by Scott Moon
The last Carosn Device was destroyed in the Regenison War for Independence. That was one thing that even politicians wouldn’t lie about.
What are you gentlemen up to? Aefel resisted the urge to move in search of a better vantage point. In his experience, that was a good way to get caught.
Jorgo listened to the NGO leader for several minutes. Aefel watched through the scope of his sniper rifle, which was more than likely issued to him by the NGO organization when they thought they could command him to commit murder. The memory of faking Seccon’s death still troubled him. He had been convinced that a back-up squad would carry out the orders he refused, so he left Fey and the others and became the village watchdog.
He wished he knew where Paul and the rest of his FALD friends were. Had they been sent to finish what he had started? Each time he saw an NGO soldier, he braced for the possibility that it might be one of his friends.
So far, so good, Reaver. I don’t have to kill my brothers. Ooja.
In the middle of Aefel’s ruminations, Jorgo drew and swung his sword in one motion, severing the neck of the NGO soldier. Hawk Clan warriors attacked immediately, catching the modern light-infantrymen off guard. Even with their stealth armor and light weapons and their heads up their asses, the NGO still possessed an insurmountable advantage in technology.
Jorgo and his warriors routed the modern soldiers in the beginning, but when the NGO men and women rallied, they pushed back with a bloody vengeance. He glimpsed teeth flying from a man’s face. An instant later, Aefel lost sight of the man and moved his scope to a different part of the battle. Three clansmen stared at their stomachs in wonder and horror as entrails spilled from bullet wounds. A fourth man fell sideways when his left leg below the knee evaporated.
Aefel didn’t have to examine the cold, businesslike posture of the NGO soldiers. He’d suppressed rebellions where the enemy didn’t stand a chance. When the job was over, he got drunk.
Welcome to the charnel house, Jorgo.
The sound of explosions and swords ringing on ceramic armor drifted across the distance toward Aefel. Jorgo’s primitive warriors stood shoulder to shoulder just long enough to realize a traditional shield wall was a death sentence. They rushed forward, taking down several gunman by sheer stubbornness. Battle rage and bloodlust was making them stupid even as reality rampaged among their ranks. Aefel could feel the terror from a distance.
Jorgo pointed his sword at the forest and nearby mountain trails. His warriors scattered in small groups. They continued to hunt the strangers, killing more than Aefel would have predicted. The men and women of Hawk Clan might feel fear, but they didn’t show it. Aefel respected their death dance despite his hatred of Jorgo. The sight of brave men, regardless their allegiance, dying by what must seem to them magic, caused Aefel to lock his jaw and use all his skill to remain calm and detached.
Again and again, the swordsmen attacked. The NGO second-in-command rallied his remaining units in a pattern that would make no sense to Jorgo or the others. With modern weapons, the Commonwealth NGO soldiers created widely spaced positions with interlocking fields of fire. From that moment on, there were fewer and fewer survivors.
Aefel didn’t see Jorgo die. Hawk Clan was devastated by the battle. Aefel wondered what kind of lessons the man would learn from the ordeal if he survived.
Something twisted in Aefel’s subconscious mind. Regardless of their simple weapons or lack of technology, the warriors on this planet were something to be reckoned with. He pushed aside images of the brutal retaliation of low technology societies after rebellion suppression efforts by FALD units.
He wondered if the purpose of the human race was to kill each other. He had seen few true pacifists. The difference was only in the kind of weapons used to massacre the enemy. Sword or machinegun, it didn’t matter in the end.
Aefel stalked the battlefield when it was over, hoping for useful supplies or intelligence on the NGO. He was required to move cautiously with sword-Danes and NGO soldiers hunting each other throughout the valley.
“Help me,” a voice said.
Aefel moved to the edge of a stream where an NGO soldier held a wound to his abdomen with one hand and sloshed water into his mouth with the other.
“I expected one of the Grendels to be wounded. How did you get bit?” Aefel asked.
“Kiss my ass.” The man’s voice was dry and rough. “Wait until you have to fight the demons.”
