by Scott E Moon
He couldn’t believe Becca could love him as intensely as he loved her. The scene on Earth VI revealed the truth. She only cared for him like a brother or a trusted friend—a convenient confidant when pain and loss became too much. He was a killer, a traitor, contaminated by Hellsbreach and Reapers. Becca deserved better.
Captain Raien gave orders to her lieutenants and sergeants. Captain Zelig had given her the 11th Light Reconnaissance Company, which consisted of three full platoons and the remnants of a platoon seriously depleted during the landing. The twelve men of this fourth, much battered platoon were little more than Raien’s bodyguards.
During the assembly, Kin noticed Raien’s bodyguards were young, pretty, and athletic men. Two were tough sergeants in armor that had seen more than a few campaigns. Some soldiers were like that, cherishing their armor and upgrading it rather than replacing it.
The lieutenant of the fourth platoon wore Excalibur Battle Armor, the absolute best brand—too expensive to be provided by the Fleet. Kin couldn’t see the man’s face, but assumed he was the son of a general or wealthy politician. He guessed the man inside the EBA was stunningly handsome and Raien’s primary lover. Kin would keep clear of him.
“Do you have a vehicle?” Raien asked.
“No. I can keep up.”
Assault armor not only protected soldiers and made them stronger, but made them faster as well. He’d be running all day, which would be a challenge. Normally, he moved at his own pace. He wasn’t conditioned for a forced march. He was slightly too muscular to be a gifted cross-country runner, but he would manage. If he became tired, he’d tell Raien of a danger area ahead and slow the pace. Kin always had a plan. His imagination and foresight had kept him and most of his me alive on Hellsbreach.
Until the final campaign. Kin forced back the memory.
The company left the town as Fleet engineers built fortifications and repaired vehicles damaged from the landing. The battleship made landfall more or less intact. The vessel couldn’t launch without an enormous amount of fuel, and from its current location near the wreckage of the Goliath, liftoff would incinerate Crater Town.
Kin wondered whether Laura had considered that fact. She needed to secure passage for everyone, or they would be abandoned with nothing left to sustain them. Fuel resources could be gathered and refined to power the Fleet ships. Kin suspected it would be top priority for Commander Westwood.
Kin ran beside Captain Raien and her escorts until they approached the mountain pass. He suggested a halt. Raien ordered the company’s platoons into a defensive perimeter that spanned a half-mile circle.
“We can reach the crash site by nightfall, but it would be better to encamp and move in during daylight. Reapers love the dark,” Kin said.
“Of course. Are there other settlements in the mountains?” Raien asked.
Kin wanted to lie. She concealed greed well, but Kin understood officers augmented their pay with plunder and loot, which also motivated enlisted soldiers who barely received pay at all beyond food, shelter, and equipment.
“Goat herders and trappers. A few families weaving rugs and tapestries. Nothing of interest.”
“What about the land itself? Are there mineral deposits? Fuel reserves?” she asked.
Kin studied the mountains and delayed. He thought of Gold Village. The men and women fished from Angry Blue, the river that gathered streams into a torrent leading to the sea. They also panned for gold with great success. The villagers had little need for gold, but gathered it as a recreational pastime, melting the gold dust into decorations for fence posts, doorways, and children’s toys.
He thought of Maiden’s Keep, a system of caves that had become a sort of convent where women from Crater Town and other villages often went for a few years of solitude before starting a family. No men lived at Maiden’s Keep, just three large wolf hounds trained to bark and snarl at strangers. He didn’t believe Raien’s men were the type to rape and kill, but the possibility existed. All crimes committed on the uncharted planet of Crashdown would be conveniently forgotten when the expeditionary force returned to space.
“Don’t hold out on me, Roland. You want that suit, right?”
Kin gathered his thoughts before speaking in a subdued voice. He didn’t want Raien’s men to hear him, but there was no true privacy here. Assault armor provided exceptional hearing. Kin knew the men were hoping he’d lead them to riches.
