Samurai Guns (Orphan Wars Book 3)

by J. N. Chaney

  With no more answers than the last time I viewed this screen, I swipe it away and find something much different—an image of an ice planet.

  I freeze, expecting a big arrow to pop up with the label “you are here.” I don’t get that lucky, of course, but this has potential. I’m fairly certain this is an image of the planet currently holding me hostage. How is it on my device and why am I looking at it now?

  Exploration of similar screen controls reveal other planets, but they are always smaller when viewed, sometimes barely larger than their labels (words I can’t read). The cold white ball must be this planet.

  Thoughts of hunger and cold and isolation fade away as I work for hours. My body stops shivering after about two hours of frustrating screen time.

  I put away the tablet but continue to think about how I can use it to get out of here as I pace the frozen cave. Hunger tortures me worse than ever, but I’m not cold. Gone is the storm, replaced by a morning breeze that had frozen tears to my face not so long ago.

  Sunlight pours in from the entrance. I bask in its glory and lower the top of my shirt to feel the breeze.

  Now that is interesting. I feel the cold, but it doesn’t bother me. If I were five years old on a schoolyard, this superpower wouldn’t have made my list of favorite abilities but right now I can’t think of anything better. Being able to fly would be up there of course. Time travel and teleportation would be super useful as well.

  I turn back to the cave and flick a salute toward the dark shelter of the last day or two. “Thanks cave, but I’ve got places to be. If Axu comes back, give him a message. Tell him thanks for nothing and let’s never do this again.”

  Sunlight streams down. A brisk wind ruffles my clothing as I stride toward the frozen ocean. Mountains tower behind me, just as I hypothesized the night before. Before long I have my Orphan map oriented toward known landmarks and a good idea of where I am and where I need to go to look for the Heptagon.

  I play with the OG tablet as I walk. “Maybe I can contact Jack with this thing. Or Shaina. Or maybe I shouldn’t be speaking to myself, for starters.”

  Good point, I think but don’t really care. The Orphan Gate gave me strength, speed, endurance, mental acuity and total recall, the ability to store oxygen in my tissue, and resistance to cold.

  What it hasn’t done is allow me to travel through space and time, or summon food out of thin air. It feels like an animal is eating me from the inside out and my arms and legs feel leaden.

  Hours pass. The sun rises toward noon. I stop, turn to view the landscape, then cup my hands to shout into the wilderness. “Where the hell are you Axu? Let’s negotiate!”

  He doesn’t answer.

  A few miles farther across the frozen ocean, I find a debris field of ice boulders—evidence of the leviathan attack. The surface has frozen again. I’m not as far from where I started as I assumed, but a mistake will definitely take me onto the merciless ice field.

  Tremors cause the brittle layers to ripple and crack. A shadow moves rapidly beneath the ice. Just when I think I’m in the clear, the shape circles and comes back.

  Going back isn’t an option, but I have to run. Instead of retreat, I charge straight for the leviathan below the ice. We pass each other, me heading for the distant shore and the monster turning around with a shriek that I can hear from under water, from under the ice.

  “It’s time to set some personal records.” I sprint with every ounce of energy and skill in my possession. A thrill shoots through me. Even if I die today, running like this is the experience of a lifetime.

  Wind rushes over my face. My arms pump madly.

  Will it be enough?

  I’m about to find out.

  10

  My feet slip every third or fourth step. I fall to one knee, then shove myself up with one hand and keep going. The frozen surface of the ocean explodes into the air fifty meters behind me. There’s nothing to my right or left to provide shelter, no islands of rocks or coastal reefs. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. Useless information fills my head. Impossible plans, unreachable options, and blinding frustration turn to anger.

  Screaming a curse, I put on a final burst of speed.

  I’m not running across the actual ocean but a bay or something. I can see a jetty far out to my left. The sky is clear and the wind has dropped to almost nothing. Decent flying weather. If only Shaina had the Heptagon in the air for an emergency pickup.

