Miranda's War

by Eric S. Brown

  Miranda’s War

  Book One of The Hunters

  By

  Eric S. Brown

  PUBLISHED BY: Theogony Books

  Copyright © 2018 Eric S. Brown

  All Rights Reserved

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  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Original Art and Cover Design by Kevin McLaughlin

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Part II

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  Author Bio

  Excerpt from Book One of In Revolution Born:

  Excerpt from Book One of the Revelations Cycle:

  Excerpt from Book One of The Psyche of War:

  Excerpt from Book One of the Earth Song Cycle:

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  Prologue

  Tanatos IV, Fringe Planet, 4012

  Derrick ran for his life. His legs pumped beneath him, and his breath came in rasping gasps as he plunged through the tall rows of corn. Stalks bent and twisted about him as his hands shoved them out of his path. He had lost all sense of direction in the field. He heard a roar from behind him that sent a shiver along his spine. His body was slicked with sweat, born of both fear and exertion. Matt’s blood soaked the front of his shirt. There had been nothing he could do to save his friend. The monster had taken him, like so many others. The armed guards who had escorted the harvesting group were likely dead, too, their high-powered rifles unable to prevent the monster from tearing them apart.

  They should all have left the field when the suns began to sink from the sky and the shadows among the rows started lengthen, but the colony was so far behind its quota, if they weren’t able to make up the difference soon, not only would its residents be hard pressed to survive the coming winter, but its contract with Earth Gov would be breached as well.

  Harold’s Colony was a small one. Its total population numbered fewer than a thousand men, women, and children. Everyone knew everyone else, and, aside from a few anti-social exceptions, were very much like one big family, all working together toward the goal of maintaining their economic independence and freedom from the Core Worlds of Sol Federation. There were rumors of a war brewing between some of the outer worlds and the Federation, but Harold’s Colony was a neutral party, even if the rumors were true. Harold’s Colony had no ships of its own. The original colony ship had been dismantled long ago, its parts distributed to those who could make the most use of them. In addition, there were very few modern weapons on Tanatos IV. What few there were belonged to Sheriff Jones and her deputies. Older firearms worked just fine for hunting, and beyond that there was simply no need for weapons. Crime, outside of basic things like domestic disputes and petty thieving, was almost unheard of.

  Harold Bergman, the colony’s founder, was long dead. He had passed on mere months after completing the construction of the small town, where most of the residents of the colony lived. The man had lived just long enough to see his dream given life, then was torn out of that dream by a sudden heart attack. Laura Bergman had taken over as the colony’s leader then, and for nearly a decade, life in Harold’s Colony had been peaceful and free. People could do what they wanted and live any way they wished, so long as the crops were tended to and brought in each season, to be stored away for winter and sold to provide the colony with power cells and the other items needed to keep it running.

  In the last few months, though, everything had changed. It had all started the day Lucas went out into the hills to hunt and never returned. Sheriff Jones had found what was left of the old man three days later. Lucas had been ripped limb from limb. Most of the meat of his body was stripped away—and apparently eaten—from the teeth marks that scarred his bones. There weren’t supposed to be any hostile, predatory lifeforms on Tanatos IV large and deadly enough to threaten humans, according to all the survey reports of the world and the history of the colony to date. Yet something out there in the hills had killed Lucas, despite the old-fashioned Earth rifle he had been packing, and eaten him.

  Old Lucas’ death had thrown Harold’s Colony into an uproar. Parents no longer let their children venture outside the town walls to play in the surrounding woods and swamps, and most adults wouldn’t venture away from the town any longer. Sheriff Jones and a posse of her deputies had armed up and went out into the hills to find whatever had killed old Lucas and put an end to it. Jones herself had been the only one to make it back. She’d staggered up to the town’s gates the next day, missing an arm and on the verge of bleeding to death. Dr. Murdock had saved her life, but couldn’t save her mind.

  Jones lay in a catatonic state for days. When she’d finally emerged from it, she babbled about a monster that had killed her men and would have gotten her, too, if not for her blind luck—in the darkness of the night, she’d fallen over the edge of a rock cliff as the thing jerked her right arm from her body. She had lain in the darkness, pretending to be dead, as she listened to the horrid noises of the thing eating the bodies of her deputies. The monster had been gone when the sun rose, and through sheer will alone, Jones had limped her way back to town.