“Crashdown is a brutal, dangerous planet. Few people have been able to survive far from Crater Town. Beyond the town’s influence, there are storms, geological incidents, and creatures that don’t breathe the same air we do. Your armor will protect you from the noxious clouds that leak from caves and fissures in the rock, but we’re limited in how far we can range to gather resources. The mountain villagers live one day away from death.”
“I’m not a monster,” Raien said.
Kin was almost disappointed she didn’t ask why Crater Town was so important, but was relieved she didn’t inquire further. He didn’t want to talk about Clavender or the power she had to tame the spirit of the planet.
“Of course,” Kin said. “There are a few settlements, fuel reserves, and mineral deposits your engineers can easily exploit.”
“Then lead the way,” Raien said. “Perhaps we can offer these poor people some assistance.”
Kin stepped away from her, massaging his neck. He checked his weapons and trotted into the pass. Normally, when he carried his sword, he wore it on his belt, but decided to sling it over his backpack next to his axe to better facilitate running. An hour after he led them into the pass and warned them of several narrow defiles where bandits had tried to ambush him in the past, Raien called a halt.
“Show me your maps,” she said.
He shrugged off his backpack, setting it on the ground to sort through his supplies. Raien laughed when she saw his compass. She probably knew it didn’t work on this planet. He produced two maps and pointed out the probable location of the crash site.
“This here, is it a village?” she asked.
Kin kept his face impassive.
“Well?”
“Yes.”
“I would think you would have mentioned a place called Gold Village,” she said.
“They pan for gold and make trinkets. The people of that village rarely come to Crater Town because they fish from the river and make their own clothing from animal hides and wool.” His attempt to dampen her enthusiasm failed completely.
“And this?” she pointed at Maiden’s Keep.
“Maiden’s Keep is merely a system of caves where women go to meditate by a waterfall.” Several of Raien’s troopers looked away from their security assignments and toward Kin.
“We shall reconnoiter both locations. Relax, Roland. I control my men. There will be no violating of maidens.” Raien gave orders and the troopers moved out.
Kin followed, fantasizing about fighting troopers in full assault armor, knowing the dream was impossible and hoping Raien would keep her promise. He doubted Gold Village would have much gold left when the day was done and prayed these men would respect the sanctity of Maiden’s Keep. There were women in the Fleet. These soldiers couldn’t be completely sex starved. They weren’t rampaging through an enemy city after the thrill and danger of conquest.
Kin enforced strict discipline when he served the Fleet and led troopers into battle on several planets before the Hellsbreach Campaign. He executed only one of his men for rape in all those years, but the memory remained vivid.
He stayed with the 11th LRC until they came upon Gold Village and witnessed an orderly meeting with the village elders at the footbridge that crossed the river. Raien seemed to have control of her men. They examined the gold railings of the bridge before crossing in small groups, too heavy to storm across all at once.
Kin left them to their exploration and went in search of the crash site. He climbed to the top of a cliff and looked down on the village. Some men and women complained and argued
as gold decorations were torn from doorways, fence posts, and the bridge. Most stood aside and watched wordlessly.
Sarah, a sixteen-year-old girl who reminded him of Becca, looked up. He couldn’t read her expression from so far away. He had visited her many times and walked with her along the river, but never touched her. He cared for her. On occasion he could look at her without mourning his separation from Becca, but that was rare, and even then he made comparisons with his first love. It was the same with Laura. It was the same with every woman he met, no matter how beautiful, no matter how genuine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KIN moved carefully away from the cliff and into the forest. Predators stalked the mountains, eager to attack a lone traveler. Crashdown wolves, larger and more sentient than the descendants of Earth, sometimes attacked settlements, and more disturbingly, took prisoners.
