by Scott E Moon
Becca watched from the hallway, impassive. She could have been standing guard on the bridge of a warship or watching an execution.
Kin focused on Raien, because she wasn’t done with him, but he also watched Becca in the background.
“The Commander is sending Sergeant Orlan after the Reaper for the Weapon’s Research and Development Division,” Kin said.
“Predictable,” Raien said. “It’ll end badly.” She turned to Becca. “Don’t keep him out too long. The Commander must know where he is at all times.”
“Yes, Captain,” Becca said. Raien and her guards walked away. Kin sensed the two men didn’t like him.
“Becca, it’s good to see you,” Kin said.
She brushed the side of her head. The movement echoed her long-ago mannerisms. Her hair had been longer and she often pushed it behind one ear. Now she merely smoothed the buzz cut. He saw her well-defined biceps and scars on her forearms. She’d been in some conflicts where armor hadn’t protected her.
When she smiled and took his hand, Kin almost tripped, because his knees started shaking. He dreamed of her often. Now that she was here, he felt like a boy. The darkness afflicting him since Hellsbreach fell away like a shroud. Light and color flowed into the world, terrifying him. Life was suddenly precious. He had something to lose and felt he would lose it as soon as she spoke.
“I have things to tell you, Kin. I paid people to rescue you, but it didn’t work out.”
“I’m alive.”
She smiled and faced him. “You are. Now I can stop feeling guilty about prolonging your death. I thought you must have lived for days in the cold of space.”
They walked. Kin remembered the feel of her soft, girl-like hand. The hand he held now could have been his own, except for size. Her grip was strong and her skin was calloused. She abruptly let go and continued to walk. They entered the cafeteria of the ship. The enormous room was mostly empty, but a few men and women ate quietly at distant tables.
“The pirates picked me out of the jettisoned garbage field. I worked with them until I paid their transport fee and disembarked at some shady port on a dark moon,” Kin said.
“Greedy bastards. They were paid in advance. I sold father’s holdings on Earth.”
Kin was stunned. Property on Earth was priceless. Becca could have hired every pirate in three sectors for what one acre of land on Earth was worth. He studied her, but her outrage didn’t match the extreme injustice of the fraud. “That’s a lot of money.”
“I don’t need money. I have the Fleet,” Becca said. “After I realized you were gone, I volunteered for the first Shock Troop Brigade I could find. They didn’t want to take me, but I killed a few people and changed their minds.”
They sat at the table and talked. Kin savored every second and guarded their privacy. Two crewmen approached the table, but Kin glared at them and they walked away. Unlike Orlan, Becca was an experienced space warrior. She had boarded fifty ships and been repelled during half the attacks. Nothing was more dangerous than retreating from a failed ship-to-ship assault.
Only twenty vessel-to-vessel boardings had occurred during the entire Fleet history before the Imperials came. Hellsbreach had been dangerous, a suicide mission for almost everyone who made planetfall, but fighting on a ship in the void of space was equally dangerous. Becca had nerves of steel and the casual fatalism of a warrior who had fought too many times and understood the proximity of death.
“Commander Westwood has agreed to take any person from this planet who desires passage, but he’ll cram every last one into a transport vessel like prisoners. Conditions will be inhumane. Many will die, but I think your friend Laura Keen has convinced everyone it’s their only choice,” Becca said. “If Sergeant Orlan and his thugs capture the Reaper alive, Westwood will probably order the monster on the same ship, locked down and separated from the civilian quarters by a compartment without atmosphere. In theory, they should be perfectly safe, but if they realize who their neighbor is, they’ll live in terror of what could happen.”
“Has Westwood lost his mind?”
“No one has ever captured a Reaper. I wouldn’t worry about it. Orlan doesn’t have a good record with bringing back live prisoners,” Becca said.
“Orlan wants me to help him hunt the Reaper.”
“Then kill it,” Becca said.