“Try it with just a sword and a shield,” Aefel said as he kneeled over the man.
“Everyone is a smart ass. Can you get me back to base? I’ve got a lot of damage.”
Aefel examined the man. Ignoring the curses and groans, he poked at the armor, noting that someone had pulled it to one side before thrusting a blade under the ribs.
“Help me, you son of a bitch!”
Aefel punched him lazily.
The Commonwealth NGO soldier fell sideways and gripped his wound with both hands.
“What does NGO stand for? And if you call me a son of a bitch one more time, I am going to skull fuck you right here before you die.”
“Bring me a medic or take me back to base.”
Aefel, still squatting on his haunches, stared at the injured man. Several moments passed. A spasm caused the soldier to cough in pain.
“New Galactic Order.”
“Do we have a new emperor already? I didn’t think I was out of the loop that long.”
The NGO soldier quieted. He stared at Aefel and tried to back away but only hurt himself. “You are 70391.”
“I am. What are you going to do about it?”
The soldier looked sad, frustrated, and angry.
Aefel saw him reach for his utility belt just in time to turn and dive away as the explosion blasted rocks from the creek and pieces of saplings in every direction. Shrapnel lanced into Aefel’s back, cutting long wounds but not going deep because of the angle.
He didn’t think much about the slicing pain. The pressure of the explosion knocked him against the ground and rang his ears like a gong. He fought for consciousness as he staggered out of the area.
Hours later, he started to think about what the soldier’s suicide attack meant.
12
NIGHT
FIRST BASE
GRENDEL 0473829: SURFACE, VALLEY OF LIGHTS 83A1A
MISSION CLOCK: n/a – FUGITIVE
“A Carosn Device?” Seccon asked. “Have you lost your mind?” He watched the Commanding Officer of this unit carefully, but his attention roamed across the stark modernity of the secret base. Grendel had been intentionally cast back into history by investors who went bankrupt hundreds of years past. He wondered how long ago this high tech base had been built and how they kept it from spooking the primitive locals in the next valley.
He wondered if this officer was actually stupid enough to use a Carosn device.
Brigadier General Travis Nguyen turned while still wearing the leg portions of his battle armor, which accentuated his narrow waist. He was tall, proudly featured, and too confident for Seccon’s taste. He had met the general many times during his service to Emperor Uburt-Wesson. Black hair, cut short and always just unruly enough to be perfect, framed his face. His almond-shaped blue eyes were the height of fashion on the leisure worlds. Women and men of all ranks and occupations loved him.
General Nguyen climbed out of his battle-scarred equipment and laughed like a gracious gentlemen. “I didn’t give it to the brutes. It is merely my duty to get it back.”
“Containment and destruction is also part of your duty, I assume,” Seccon said.
Nguyen shrugged. He looked around at his audience, not because he seemed worried about their opinion, but to merely to see who was in the room. Tall and graceful, he moved past Seccon to greet soldiers returned from a patrol.
“Mike,” he said. “That limp is completely gone now, or you’re hiding it from me again.”
“Thank you, General. I am feeling much better. Humans sit Human
um.”
Seccon watched the exchange with growing fascination. He had been frustrated at the casual interruptions that seemed part of Zero Brigade, formerly the Sixth Expeditionary Brigade, but now he noticed something beneath the surface. They were using the watch word from the coin: humans must be human.
He studied the other officers and soldiers in the large room. Sveinn and Fey had thought it a strange ballroom, which made Nguyen and the others laugh. Seccon recognized it for what it was, no matter how the outer facade was decorated. The place was an aircraft hangar. He didn’t see anything with wings or rotors, but there were stacks of equipment and gear guarded by soldiers that didn’t care to pretend to be Grendels.
Seccon moved between General Nguyen and his officers, leaned into his personal space, and locked eyes with the man. “Tell me you were ordered to destroy the device as soon as you find it.”
