Soul of the Reaper: A military Scifi Epic (The Last Reaper Book 11)

by J. N. Chaney

  I kicked him hard in the shin, knocking his leg out from underneath him. As a follow-up movement, I slammed my shoulder into his torso, forcing him off balance. He didn’t fall as I expected. These humanoids were thick with muscle and had a low center of gravity.

  There wasn’t time to analyze. I spun away from my first encounter, lashed out with my small knife, and rammed it into the arm of the older one as I finished the movement. He brought the torch down, slicing through the skin on the right side of my torso.

  Blood and flesh sizzled and popped in the flame. Stink filled the air. I kept moving, slipping sideways, then I drove a back kick against his knee.

  He went down and fumbled the torch weapon. I leapt to grab it, but the other one blocked my movement.

  “You’re tougher than I thought,” I said.

  He snarled and staggered toward me, obviously hurt but unwilling to quit. I slashed with my knife, just keeping him back. When he raised the torch, I darted in and punched him hard in the throat with my hand shaped into a half fist for maximum penetration.

  He dropped his weapon, grabbed his throat, and stumbled backward several steps. Just when I thought he might rally, he sat down hard and let his head droop onto his chest.

  I dove toward a new position, not waiting to see if the other one was mounting a fresh assault.

  The last brute charged. “Ahhhhhhhhg’d!”

  I twisted in place, completing the move with a spinning back kick that caught him in the chest. His eyes went wide in pain and surprise as he flew over the railing. Seconds later, he splashed into the surf.

  It was impossible to see in the darkness, but I heard him scrambling to shore and racing toward the pier, swearing angrily in his half-language. I sprinted between buildings, spotted him, then hurled my knife overhand. The blade sunk into his eye.

  He staggered, then fell flat on his back.

  I retrieved my knife. “Not your day, was it.”

  During the fight, I hadn’t felt pain or fatigue. Both sensations crashed down on me with a vengeance. I leaned on the railing to catch my breath but never stopped watching and listening. The fight might have drawn more of these strange men.

  I gave myself a minute, then searched the last one I had killed. His rough clothing was clearly made for an average human and fit this man poorly—definitely stolen. The pants bunched over the boots—which had the toes cut out to accommodate his oversized feet and nasty toenails.

  The shirt was too tight around his shoulders and didn’t cover his belly. Three scarves covered his neck and part of his face for reasons I could only guess at. A bag he tied over his shoulders like a simple survival pack contained dried meat, cheese, a surprisingly diverse selection of seasoning, and some simple tools.

  The other two were provisioned similarly. I took the best of what they had, including the best rifle and single magazine. There would be time to figure out how to use it later. Right now I needed to find the device holding X-37 and reintegrate him into my nerve-ware.

  I doubted it would be an easy process.

  8

  Searching the carnival pier for a device capable of holding a limited artificial intelligence took time. I turned on the power for the entire area because lights made everything easier. Yay for technology!

  More than just walkway lights came on. Rides flashed with every color of the rainbow, some of the mechanisms twirling and shaking. Others, like the large wheel, moved more like the rotation of planets, slow and deliberate.

  All of them made noise. Could that draw enemies from far and wide? Sure, but I was willing to risk it—especially if X-37 was attached to something I powered down during my most recent ordeal.

  An automated clown came to life the moment I stepped too close. “Welcome to the fun place! Don’t forget to buy a ticket! Everyone loves the house of horrors!”

  Lights flashed. Recorded laughter punctuated the clown’s sales pitch.

  I pulled the plug and retreated. “You better not be in this one, X. Too creepy even for a Reaper LAI.”

  “I suspected you would be terrified of the clown and picked a different hiding place, Reaper Cain. That thing’s storage capacity is minimal. I would have sacrificed most of my functionality to dwell in its hardware.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t scared.”

  X-37 gave me the silent treatment for a few seconds. “Your reaction indicated differently, Reaper Cain. LAIs don’t judge, and there are no other witnesses.”

  “Let’s drop it.”

  “Excellent decision, Reaper Cain. Please continue to the blue building with the red and white roof at the very end of the pier.”

  I found the place described. “That’s a security building or something. Are you sure there aren’t any weapons?”

  “Reaper Cain, it is a coastal observation post, and the weapons were looted a long time ago.”

  “Makes sense. Anyone in there or do you need me to look for you?” I stopped short and watched it from the shadows of a long defunct food vender on wheels.

  “I have monitored transmissions in the area and believe this building is empty but can offer no absolute assurances,” X-37 said.

  I scanned most of the main room through the window. Nothing jumped out. I drew my knife and slipped quickly through the front door, then cleared the interior in seconds.

  “Looks like just you and me, X,” I said as I sheathed the blade. The place was definitely empty. I didn’t see a computer. “All right, I’m here. Give me some clues, X.”

  “Excellent work, Reaper Cain. Please locate the red backpack,” X-37 said.

  “Got it.”

