by Scott Moon
“I don’t see how that helps him escape.”
“Maybe he can change forms but didn’t want to live in a whorehouse. Rent isn’t free.”
“You seem to know a lot about whorehouses and illegitimate children.”
Rebecca looked his way. “Jerk.”
“I may be a jerk, but I never got a prostitute pregnant. So far as I know.”
She slugged him in the shoulder. “Orlan risked his life and his career to help William. Are you telling me you’ve been patronizing all of Crashdown’s finest brothels? At least when he found out about his son, he did something about it.”
“Like I said, that’s a beautiful story.” Kin pushed aside an image of the trooper who left him for dead on Hellsbreach. “Orlan knows nothing but killing. Anything else he does is only to pass the time until the next battle. It’s hard to be a father when your solution to every problem involves blowing someone’s face off.”
“William’s just a boy. You can’t blame him for his father.” She smiled as she stowed a pair of wrenches in a toolbox. “He was reading me the Commandant Brighten Saga, but you want to hear the interesting part?”
“Desperately.”
“Orlan stole the book from Westwood’s library and taught William to read from it. How’s that for parent of the year?”
“Yeah? Soon he’ll be teaching the boy to make his first kill.”
“Probably. You’re no different. I see how you look after Rickson and the other kids from Crater Town.”
“I have a lot of illegitimate children.”
Rebecca slugged him again. “No you don’t.” She fought back a smile, biting her lip and holding her breath.
Kin held his shoulder and feigned pain. She punched him again, playfully, barely resisting when he grabbed her.
He looked into her eyes. Thoughts of Orlan’s lost son vanished.
Now, Kin. Kiss her. Tell her you love her. Do something.
He pulled her closer, nervous as he studied her face. She no longer seemed a warrior, despite her short-cropped hair and battle scars. Kin sensed emotions he barely remembered. His pulse quickened. Arousal came with such intensity that he felt as though he had never experienced it. Everything he’d done before this moment was like a story from a book, facts on a page, descriptions of history, explanations that meant nothing.
She held his gaze without moving, without the horseplay that brought them to this intimate position. Brightness filled her eyes. She didn’t blink or look away.
Kin swallowed and took a deep breath.
This is the girl I grew up with. How did she get so beautiful?
Purple light flickered across her face. Kin stiffened. After a moment, he turned his face toward the sky, still holding her.
She followed the direction of his gaze, or perhaps she had seen the anomaly first. Her arms squeezed his body, then relaxed.
Kin let her go. “The wormhole is back.”
Rebecca stepped away, moving closer to her Mech unit and watching the tube of light reaching toward the horizon.
Kin rubbed his face with one hand before stepping toward the table where his armor waited. “I thought Clavender broke it.”
The final battle between Earth Fleet, Reapers, Mazz Imperials, and the Ror-Rea had torn apart Crater Town and surrounding foothills. Clavender had called meteors from the wormhole, blasting sections of the coastal mountains to pieces. She wielded the space anomaly like a weapon, despite her protestations against war. In the end, the wormhole seemed dead. It retreated over the horizon and plunged into the ground. Kin shook his head. Something that powerful could never die.
He shivered. The wormhole would have to be alive to die.
“I’ll bet you a week of vacation on Earth VI that Imperials come through it before long.”
Kin checked the power level on the dormant FSPAA and turned toward her.
She swayed as she watched the sky. “You’re the resident expert on the wormhole. Does it seem right to you?”
Kin observed the length and diameter of the anomaly. He studied the surface and the opening, which wasn’t pointed at Crater Town.
That’s new.
“It seems passive. That’s normally a good sign. I need to talk to Clavender.”
“Good luck.”
Kin laughed without humor. “Thanks. I’ll need it.” He looked at his feet, gathering his thoughts.
“What are you thinking, Kin?”
He looked up, forced himself to stare at the thing that had hung ominously above Crater Town for so long. “The wormhole has always been aimed at Crater Town. I wish I knew what has changed its course.”