“I’ve never encountered a more dangerous Reaper. I trapped it in the Valley of Clingers where nothing can survive, and he came out wearing the monsters as a cloak. He defeated the alpha of the Crashdown wolves and now they follow him. His tactics have improved and he has a fascination with Clavender,” Kin said. He had nearly said Droon was bound to her, but decided Becca didn’t need the details. Becca was still a Fleet Trooper, loyal to Commander Westwood and the mission.
He hated holding things back from her.
“Tell me about her,” Becca said.
Kin didn’t know what to say. She was an outcast, just as he was, but her home world faced destruction and no one in the Fleet was her friend. “I need to speak with her.”
“The Commander won’t allow it,” Becca said. “He’s afraid she’ll try to escape.”
“Is she a prisoner?”
“Not officially, but she won’t be allowed to leave,” Becca said. She paused, distracted by her thoughts. “Kin, you must understand Orlan was the only known survivor of the final Hellsbreach assault until we found you. I can’t explain his legendary status in the Fleet. He’s treated like a demigod. The Commander knows who you are, but hasn’t exposed you. He has his reasons and you can probably guess what they are. But Orlan doesn’t want to share his fame, even if you are executed. You can’t trust him. I know he came to visit you. Treat every word out of his mouth as a lie.”
“I’m way ahead of you, Becca.”
“He’ll kill you as soon as you help him catch the Reaper.”
“He can try.”
She clenched her jaw and leaned closer. “Listen, you stubborn jerk, he’s like you. Everything about his condition is top secret, but I’ve been watching him. Something changed after Hellsbreach. He’s incredibly strong. Every time I see him, he’s stronger. He has more followers. He’s more violent.”
“He was violent before Hellsbreach,” Kin said.
“I saw him twist the head off an Imperial during a ship assault. Fleet Command knows he’s a time bomb, but he can single-handedly change the course of a battle. The man goes berserk. But now, instead of getting drunk and whoring afterward—which he still does—he attends galas and award banquets, charming the civilian leadership with frightening ease. He’s untouchable. The moment he exposes you, you’re dead.”
Becca poked Kin in the chest, driving her point home.
“Commander Westwood wants you alive and has complete authority during this expedition. But when we rejoin the Fleet, even Westwood won’t be able to deny Orlan his revenge. He wears the Hero of Man medal. Don’t trust him. If I had to choose between sharing quarters with Orlan or a Reaper, I’d choose the Reaper.”
Kin considered her words.
“He has friends in high places, higher than Westwood,” Becca said.
“He’s always been a charmer,” Kin said. “Despite being built like a troll. He’d be an artist, if he wasn’t busy being a murderous thug.”
Becca nodded and smiled knowingly. “He draws me pictures.”
She continued to talk. Kin realized it was time to tell her everything. He needed to say he loved her and make her believe it. He took each of her hands across the table and stared into her eyes. What a strange couple they must seem, a daughter of Earth turned Fleet Shock Trooper and the Traitor of Hellsbreach.
At first she didn’t realize he held her hands like a lovesick boy or a man about to propose marriage. When she realized the connection she smiled and cocked her head as she met his eyes, pausing in her monologue, but continuing with new warmth.
Kin kept his mouth shut. It was better that way.
He saw her fe
llow Shock Troopers before she did. They entered the cafeteria as though there was a battle they needed to find. Even in this secure setting, they spread out, visually scanning and securing the area. They regrouped at a long table. Four of the less senior members guarded the table while the others went for food, though there was no danger of losing their seats.
Three senior Shock Troopers moved toward Kin and Becca. “Are we interrupting?”
Becca stared at the men she obviously knew well. Kin didn’t like the tone or swagger of the leader. He anticipated a fight, but wasn’t sure whether they were after him or her. Special units had strange rules, always centered on loyalty and exclusivity. Kin was an outsider. The Shock Troopers didn’t approve of him.
If they only knew.