Nguyen inhaled, causing his lips to part slightly. “I wasn’t given any such order, but I imagine it exists for someone. Seccon, my entire Brigade has been removing their Internal Cybernetics from the Commonwealth network for months. I am nearly as plain as your girlfriend.”
Seccon glanced at the hangar door where many of the Sky Clan villagers were grouped together, staring at the strange sights inside what they thought was a grand longhall or cathedral. Borghild hugged herself and watched him carefully. He ached to be near her. Some decisions were clearer now.
“It is not the same, Nguyen. You should understand that as well as anyone,” Seccon said. He moved even closer to the general, warning the guards back with an angry glance, and willed something to happen. “The only people the Carosn Device won’t turn inside out are the Blood Royals. It doesn’t matter how far off-line you think you are.”
“Our experts disagree,” Nguyen said as he took a step back to create space between them and cast an annoyed glance at his bodyguards. “My Recon teams have spotted the New Galactic Order faction wearing insulation rings. Can you believe that? They’re more superstitious than these animals.” He nodded toward Sveinn and the others.
“These animals don’t fear the Carosn Device,” Seccon said. “And they don’t fear you.”
Nguyen backed away another step and signaled for his guards to handle Seccon. “The old CD wouldn’t do much to them, but I have been led to believe this version will make them pray for death. Something about bleeding eyes and brain hemorrhaging. But at least they won't't be twisted apart like an accordion. Go to my doctors. They will advise you of the best procedures to remove or neutralize your Internals.” He paused, more comfortable now with two soldiers between him and Seccon. “Humans sit Humanum.”
“Veritas nihil sine actione,” Seccon said. He spoke again, more loudly, when Nguyen turned to leave. “Truth is nothing without action.”
Nguyen stopped, hesitated, and then turned around. “I agree completely. That is why I commended the action you took against the Emperor without knowing anything about our secret society or Zero Brigade.”
A chill went up Seccon’s spine. He hadn’t thought about his act of regicide for days.
“Truth is nothing without action,” Nguyen repeated, taking a step forward. His soldiers perked up and watched the incident as it unfolded. “Truth. Is nothing. Without action. So help me honor the truth, Seccon. Help me find Aefel. Help me find the Blood Royal. Help me find the Carosn Device.”
Seccon wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Nguyen and his Zero Brigade didn’t know about Sveinn and his sisters.
It was obvious the NGO had broken from the Earth Systems Commonwealth and understood that Sky Clan contained the Blood Royal. Perhaps they had known before Seccon or Aefel had. Their commitment to eliminating the Old World Order was clear. Their efforts to exterminate the Imperial line could not be doubted. What he didn’t know was what they wanted instead.
He still didn’t have a name or a location for the secret society he had been searching for, but he had their military expression in the form of Zero Brigade. They wanted the Carosn Device and Aefel. Seccon could practically feel Aefel just beyond the reach of both NGO and Zero Brigade search teams. He didn’t know the man, but felt a dislike of him in the same manner he could not force himself to be fond of Fey. A rational creature should understand his thoughts and intuition. Too often, humans of the Commonwealth, with or without Cybernetic Internals, were left with a nameless feeling of dread.
Humans sit humanum. Seccon thought of another watch word that hadn’t died yet. Ooja!
General Nguyen continued to stare. When he thought Seccon wasn’t looking, he gave his guards hand signals, probably to take him out if he said the wrong thing.
Seccon stared at the man. He couldn’t believe that Nguyen and his Zero Brigade hadn’t figured it out the identities of Sveinn, Fey, Ari, and Thrud.
Humans must be human. Seccon was starting to view the statement through Fey’s eyes. It wasn’t much of a quest. None of the Grendels possessed technology. They were like the Blood Royals in that way.
“Good luck finding Aefel,” Seccon said.
“Help me find him and I will protect your pet villagers from the NGO.”
“Why do you want him? I thought he was just a tool of the ESC Military,” Seccon asked.
“That is outside of my mission briefing. I would guess they want to kill him or make him your replacement.”
Seccon moved away as the General continued to speak. He watched Borghild, who seemed pleased with his attention. He stared past the survivors of Sky Clan and saw winter in all of its Grendel glory.
