Hell's Rejects (Chaos of the Covenant Book 1)

by M. R. Forbes

  “Do we have their last known location?” Gant asked.

  Abbey looked at Ruby.

  “The Brimstone’s second attack occurred near the planet Seta eight days ago,” she replied.

  “Seta is on the Fringe,” Bastion said.

  “Eight days is a long time,” Airi said. “They could be on the other side of the Outworlds by now.”

  “Why did the Republic cross the Fringe?” Benhil said.

  “Ugh,” Gant replied, knowing the punchline.

  “To get to the other side,” he finished. It was old satire. The main reason the Republic continued pushing at the Outworlds was so they could punch through and keep expanding.

  “Terrible,” Pik said.

  “Maybe the joke is bad, but the point is the same,” Benhil said. “It doesn’t matter where they were. That’s old news. It matters where they are now.”

  “Mann pulled you out because you’re supposed to be the expert on the Outworlds,” Gant said. “If they took the Fire and the Brimstone there, what’s the best place to start looking for them?”

  “Why’d Mann pull you out, Gant?” Bastion said. “He wanted a new pet?”

  “Who took your bracelet off, Worm?” Gant replied. “Not that I don’t regret that decision now.”

  “Can you both shut up and stay focused?” Abbey said. “I want to be in FTL within the hour, headed somewhere that will lead us to something. Captain Mann picked each of us for whatever skills we have that can benefit the mission and the team.”

  “I don’t have any skills,” Pik said. “I’m just good at killing things.”

  “Killing things is a skill,” Bastion said.

  “Speaking of teams,” Benhil said. “I-”

  “You aren’t going to give us another shitty joke, are you?” Bastion said.

  “What’s wrong with my jokes?”

  “They suck.”

  “To each their own. I was going to say, speaking of teams, we can’t go anywhere calling one another by our given names. Forget ranks. Our old selves don’t exist anymore. We’re ghosts. Shit, even our old nicknames could lead the wrong people backward in history.”

  “We came from Hell,” Pik said. “We’re more like demons.”

  “Demons who got kicked out,” Bastion said. “Hell’s rejects.” He laughed. “Queenie over there can’t even handle that part. How do you expect her to take a new name?”

  “Why are you calling me Queenie now?” Abbey asked.

  “Like you aren’t lording over us like a Queen?” He raised his voice in pitch, mimicking her. “I challenge your authority. I’m in charge. Do what I say. I’m better than you because I was a Breaker. I can kick your ass with one buttcheek, and outsmart you with nothing but my pinkie.”

  Abbey wanted to be mad, but the outburst drew laughter from the rest of the crew except for Gant. He only smiled once she laughed along with them.

  “Hmm, maybe there’s a bit of human in you after all,” Bastion said.

  “Like it or not, I think you’ve inherited a new moniker,” Airi said.

  “Not,” Abbey replied. “But maybe it’ll grow on me. “What about the rest of you?”

  “I don’t count,” Gant said. “I never had a nick, and nobody who isn’t another Gant can pronounce my name. Gant is as generic as they come.”

  “True,” Abbey said. “Benhil?”

  “I don’t know. I’m kind of partial to Joker. Give me some time to think about it?”

  “You have until we drop somewhere.”

  “I want to be Lucifer,” Bastion said.

  “That’s stupid,” Gant replied.

  “On what planet? We came from Hell, just like Lucifer. It fits.”

  “It does,” Abbey said. “Lucifer it is. Luc for short.”

  “Shortening it already? You enjoy emasculating me, don’t you, Queenie?”

  Pik laughed. “Trover only have one name.”

  “Too bad,” Bastion said. “You’re a reject first, a Trover second. All of us are, like that or not.”

  “We’re the walking dead unless we can get this job done,” Benhil said.

  “At least we aren’t in Hell,” Pik said. “I’d rather be here.”

  “Me, too,” Bastion agreed. “And I hate most of you.” He looked at Pik. “So pick something else.”

  “Okay.”

  They waited in silence for half a minute.

  “Well?” Bastion said.

  “I already said it. Okay.”

  “What?” Benhil said, laughing. “You can’t be Okay.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one, it’s ridiculous.”

  Pik shrugged. “I like it.”

  “For another, it’s four letters.”

  “It’s two in Terran. O. K.”

  “It’s four,” Benhil argued.

  “Two,” Pik replied.

  “Does it really matter?” Abbey asked.

  “I like it,” Pik said again.

  “Then Okay it is,” Abbey said. “We don’t have time for this bullshit. Benhil, give me something we can use, will you?”

  “You forgot about Airi,” Gant said.

  “I don’t know,” Airi said.

  “I’ve got one for her,” Bastion said. “Fury.”

  Airi smiled. “That will do.”

  “Who isn’t fit to lead, Queenie? I just named half the people on this team, and the team itself.”

  “You didn’t name the team,” Gant said.

  “Sure I did. You just didn’t hear me because of all the fur in your ears. Hell’s Rejects. Take that shit to the bank and deposit it.”