Something about the situation changed, possibly it was the look in Becca’s eyes, or possibly they realized Kin was the Crater Town security chief who had frustrated Commander Westwood during the last several days. The leader, a lieutenant by his uniform, gave a hand signal. Kin barely noticed it, but he heard chairs being pushed back and saw the entire group circling him. They left a small gap where he could attempt escape, but it was obvious they didn’t expect him to make it.
Becca stood. “This is private, Randal.”
Randal shrugged and continued to approach her. Kin stood but made no move to confront the man. He had decided that Randal was not acting as an over protective brother, but as a unit enforcer. Becca had broken a rule. Now she was going to pay.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“YOU seem to be sitting at a civilian table,” Randal said. He stared at Becca, ignoring Kin completely.
Kin’s instincts screamed for action. Randal looked tough, but Kin thought he could shove the man’s head up his ass while fighting off his buddies at the same time. He felt waves of power surging through his muscles. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, he was facing an enemy not wearing superior armor or gifted with alien genetics designed for killing. He didn’t move. All the Shock Troopers but Randal stared at Kin and took positions around him.
“This is none of your concern, Randal. Leave it alone,” Becca said.
Kin liked her tone. She was confident. She took her time with each word and only glanced at the others.
“I thought you were one of us,” Randal said.
“I am,” Becca said.
“Then it’s my business.”
“Yeah? Well so is my foot up your ass if you don’t back off.”
Randal and Becca stared at each other. No one moved. After two minutes, Randal nodded at Kin but didn’t look at him. “Is this the man who let the Reaper escape?”
Becca didn’t answer. Randal moved closer, whispering in her ear while looking over her shoulder in Kin’s direction. He gazed straight through Kin. Soldiers called it the thousand-yard-stare. “Now is not the time for getting involved with a local. This mission is a turn and burn and you know it.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Becca said.
Randal stepped back and smirked. “You look like you’ve known each other all your lives. How romantic. Maybe I should tell him who you really are. Would he still be interested if he knew what you did on Perilous IX?”
“If you ladies are going to fight, get to it,” Kin said.
Randal jerked his head toward Kin and started to move, but his attention shifted to several troopers entering the cafeteria. Orlan led the group to the food line, grabbed something with his hand, and began eating as he sauntered across the room toward Kin.
“I need you ready in ten minutes, Kin, by Commander Westwood’s authority. Report to the armory for gear,” Orlan said. He faced Randal. “Your brigade is now on perimeter defense, in Mechanized Armor. Situation: I will be hunting a Reaper that may attempt to breach our security. Enemy forces: one Reaper that possesses dangerous organic armor and a pack of wolves under his command. Friendly forces: me, Security Chief Kin Roland, and God if you pray hard enough. Your mission: observe the Reaper or other hostile forces as they approach our defensive line and destroy them. Understood?” Sergeant Orlan said, still holding a sandwich in one hand.
Randal nodded and started to move away. Orlan ate half the sandwich in one bite and spoke with his mouth full. “Acknowledge the order, lieutenant.”
“I acknowledge the Commander’s order, but not you, Sergeant,” Randal said, without looking back. “Becca’s Brigade, rally in the armory. We have a mission.” The Shock Troopers moved out of the room without touching their food.
“They named the brigade after you?” Kin asked.
“She won a bet,” Orlan said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Becca touched his arm like a brother and said, “I have to go. Be careful.”
Orlan offered Kin the last bite of his sandwich.
Kin studied the smashed food. “No, thanks.”
Orlan shrugged. “I’ll show you the way to the armory.”
When they arrived, technicians were already swarming around the Shock Troopers and their oversized armor that each operator had to climb into like a vehicle. Kin walked to the battered suit of assault armor that Orlan pointed toward. FSPAA was engraved on the chest plate. Nicks and grooves made the letters hard to read.
“Did you drag this to Crashdown?” Kin asked.
“Don’t be fooled. That’s a good unit. Holds battery power longer than most and the chest plate has never been penetrated. It’s the best I could secure,” Orlan said. He looked around for a technician.
