard shell of his armor. It screeched in a display of dominance toward the assembled troopers, too stunned and too scared to move. Rifles eventually raised in answer to the attack when the broken tram station filled with a swarm of Aesorooks bent on turning the victims into vittles.

  One of the monstrosities landed next to a squad of troopers just stimmed back to consciousness after their rough encounter with friendly fired stun bolts. A merc shot a burst into the beast, bending it from the impact. It croaked twice, slapping the offending morsel with its wing, severing him in half at the waist. It ignored the offending blaster fire as it went to work rending the squad into a bloody mess.

  Singh launched a bola at one of the beasts, trapping its wings to its body. He brought his phased blade around to take its head only to be pounced on from behind. The newcomer slammed its razor sharp beak into the armor. It didn't let disappointment at not being able to crack open the grim shell, deter it from several tries. Singh whirled over, bringing the machete along to sever its leg. It hopped back, screaming at sensations that were unfamiliar to something near the top of the food chain. The ghoul-faced merc primed the gauntlet on his gun hand to launch a phased disc-blade. It tore through the bird's chest, coming out the other side of its life in a grizzly spray.

  He got to his knees to assess the scene. Lasher remained in place, unfazed by the atmosphere that should be strangling the air from his lungs. His amber eyes merely stared toward a ruined section of the station. The animals were completely ignoring him, which meant he was most likely causing this with his damned space magic. Singh reached behind him to pull a Neural Disruption collar from his belt. He chided himself for not putting it on Lasher before they frisked him. A mistake he wouldn't make again. He raised his rifle, setting for the highest level of stun,

  Lasher roared at him. It was a guttural primal yell that sent waves of force crashing into him from the Crucible. Singh tripped back, needing a step or two to recover his balance and aim. Something behind him answered the mongrel. It sounded like a heavy blast of a trumpet being dragged through an avalanche. At the end of the wail came the throaty growl of a predator gearing up for the kill. Whatever had made that noise, was enough to coax Singh's blaster to the other direction.

  The roar caused all the Aesorooks to abandon their current dinner plans, taking flight through the open hole left by Tarot's ship. Amid the groans of wounded men trying to shrug off the pain of being eaten alive, the new horror raised its head first, shaking off the bits of stone caught in the bony plates that had made it appear like so much of the ruined station. It pushed its bulk free from the rest of the rubble, easily eclipsing the tunnel the tram had burst from only moments ago. Its frame was armored from toes to nose with angular plates reminiscent of certain dinosaurs from Old Sol. Wicked talons adorned its feet as well as the wings it pried from the sand's heavy grip. Another shake dropped the offending dirt to the floor to unveil the creature in all its terrible splendor. Hissing at Singh exposed wicked teeth outside of its jaw that would have made a saber-tooth tiger jealous.

  Black Cypher mercenaries beside the Gun Wraith readied their weapons. “Is that a –”

  “Shut up and run!”

  Singh threw a puck-shaped disk at the creature. Lights on the device blinked out in rapid succession until it blew into a spectacular fireball that rocked the space. The creature plowed through it with no more annoyance than it might have felt moving through a swarm of mosquitoes.

  Lasher sprinted toward the hole the rest of the Aesorooks darted through, ripping out from the bola during his mad dash. The armored, draconic nightmare charged toward the same exit, savaging troopers along the way. It paid special attention to the ghoul-faced thing that had thrown the fire puck. A powerful tail armed with spikes, ending in a blade-like protrusion slapped into the merc as he tried to evade. The force of the blow batted him into the carcrete with a wet slap. His limp form peeled from the wall into the ruined floor of sand and broken tiles.

  It barreled through the station, tearing through the Black Cyphers like a heavy stick through a piñata. Ennix attempted to blast it with its plasma caster. The murderous tail punched a hole through its chest, easily lifting the gigantic mech. It was thrown with no more concern than an angry child discarding a broken toy. Kilmartin tried to fire from the cover of the duradium door. The rampaging lizard shoulder checked it, causing it to topple onto the mechanized merc, crushing him in less than spectacular fashion.

  Lasher dove through the hole, indifferent to the train station being hundreds of meters above the landscape below. He spread his limbs in hopes of slowing his descent along the rocky esca
rpment. The armored terror leapt from the hole clearing well away from the cliff face the station was built into. It tucked its wings, plummeting in a practiced free-fall that was most certainly how it gained most of its meals. It caught up to Lasher, easily sailing underneath him. The airborne mongrel latched onto the armored plates behind its neck. He forced the Crucible into his grip to provide a near magnetic hold onto the creature for what would certainly come next.

  “Now!”

  The beast's wings flared with the angry pop of a sail catching the wind. It roared in defiance of the velocity, forcing its strength along its angular frame to absorb the strain. Coming within meters of the ground, it pulled fantastic dust swirls in the wake of its speed. With a slap of its tail on the desert sands, it rocketed into the sky from a single flap, soaring through the clouds, until shooting out the other side in full view of Tarot's ship making a lazy orbit around the train station.

  The light freighter banked through the clouds in a descent toward the ground with the animal chasing it back through the mists.

  “Holy hells bent hand grenade pins, you have a pet dragon!”

  “Fluff, I do not have a pet dragon.”

  “It sure isn't a Pomeranian, Orin!”

  “How do you know what a Pomeranian is?”

  “The same way I know that's a dragon!”

  The laughter felt as good as the sun on his face. “It's not a dragon.”

  “You'd better not let the dragon hear you say that!”

  Lasher approached the ramp of Tarot's ship. The merc, a very damaged Morpheus, and Fluff stood on guard at the back.

  “Nice to have you back, sir.” Morpheus said in a static-filled voice.

  “Thank you for picking me up.”

  “Why are we no longer talking about the dragon?” Fluff asked.