The Chronicles of Kin Roland: 3 Book Omnibus - The Complete Series

by Scott Moon

  Military police guards escorted Lieutenant Rebecca Lacroix and Second Lieutenant Randal Dogface to an ominously ordinary section of ground in front of Admiral Andros Cort Shield. Kin attempted to make eye contact with Rebecca, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  Shield waited until a staff officer had read through several legal documents and identified the people present and their roles. Kin wasn’t listening. Sweat ran down his face. His arms and legs felt weak. Catching his breath was as difficult as keeping his eyes focused on Rebecca.

  She is going to take the deal.

  The realization forced him to consider his own decision. He didn’t trust Earth Fleet. Going back to Hellsbreach would be like committing suicide. His nightmares were crammed with images of the planet burning. The harsh environment had never been friendly to humans and the gentlest of the native life forms would eat him as he slept. Not once had he considered taking the admiral’s deal.

  Not if it included a trip back to Hellsbreach.

  Shield probably knew as much about Kin and his connection to the Reapers as Emperor Filoussage Onderbock knew. If he wanted Kin on Hellsbreach, it was to finish the job he had been sent there to do one way or another. Kill them all or die with them.

  “I accept the full pardon and swear allegiance to Earth Fleet, Earth Government, and the good of humanity,” Rebecca said.

  Randal Dogface echoed her decision when Shield made him the official offer. Once Kin accepted the terms, there would be longer vows and digital signatures to provide. A video crew recorded the scene; Kin smiled at the troopers designated to keep helmet cameras on the admiral and his recent conquest. They were good soldiers; every trooper in Earth Fleet knew how to fight and didn’t last long if they hesitated to take orders, but camera crews were always harassed by their peers. Combat journalism, he thought. The military occupational specialty came with a two percent bump in pay and one extra week of leave time a year, for doing next to nothing.

  Admiral Shield moved closer.

  Kin looked at Ceana. The Winger’s normally happy face was dark. He didn’t seem to like being grounded for the ceremony and liked Admiral Shield’s words even less. Kin offered the Winger a slight nod and the warrior of the Ror-Rea smiled. His wings fluttered a signal to the rest of Kin’s honor guard.

  “Kin Roland, you were tried, convicted, and sentenced to death by a military tribunal. All legal proceedings have since been reviewed and ratified by Earth Government courts. Do not fail to consider what I am about to offer you. This will be the first time in history that an Enemy of Man received a full pardon.”

  “No, it won’t,” Kin said, tensing against Shield's response. He thought the man would shoot him dead.

  “I assure you, Roland, it will be the first time.”

  Kin shook his head.

  “Are you an historian now?” Shield asked.

  “No, I am just a man who is done with Earth Fleet and Earth Government.”

  The sound of a gentle sea breeze moved across the scene.

  “Major Eagle, take this man into custody.”

  Ceana jumped from his position atop Stone Forest. Without spreading his wings, he landed between Kin and Eagle. “Perhaps your leader has forgotten honor. I assure you I have not.”

  “Stand aside, Winger,” Major Eagle said.

  Ceana limbered his shoulders, then his wings in a ritual Kin had seen Ror-Rea fighters perform before a duel. “I am the Champion of King Dax and I stand for the amnesty offered to Kin Roland, Friend of the Ror-Rea. Do you challenge me to individual combat, or is it war between our people?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Refusal

  MAJOR Eagle’s troopers mobilized like true professionals. Quick-reaction squads moved between the Wingers and Admiral Shield, which also put them between Kin and the Earth Fleet leader. Ten warriors of the Ror-Rea stood in a circle, weapons drawn and ready to die as they always were.

  More of Clavender’s people lined the hills, and beyond that, the steep slopes of mountains. Kin remembered their numbers before the Battle of the Bleeding Grounds and sighed. Weakness followed the realization that everything Clavender had feared had come true. Her people knew only war, and despite their valor, they could not triumph against people like Onderbock or Shield.

  “We went over this,” Shield said in a low voice.

  “Sure. But I made no promises.”

  “No one makes me a fool. World leaders show respect when I talk,” Shield said.