  Heinbrick, the highest ranking of the remaining deputies who hadn’t ventured out with Jones, found himself the new sheriff. He had no desire to repeat Jones’ mistake by going after the monster lurking in the hills. Instead, he increased patrols around the perimeter of the town and doubled the watches on the colony’s vast farm fields. For a time, his approach seemed to work, but then, for whatever reason, the monster started ranging closer and closer. Perhaps it had acquired a taste for human flesh, having experienced it for the first time with old Lucas, and then again with Jones’ men. Perhaps Jones’ incursion into the hills with the intent to bring it to an end had made t
he monster feel threatened.

  Regardless, the attacks in the fields began shortly thereafter. Rebecca Watson and her children had died next. They met their end outside the town’s walls, picking baskets of fresh strawberries. The people of Harold’s Colony were no longer content with the new sheriff’s failure to handle the threat of the monster. They demanded action. A meeting was called and Sheriff Heinbrick was forced to, ever so reluctantly, go in search of the monster. Unlike Sheriff Jones, Heinbrick equipped his posse with the few modern Stinger rifles and grenades stored in the colony’s arsenal. They were serious weapons of war. The new sheriff wasn’t screwing around—for all the good it did him. No one ever saw Heinbrick or those who went with him again.

  The crops had to be tended and harvested, though. There was no choice, if the colony wanted to survive. Now those who worked in the fields traveled in large groups, stayed close together, and four of the group were armed and on watch at all times. Laura Bergman’s leadership became a hot topic of debate as the once peaceful community splintered into two factions: those who wanted to seek outside help, and those who just wanted to leave Tanatos IV to search for better fortune elsewhere. There were no ships to leave in, however, and those who came to the small farming colony to pick up the food purchased to feed other worlds rarely took passengers aboard.

  The colony wasn’t in debt to Earth Gov like so many others of its kind were, but they soon would be, unless the monster attacks were stopped. Laura Bergman was pressed into spending the entirety of the colony’s emergency fund, and part of its yearly budget, to hire a monster hunter. The man’s name was Claus Wulf. He and his kill crew, The Wulfs, were known throughout the fringe worlds by their reputation. Derrick didn’t believe the legends and stories about the man and his crew could possibly be true, but he wished with all his heart that Claus Wulf was here now. The great monster hunter was supposedly still en route to Tanatos IV, though, and Derrick doubted he would still be alive to see the hunter arrive.

  The day had started like any other. Ninety percent of the residents of Harold’s Colony took turns working the fields. They got up, ate their breakfasts, said their prayers in hopes that God would spare them from the monster coming that day, and met up with each other to head out. Despite the threat of the monster, Derrick had been excited about the day ahead. He and Matt had their own goal, beyond harvesting the corn which had come in.

  Samantha had finally ended up back in their group, and they were looking forward to working with her. Matt had fallen in love with the lithe redhead the first time they had worked together and had been longing to see her again ever since. She had been a fill-in for Brent several weeks back when the big guy had come down with the stomach flu. Samantha had become all Matt ever talked about. Derrick just wanted his friend and Samantha to get together so maybe Matt would shut the Hades up about her.

  He’d figured Samantha was well out of Matt’s league and would shoot him down cold, and Matt would mourn for a bit, and then everything would go back to normal afterwards. Samantha hadn’t, though. She and Matt had hit it off instantly, leaving Derrick feeling like a third wheel as the day wore on.

  As night began to fall, Mr. Hyatt, the leader of their group, had pressed to stay longer into the night to finish gathering the corn. They were close to having the job done, and if they finished, it meant a couple of days off without worry. There were those in the group that complained, but none so loudly that Mr. Hyatt didn’t get his way. The screaming began half an hour later.

  Though protocol dictated the group was to remain close together at all times, the reality of harvesting such a large expanse of corn didn’t make that possible. The distant cry of a woman screaming rang out amid the lengthening shadows. Shouts and gunfire followed in its wake. Panic erupted throughout the fields as folks abandoned their harvesting machines and dropped their baskets, racing to get back to the town and inside the safety of its walls.

  Matt and Samantha had looked at him, his own terror reflected in their eyes. They had all known they needed to run. Matt grabbed Samantha by the hand, dragging her along with him, Derrick following after, and took off in the direction of the town. The monster had come out of nowhere, a streaking blur, massive in size and power. Its clawed hand slashed through the air, slicing away the top of Matt’s skull. Blood splattered over Samantha and Derrick. Derrick screamed at the death of his friend, his own hands trying to wipe Matt’s blood away from his face and clothing. Samantha had been screaming, too, as Matt’s corpse dropped to the ground next to her, as his dead hand still clutched hers, holding her tight. She had frantically tried to claw the grasping fingers off hers. That delay had cost Samantha her life, as well.

