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

by Walt Robillard

  “A loose translation would be, 'aw hells no.'” Mr. Wen barked at the skittish commo tech turned potential murder victim. “Now pipe down and stop whining. It was just here and we missed it. We need to stay alert!”

  “Not today. I'm out of here. Phang can fire me,” Kenny said.

  “If you stay, the bot might get you. If you run, it will get you.” Dennis pointed to the passage they'd come from.

  Reaching to his chest, Mr. Wen thumbed the switch for the comm-set he was wearing, “Control, this is Mr. Wen. Two members of my team are missing. We're dangerously close to that bot from the briefing. How copy?”

  The comm didn't chirp back a response from Control. He thumbed off the throat mic linked to his cell-com while pulling the device from his pocket. Checking the contact screen, he dialed in the direct line for command deck. The device failed to push calls through to any of the contacts he tried.

  “Everyone pull in tight,” Wen ordered “I don't want anyone else to get snatched on our way out.”

  Foster yanked the corner of Mr. Wen's shirt. “What in the twin hells are you thinking? That stupid bot locked us out of the cargo hangar and now Control won't answer so we can't call for help. There's no way we're going back out there with that crazy thing stalking us!”

  “Fine. You can stay here, then. We're safer if we're on the move; we know the ship better than it does. If we stay here, it's just gonna lob a plasma burst at us from around the corner.”

  “What are you talking about?” Foster whined.

  “That's a robot infantry mech. I think that one's a model four. I faced off against a bunch of threes on my trip to Changye. Nothing worse that some jackal-looking mechs transforming to man shaped before they came out of the dark to rip your troop in half. When they went from model three to four, they upgraded them with plasma casters, I think. Point is, these things are dangerous. If we remain in one spot, it'll take ’em no time at all to figure how to kill us quick.”

  Foster's blank expression changed to one of anger as he pounded on the plate demanding the little robot let them in.

  “You can cut that out, too. We're not rated to be in there, so you can bet it's not going to pop the locks just because we're going to get eaten,” Dennis pointed out.

  “Damn you and damn this whole thing.” Foster said, defeated.

  “Everyone back in formation. We're out of here,” Mr. Wen said.

  The six man crew stacked up entering the hall on the move to areas of the deck they'd already cleared, Kenny was at the back keeping an eye behind them. The group came to a halt at an intersection leading back to the lift back to the command deck. Mr. Wen pied the corner, until he had a clear line of sight to the end of the passage. His work projection glasses displayed markers in his HUD identifying the routes they'd already cleared.

  “Alright,” Mr. Wen called to his troop. “Dennis, move them to the lift. Keep everyone going. Don't stop.”

  The group filed past Mr. Wen, who kept his sub machine blaster at the patrol ready on the off chance he could see the mech before it came at them. He shivered from the memories of the planet Changye. It was always dark there. That's when they would come. Even with night vision his colleagues had missed them slipping through the lines. The machines covered themselves in mud and flora, masquerading as parts of the terrain. They spent days getting into position to attack his old company. With no need to eat or sleep, all they had to concentrate on was moving minuscule distances over time to get within striking distance of the men. When they did come, it was like an entire cemetery coughing up the undead from the muck. This felt just like that day. He felt like a man waiting to die.

  “Kenny, I got the rear. Move out,” Mr. Wen said. He reached back for the jumpy tech, looking to prod him to catch up with the rest of the group.

  The lights in the corridor cut out completely, shrouding the group in complete darkness. The hissing of fluids moving through pipes and the tick of duradium plating shifting from temperature changes were accented from the sudden descent into the gloom.

  “No, no, no!” Foster yelled out.

  “Quiet, all of you,” Mr. Wen called. He switched his glasses over to low light, dousing his field of vision into various states of blacks and whites. Ahead of him were four of the five men remaining of his team. He turned to regard Kenny, touching his shoulder just as the lights came back on. Kenny's body slumped over, his head rolling away from the corpse as it spilled the contents of his stomach all over the deck.