“You’re the expert.” Rebecca sauntered away from her worktable to pick something off the ground. She stood casually as she stared down the trail. “We have company. I’ll bet you a case of whiskey he’s coming to ask about the Valley of Clingers.”
“What is it with you and betting? Is that all you learned from the Shock Troopers?”
“I understand why you’re afraid to gamble. You already owe me dinner, a new lens for my helmet visor, and two days of menial labor. But you’re kind of a bad sport. And you never pay up.”
“Like I said, what is all this betting? And why do I always lose?”
Rebecca smiled mischievously, raising her eyebrows.
“If Raker took Orlan’s son to the Valley of Clingers, he’s dead. You understand that, right?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t think he does.”
Orlan strode up the hill, stern faced, but without the hateful stare Kin expected. He seemed distracted. Once, before he was close enough for conversation, he stared across the foothills. After several moments, he approached.
“Is your armor charged?”
Kin glanced at his gear. “It could use another hour in the sun, unless you have a new battery for me.”
Orlan nodded. “I heard you’ve been to the Valley of Clingers.”
“Orlan,” Kin said. “No one survives that place.”
Orlan clenched his jaw.
Kin braced for an attack, spreading his feet wider and adjusting his balance. He took a cleansing breath through his nose and released it through his mouth. He watched Orlan’s every move, no matter how subtle. The man radiated danger and raw strength. His tall, broad-shouldered frame carried muscle normally hidden by armor.
Orlan lowered his chin, staring hard, eyes fading as humanity gave way to the need for violence. But then he grunted. “That’s what I heard, but I’m still going. William’s tougher than he looks. Reads too much. He’s built like his mother. But he’s smart. When I found him, he was living on the street, and that means he’s a survivor.”
“That’s different.”
“Everything is different. One minute you’re a hero. The next minute you’re broke with a whining brat who doesn’t know his place.”
“Relax.”
“Piss off. Maybe I don’t want your help.”
“Then why’d you come?”
“You don’t understand.”
Kin found no help in Rebecca, who waited near a pistol on the workbench. He shook his head when she was watching and Orlan wasn’t.
“I didn’t realize William meant so much to you.”
Orlan’s stare emphasized the momentary silence. “I see Becca’s been telling stories again.” He faced Rebecca. “Don’t think I won’t punch your pretty face.”
“Oh, how sweet. You called me pretty.” She picked up the gun and held it by her leg.
Orlan smirked.
Kin wanted to tell the trooper to leave, just for the look he gave Rebecca. After a moment of hesitation, Kin imagined a child lost in the Valley of Clingers. The image refused to stop bleeding.
“All right, Orlan. But here’s the problem. If the Clingers got him, there won’t be much evidence.”
Silence. Orlan glared at Rebecca instead of facing Kin and the truth. The words he had for Kin were heavy with history and suspicion. “How soon can you be ready?”
&nb
sp; Kin reviewed his repairs and the amount of ammunition Captain Raien allowed him to keep. “Meet me at the town square. I’ll be waiting.”
“I’ll be there first.”
Kin shrugged. “Then make yourself useful and help Laura with the salvage effort.”
Orlan walked away without snapping a rejoinder.
“Orlan.”
The Hero of Man stopped and turned his head, barely looking over his shoulder or changing his posture.
“We’ll be seeking confirmation of his death.” Kin held the grip of his pistol in the holster. He stared at the profile of the trooper’s rough face. “Not a chance to save him. You better get your mind around it. The valley is a dangerous place.”
Orlan abandoned the conversation, focusing his attention forward as he walked away. “Fuck you, Roland. I don’t need your help.”
Kin gathered his gear and strapped himself into the battered FSPAA unit. He waited near the well the rest of the afternoon, helping Laura, Rickson, and the refugees retrieve the bucket and attach new cables.
Orlan never showed.
CHAPTER THREE
MAZZ IMPERIAL warships landed hours after the survivors and the Crater Town refugees relocated to the foothills near Sophia’s Pass. Commander Westwood’s ships had destroyed everything of value in the coastal town during launch, and still scores of people came down from the mountains, grimacing at evidence of the recent combat while hoping for news and protection.
