by Scott Moon
Orlan’s men ran him down and surrounded him until Orlan wrenched his weapons out of his hands. The sergeant immediately lowered his helmet assembly, revealing a fresh scar that crossed his upper and lower lip.
“You should have stabbed me in the eye. I clamped down my teeth as soon as you jammed that knife into my mouth,” Orlan said. He smiled showing his chipped teeth. “Almost got me, didn’t you? But now I got you and you’re going to pay double.”
“Take off that armor, Orlan, and let’s try it again,” Kin said.
“Oh, no, I don’t dance with Class IV Weapons Masters.” Orlan’s sarcasm had improved over the years. Orlan was a Class III Weapons Master, but only because the final test for advancement required leaving his victim alive, and Orlan always lost control of his anger. He released Kin and stepped back. “Go ahead and run. I need the exercise and I was trying to describe to my men what a human head sounds like when you crush it with an FSPAA boot.”
The four Fleet troopers said nothing. They were ready for a fight — calm veterans standing relaxed but poised to strike. Kin wished he could see their faces.
“Where’s the girl and the Reaper?” Orlan asked.
“I sent her back to Crater Town. She should be there by now,” Kin said.
“You’re either lying or she’s dead. I would’ve been notified. Commander Westwood wants her safe, because he’s such a compassionate, caring conqueror. Or maybe he’s just tired of your girlfriend and wants something new, a little native tail to brag about.”
The Fleet troopers turned from their duties just enough to consider Kin. Apparently, the mention of Laura interested them. She wasn’t quite the most attractive woman in Crater Town, but she was definitely a runner-up, and there was something about her that fascinated men. Kin had been her thrall since the Goliath left port. She was arrogant, opinionated, and obnoxious. He missed her.
“She doesn’t have time for grunts like you,” Kin said.
“Your sweet little princess can’t play the shy maid with the commander forever.” Orlan smiled. “And I know she is no maid. She’s all you ever wanted from a woman, but I’m afraid you’ll never know.”
That didn’t describe Laura at all. Orlan wasn’t making sense.
Orlan laughed. “You think I was talking about that Crater Town wench! You are an idiot. Becca, Kin. I am talking about your sweet Becca.”
“I haven’t seen Rebecca since before Hellsbreach,” Kin said. He stared at Orlan. Every man in their unit had shared the name of the person who meant the most to them before the last big push in the campaign. They swore to take care of the little brothers and sisters, widows, parents, and brokenhearted girlfriends. Kin regretted admitting his feelings for Becca, but it was expected. Every man and woman had shared their deepest fears. As their leader, Kin couldn’t pretend he was somehow less human. And he had wanted someone to tell her that he died bravely and that he loved her always. Now he was looking at Orlan, who used his deepest secrets to mock him.
“She saved your life, Kin,” Orlan said.
“What?” Kin asked.
“I took her money and I didn’t even put the scorpions I had bought in the casket when I closed it. Don’t know what she saw in you, you coward. But I blackmailed her. Conspiring to free a convicted traitor is punishable by death. She didn’t have much money left after paying the pirates and modifying your casket with insulation and oxygen tanks, but she has a nice ass. Man has needs, right, Kin?”
Kin lunged forward. Orlan backhanded him savagely.
The other troopers watched without comment. Kin measured them carefully as he stood, wiping blood from his mouth. They were either completely loyal to Orlan or destined to be murdered before they reached the Fleet Base Camp. The sergeant was confessing high crimes.
Orlan was the only one stupid enough to lower his helmet assembly. But each man stood impassively, unmoved by Orlan’s words. Were they all murderers and traitors? Maybe they would take Orlan out before the day was done.
Kin felt weak, realizing Becca had saved him. She risked her life to equip his space casket with just enough life support to get him to the pirates that had salvaged his casket.
Pirates.
Kin never understood why the pirates rescued him. A man just didn’t get that lucky. They never revealed the plot. It was likely Becca had paid them to deliver him someplace where she would’ve contacted him and explained everything, but they took her money and jumped the first wormhole away from Fleet Armada space lanes.
