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

by J. N. Chaney

  “Technically yes, but your driving style is needlessly inefficient, and in a word, ugly,” X said. “Like your language.”

  Path shook himself fully awake, then looked around like he wasn’t sure where he was.

  “You’re back,” I said.

  “Of course, Hal. Where else would I be?” he asked.

  “You called me Hal.” I took the next turn, eased off the accelerator per X-37’s suggestion, and admitted inwardly that his advice worked. The tires pushed us steadily into the next tight space.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Path asked. “That is your name.”

  I raised an eyebrow but didn’t get into it with him. Maybe he would stop calling me clone by the time this was over. Next time I met an old friend who refused to believe I was the real Halek Cain, I might just knock them unconscious and see if his or her attitude improved.

  “The Obsidian vehicles did not follow you into the trench and are seeking your most likely point of exit,” X-37 said. “My drone access has been detected, and their coding engineers are attempting to force me out.”

  “Never surrender, X. Kick some digital ass.” I studied the map he had on my HUD, then made a series of quick turns. My LAI’s words about our pursuers sank in, and I realized I’d momentarily given them the slip.

  I slowed to a crawl, hoping to remain as quiet as possible. Avoiding detection was my only mission now. The squeaking and rattling of my damaged ride wasn’t helping, but what could I do?

  The maze of trenches zigzagged in nearly random patterns. I could see how surface vehicles—especially mechs—would be forced to go the long way or risk getting stuck. “What the hell is all this for, X?”

  “Records indicate there was a history of trench warfare on several worlds controlled by the Oroth Council, or the Obsidians by proxy,” X-37. “The worlds they conquered were less advanced and used similar techniques to avoid artillery barrages during their local wars. This maze is for something else—possibly to discourage infantry assaults.”

  “Whatever. These wouldn’t stop infantry. Probably have the opposite effect,” I said. “A good team of commandos could creep through this place and launch a surprise attack.”

  “My analysis suggests there is a 98.32178 percent chance that general Scheid will fill this labyrinth with Razors and dragon horses. The chances of survival would be low in such conditions,” X-37 said. “You did see the corrals and cages?”

  “I saw them. How does making a death maze have anything to do with the worlds the Oroth Council conquered?” I crept into a new section and nearly got stuck in a slurry of mud. My attempt at silence was suspended as I spun the wheels to force my way through.

  “You are applying too much power to properly navigate this terrain. Again, Reaper Cain, I must suggest you go easier on the gas and be patient, or you will get stuck,” X-37 said. “In answer to your question, it is relevant because Scheid and the Oroth units are relying on stolen or scavenged tools. They must adapt their tactics to each environment and what they possess to manipulate it. You should know this, Reaper Cain. When you face them on their home world, or worlds, they will undoubtedly use much more advanced technology and kill you. And your friends—including one very loyal and efficient LAI.”

  “Blah, blah, blah.” I ignored the rest of my LAI’s theories, thankful for this slim chance at escape. Without the forward floodlights on, visibility sucked. My stolen helmet optics helped, but it was so dark even that didn’t add much to my visual spectrum. There were few temperature differences for the heat scanners, and nothing was moving but us for the motion detectors.

  “Path, how are you?” I asked.

  “My head hurts. How did we get into this maze?”

  “Running from Obsidian clones chasing us in armored cars,” I said. About that time, I heard the stomping of mech feet and realized Scheid was sending everyone he had available after us now. Hopefully their movements would be just as confounded by the crisscrossing trench work as were the progress of the vehicles.

  “X, find me a way out of here,” I said. “And tell me which way Bug and Tom went.”

  “I am working on both requests,” X-37 said. “You are nearing the end of the trenches. I have been sending false locations to the drones and clones, but they will soon discover the ruse. Do not waste this opportunity.”

  “What about my friends?” I asked.