  Time accelerates. The ice rises under my feet as the creature moves underneath me, flinging me forward. Instead of helping me run faster, it only trips me. I roll head over heels. It’s a fight to get back to my feet. I claw with my hands and dig with my snow and ice caked boots to get out of the floating chunks of ice and freezing water.

  And then, I’m swimming. But not well. It’s like falling in a ball pit—a lot less fun than it looks like from the sidelines. I kick my legs and reach with my arms, stroking for land that only grows farther away. Every time my hand goes into the water, it’s like punching rocks.

  The leviathan rears up behind me, heard rather than seen. When it slams down, I’m plunged deep underwater.

  To my credit, I don’t panic. I can hold my breath for a long time, after all. Better yet, it’s shoving me down with its snout or something instead of swallowing me like Jonah. Without turning around to take a look, I can’t really know for sure. If it had bitten me in half, I guess that would be the end of this strange odyssey.

  What happens next might be good news, but it doesn’t feel like it. The water isn’t nearly as deep as I assumed. With a creature this big, I would’ve guessed there was a miles-deep trench below me leading into the center of this frozen world. Instead, I’m slammed into a slurry of slimy silt, riddled with organic matter and—other things, all of which are viscous and putrid. Sunlight disappears in the chaos. Eyes closed, hands grasping for purchase, I’m rolled through the muck by the turbulence of the beast passing over me.

  It’s gone for the moment but coming back around. I can feel the rush of water preceding it.

  With no time to think, I twist in the water, and swim like my life depends on it. A vague idea of surfing on the water it pushes ahead of it comes to mind, but I can’t make it work. Maybe if I’d ever been surfing, or even body surfing, I might have had better luck. What I’m doing is just panicked flight, only in the water, under the ice, with the monster snapping at my heels.

  The nearly forgotten pain of oxygen deprivation spreads through my lungs. Apparently, I’ve reached the limit of my oxygen storage. My body only has so much tissue to infuse with the precious gas. When we were drifting to the void to board the gate ship, I hadn’t been putting much stress on my body. But today I’ve been sprinting all out, on land and in the water, for several minutes.

  The price is significant. Fire burns through my arms and legs. There’s a tight knot in my chest that I think is my heart seizing up. I reach the shore and attempt to stand, thinking of rhabdomyolysis—a rare condition where damaged muscle cells release enzymes into the bloodstream and trash a person’s kidneys. Could I push myself that hard? Probably not, but could an Orphan?

  All I know is that every muscle in my body is on fire, my lungs can’t keep up, and I need to throw up. But I can’t because I’m gasping for air.

  The leviathan rises out of the water behind me, roaring like a wounded freight train, and slams me into the muddy frozen sand. I black out—a blessed relief from the hell I’ve just put myself through. It might be easier to just die.

  Purgatory lasts mere seconds. This test isn’t over. Sound drones in my ears like a heavyweight boxer just knocked me out. Images flick to life. Conscious thought fights up from the depths.

  I have to do something, but all I can manage is reaching forward with one hand, opening it, and clawing my fingers through the sand.

  So close. I’m floundering through about an inch of water now with ice bobbing all around me. The creature draws back, apparently uncomfortable this close t
o land.

  I turn enough to see it rise into the air, twenty or thirty feet high with tentacles supporting it like dozens of legs and pincers snapping ahead of it, seeking prey.

  A hand grabs my collar and yanks me out of the water.

  “You must run with Zedas-Duryan!”

  “I can’t even stand up.” This is stupid. I can’t fight anymore. I’m not even sure I’m completely conscious. It’s more likely I’m dreaming of rescue than actually being rescued.

  Somehow my feet move. Zedas picks me up each time I fall.

  The leviathan pursues us inland, bellowing rage and slashing at us with its twisted fore legs. I look back once, and see rows and rows of blind eyes looking in all directions, flinching away from the light even as it seeks us.