  The monster towered over her, standing nearly ten feet tall. Its yellow eyes glowed in the shadows of the field. Lips parted to show the thing’s razor-like teeth, it had snarled at her. The monster’s body was all thick muscle and hair, and one of its overly long arms had shot out to grab Samantha, jerking her to it. Derrick had no weapon, and there was no one else in sight. There was nothing he could have done to save her. If he had tried, Derrick knew he would only have died alongside her.

  Samantha’s screams went silent behind him as he darted into the rows of corn and ran for his life. He had been running ever since as the monster moved through the fields, killing those with the bad luck to find themselves in its path. It felt as if he had been running for hours, but Derrick knew not much time could have passed. It had been minutes at best since Matt had died.

  There were still scattered gun shots in the distance, but they were far fewer in number than they had been only a short time before. The monster moved with such speed, it seemed to be everywhere at once. Derrick had lost his bearings and could only hope he was still headed in the direction of town.

  Derrick didn’t see the corpse of the guard, half buried in knocked down stalks of corn, until he tripped over it. His foot caught on one of the man’s blood-drenched legs, and his momentum sent him flying. Derrick struck the dirt with a thud, the impact jarring him as he grunted in pain. He had landed on his right shoulder, nearly dislocating it. Gritting his teeth, Derrick managed not to cry out. Finding he could still move his right arm, he spotted the dead man’s rifle and snatched it up. The weapon had been fired, but Derrick ejected its magazine and saw there were still rounds in it. Shoving the magazine back into the rifle, he got to his feet with the weapon in hand.

  As he stood there amid the rows of corn, Derrick realized everything around him in the fields had gone silent. There were no more screams, gunshots, or sounds of desperate flight. He was alone, and the monster was out there among the rows somewhere, not too far away. The monster wouldn’t have followed any of those who managed to escape the fields toward the town. That wasn’t its way. Despite its power, the monster kept to the fields in attacks like this one, or at least the thing always had in the past. That meant the monster would be circling back through the rows, looking for anyone it had missed.

  His knuckles were white from the grip Derrick had on the rifle as he looked around for any sign the monster was coming his way. He didn’t dare start running again. The monster would surely hear him if he did. Keeping the sound of his breathing as quiet as he could, he waited where he was in the hope that either the monster would go away after sating its hunger on the bodies of those it had already slain, or help would come. He didn’t want to die. He was only nineteen years old, with his entire life ahead of him.

  He thought about his mother and how much she needed him with his father gone. His father had died in an attack just like this only weeks before. His death had left her a heartbroken shell of her former self. He was all she had, and losing him, too, would surely push her on into an early grave as well. No, Derrick thought, he had to survive. He had to live to be there for his mother. She needed him so much. Tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his left hand and held the rifle in his right. Seconds ticked by like hours as he stood there waiting on the monster to come for him.


  Derrick heard the monster before he saw it. The thing came, moving slowly through the rows of corn, knocking over stalks and crunching them beneath its heavy clawed feet. Derrick’s breath caught in his chest as the thing emerged into the small clearing where he stood. The monster was a massive thing. Its shoulders were wide, and he could see the thick muscles of its body rippling beneath the hair that covered it as the monster moved toward him. Its glowing yellow eyes burned into him, causing Derrick to shudder and nearly drop his weapon. He stared back at the monster, feeling helpless despite the rifle clutched in his hands. Derrick raised the barrel of the rifle toward the monster, bracing the weapon against his shoulder. The thing seemed not to care. It continued to advance on him at a slow, steady, unhurried pace.

  “Please!” Derrick yelled at the monster. “Just go away!”

  His words angered it. The monster unleashed a roar so loud that Derrick nearly dropped the rifle to cover his ears. It took everything he had to hold onto the weapon and keep it aimed at the approaching monster. His trembling hands kept the rifle sights on the monster as best they could as he squeezed the weapon’s trigger. The rifle cracked, bucking in his grip, as he fired a shot. His shot struck it in the center of its chest. The shot would have killed a man instantly, but the creature appeared to barely even feel it. Derrick fired again. His second shot missed the monster as it sprang at him.

  Hair-covered fingers closed around the barrel of his rifle, mangling it from the pressure of their grip. The monster yanked the rifle from his grasp, flinging it away into the corn. Derrick tried to dodge as the monster took a swipe at him. He cried out as its claws slashed deep trails of red from just above his heart to the opposite, lower side of his body. Blood poured from his wounds as Derrick stumbled a step backward and sank to onto one knee from the pain. He looked up into the monster’s horrid, glowing, yellow eyes and knew that there would be no escaping its fury. The monster grabbed him underneath his chin, its claws sinking into the soft flesh of his throat, and ripped his head away from his shoulders in an explosion of red.