  Kin resisted the urge to take a dig at the man’s ego. Lives were at stake. “That isn’t my intent. Do what you will with me, but I can’t return to Hellsbreach. I ask only one thing. Don’t punish Rebecca or the people of Crater Town because of me.”

  Shield moved close in his Field Commander Armor and stared down. Eagle glanced once at Kin but continued to adjust his troops as more Wingers gathered and a Mazz vanguard encroached within several kilometers — just on the other side of what had been Crater Town.

  “I have killed more humans, more aliens, more of everything,” Shield said in a low voice just for Kin. “Not by giving orders, but by my hand. Remember that when you defy me.”

  Kin felt his sense of contrition and tenuous humility slipping away. If the man wanted to boast and make challenges, Kin didn’t feel responsible for what came next. “Did you give yourself a medal for that?”

  “You have unfinished business on Hellsbreach, Roland. If not for the Reaper threat, we could have forced the Mazz to negotiate a real peace years ago.”

  Kin forced his mouth to stay closed, but Shield saw his expression tighten.

  “You think you know what is happening, but you are a grunt and will always be a grunt. I will ask you one last time to do your duty.”

  Off to Kin’s right, a Ror-Rea man dressed in black that matched his scarred wings and a circlet of silver on his head landed with regal dignity. Kin looked at him, thankful for the respite. One more second staring down Shield would end in violence. He saw that Dax, King of the Ror-Rea, father of Clavender and constant political enemy of the Ror-Rea High Lords, was wearing a necklace of silver beads just like Clavender had once thrown down to show Kin where she was hiding.

  Are you hiding, Dax? Unsure where the thought came from, Kin decided that Dax was never good at hiding. His honesty was one reason he quarreled with his High Lords. It was a reason he could never seem to remain king for long.

  The other reason was that he refused to brand his daughter an outcast.

  “I am going with the King of the Ror-Rea,” Kin said.

  “What?” Shield and Major Eagle, who was several meters away, said at the same time.

  Rebecca shoved aside her guards and marched toward Kin. “What the hell, Kin?”

  Shield stretched his fingers from his hands, clutching at ephemeral frustration, and raved like an angry father. Eagle adjusted the positions of Earth Fleet forces to protect the admiral as he moved. Dax motioned for his personal bodyguard of twenty warriors, half of them women, to reinforce Ceana’s group of ten.

  The voice of Randal Dogface cut through the chaos and confusion. His laughter reminded Kin of the time they first met in a ship galley and had nearly come to blows.

  “Kin Roland could fuck up a wet dream!”

  Annoyed that he had even spent a second on the man, Kin yanked his attention back to Admiral Shield, who leaned his helmeted head close to Major Eagle for a private conversation. Staff generals and admirals stood back to allow them privacy.

  “My warriors do not wish to fight with this new Earth Fleet,” Dax said, watching what Kin watched.

  “Good call. The best thing you could do right now is take Ceana and the others and get out of here.”

  Dax laughed, low, melodic, and a bit sad. “I did not believe you understood the humor of understatement. Now is the time to leave.”

  “Say when.”

  Dax stepped forward. “Leader of Earth Fleet. I will leave with Kin Roland and any who desire sanctuary, per the conditions of our cea
sefire agreement.”

  Shield turned. He stared.

  Kin remembered his murderous boast.

  “That is your call, Winger. Once you make it, we can never go back. How long will you last between the Mazz and Earth Fleet?”

  Dax smiled and Kin realized he was the only person on the planet able to match Shield for regal arrogance. “You might be surprised, Admiral Cort Andros Shield. What do you think will happen when we develop superior technology?”

  Shield flinched. Everyone saw it.

  “It is time we return to our home. Kin Roland and any of his people who desire our protection are welcome in the Ror-Rea. This has happened only once in our history. I have decided this will be our last.”

  Ceana and the other warriors shifted stances, looking at each other to be certain their battle line was ready.

  Dax stepped forward. “This offer is extended most especially to the warrior Rebecca.”

  She stared back, moved to emotion, but said nothing at first. After turning her eyes straight ahead, looking at nothing, she spoke. “I already gave my oath to Earth Fleet. I will do what I must.”