  “Why are you so slow, Doctor Hank Murphy?” Zedas shouts.

  I know I’m in trouble. My friend only uses my full name when he’s really serious. When we first met, we went round and round about what to call each other. My mind wants to go back to that easier, monster-free time when I was merely confused. All things considered, I would take that over our current situation any day of the week.

  “That is better, Murph,” he says.

  We slow to a walk. I face backward, but keep moving. There’s nothing out here on the frozen tundra to bump into or trip over. The leviathan has stopped. It slams its tentacles and forelegs on the frozen ground and roars in our direction.

  “That is much bigger than the spider creature,” Zedas says.

  “Where… is the ship?” I ask.

  “Shaina is trying to fix it.”

  I walk for several strides, no longer interested in the creature who has quit pursuing us. My head hurts. My body aches. I can’t catch my breath. Somewhere, Axu is flying a ship around, looking for my tablet, and for good measure, I’m covered in dripping ooze that smells like the bottom of a trash bin.

  “Shit!” I reach between my layers of cold weather gear for the pocket where I put the device both Jack and Axu want so badly. My questing fingers feel nothing. Gone. “We have to go back.”

  “Zedas-Duryan will watch from here. Good luck.”

  I push my wet hair back and shiver. My friend is wearing layers of clothing over his organic armor, something I know from past experience is rare. He’s cold. I should be colder. A tremor runs through my body reminding me that there are limits to my Orphan Gate induced augmentations.

  “What’s the matter, big guy? Are you scared of one little old sea monster?”

  “Is that a serious question, or are you reaching for humor?” Zedas asks.

  “I’m totally joking. We obviously can’t fight that thing. Look around on the shore. I’m missing a small device, like a tablet, but with a strange outer texture,” I say.

  “Yes, I have seen you looking at it. It is like the one that the Dark Eye uses to navigate the Orphan Gates when he loops,” Zedas says. “Both of you are secretive with the funny little tools.”

  Note to self, my friend is way more observant than I give him credit for. If he put this together, how had Jack not realized my secret? The answer is probably simple. I was actively hiding it from him whereas I trust Zedas with my life.

  “Thanks for coming back for me, buddy,” I say. “Tell me if you see the device, and we can figure out how to retrieve it.”

  “We’re back to you calling me buddy,” he mutters. “Maybe I should call you Bujibiji.”

  “Is that a new word?”

  He shakes his head and faces the floundering leviathan. “It is better, for the sake of our friendship, if I do not explain what that word means.”

  “Now I’m curious, but we have more pressing problems.” I point toward a dark spec to the left of the creature. “I think I see it.”

  Zedas squints. “Yes, I believe you are correct.”

  I squat down on my haunches, hugging myself to get warm. Getting cold sucks. How quickly a man forgets the bad times when he’s comfortable. “That monster has to go back in the water eventually.”

  “Yes, that would make sense,” Zedas says. “But it waits for us. Perhaps if we pretended to leave, it would go back to its watery home.”

  I nod. “You’re right. I can’t convey how hard this will be, leaving the Orphan Gate key lying on the ice for anyone to pick up.”

  “We have no other choice.”

  I stand, pat my friend on his shoulder, and start walking away from the water. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  Zedas joins me. “I feel this is something you should remember more often.”

  “Don’t push your luck, big guy.”

  “I am glad I went looking for you. Shaina wanted me to stay and help fix the ship, but I told her this would be better.”

  I squint against the bright sun. The urge to look back is strong, but I want the creature to give up and go away. I’m already having doubts. What if the sun goes down? Will I be able to find the device? Will it sink into the ice when the monster moves back to its domain? What if Axu flies over with his scanning devices and sees it?

  “Slow down. We’re not actually leaving, remember?” I ask.

  “Just a little farther. The ground starts to descend, even if you can’t see the change at first. We can squat down and hide from that thing.”

  “Good call. Maybe that will get it to leave.”