  “Still searching for their most likely location. The trenches would have been useful in their escape, unless you ran them over,” X-37 said. “Before you ask, I reviewed your optics and can say with a high degree of confidence that you did not crush either Tom or Bug with this three thousand kilo vehicle.”

  “Great. Thanks for the reassurance.” Light appeared at the end of the tunnel. “Get ready, Path. Expect a welcoming party the moment we break cover.”

  Path turned up a hand and nodded slightly. “Of course. I imagine their version of hospitality will involve slugs and flamethrowers.”

  “Man, it’s good to have you back, Path,” I said.

  “I still have my doubts about who and what you are, but you have acted with honor and the same bad attitude of the Halek Cain I knew,” he said.

  I let the armored car roll to a stop, still gripping the wheel with both hands and staring at the exit. With only one way to go, I had no control over what happened next. “Do you still have drone cameras, X?”

  “Only one, Reaper Cain. My hijacking has been ninety-eight percent thwarted. I can tell you that this opens into water,” X-37 said. “A small force of regular soldiers patrol the edges and have been trying to stay dry.”

  “How deep is the water? And why didn’t we see that earlier,” I asked.

  “Unlike the trenches, the waterworks are only on the opposite side of Scheid’s base from where we arrived. We have come around the facility to an entirely new location. I was not evaluating this section of the damaged city when we made our approach,” X-37 said. “The purpose for this waterway is unknown, though I believe it is merely part of a drainage plan poorly maintained after the destruction of the city. Scheid likely put his base here knowing this feature would hamper an enemy’s approach from the north.”

  “I am ready to swim,” Path said.

  “Good.” I hit the accelerator, racing toward the morning light—and maybe a watery grave. The best way to defeat an ambush was usually speed. If this was actually a bay or canal system instead of a big spill, we’d be in trouble. “Remind me to ask Scheid why he went through all this trouble.”

  “I don’t believe that would be a productive line of questioning,” X-37 said. “My recommendation is to avoid him entirely. All evidence suggests he came here to wipe out a Reaper he couldn’t control and to steal me. But he must have some other reason, like ambushing the JFT in order to take out the Oroth Council’s best warriors before returning to take over that system.”

  “I’m not okay with that,” I said.

  The armored car burst from the trench and raced through a low area, throwing sheets of water into the air. Regular troops opened fire. Bullets pinged off the damaged vehicle. I looked for options, saw a dry section of land, and drove onto it without slowing.

  “Your problem is not these perimeter guards,” X-37 said. “Vaus Cain and the rest of the Obsidians, as well as their support troops, are on the other edge of the defensive complex pursuing the false location I transmitted before getting pushed out of their security system. Now is the best, and probably only, time to make your escape. If they catch us, you will wish all you had to deal with was small arms fire.”

  “Way ahead of you, X.” I used dry land when I could, but raced across wet areas as well. So far, it seemed none of the water was more than a few inches deep, though it was always covered with a slick film that made me nervous. Most of the base was circled by trenches, just as X-37 claimed. I assumed some of them were flooded and didn’t like the idea of navigating muck filled tunnels on this side of the base. Not going back in there was high on my priority list. />
  “I am fighting for camera control of the last drone,” X-37 said. “I believe there are two figures a kilometer ahead of you. They’re moving fast for pedestrians.”

  “Tom and Bug?”

  “Possibly,” X-37 said. “The Obsidians are not pursuing them.”

  “Why not, X?”

  “They have left that to the Hagg. On the bright side, it does not appear the Razors or the dragon horses have slaughtered them yet,” X-37 said. “In fact, the animals separated as soon as Scheid set them on Tom and Bug’s trail. My recommendation is to avoid them at all costs. They have the scent of blood and will continue the hunt for days.”

  “Let’s scoop Tom and Bug up and leave the Hagg troopers in the dust, or mud, or whatever,” I said, patting the steering wheel. “We’ve got this sweet set of wheels and miles to go before we sleep.”