“You men ever seen what Commander Westwood does to traitors?” Orlan asked. The troopers stared at him, helmet visors obscuring their expressions. Orlan turned to Kin. “I want you to know I respect you for nailing Captain Raien. I’ve been after her for a year. You hit her on the first day.” He punched Kin in the gut, and although Kin saw it coming and moved to reduce the impact, the force of the strike lifted him into the air.
“I know why you botched the Hellsbreach detonation,” Orlan said. “A lot of people thought you were disoriented from wounds and half-crazy from captivity. Maybe, but it was stupid to put such an important job in your hands. But not because you were hurt. You didn’t want your sweet Becca to think you were a monster that ended an entire species. How stupid is that, Kin? Reapers murdered every man that mattered to her.”
“They didn’t murder me.”
“You don’t matter to her. Girls don’t fall in love with their childhood friends. Don’t you read? Get a little romance in your library. They go for bad boys like me.” Orlan laughed.
“If I thought you touched her, you’d be dead.”
Orlan laughed again, louder this time. He walked around the circle of Fleet troopers. “Can you believe this? Kin Roland, Class IV Weapons Master, thinks his sweetheart is a lily-white virgin!” He grabbed Kin and lifted him three feet into the air. The servomotors of his armor whined. “You could ask her if I take you back to Base alive.”
“What?”
“You’re such a love struck little boy. You want to see your precious Becca. What are you going to do, fuck Laura in the commander’s quarters, Captain Raien in the cockpit of a battle tank, and your sweet Becca on the beach? I admire your ambition, Kin, but it’ll never happen. Not after I rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”
The sound of Droon’s hunting cry rolled through the night, lasting far longer than any Reaper scream Kin had ever heard. Orlan lowered him to the ground but didn’t release his mechanized grip. He looked around, pretending bravado as he searched the darkness. The Fleet troopers set up a defensive perimeter without a word. They could’ve been machines. Orlan saw what they were doing and raised his helmet assembly. His amplified voice sounded dry.
“Tell me about this Reaper, Kin. I want to catch it before Raien does.”
“His name is Droon.”
“I don’t want to know his name!” Orlan raised a gauntleted hand to strike Kin but stopped, clenching his fist until it shook visibly. “I hate you, Kin. Why are you such a devious bastard?”
“Who cares what the Reaper is called?” one of the nameless troopers asked. Orlan turned on him.
“If you know a Reaper’s name, then you’re tied to it. The beast can enter your dreams and you would have more fun castrating yourself than sleeping with those nightmares,” Orlan said.
Kin waited for Orlan to gather his wits and turn on him again. He didn’t think the sergeant was going to bring him in alive. He knew how Orlan operated. The man was calm and professional during a field battle, but when it came to murder, he needed to work himself into a frenzy. Then he went berserk. Orlan stopped talking and bent close to Kin, stooping in the armor that made him more of a giant than he already was.
“He’s sick. You could probably take him alive,” Kin said.
“Bullshit. You want to get me killed.”
Kin stared at him.
Orlan recognized the truth in Kin’s words and paused. “You’re telling the truth. I can’t believe it.”
�
�You won’t be able to handle me and the Reaper. You have to choose.”
“Hmm. Let me think. A million-credit bounty or a vendetta against a dead man.” Orlan stood and walked to the defensive perimeter his troopers had formed. He looked back at Kin. “I’m keeping your weapons. Good luck getting back to Crater Town. You better pray that we catch this Reaper, because I’m sure he’s not done with you.”
Kin shrugged. He knew Orlan couldn’t be burdened with the pistol, sword, axe, and knives in addition to his own collection. He’d drop them once he was out of sight and Kin would find them. “Good luck.”
“You sarcastic piece of shit,” Orlan said. “Come on, men. Wedge formation, on me. Keep your eyes open and ignore your heat sensors. Reapers are hard to see that way.”