“We have to wait,” Laura said. “Anyone surviving the Reapers will come here.”
“Two days. Then we leave anyone who argues.” Kin remembered his ultimatum. The words rang in his head. Abandoning one person would crush him with guilt. Waiting would get everyone killed. “Two days. That’s the best we can do.”
Laura hadn’t resisted long. She understood what was at stake. Townspeople drew water from the well, scavenged tools and clothing, then hiked away from their home of nine years. Every step across the battlefield reminded Kin of what the future held. Laura and the others appeared stunned at the amount of carnage: a Reaper corpse with jaws extended so wide its skull seemed inside out, piles of Ror-Rea heads — men and women — and scraps of burned and bloody armor.
Captain Raien entered the desperate four-sided battle in her log as The Carnage at Crater Town. Kin hadn’t been the only person telling her to call it Westwood’s Retreat. If Raien were to survive and rejoin Earth Fleet, her log entry would become the official name for the engagement, due to her position as the highest-ranking Fleet officer on Crashdown.
“Westwood is a brilliant tactician. I’ve seen him take well defended, heavily fortified planets, suppress fanatical resistance movements, and barely damage a single building.”
Kin concentrated on the horizon. “I’m sure that came during the looting.”
“You’re lucky I like you, Roland.”
With fatalistic detachment, he watched from the foothills as waves of Imperial ships slipped out of the wormhole and glided to the landing area.
Those pilots are good.
Kin understood the Mazz Imperials came to destroy Sibil Clavender’s people, the Ror-Rea, or Wingers, as Rebecca and the others called them. This was what it looked like to see a ten-thousand-year-old vendetta carried out. Yet he couldn’t believe the number of ships or understand why they built a city with them, locking the warships together like bricks — or perhaps like the shields of an ancient Roman army.
When he observed the first of these new vessels, his impression was of heavy, blocky things impossible to maneuver in the atmosphere. As spacecraft, they would be functional, but gravity and environmental factors would make the huge cuboids difficult to handle in a terrestrial setting.
Then he saw them click together like bricks in a giant wall. He couldn’t comprehend the expense of such an enterprise.
Why is Crashdown so important? Another thought came unbidden. What are they afraid of?
The planet wasn’t called Crashdown by Clavender’s people. They called it Edain. Kin considered the ancient myth of Eden, deciding the similarity of the words must be a coincidence. Hellsbreach would have been a better name for this place. What kind of paradise held murderous beasts and weather that made meteor storms seem placid? This wasn’t Eden. This was a death trap that never released its prey.
Kin watched megalithic warships rearrange to form the foundations of a city. Blast shields thick enough to resist nuclear detonations appeared almost at once. Ships landed one on top of the other until the walls protecting the position were a hundred meters tall.
“Did Earth Fleet use nukes against the Imperials?”
Captain Raien shook her head.
Rickson slipped into the well-concealed observation post. “They can’t make that place any bigger.”
Another wave of ships entered the atmosphere and landed like an assault force. Kin studied details and made notes in his FSPAA computer log.
“Looks like these new ships will be mobile.” Kin wondered at the gigantic wheels sliding from the sides of the battleships. “Not sure where they think they’re going. Those monsters are a hundred times larger than a Colossal Class Battle Tank. The mountain pass is too narrow and steep for them to traverse.”
“Mazz Imperials level mountains that stand in their way,” Raien said.
Rickson stared, fascinated by the sight of the vehicles when they began rolling across the coastland.
Captain Raien finished her log entry and turned toward Rickson. “You shouldn’t be here.”
The young man shrugged. “I’m pretty sneaky.”
Without looking away from his surveillance, Kin said, “I didn’t hear him.”
Raien grunted. “Stay or go. It doesn’t matter.”
Rickson smiled, mischievous and cocky. “Stay.”