  Axle and transmission grinding, the armored car screeched at me like it could speak. But it kept going.

  Catching up to the Hagg taught me a couple of things. They were faster than they looked. By the time we broke free of the Obsidian base and reached the last place we saw the two figures, the Hagg had gathered a formidable army—several times the number Scheid had turned loose. Which led me to my second realization. Scheid never had as much control over them as he assumed, the arrogant jerk.

  Maybe that was good for me and my friends. But probably not. Who was I kidding?

  “Analysis of drone footage and scout reports shows Hagg units have been gathering here for days. I advise against a direct approach,” X-37 said. “Please refer to the primary display screen of this vehicle for an optimal route.”

  “Already on it, X.” I steered away from my objective for a time, circling the area until I had the high ground on a sizable Hagg camp. They had vehicles, some stolen, some of their own design. There were male and female soldiers, but also families living in rows of tents.

  “They have brought their own workforce,” X-37 said. “Scheid may have underestimated them. He definitely failed in his attempt to bribe them; otherwise, they would have already turned their captives over to the general for a reward.”

  “That won’t happen twice,” I said. “And he will punish them for asserting their independence.”

  Path lowered his binoculars and pointed with his free hand. “I see Tom and Bug. “They are being held near the center of this camp.”

  “They’re heavily guarded. Sneaking in will take too long and probably fail,” I said. “Stay here. I’m going to negotiate.”

  The sword saint didn’t make a move. In his nonverbal language, this meant more than an angry rant or stubborn refusal.

  “I need someone to provide overwatch,” I said.

  “I have no rifle and no desire to use one if I did,” he said.

  “You’ve used ranged weapons, even Archangel gear before.” I saw something had changed in the man, but it was easy to ignore. His outward appearance was always so steady and unwavering that I sometimes forgot the man was human. He had reverted to the person I met on Roxo III, but he had also been tempered by another decade of dangerous living and hard choices.

  “You’re not going to explain,” I said.

  “No, but I will stay at your side where I am useful.” He didn’t flinch. “You will find me essential to your survival. And if you turn out to be as evil as the other clones, I will be close enough to remedy your mistakes.”

  “I know what kind of remedy you’re capable of.”

  “Something will happen, and we will both be there.”

  His response was classic Path—simple and inscrutable. “Sure, Path. Can’t wait.”

  I increased the transparency of the windows and rolled forward into the camp. At a sturdy barricade, a contingent of Hagg soldiers deployed to stop us.

  “No move. No continue,” the largest of the guards said.

  I stopped and stepped slowly from the vehicle with my hands visible. “I want to barter for your recent prisoners. Please inform someone who’s in charge.”

  “Our big’d leader has been’d waiting for you,” the spokesman said. “We will escort you to his presence’d, but you must leave your vehicle here.”

  “Will it be safe until I get back?” I asked.

  The leader of the guards answered without hesitation. “Yes, it will. You have my promise’d.”

  “Then we have an appointment to keep with your leader.” I didn’t bother to consult with X-37 or Path. This had to happen even if it put us in the center of an overwhelming enemy force.

  Path and I followed, keeping our hands away from our weapons.

  35

  “I have ketchup packets,” Path said.

  “That isn’t what I had in mind when I asked what you had to trade.” Our chances of survival diminished by the hour. One more mistake and we were done. I knew the sword saint was as serious as a sword thrust, but ketchup for prisoners?

  I massaged my temples with both hands. “My head hurts.”

  “Are those ketchup’d packets?” the leader, Hag’d Groon, asked.

  I pivoted, smiling a bit crazily. “Best in the galaxy. I guarantee none of your friends have any this good.”

  Groon and his advisors huddled together and talked energetically. I thought there was some profanity exchanged, but the random syllables they added to equally random words confused the hell out of me. I didn’t think X-37 was doing much better.

  “I am attempting to create a vocabulary list and style rules for their language but have been unsuccessful. I believe they throw in words and sounds for no other reason than to confuse our chance of understanding them,” X-37 said.