Kin waited until they were gone before he sat down to rest. The troopers were easy to hear. He marked the position where they paused. That would be where his weapons were stashed. If he was lucky, they would down other gear that he could steal as well. Soon they crashed through the night, racing toward Droon with dreams of a million-credit bounty.
Becca is on Crashdown.
She had paid Orlan and a band of pirates to save his life. The joy he felt should have given him new life, but he was exhausted. The weight of holding impossible hope for so many years suddenly seemed unbearable. Becca had become a dream and he was afraid to see it realized.
He thought of what Commander Westwood would do when he walked into Crater Town, the Traitor of Hellsbreach, the Enemy of Man. Kin hoped he would be able to see Becca before they locked him in a cell. Maybe she would be allowed to visit him. He could thank her and tell her how much he loved her. He could explain why he failed. It didn’t matter if she forgave him. He wanted to see her before the Fleet abandoned Crashdown and he lost her forever.
Kin found his weapons under a heavy rock he could barely move. He really needed to obtain his own armor. It had been a long time since he felt the power of modern weapons.
The night passed quickly and he found Rickson asleep with his head on Clavender’s lap. He entered their camp and shook his head. The shepherd had selected a terrible place to stop; steep dunes flanked them and there was enough scrub brush for an enemy to creep close before being detected. He stepped out of the shadows and walked close to Clavender before she turned her head and saw him.
“Kin?”
“It’s me, Clavender. How long have you been here?” he asked.
“A long time. Rickson nearly gave up after we saw the Fleet troopers catch you. He wanted to help, but I convinced him there was nothing he could do. Why did they let you go?” she asked.
“There is a reward for a live Reaper,” Kin said.
Clavender shuddered. Kin sat and they watched Rickson sleep for several minutes.
“You won’t let him take me again.”
“Not while I’m alive. Can you still feel him?”
“Yes, but I am stronger here. The light of the wormhole shines down and gives me courage,” she said. “You can never know what might come through it. Do you believe in miracles?”
“Should I?”
She didn’t answer. He watched her pull her arm slowly from under Rickson and flex her fingers. She smoothed his hair.
“I can’t go into Crater Town. The Fleet has branded me a traitor and will have me executed.” Kin said the words but knew he had to take the risk. He needed to see Becca and couldn’t think clearly.
“You could seek the Ror-Rea, but you would not be allowed to leave,” Clavender said.
Kin barely heard her, although he doubted her people would welcome him, not with what he had seen of her father. He couldn’t focus on her words because he was still thinking of Becca. If he could get close enough to the Fleet ships, he might see which was hers. Someone could get her a message, arrange a meeting.
“Are you well?” Clavender asked.
Kin nodded but didn’t look at her. He stared into the night without seeing anything.
“You should go back to your people. Commander Westwood will never let you go once he has you,” Kin said.
“He will,” Clavender said.
Kin looked at her sharply. “How can you be sure?”
“I do not see the future, Kin, but your commander will find holding me dangerous.”
“Because you control the wormholes and the weather? Why have you stayed in Crater Town all these years?”
“Don’t ask questions when you know the answers. I have kept you here, safe from my people, close to the power of the wormhole, but I cannot touch it so easily now.”
“Why not?”
“I am not sure.”
“Guess.”
Clavender said nothing. In the distance, Orlan and his troopers fired rifles and plasma weapons.
Kin checked his gear, frustration mounting. He was tired of Droon, Orlan, and even Clavender. “Laura sent me a message that the Fleet was forced to turn some of their warships into terra-forming machines. If you’re not going to help us, I’ll have to beg Westwood to take everyone from Crater Town when he leaves.”
“How could machines change the planet?” Clavender asked.
“They’re probably filling shelters with oxygen for starters,” Kin said. “Ten years, and now the planet rejects us.”
Clavender shrugged. “I am not a witch or a goddess.”
“You might be,” Kin said.
“Nothing I can do now will keep the wormhole from touching the planet. When that happens, no magic of mine and no technology of yours will save us,” Clavender said.