He had encountered dogs gone feral from shipwrecks, wild boars, and the occasional mad man devoid of humanity. Legends told of bears wearing necklaces of bones and speaking a simple language, walking upright more often than not, and growling at the wormhole. Snakes, rodents, birds, and insects reminded him that Crashdown was similar to Earth, but would never be rated an Earth Class planet. Beyond the range of Clavender’s influence, sinister creatures roamed without fear of mankind.
Crashdown, with its yellow sun and infestation of Earth-like flora and fauna, lured many people into the wilderness. Most were never seen again. Home sickness could be deadly, especially when the similarities to Earth were a lie.
Kin had found dead travelers in the mountain pass who had probably been on their way to Crater Town from wherever their ship crashed. But others had been exploring or had adopted a nomadic life style, always on the run from predators and searching for resources, realizing too late that certain flowers ate your face.
The strongest of these wanderers formed gangs of raiders. They came to Crater Town to steal food, tools, and people. Anyone and anything that survived outside Clavender’s world-calming influence was strong, ruthless, and cunning. Kin watched for them, though he had sent a message to the last band by sneaking into their camp and stealing their leader as they slept. Two days later he sent the man back, unharmed, but convinced any attack on Crater Town was suicidal.
Kin stopped frequently to listen and look. He backtracked and set up ambushes for anyone or anything that might have followed him. Twice he circled, hoping to come behind anyone who might have followed him undetected. He expected Captain Raien’s men, but they were apparently still occupied with Gold Village. It would only take one of them to recognize him and convince his buddies they could get rich from the bounty.
And there was a Reaper on the loose.
After several hours, he found the unidentified ship that came through the wormhole in the Fleet’s wake.
The small craft had landed on the side of a steep ravine, hanging from the shattered remains of trees barely clinging to the rocky soil. He saw a scrap of metal in the stream below and blood on the rocks.
Kin, moving slowly, flattened himself against the ground and listened. An untrained man would have dropped to the ground in a rush, allowing the sudden movement to be visible from a distance. He softened his movements, keeping his eyes and ears open.
Less than an hour later, the Reaper burst from the water and sucked in air. Kin checked his pistol and watched. Reapers hated water, but he had seen this tactic before. Sooner or later, everyone had to drink. Reapers could hold their breath for a long time and loved to ambush prey.
Kin remained motionless as he watched the Reaper. It looked his direction several times, but didn’t see him.
He couldn’t judge the Reaper’s height. The creature slouched like an ape, but moved with feline grace. Though humanoid and bipedal, it could run on all four limbs. He had seen them charge like jaguars during the Hellsbreach campaign. The sight made tough soldiers shit their pants. He hated the look of their grotesque rolling muscles, because there were too many. A Reaper’s leg could bend both directions, as Kin had learned after kicking one in the knee, expecting a disabling injury, but nearly getting his head bitten off when the monster didn’t go down.
They were demons who wanted to be men, but hadn’t followed the assembly instructions.
Kin felt the touch of the Reaper’s mind. He didn’t think. He didn’t move. The moment passed and he released his breath. So long as Kin was awake, the Reaper couldn’t penetrate his mind, but he didn’t take needless chances. Nightmares were fertile ground for the Reapers. Even the greenest recruit understood Reapers fed on fear. Kin thought they needed to taste fear as much as they needed to taste blood.
Their only true weakness was their fixation with the present. In this way, they were like animals with no concern for the past or the future. The difference was Reapers possessed both memory and the imagination necessary to consider the future, but could not differentiate between past, present, and future.
Kin tried to explain this to his superiors, but all they were interested in was how he could possibly know such things. He didn’t want to explain.
Kin crawled forward as the Reaper moved toward a part of the stream out of his view. Without warning the Reaper stopped, lifted its face to the sky, and roared, exposing row upon row of jagged teeth, like a shark with a plaque problem. Blood and fur smeared the yellow film on the teeth. Something had died recently. The Reaper’s gray skin was blotched by irregular black and brown spots.