  “Back down the passage, now!” Mr. Wen yelled at a dead run.

  He thumbed his cell-com, trying to link back up with Control. Still no response. A young engine mechanic, Mao, slipped on a batch of coolant leaking from a pipe. One of the engineers, Sarla, helped him up just as the lights went out again.

  “Back to back. Stay quiet.”

  The group huddled together. Mr. Wen could tell they were all still alive from the frantic breathing, side by side with the occasional mewling from the frightened team members.

  The lights finally came back on for their section of the passage directly across from the front of the lift. Kenny's body was propped up with a broken piece of pipe, impaled into his chest. One of his feet sat atop his skull, making him look like a ghoulish, headless general posing for a victory photo. His entrails were tied into the pipes above the bulkheads further keeping him upright, forming a grizzly web blocking the way to the elevator.

  Foster screamed in horror. “Please tell me there's another way out of here!”

  “Another lift on the opposite side of the way we just came, near the cargo bay. Everyone put a hand on the shoulder of the person in front of you. I'll lead.”

  The rest of the group, in the beginning stages of shock, followed suit reluctantly. Even the normal hull noises of a ship at space were enough to further scare the group. Every ping or pop caused them to gasp or wince, making it difficult for Wen to get a reading on anything going on around him. He triggered his cell-com to automatically activate the night vision on his glasses anytime the lights went out.

  “How is this happening?” Mao said to no one in particular.

  “In the briefing they mentioned there's a half-Vosi that's trying to take down the family,” Foster said. “He used to be a marshal but he went rogue and now he drinks the blood of his enemies to make himself more powerful.”

  “Knock that nonsense off, Foster.” Wen barked, chastising the man for his fear.

  “But he was a Marshals Templar.”

  “He was,” Mr. Wen agreed. “But that blood nonsense is just Cartel superstition. Listen, it's been over ten minutes since we last had contact with Control. They'll send some one to get us, but we have to make it to the other lift, just in case.”

  They moved down the passage at a slow, rolling pace, jumping at shadows. Overhead pipes clattered together, steam vented from slats near the floor, and the lights blinked out once the group moved through one section into the next, in keeping with the ship’s conservation program.

  “Didn't you ask them to keep the lights on?” Foster croaked.

  “I did, but I also asked them to send me down here with a handful of security bots. I guess we don't always get what we want,” Mr. Wen muttered.

  Sarla jumped, bumping into Dennis. Her shriek startled the rest of the group, Mr. Wen motioned for all of them to their knees in a close huddle near one of the bulkheads. “Don't lean on the walls, gunfire has a tendency to ricochet and travel along the surface. Sarla, what happened?”

  “Mao's gone!”

  “Where is he?”

  “One minute he was there, then he took his hand off my shoulder.” The woman shivered at her next statement. “When I looked back he was gone.”

  Mr. Wen reached into his pack, pulling a flare from it. He struck the end, bringing the searing red tip to life. Its tip spat smoke and sparks onto the carbodex flooring, burning pock marks into the surface. “Dennis, switch spots with me. Sarla, you take his place and I'll take the rear. If something g
rabs me, I'll drop the flare and you know to turn and shoot. Try to leave me out of the crosshairs.”

  The group poured down the passage at a brisk pace. Periodically, Mr. Wen turned to face the way they came, grateful for the flare illuminating past their section when the deck lighting went out. He glanced forward to see Foster coming to an intersection.

  “Left to the lift.”

  “That makes it easy to remember.” Foster said.

  Mr. Wen faced the rear. A violent jerk on his hand cost him his balance and his purchase on the floor. He stumbled back to his feet, throwing the flare down the way he came. He was distinctly aware that the rest of the team was missing. He backed up against the bulkhead at the top of the T-shaped junction, giving him line of sight down the two sides as well as the passage he just left.

  The flare bounded down the hallway back toward him, gripped by something slender. It came to rest at a set of mechanical feet ending in the most wicked claws he had ever seen. The RIM-IV's face full of death-rending teeth came into view, highlighted by the vivid red shining flame. The mech moved like a real panther, low and slow while gauging its prey.