Raien ignored his answer. She addressed Kin. “I’ll send you relief. Keep eyes on the landing zone.”
“I forgot how comforting it is to take orders.”
“Would you serve Earth Fleet again if you were pardoned?”
Kin thought about it.
Raien waited. “I reviewed your record. You scored top of your class on every officer assessment test and served as a company commander three times during Hellsbreach.”
“Officers died quicker than they could find replacement volunteers. Don’t get excited. I just held the line until a new CO arrived.”
“You’re a natural leader, Kin. I’m going to need you.”
Kin maintained his surveillance of the enemy movements. Despite everything, he loved the Fleet. There were problems; foolish leaders, politics, dishonest equipment providers, and soldiers that joined to escape prosecution. Corporal Raif — the murdering thug — came to mind.
Raien’s suggestion opened wounds. When the Fleet convicted him as the Traitor of Hellsbreach, he felt betrayed. Before Crashdown, two things had mattered to Kin — Rebecca and his unit.
“I can’t make any promises,” Raien said.
Kin cut her off with a hand gesture. “Neither can I.”
Raien clenched her jaw, glared, and finally shook her head. “All right. I’ll be back.”
In her wake, an uncomfortable silence grew. Rickson watched the titanic machines, his enthusiasm waning as the Imperials performed routine maneuvers. Kin thought the young man wouldn’t be satisfied until he crept among the enemy buildings like a thief, daring adventure to come and get him. Yet something bothered his friend, something he didn’t want Raien to hear.
“Why won’t you help Orlan find his son?”
Kin glanced over his shoulder, then back at the growing fortress and wheeled war machines. “I told Orlan I’d help.”
“I can’t imagine how scared the boy must be.”
“He’s dead. You’ve seen the Clingers. No one survives their valley.”
Rickson chewed a piece of grass, looking straight ahead as Kin did the same. “Droon survived.”
Kin almost blurted that Reapers were better equipped to fight than human bo
ys but thought of what Rebecca said about William. Could a shape changer survive where a human would die?
“Course, Droon’s a Reaper. You’re probably right, but we need to know for sure.”
“We?” Kin faced Rickson. “William is Orlan’s problem.”
Rickson clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. “I thought you’d rush after a helpless boy in danger and save him. Guess you’ve changed.”
“I only told Orlan the truth. I said I’d go. He took off without me. I’m not going to hold his hand every time he has a mood swing.”
“Whatever.”
“Right now, he’s looking forward to a father-son reunion. In a few hours, he’ll be raping and pillaging again.”
“Really? You say things like that, but I’ve never seen it.”
“You didn’t see what happened to Brian Muldoch. They blew his head off.”
“Who? Orlan?”
Kin didn’t answer. Raif and his squad murdered the conscientious objector who deserted the Earth Fleet Labor Battalion, not Orlan. When Kin thought about it, the sergeant was more of a talker and less of a cold-blooded killer than he had been. In the old days, Kin doubted his rival would have allowed him to live even for a million-credit bounty. The Hero of Man he remembered wouldn’t ask for help or acknowledge illegitimate offspring.
Hero of Man, what a joke. Orlan doesn’t have a heroic bone in his body. Kin’s thoughts didn’t offer comfort. It was easy to make Orlan the bad guy. He killed without mercy. Just like I’ve done a hundred times.
Kin thought about his initial encounter with Orlan on Crashdown. Kin attacked, not the other way around. During the second meeting, Orlan took his gear but spared his life. When they captured Droon, Orlan threatened to kill Kin but didn’t.
“You want me to look for Orlan and his son?”
Rickson snorted, stood, and walked away, heedless of concealment.
“Don’t crawl up here again unless you can remain out of sight. I don’t need Imperials swarming our position.”
If Rickson heard the chastisement, he didn’t respond.
Kin updated his log, annoyed at the amount of detail he missed while arguing with Rickson. He focused on his task, counting thirty-six wheeled machines now ready to roll. A ramp dropped from the first twelve, and five companies of Imperial troopers marched inside each.