  “Inside, there is a computer. The firewalls and antivirus software were hopelessly out of date when I fled the Maglan Experimental Prosthetic Station. Time was of the essence. I purged this device of all programming and storage items, then installed myself. There is no room for additional data, and I may have lost parts of my archived logs—what you would call memories,” X-37 said. “Once I installed my own defensive measures, I went into sleep mode until you drank the nerve-ware priming draft and entered Maglan’s atmosphere. Unfortunately, this device was not hooked to a power source when I found it. Five minutes of charge remains on the battery.”

  “Looks like I arrived just in time, X. What do you need me to do?”

  “I will walk you through the synchronization process. It will be mentally and physiologically taxing. I recommend you begin before other raiders discover this location and attempt to kill you,” X-37 said. “Remove the computer from the pack and plug it into a power source.”

  “How does this computer have that much processing power and battery life, X?”

  “The superintendent of this region used it to monitor the entire coastal safety network. Sadly, I was forced to erase all of that useful data.”

  “Could have used that, but whatever.” I sat down and massaged my left shoulder as I started to feel my injuries from the fight. How had I wrecked my shoulder, jammed all my fingers, and twisted my right knee? I wasn’t sure. That was how it always was after a fight.

  X-37 described each step of the process, including the location of the wall outlet listed in the building schematics stored on the computer, and I got to work. The first thing I did was kill all the lights and barricade the doors. If the neural synchronization knocked me out, I wanted to have as much protection from the locals as possible.

  X-37 helped me integrate my Reaper arm with the Archangel armor as Tom customized it to my needs. Elise spoke, but I couldn’t understand what she said. Her hair floated weirdly, like she wasn’t in the same gravity as the rest of us. The Jellybird promised we were nearing a cargo ship full of Gronic Fats and premium whiskey.

  “How did I get so lucky, X?”

  Pain pulled me out of the dream. My brain hurt. The inside of the coastal observation post smothered me with darkness. I didn’t move, breathe, or make a sound.

  Hunger growled in my guts, and my lips were cracked from dehydration.

  “The
first and most important phase of the integration process was successful; however, you must keep the computer as close as possible until I can complete certain steps,” X-37 said. “In the event we need to travel before I am finished, please take every opportunity you find to charge the computer.”

  I checked the door and windows before answering. “Can you see now?”

  “Yes, Reaper Cain. I have analyzed your visual scan of this room and believe no one has attempted to break in while you slept,” X-37 said.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Seventy-two hours.”

  “That can’t be right.” My hands shook as I searched the building for food.

  “My ability to accurately track the passage of time is superior to yours,” X-37 said. “Would you like me to advise you of the minutes and seconds as well?”

  “No, I get it. Good to have you back, buddy.” I found some cheese crackers that reminded me of Bug and our first conversations on Dreadmax. He was fond of junk food, and I wished I had him watching over me with security cameras now. Of course, he wasn’t a kid any longer. I did some math and figured he would be about thirty years old by now. “Give me the rest of the story while I starve to death.”

  “Whoever instigated this war began with a micro nuke delivered to the Halek Cain estate via drone drop,” X-37 said. “Your predecessor was in the city scouting a competitor’s cigar store and survived the attack. Immediately afterward, however, Reaper clones came after him and his friends and family.”

  I didn’t like the way my LAI referred to me as “him.” I pushed aside the semantics and paid attention. Details were going to matter.

  “We fought off several attacks and went into hiding when needed. After the attack on your mother’s estate, Halek Cain went on the offensive, nearly killing three of the imposters at once. The numbers were too much, however, and he led them into the most remote parts of the planet.”

  “All right, X, you’re freaking me out when you say him instead of me. Are we the same person?”

  X-37 didn’t respond immediately. “More or less. The original Halek Cain must have provided the genetic source material for the clones, although I have no record of such an occurrence. Once we discovered the location of the laboratory, we went to stop the program and look for clues.”

  “But that didn’t work out, did it?” I asked.

  “No, Reaper Cain. In a moment of desperation, he ordered me to duplicate myself and escape to the planet’s surface.”

  “What did he do?” I asked.

  “He continued to search for the master copy,” X-37 said. “Not all of the clones were equal. There is an artifact effect in most clones. Copies of copies are less accurate transcriptions of the genetic code and sometimes have… issues—hyper aggression being the most common. We knew there was a master copy with nearly perfect Halek Cain DNA.”

  “Nearly,” I grumbled.

  “I estimate you are point zero, zero, zero, one percent different from the source DNA…”

  “Thanks. That’s special. Let’s never talk about this again.” I spent some time processing X-37’s explanation before giving him new marching orders. “I am Halek Cain now, got it?”

  “Of course, Reaper Cain. The attack clones had none of your memories or idiosyncratic behaviors. I am unable to explain how your consciousness was transferred. It must have happened after I was downloaded to this computer device on the planet, or it was somehow duplicated in the first clone that was created. I have no way to confirm or dispel either theory.”

  “I need to get to my estate.”

  “That is a poor strategy, Reaper Cain. You should find the first ship off Maglan.”

  “I need answers, X.”

  “There is nothing for you on Maglan. My strong recommendation is to leave the planet before HC units, local marauders, aliens, or the JFT Destroyers find you.”