  Mr. Wen didn't wait. He brought up the blaster pistol, volleying accurate shots on the bot's torso. It flicked the flare toward him. The bouncing spark threw off Mr. Wen’s ability to target or even see the murderous machine, in addition to keeping his night vision from coming online.

  “Emergency open!” he screamed as he pelted away from his adversary. He'd escaped Changye. Escaped the death machines shaped like some Anubis god on one of the Bedouin worlds. He had made it out then. He could make it our now.

  The doors of the shaft opened, revealing a tall slender man with a face mask. The sides of the mask ended near his hairline, full of bead encrusted dreadlocks bunched together near the top of his head. Resicarbon plate armor covered his torso. One of the shoulder straps had been repaired, leaving a wolf head shaped scar on it.

  Mr. Wen ran straight into the man's waiting grip.

  Lasher slammed the smaller man into the ceiling, then let him plummet back to the deck. Wen groaned from the impact, laying for a moment trying to regain his bearings. He centered his pistol on Lasher's chest, ready to pull the trigger until the Doom Cat's enormous head hovered over his own.

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Fluff hissed. “You hadn't heard our offer yet. If you shoot, I'll have to remove your hand at the neck, if you get my meaning.”

  Wen gulped loud enough to be heard past the venting jets and random systems noises in the passage.

  “Bring Phang and Phoenix a message and you get to live past this moment.” The audio filters in Lasher's mask did nothing to hide his satisfaction in sending this man back to them empty handed and terrified.

  Twenty-Two

  “Alright, guys. Looks like Raastrider is paying in hard currency. They’re bringing out a rolling security box to the foreman.” Kel called into the comm.

  Through the view screen, Kel and Kat watched the transfer go down. The foreman keyed a code into the face of the cart, rolling open a security shutter. He gestured to a pair of cases inside, no bigger than a briefcase although made of high grade resicarbon.

  “That's it?” Kat asked. “How in the twin hells are we supposed to steal that? I thought fifty million would have been, you know, bigger.”

  “Orin. Suggestions would be helpful right about now.”

  “I'm not there, Kel. Your call.”

  Kel threw up his hands. “How do I always get put in these situations?”

  “He thinks you're the smart one.” Kat said, trying not to laugh.

  “Only when you're not here,” he said with a wink.

  The foreman on the Chen side of the transaction motioned behind him for someone to come forward. A loader mech trundled its way over to the security locker, hoisting the cases of credits with very little effort. It heeled back to its master, waiting for further instructions. The two foreman shook hands, concluding their business as if it were any other day. A few quick words passed between the two then both folded up the operation to move onto the next.

  “Wait a sec,” Kel muttered. “How heavy do you think those cases are?”

  “Pretty heavy. At least a hundred kilograms each.”

  “This could still work. If you were a shady underworld cartel that just got fifty mil in trade bars, what would you do with it?”

  “Security locker on the ship.”

  Kel keyed the cell-com back to Lasher. “Hey boss! Change of plans. We're sending the loot to you.”

  “I need to know what happened to that team, sir.”

  “Of course, Work-Captain. We've only just arrived to the cargo bay on this level.” Phoenix motioned for his new crew to pass him, securing the hallway at both ends. He placed his hand over the command plate for the door. Focusing the Sight, he peeled away layers of security overriding protocols to force the hatch open. The spherical bot flew out from its enclosure, straight into his waiting palm.

  “Trada ni skava. Neh wee Toh?”

  “I am Venger Phoenix, an associate of Ms. Chen. I would like a detailed description of what happened to the team that was sent to secure this facility.” A blur of motion finished the request with Phoenix's hand around the neck of the bot.

  The tiny machine went on a tirade in its strange dialect, simultaneously trying in vain to escape his grip. After a moment, the shiny automaton stopped its struggle. Venger could almost feel the little security guard sigh as it ceased its attempts to free itself. In a more resigned tone, it spouted another series of words that were translated into Trade-9 by his mask.