“I must have an answer from you, Seccon,” Nguyen said.
Sunlight broke from the clouds and streaked across the valley. First Base barely looked like a part of Grendel. It was a harbinger of what was to come for anyone with the knowledge to understand what was at stake. There would be a new political order, whether it was the ESC splinter group calling themselves the New Galactic Order or Zero Brigade’s Secret Society or some miraculous coalition of Grendel natives.
“I will help you find Aefel, on one condition.”
“Name it,” Nguyen said.
“I want sole custody and control of Sky Clan for now and all time.”
“Done.”
“In writing.”
“I said done.” Nguyen turned to his executive officer. “Draw up the paperwork. We have just won the war for the price of a few native thralls.”
Seccon was facing away from Nguyen when he smiled.
GRENDEL
Previously in the Grendel Uprising series:
Aefel moved through the wilderness surrounding the Sky Clan village to protect Fey, Sveinn, and the others as Seccon pursued his mysterious intrigue. Two military forces attacked, each for their own reasons. The New Galactic Order (NGO) wants the Blood Royal dead. They are the remnants of Earth System Commonwealth and want Aefel punished for his refusal to carry out the execution of Seccon and the entire Sky Clan village. Neither Seccon nor Aefel learns the exact identity of the other secret society, but find a group of soldiers known as the Zero Brigade, who make a deal with Seccon.
1
LAST CALL: IRISH PUB
GRENDEL 0473829: ORBITAL STATION
MISSION CLOCK: 00:00:00
FIRST Sergeant Cindy-Loren 71019 watched with her retinal incident camera turned off as Paul 69891 did three things all at once. His bearlike size emphasized each movement as he stood from his favorite barstool at the Lucky Death Dropper Pub, slammed a two-pound stein on the countertop, and roared at the top of his lungs for Aefel.
“The lieutenant would have you in lock-up for this shit,” Cindy said.
Paul groaned. “Aaeeefel.”
“He can take care of himself. He isn’t just a Reaver, he is The Reaver.”
Paul raised the beer stein slowly, twisting his torso in agony, then uncoiled, slamming the drink down again. “Aefel! I’m really mad at you!” Sadness and misery colored his words.
“Easy there, big guy,” Cindy said as she worked her left a
rm under his right and around his waist to guide him away from the liquor. It was easy to maneuver under him. He was two feet taller than she was. Moving his tree-trunk legs toward the door proved a bit more challenging.
Paul looked down as she steered his unsteady bulk across the floor. “I said I was thirsty.” The pain of misunderstanding flooded his bleary-eyed expression.
“No, that is not what you said.”
“Bullocks.”
“You said where the fuck is Aefel; if someone doesn’t tell me, I am going to tear this space station apart with my over-large, over-handsome hands,” Cindy said.
“Handsome?” Paul stopped and stared as she tugged on him.
“I added that part. Sue me.”
“I can be your handsome giant. I can, Cindy. Please take me home with you.”
She laughed louder than she had in months. “Oh, Paul. You are so easy.”
“Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound dirty.”
She shoved him into the street. “Relax, stud. Let’s get away from the Commonwealth Military Police before you propose.”
He gave her a confused look as concern spread across his features. “Don’t push me, Cind. A man needs to have options. Sow his wild oats. You’re one of the guys. You understand.”
She had been joking about the fictional marriage proposal — as always. His reaction was classic every time. The drunker he was, the funnier his confusion.
“I understand where your balls are located and how to reach them with my boot. Let’s move. I think they called the cops before you finished your little speech.”
Paul smiled at her with wet, unfocused eyes. “You wouldn’t touch my gonads. That’s a bluff.”
Cindy shook her head and moved down the street, searching for an ambush or a CMP check point. “No, I wouldn’t. And no, it’s not. Get it together, Reaver. It’s game time.”
Paul took a deep breath and looked right and left. “I’m still drunk. You can’t just say ‘Reaver’ and expect me to be one hundred percent.”