  Sunset on this planet is terrifying. There is one fantastic moment of beauty, and then a bullying darkness. I feel the temperature drop in seconds. Some of my Orphan warmth is back, but I’m still very uncomfortable. I guess the difference is I’m not dying, so that’s good.

  “Why can’t the stubborn thing just go back to swimming around or whatever it does normally?” I ask.

  “Perhaps he can see us,” Zedas says. “Or maybe it has other senses.”

  I think back to what Axu said about the planet and its biosphere. “Axu implied there is only one creature on this planet, that everything we’ve seen is somehow connected.”

  “I do not see how this could be correct,” Zedas says. “The Prothean must not be as smart as he thinks he is. There must be another explanation that gives the appearance of such a condition.”

  I face my friend. “Look at you, talking like a scientist.”

  “Is that what it is to say obvious things?”

  It feels good to laugh. Zedas joins me once he realizes I’m not laughing at him.

  “You are easier to amuse now that the Dark Eye is gone,” he says.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’m glad he went back to Tamondran, though I’m sure that will cause us problems in the future,” he says.

  I’m about to ask for clarification when the tentacled monstrosity slips back into the water and disappears. My instinct is to rush forward and grab the tablet. The water’s front isn’t solid. Everything along the beach moves and shifts from the force of the creature retreating. I watch the tablet bob up and down and try to keep my eye on it.

  “That’s it, I’m going to run down there and grab it,” I say, standing up.

  Zedas pulls me back down. “No, not yet. Look into the water. It is still moving.”

  I search the darkness and see a bump moving beneath the broken ice. It disappears, then reemerges elsewhere. Before long, I see a pattern. It’s definitely hunting. The question is, is it still hunting us?

  “I can’t wait much longer. It’s hard enough to see the device as it is,” I say.

  “Then you must go slowly. Make as little sound as possible. Make a small profile against the horizon. It will be gazing from sea level, remember. Try not to provoke the beast,” he says.

  “Got it. No beast provoking. Only Orphan Gate key recovering.” Staying as low as I can to reduce my silhouette on the skyline, I creep toward the water’s edge. I haven’t gone far before the surface becomes unstable. Twice, I step in a hole that sucks me down to my knee. I freeze, hold my breath, and look for the leviathan.

  Nothing. Frozen needles prick my skin. My clothing soaks up the w
ater again. Once I expose it to the air, it freezes. Something moves in the sky—a ship perhaps. I squat as low as possible and wait.

  Sure enough, a Prothean statue ship works its way this direction, scanning the ground with its search lasers. I have to move faster.

  “Be careful, Murph,” Zedas says.

  I realize he followed me. “You’re stealthy. I thought you stayed behind.”

  “Someone will need to pull you out of danger, as usual,” he says.

  “I know I already said this, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “That makes one of us,” he says. “I didn’t realize there would be a monster from the deep terrorizing us.”

  Slowly but surely, I make my way to the last place I saw the Orphan Gate key. My heart races faster than it should. After everything I’ve been through, this is what makes it leap into my chest.

  “I don’t see it. Are we in the right place?” I ask.

  “It is difficult to know. Everything looks different at night.” Zedas points at the distant Prothean ship. “We must not remain long. That vessel will see us.”

  “Just keep looking.” I search methodically and quickly, dividing the beach into sections with my eyes. The hard part is not looking toward every new shape that catches my attention. I stick to my search plan with effort.

  Zedas pushes me to the ground. “Lie motionless.”

  I comply. The statue ship runs along the coast scanning a wide swath of the beach. If it spots our hiding place, the pilot takes no notice that I can tell. Of course, Axu, or whoever is in that particular vessel, could be calling for reinforcements or an airstrike with my luck.

  “It is gone, for now,” Zedas says.

  I resume my search immediately. “Keep going in that direction. There’s a lot of floating debris, ice and seaweed, sand and this slurry of plankton I think. The OG key may be drifting.”

  “It might have sunk to the bottom or been consumed by the creature.”