  “I see. How unfortunate for them. Why didn't you call this in?”

  “Jadda no haska.”

  “You were jammed? Didn't Ms. Chen say this area had upgraded security?” Phoenix asked.

  “Seesa no keepa va wengi.”

  “I'll be sure to tell her you said that.”

  The radio chirped in his mask. “Honorable Phoenix, this is Work-Captain Phang. Where are you on the investigation?”

  Venger released the bot, staying in place long enough to watch several of his new cadre slip inside the cargo bay. He left to attend the rest of them stacked around the intersection. “Report.”

  One of the Sparks, the two remaining members from his original team bowed, “It would seem that seven of the eight man team are accounted for. Most were killed quickly. Broken necks or stab wounds. This one was impaled with a pipe, and this one…”

  Venger stared at the disemboweled and beheaded technician. That one had been used to inspire fear. These were old-style guerrilla tactics. The Xang had witnessed them during the uprisings on Changye. Venger understood the tactic. He used these same methods at home.

  He couldn't figure which he hated more, himself for being upstaged by a machine, or his opponent for doing so. In that moment he mourned the loss of his brothers, Twin Mountain Thunder and Silver Scorpion. Not only would it would be up to him to tell their sister how they died, but whether or not they served the eternal work in doing so. A calming breath settled him back to balance. After all, an observant leader working toward mission success will often win the day. Such was his place in the eternal work.

  “Work-Captain Phang this is Venger Phoenix. We've found the men. They've dead, except for Mr. Wen, who's missing. The security drone guarding the door to the first bay speaks of dark creatures and shadows coming to kill them. I believe the mongrel and his cat may be on board. I can also sense a presence, something just beyond the veil to the Second Sight. Lasher would be capable enough to hide himself from me but whoever this person is, they have not yet learned the ability to do so.”

  “Does this new presence pose a threat?” Phang asked.

  “Unknown, but I can track it now that it's known to me.”

  “We're hyper-casting back to Doseidos now. Secure yourself until after the jump. Then proceed to your objective.”

  The foreman was waving his hand in the air when he noticed a commotio
n at the end of the bay. The outsider and his masked retinue were walking abreast, with a ten man detail in armored blue flight suits behind.

  “What's the meaning of this?” The foreman asked in as annoyed a tone as he could muster.

  “There is a revelation in the Second Sight. I've come to ease your burden,” Venger said.

  “Stop speaking in riddles. I have to lock down all of this spent dunnage before we can cast into hyperspace. I don't have time for your holier than thou attitude. If you want someone to bow to you, go talk to Phang. He's into that stuff.” The foreman’s attitude came as a surprise. It was evident that he wasn't used to people speaking to him in such a manner.

  “What I mean to say, is that there is someone here who doesn't belong,” Venger explained. “They're among your crew in the hangar. Of that I'm sure.”

  “We're just cleaning up after the transfer. As you can plainly see, we have a handful of regular crew and a few bots. Take a look around if you want.”

  “When you say regular crew…” Venger said, letting the tail end of his question hang between them.

  “These people have worked the deck with me for the last three trips.”

  “And the bots?”

  “They're bots. They came with the ship.”

  Venger lifted a hand, parting the veil between the Unseen and the Second Sight. Manipulating strands of reality, he flipped the control for the main entry door to the bay, sealing it with rapidly closed duradium shutters. The doors blocked the exit for a large loader mech on a meandering route out of the bay.

  “I don't think they all came with the ship,” Phoenix said, and turned to the loader mech. “What is your unit identifier?”

  “I am LUS-1-4, sir. Logistics Utility Systems. How may I be of assistance?”

  “You can tell me what you're doing here.”

  “I was sent by the deck foreman to stow the cases in a security locker. How may I be of assistance?”

  The foreman seemed annoyed by Phoenix's persistence, “It's a bot. What more do you want it to tell you? If you think it's been sliced, we can get a code monkey down here to check it.”