Kin pondered her words and leaned against a rock. He thought of Sophia and Dax and all he had seen in the last few days. “I need to sleep for a few minutes.”
Clavender nodded and continued to stroke Rickson’s hair. Kin closed his eyes and tried to think of Becca, praying for a sweet dream of days long past. Instead, the image of Orlan plagued him. Relaxing was impossible.
Kin retained his youthful appearance after his imprisonment in the space casket. For years, he thought something about the voyage, as short as it had been, had kept him young. He rarely thought about it, because few mirrors existed in Crater Town. But his most recent encounter with Orlan had changed everything. The man had changed but only in terms of physical abuse he had suffered.
Scars drew random pictures on his face, and part of his left ear was missing. His eyes revealed that he had seen many horrors, but his complexion was that of a man in his early twenties rather than a man in his mid-thirties. It was a subtle detail but seemed important. Kin wished for the first time that he had a mirror to look at his face.
He had few things in common with Orlan. They were both trained killers and they both served on Hellsbreach, but Orlan had escaped being captured, while Kin had been subjected to torture and mutilation before they healed him with their questionable medical techniques. In that moment, he realized he had been in denial about the nature of his youth but now understood it had something to do with Hellsbreach and the microorganisms that contaminated his blood while he endured Reaper captivity.
Perhaps that was why Laura liked him so much. They were the same age, but she probably saw him as a boy toy and never questioned his appearance. Kin had grown stronger year after year, when age should have made him slower. And his memory was better. He healed faster.
Something happened to Orlan when he was on Hellsbreach and Kin wondered whether all survivors of the campaign had similar benefits. He knew there were few who had been on the planet that ever left it. He thought of Raif and how the man continued to fight after losing his hand.
Most Hellsbreach combatants that survived the campaign had been in space command, bombarding the planet from orbit and assuming tactical command of the men and women doing the dying. Yet others like Kin must exist in the Fleet.
Kin relived the moment Orlan ran to the rescue ship. He hated the man for abandoning him but suddenly felt as though his worst enemy was the only person he could identify with. He thought of Orlan’s scar
red face and the new scar he put on the man’s mouth when he stabbed him. The vision of Orlan stared back at him, angry and amused at the same time. Kin looked into his eyes — eyes like a cloudy glass of water. He thought of Droon’s mutated eyes. The Reaper and the sergeant had too much in common.
Kin opened his eyes, aware he had been sleeping. His muscles locked him in place and all he wanted was something to drink. He saw Clavender was still awake, although she stared at the wormhole in the bright morning sun as though she were in a trance. Kin checked his weapons and his gear before waking Rickson.
“Kin? I thought you’d be in the stockade by now, or dead,” Rickson said.
Kin took a sip of water and then another. “You better eat something while you can. How much water do you have?”
Rickson held up a full skin. “I had to draw from a stream, but I think it’s clean.”
Kin nodded but was distracted by Clavender’s pale face. She seemed to be in pain and no longer as serene as when he had first found them. “Rickson, we will need to move before Droon tries to take Clavender again.”
“I am okay,” Clavender said.
“When was the last time you slept?” Kin asked. She didn’t answer, but he knew she was afraid to encounter Droon in her nightmares.
They traveled toward Crater Town. When they were close, Kin retraced their trail to look for signs of pursuit and saw something that made his blood run cold — Droon moving through the foothills flanked by several Crashdown wolves. He used better tactics than Kin believed Reapers understood and seemed to be the alpha of the Crashdown wolf pack.
“Now I’ve seen it all,” Kin said. He put binoculars to his eyes and saw Droon had taken something from Orlan’s troopers as well. The Reaper wore a utility belt as a necklace. The ammunition and first-aid packs would be useless to the Reaper, but Kin thought the stim packs were dangerous. All he needed was a Reaper wearing Clinger armor, flanked by a sentient pack of killer wolves, and hyped on caffeine or amphetamine boosters.