  I rolled my neck, then massaged the aches out with one hand. “What are HC units? Halek Cain pod babies?”

  “Yes, Reaper Cain, but you would be wise to take them seriously. They aren’t put into the field unless they pass a rigorous training regimen and are completely obedient to their masters.”

  “How do you know this, X?”

  “We conducted several interrogations before your predecessor was slain,” X-37 said.

  “Who are their masters?”

  “They would not reveal that information. Before you ask, the aliens are the humanoids you fought on this pier. I have no information as to their origins. The Jump Force Destroyers are human but from no area of the galaxy we have explored. They are the most likely masters of the clones, but I cannot prove this. Correlation does not establish a causal relationship between data points.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty, X.”

  “That’s new. I will catalogue that in my list of idioms, illogical statements, bad jokes, and other useless language patterns.” My LAI changed the subject like a pro. “The best place to find a working starship would be at a commercial, governmental, or military space sport.”

  “Not at the carnival pier?”

  “No, Reaper Cain. Are you teasing me?”

  “A little.”

  “I have added ‘find a starship’ to your task list.” X-37 displayed my task list in my neural-visual HUD.

  “We can do that, but first I need to find my mother, Elise, Tom, Path, Tatiana…”

  “Impossible, Reaper Cain.”

  I was afraid to ask why.

  “Most of the people you list are missing and presumed dead. Your predecessor found a few but stayed clear of them for fear of drawing the HC units and Destroyers to their hiding places.”

  “Well now I need their help, X.”

  “Noted. I have added them to your list.”

  Names popped up in my HUD but well after the initial goal of finding a ship.

  “Let’s move out. I bet my mother had a ship stashed on her estate. We’ll look for a ship there,” I said.

  “I see what you did there, Reaper Cain.”

  Smiling, I hiked away from the pier, keeping my eyes open for trouble. Instinct told me a whole lot of it was headed in my direction.

  9

  The sun came up as I passed through the town, occasionally checking a house or business for weapons or supplies. My efforts at resupply were cut short by the sound of voices.

  “Heard’d shooting last night. Lots of screaming,” a man said.

  “You didn’t heard’d nothing, you ignorant brute,” a woman replied. “How could’d you hear with your eardrums blown’d out?”

  Other male voices laughed and shouted in an even cruder version of galactic common.

  Caught in the open, I slipped between buildings and ducked behind a trash can. As luck would have it, the sun was behind me. That might work for or against me, depending on my next move.

  I counted four of the humanoids, three men and one woman. None of them had firearms. One carried an ax stolen from a fire truck. The woman had a slender spear. The other two men had clubs, one spiked, one as smooth as the man’s bald head.

  “I think I can deal with these four, X.”

  “Is that necessary, Reaper Cain?”

  I thought about it while they squatted in a circle and started making breakfast right in front of my hiding place. “I don’t want to sit here all day. The trash smells like rancid grease and rotting food.”

  “Very unpleasant, I’m sure.” X-37 said.

  I pulled the rifle sling until the bulky weapon was in position, then retrieved my newly carved trigger stick from my belt. “This sucks in so many ways.”

  “You could hold your breath or just deal with the smell until they move on,” X-37 said.

  “I want to see if these four can tell me anything.”

  “Interrogation is always a worthwhile pursuit.”

  “Thanks, X. Glad you approve. Keep your eyes open in case I miss something,” I said, then moved quietly forward.

  “Your eyes are my eyes, Reaper C
ain. I will of course catch the numerous details you will miss.”

  My boots crunched dirt and grit covering the pavement. One of the men raised his head but didn’t look around until I was too close to run from.

  “Don’t move. I just want to talk,” I said, aiming the stolen rifle.

  All four of them stood and spread out. These men were dressed differently than the three from last night, I realized. They wore uniforms that fit and reacted like trained soldiers.

  “He has your rifles, Rog’d,” the female said.

  The biggest of the group growled. “I saw that’d. He better give it back.”

  “Everyone just slow down and listen. I don’t want trouble. Your friends came after me. I defended myself,” I said.

  “Not our friends,” the woman said. “Deserters’d. Did you kill them?”

  “Be careful, Reaper Cain,” X-37 warned.

  “Things happened. I left two other rifles on the pier. You’re welcome to them as long as you don’t try to follow me or give me problems.” I kept the rifle aimed at them.

  The woman moved closer, twisting her head right and left as though trying to see the gun better. “You can’t fire that. Nice try with the stick, but the trigger needs contact with a Hagg finger to work.”

  I aimed at her face. She continued forward, calling my bluff. Maybe what she said was true. She didn’t seem worried about getting her head blown off.

  “I’m called Saw-say. This is my crew. Give me the weapon. I’ll let you go. Don’t want’d trouble from the human’d,” she said.

  “I’ll leave it for you, but I’m not giving it to you to get shot,” I said.

  “Not recommended, Reaper Cain.”

  “Trust me, X, I’m going to test it before I drop it, but not here,” I said.

  “What’d was’d that you said? Who are you talking to?” Saw-say asked.

  “My squad leader,” I said. “They’re watching you from the carnival wheel with rifles that work.”