  “What a bunch of assholes.”

  “An accurate if not literal assessment,” X said.

  I turned my attention to the sword saint. “How did you know, Path?”

  He gave me a rare smile. “I saw them rummaging through an overturned vehicle, and they seemed fascinated by anything sealed or in a packet.”

  The leader broke from the circle and approached. “I must see one.”

  Path rummaged through his kit and pulled out a rough looking ketchup packet not much bigger than my thumb. He held it in his palm until Groon leaned forward and sniffed it.

  I sub vocalized to X. “Scheid offered them lordships and huge tracts of land on their home world. He must not know about their craving for condiments.”

  “Make no assumptions, Reaper Cain. We are in dangerous territory here,” X-37 said.

  “I’m just glad that Scheid isn’t attacking their camp to kill us all,” I said.

  “Give it time,” Path said.

  “Scheid’s hesitation suggests that you and I are not his only objectives on this planet.” My LAI clicked several times, indicating he was handling a large amount of data. “I am sifting through numerous possibilities. We don’t know much about the man. I require more information to make confident conclusions about this data.”

  “We have two of your people,” Hag’d Groon said. “A boy and a very angry girl with none of this.” He flicked his fingers where hair would be if he had any.

  “Why does this keep happening to me?” I asked. “One day you’re an infamous assassin feared across the galaxy, and the next you’re in charge of Reaper day care.”

  “It is not all about you, Reaper Cain. They clearly have captured Jacob and Roadkill.”

  “You think, X?” I turned and lowered my voice to talk to Path as privately as possible, given the circumstances. “Will the Hagg hurt the kids if we leave them? I’m not sure we’d be doing them a favor by getting them killed in our little kerfuffle with Scheid and his Obsidian goons.”

  Path’s expression darkened. He had his one thousand yard stare on the growing crowd of humanoids. “I want to think they are more like us than not. But to assume they think and act as we do is likely a mistake. The glass can be half full or half empty, but neither quantity matters if it contains only poison.”

  “I forgot how relentlessly cheerful you were, Path.” I
faced Groon. “Are they prisoners? Don’t get me wrong, I’m still willing to barter, but they should be able to go free if they wish.”

  “Why should’d I explain’d myself?”

  “He has tightened his hands into fists, Reaper Cain. Please be ready to dodge a punch to your face,” X-37 said.

  “Thanks, X.” Like I didn’t see that. “Let’s start over. Scheid is my enemy, and I think he’s yours too. There’s a saying where I’m from—the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “You say too many of your words for me to follow. We want the ketchup packet, and you want’d your four friends,” Groon said.

  “Fine. You drive a hard bargain, but we’ll trade for these people you unlawfully detained,” I said. “No returns or refunds.”

  Groon’s smile wasn’t reassuring. If I’d seen their teeth before, I hadn’t paid enough attention. I suddenly realized where the weird, nonsensical consonants came from. His teeth weren’t fangs, but chisels turned sideways. Small tentacles dangled between the gaps.

  “Of course’d,” he said, his serpent-like tongue slashing behind his teeth. “But I require one more than you offer.”

  “Path, you have another of those? I swear that was the last one, nudge nudge, know what I mean?”

  “I have another, but I had saved it for an Emperor of worthy deeds and actions,” Path said. “The value of it cannot be measured.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. This feels like we’re getting robbed.” I stared at my feet for a second, trying to look miserable. “Fine, take two packets. But I hope you can sleep at night when we’re punished for being too generous with you.”

  Path produced the second ketchup packet. Groon snatched it away greedily. He rattled off streams of words that I had no chance of understanding, and before I knew it, Tom, Bug, Jacob, and Roadkill were shoved in front of us.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said.

  Then, something truly terrible happened. Groon started to dance and wail a victory chant.

  “You must’d also move’d your body in celebration’d,” he said.