Kin pulled a small pair of binoculars from his belt and studied the spots more carefully. Spots were excellent identifiers. He frowned as he realized the markings were misshapen and improperly spaced. Something was wrong. It seemed to have been tortured. Kin didn’t want to think about who or what could capture and torture a Reaper, though he had a good idea who would want to. The Fleet Weapons Research and Development Division had long sought to weaponize the deadly race, but were never able to secure a live specimen.
The eyes were wrong as well. They should’ve been deep orange or red, but this Reaper had eyes the color of animal urine in a dirty glass. Kin slowly, carefully, and with great deliberation, returned the binoculars to his belt.
What did it mean? Why was this Reaper different?
It took a few steps and roared again, voice clicking and rattling afterward.
Kin, despite his knowledge of Reapers, didn’t understand the random outbursts. He had assumed it was a challenge or a warning to other Reapers, but when he was a captive, he witnessed such behavior without provocation.
The Reaper below looked right and left in rapid succession, jerking his head abruptly one way and then the other. Then it scanned the ridge where Kin remained concealed. Perhaps it had seen him. Kin stared back. When it moved, Kin realized it was injured, presumably from the crash. An injured Reaper was still dangerous. Healing made them hungry.
The Reaper squatted on a rock near the stream, then bit its hand savagely, moaning and whimpering as it shifted its weight side to side. As Kin watched, the Reaper smeared blood over its face, body, and extremities. The blood hardened into a new layer of skin. Then, very abruptly, the Reaper thrust his arm into the water and dragged up a body.
“You son-of-a-bitch,” Kin muttered.
The Reaper paused and listened before beginning its meal. Jason Denton was stretched across the rocks—right arm missing, head bashed in. Denton had been an old fur trapper who always got drunk with Kin when he visited. He had been tough, one of the few men on Crashdown worth sparring with. Denton claimed to never have been Fleet, which probably meant he was a deserter. From the condition of his body, the man had put up a fight.
That must be why the Reaper is so angry, Kin thought. Denton had forced the Reaper to kill him rather than torture him.
Reapers weren’t especially attentive to their surrounding while eating, giving Kin the opportunity to move down the mountainside as far as he dared. Just as he crawled a few feet nearer the Reaper, a hopper bird landed in front of his face and squawked, “Kin. Kin Roland. Sexy
Kin.”
Kin grabbed the bird, dragging it into his meager hiding place. It was the worst possible time to receive a message from Laura. No one else taught the messenger birds to talk dirty. He untied a small piece of weatherproof paper from the bird’s foreleg, then hurled the bird away. The Reaper saw the movement, but only watched the bird as it flew out of the ravine.
Kin, I hope you’re well, but if you’re injured grievously, the Fleet doctors have amazing skill.
The message meant Orlan wasn’t dead, but Kin already understood this from Raien’s briefing. For a moment, he wondered why Laura would connect him with Orlan, but immediately realized it was a stupid question. Who else in Crater Town could kill a Fleet trooper?
What are you doing, Laura? Kin thought.
He saw the Reaper climb to the ship. The stupid creature pulled and tugged, grunting and cursing as though he could make it fly again. When the ship plunged into the stream, the Reaper jumped out of the way and stared as though the ship had betrayed some agreement between vessel and master. The ship settled, refusing to move. The Reaper stalked out of sight.
Kin followed at a distance, evaluating each footprint and twisted branch, never moving within two hundred meters of the Reaper. He found a single drop of blood on a leaf and touched it hesitantly. The thick liquid trembled on his hand before absorbing into his skin. Kin held his hand away in disgust.
Droon.
The Reaper’s name was Droon. Kin shouldn’t have touched the blood. Knowing the name was dangerous. The first thing they did when invading nightmares was impress their name into their victim’s mind. This made it easier to come night after night and harvest fear from the depths of unconsciousness. Kin cursed himself for touching the blood. He didn’t want to know the Reaper’s name.