Kin began putting the armor on.
Orlan laughed. “I forgot. You suit up by yourself.”
“When I need to.” Kin manipulated each piece carefully.
Orlan found a technician and was ready to go before Kin was done, but it was close.
Kin ran his systems checks. It had been a long time since he suited up, but everything came back as though he had been in the Fleet yesterday. “Where is the rest of your squad?”
“It’s just me and you this time. We can move faster,” Orlan said.
“Sure.” Kin studied Orlan’s state of the art FSPAA. Maybe his old enemy planned treachery, maybe not. Being alone with Orlan didn’t give him a warm feeling.
They approached the loading bay. Orlan stepped beside him as they looked at a lull in the storm. “Take me to the Reaper. I have a million credits to collect. I’d have ten million if the Commander let me collect it.” He stared hard at Kin.
Kin held his gaze for a long moment, turned away, and charged from the ramp, just as he always had in the past. Most planetary assaults were airborne assaults, but sometimes they deployed from a landing craft, which was at least as dangerous. Often he had been delivered into the thick of battle. Stepping off the ramp was usually the most dangerous part. Enemies targeted troop carriers and the pilots lifted off too soon, burning troopers with the engines.
Droon wouldn’t be far from the Flagship, because Clavender was being held inside and the Reaper couldn’t let her go. Orlan paced Kin easily. His armor was newer and better repaired. Kin had no complaints. After so many years relying on naked strength, the armor gave him the feeling of extreme power and agility. The gravity of Crashdown had built muscles he might not have otherwise.
“Sound off when you find it. We’re taking it alive. Don’t forget,” Orlan said. The communication link between FSPAA units was scratchy. They were now in the eye of the storm.
Kin ignored the reminder. When he saw Droon, he’d kill it in the most expeditious manner possible. To do otherwise was to place the monster on the same ship as the people of Crater Town.
“Acknowledge, Kin. Disobey this order, and I’ll be talking about you when we get back to base.”
“I can hear you,” Kin said.
“You think the Commander is your friend, but he serves the Fleet, not your ego.”
“I don’t have friends, Orlan,” Kin said. They ran the perimeter defenses looking for sign of the Reaper and the Crashdown wolves. An hour passed. Without sunlight to charge th
e solar plates they would need to stop in twelve hours, which was a problem because Kin thought it might take two days to find and isolate the Reaper.
“How long do we have before the first ship launch?” Kin asked.
“Not long.”
“We need to range farther from the perimeter,” Kin said. He led the way. Before long, they had cleared the area within a mile of the defensive perimeter around Crater Town and the Fleet ships. He looked back and saw the Shock Troopers patrolling in mechanized war machines capable of killing dozens of Reapers in a direct fight. Becca was in that formation. He wondered which she was.
“They don’t look so big from here,” Orlan said.
“I thought you’d be a Shock Trooper by now.” Kin used his long-range scanners to view the foothills and the first mountain pass.
“Hard to be anonymous in a Mech unit.”
Kin looked sideways at Orlan.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m a show off. But sometimes you need to be anonymous to get dirty.” He laughed.
Kin shook his head and moved into the mountains. Orlan talked to him through the communications link.
“What do you think happened to us on Hellsbreach?”
“Is this a secure link?” Kin knew it wasn’t. The display inside his helmet indicated an open tactical channel.
“No,” Orlan said. “Switch to Direct Alpha. It’s a closed, line-of-sight link.”
Kin switched the channel and the static in his earpiece disappeared. “What kind of contact did you have with Reaper’s on Hellsbreach?”
They climbed a steep trail without out speaking. In a few moments they would be at the summit of the first pass with a clear view of two valleys. Kin chose this route because it ran along the high ground and provided a view of lower areas. The new, smarter, more dangerous Droon would appreciate this advantage. Kin soon found the Reaper’s trail and began to follow, but didn’t alert Orlan. Not yet.