  “Hell’s Rejects,” Abbey said. “I admit, it has a certain ring to it.”

  “Works for me,” Benhil said.

  “I like it,” Pik said.

  “Deposit it,” Bastion said.

  “Well, now that we’ve got the important decisions out of the way,” Abbey said. “Maybe we can start doing what we were brought here to do?”

  “Find the ships,” Bastion said.

  “And kill the assholes who took them,” Pik said.

  “I can tell you one thing,” Benhil said. “If you want to find something that doesn’t want to be found in the Outworlds, there’s only one place you go. Mamma Oissi’s.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Gant said.

  “How much black market trading have you done in your life, Mr. Gant?”

  “Admittedly, none.”

  “Mamma Oissi’s,” Benhil said again. “Deposit it.”

  Abbey smiled. “Give Ruby and Lucifer the coordinates, and let’s get our asses moving.”

  38

  Abbey sat in the dark, in the small box that served as a conduit to the construct. The node had to be at least four or five generations old, lacking in both complete mobility simulation and the advanced realism engine that had made the communication system a suitable replacement to reality for some. She had been there for nearly an hour, with every key in Hayley’s identification code typed into the system except for one.

  She had tears in her eyes. Her heart was racing. She had told herself she wouldn’t do that to her daughter, and at the same time, she missed her so much she could barely stand it. She had never said goodbye. She had never told Hayley she loved her. She knew her daughter knew, but she burned to say it, to speak the words. She wanted to tell her she was still alive, and she would be back.

  She knew she couldn’t.

  She deleted the code for the fiftieth time, leaning back against the wall. She didn’t know what to make of her life anymore. Nothing about it was organized. Nothing about it was consistent. Nothing about it was predictable. She had been in the military for too long for that to be easy to take.

  Then there was the feeling that sat beneath the surface, the movement under her skin. It was growing more intense and harder to ignore. Was she sick? Dying? Had Clyo poisoned her? What about Illiard? They had done something to him. She had killed him, and he had kept coming. Or had he already be
en dead? It should have been impossible, but one thing the disterium had taught all of them was that nothing was impossible. The rules of science were only good until they were disproven or changed.

  Just like the rules of life.

  Captain Mann said he was going to look into it. She wished him luck. She had been a Breaker long enough to know how these things worked. If there was any evidence of wrongdoing at the prison, it would be cleaned before he got his people in. They wouldn’t find a damn thing. Would Warden Lurin still be there by then? She had a feeling he wouldn’t.

  Illiard had grabbed her with nothing but air, pulling her back toward him. It lined up with her memory of her fight with Clyo, as spotty as that seemed to be. She had a vague idea that she had done something like it to Mann, throwing him backward without touching him. But that was impossible too.

  Nothing was impossible.

  She stood straight, putting out her hand. She could see her fingers shaking. She could feel the writhing beneath them, as though something alive was clawing at the underside of her skin. The sight was enough to frighten her, and she lowered her hand, turning and opening the hatch to leave the room.

  Gant was sitting cross-legged on the floor, against the wall on the other side of the short corridor, beside the door to the armory. He had a small bit of material in his dextrous hands and was working on bending it into something or other.

  “Queenie,” he said as she emerged, getting to his feet.

  “Were you waiting for me?” she asked.

  “Waiting? No. I didn’t even know you were in there. I came down here to be alone.” His expression told her he was lying. “Six years. I had nothing else to do.” He held out the bent metal.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I had to use my hands to calm down. I needed someplace small and dark. And I’m freezing in here. How are you?”

  “Can you tell I was crying?”

  “Crying? I hadn’t noticed. Were you?”

  She smiled. “I know when you’re lying, Gant. They trained us to spot facial tics.”

  “I don’t have a facial tic.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Yeah, well. I was worried about you, especially when you came out in the hellsuit. It’s hard to let go, isn’t it?”

  “Harder for you, I imagine.” She held out her arm. “I like the way it feels on my skin. I feel safer in it. More under control.”

  “Are you usually out of control?”

  “I feel like I am more and more lately.”

  “What happened on Hell?”

  Abbey shrugged. “They injected me with something. It looked like blood. Ever since then, I’ve felt like I have bugs or something crawling under my skin, and it’s getting worse.”

  “There’s a medical bot down the hall.”

  “It’s at least thirty years old. Besides, it can’t help. You really have no idea what the Warden was doing with the prisoners? You always seemed to know everything.”

  “I heard rumors about people disappearing, but in a place like Hell, what do you expect? We all figured they were offing themselves, or Packard was offing them. It was no loss.”

  “Private Illiard,” she said. “He wasn’t dead. They did something to him.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “I shot him twice in the head. He didn’t die. Not until Fury cut his head off.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think this all has something to do with the ships?”

  “I don’t know. I heard Warden Lurin talking to someone else. They were using titles I’ve never heard before, not even in the Outworlds. Honorant? Agitant?”

  “I’ve never heard it. Did you tell Captain Mann about it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “What do you mean? He’s OSI. He’s your people.”

  She laughed. “Illiard said the Republic was corrupt. Davis was corrupt. Packard. Lurin.”

  “Mann saved you from them.”

  “I saved myself, thank you very much. And I saved you and Captain Mann.”

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but Mann went out of his way to make sure you were on the team, and not only because I told him I wouldn’t come unless you came too.”

  “You did what?”

  Gant looked up at her, his eyes big. His face was adorable like that. He looked at the ground. “Lurin told him you were unstable. Dangerous. He would have believed it if I hadn’t set him straight. Once he knew Lurin wanted to keep you, he risked his life to get you out.”

  “Gant, I don’t understand. What if he had said to forget it, that you could stay in Hell and rot?”

  “Then I would have stayed. Maybe I would have tried to get you out. I don’t know.”

  “Why would you do that for me?”

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Sure.”

  “Friendship for Gants isn’t the same as it is for humans. It’s non-negotiable and non-transferable.”

  “Like a dog?” she said, cringing as she did. She hated to put it that way.

  He laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. That’s why we’re damn careful who we befriend because it’s complete loyalty until death.” He paused, his voice lowering. “And sometimes after.” He was quiet for another few seconds before speaking again. “You’re stuck with me, Queenie. I hope you can live with that.”

  She smiled. “I’m honored, Gant.” She reached out, putting her hand on his cheek. He was ridiculously soft. He made a soft noise that sounded like a purr before pulling away. Her translator suggested it was pleasure.

  “Don’t ever tell anyone about this,” he said. “Especially Bastion. He’s an asshole.”

  “I won’t. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t feel as alone now. That means a lot to me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I hate you for getting everyone calling me Queenie, though.”

  He chittered in laughter. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

  “Who’s the asshole?”

  He laughed harder. Abbey laughed with him.

  It felt good.

  39

  “Jester,” Benhil said.

  “What?” Abbey said.

  “My new nick. Jester.”

  They were in the Faust’s armory, picking out an assortment of equipment they thought they might need when they reached Orunel. A Fringe planet, Orunel was eighty percent water, with two main land masses positioned thousands of kilometers apart and a massive blue ocean between them. A terraformer rested on one of the islands, its job long completed, the area around it overgrown with imported vegetation and teeming with exotic animal life.

  The other island was home to an Outworld settlement, a moderately populated center that was more popular for what happened beneath the surface of the white alloy and glass facade than it was for the legal trade that flowed through it, though there was plenty of that as well. The government of Orunel had decided to toe the line on the conflict with the Republic, choosing to allow trade between both nations and enforced a strict neutrality policy on its surface and in its spaceport. Such a thing was unheard of in the Republic, but all Outworld planets had their own government, social services, military and all the rest, and all of them made their own rules, coming together in unity as a diverse and massive delegation that pledged resources for the good of the collective.

  “That’s too close to Joker,” Gant said, picking up a small box, opening it, closing it, and putting it back.

  “That’s the point. It’s like Joker, but it isn’t Joker,” Benhil said.

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Bastion said the same thing about Okay,” Pik said. The pilot wasn’t there. He was running through diagnostics on the old shuttle that he had decided to call the Imp.

  “And you said if you like it to keep it,” Benhil said to Abbey.

  She couldn’
t argue with that. “If you want to be Jester, you can be Jester,” she said. “I thought you of all of us would come up with something a little more unique.”

  She picked up a small pistol from one of the racks, turning it over. It was a beam weapon. Normally she didn’t care for them; reflective armor nowadays could handle most lasers without a problem. Then again, there was a benefit to nearly unlimited rounds. She held onto it, taking the thigh holster that accompanied it and wrapping it around her softsuit. The others were going in a little more discreetly, sticking with civilian clothing. While she had no choice but to give up the hellsuit, she needed the pressure against her body to keep her from going insane. Benhil had already told her that some Outworlders were augmented all of the time, even in non-combat situations. Some of them even had the upgrades embedded into their flesh.

  “Good choice,” Airi said, taking a matching weapon of her own. “Have you seen a lot of combat?”

  “Enough,” Abbey replied. “Six years of active duty. Seventeen combat drops. Twelve solo missions.”

  “I thought Breakers didn’t do combat?” Benhil said.

  “A lot of us don’t. I never cared for desks.”

  He laughed. “I got that about you the first time I saw you.”

  “I couldn’t move the first time you saw me.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You have hardass written all over.”

  “What about you, Fury?” Benhil asked. “You know how to use a blade.”

  “Fifteen years active duty, Republic Intergalactic Army. Platoon combat, all on the straight edge, no special ops. I got used to the service knife, but when I realized how poorly designed it was, I went back to something more classic.” She reached back, lifting the katana there slightly from its hilt. “Captain Mann must have expected me to come back with him. These things are hard to find.”

  “It looks custom printed,” Gant said. “Rodrinium, if I’m not mistaken. It’ll never lose its edge, and can probably cut through anything up to a battlesuit.”