  Kin’s insides seemed to land between his feet. Dax grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. Time jumbled around him and he said things he didn’t remember and would regret.

  The procession was well under way, guarded by double lines of Ror-Rea warriors, when Kin realized that Laura had elected to stay with the people who chose Earth Fleet; she said something about how they would need help, guidance, and protection in the shifting political landscape of Earth Fleet and Earth Government.

  “We are like brothers now, Kin Roland,” Dax said.

  Kin nodded. “Thanks for that.”

  “Give it a year, then consider if thanks are in order.”

  “Do you think we will be alive that long?”

  Dax smiled, walking beside him with his graceful and strange Winger stride. “I will have been overthrown several times by then.”

  Emotions taxed beyond endurance, Kin laughed.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Death of an Admiral

  POWER came with truth. Omis-tri-valeon, the Omega, had taken part in ritual hunts to hone his killer instinct for a score of years. He chose the most dangerous civilizations, penetrated the most treacherous organizations, and used nothing but intelligence and skill. This was the way of the strongest members of the shapeshifter race. His people began their journey far from the human home world under masters so powerful and bloodthirsty that Reapers would cringe to see them at play. That was why shapeshifters could fight. That was also why they could hide, change, lie, and cheat and beg and suffer. Everything came easy to humans. For shapeshifters, the struggle to exist was much greater.

  Many atrocities had been committed in the name of survival, domination, and revenge. He had spied and lied, but the Omega’s true form was that of a warrior. Before the murderous overlords of his home galaxy came as conquerors, the Omega’s people had been hunters on a world without technology or deceit. Such had been the natural order of things. In the beginning, strong communities and family rituals ruled. That had been the truth.

  For certain people in the room, the new truth would be painful. The Omega did not allow himself to smile. Perfectly in control of his facial expression and body language, he stared into the soul of a dead man.

  “You should have brought your guards this time, Shield,” the Omega said.

  “I don’t understand.” Shield drew the concealed pistol and held it behind one leg as though the Omega could not see the movement. His deception was better than during their last meeting, but not by much. “Everything is going according to plan. The Reaper threat and the Mazz menace are about to become history.”

  “Yes. Everything proceeds as we intend. Now you must die,” the Omega said.

  Shield moved, aimed, and fired at the same time. Few humans were as fast and decisive, despite his hundred years of age. There was a strange expression on his face—a mixture of anger, fear, and acceptance despite his actions to resist his fate. His hands and body were quick, but his feet were fastest of all, revealing him as a true master of personal combat.

  The Omega was faster. Bullets hit empty space as he sprang across the room, slashing with his claws and grabbing his victim. The light armor that Admiral Shield wore prevented serious wounds but did nothing to stop the Omega from crushing him against the wall. Small bones shattered and larger bones bent under the radical impact.

  Breathing hard against the pressure of the Omega’s weight, Shield cursed, then negotiated. “I did my homework. This armor is rated against your body weapons. And I have an internal air supply, so don’t think you can choke me out. Let’s pretend this never happened and get back to business.”

  “With time, I am sure I could kill you,” the Omega said. “But there is no need to wait. The Rage has come home.”

  Behind him, a creature that looked like a Reaper glowing from the inside like a Slomn about to attack with nuclear plasma arose from the shadowy recesses of the room. He seemed to grow to the ceiling. Some of that was an act. The Rage was very strong but not sophisticated. In many ways, the ultimate weapon of the shapeshifter race was juvenile and insecure. Bigger was always better to a simple mind.

  Dangerous, but juvenile.

  The Omega released Admiral Shield and stepped back. For one moment, he grimaced in annoyance. The Rage was huge and terrifying, except for his confused gender. The monster had no sex drive or identity but played with himself when not supervised. Now, of all times, he possessed both sex organs and seemed intent on exploration.

  The leader of Earth Fleet didn’t notice the ridiculous oddity, or if he did, the inevitability of his death preoccupied his thoughts.

  “I have two fully powered Mech Units standing guard outside,” Shield said. “How did that thing get by them?”

  The Rage held up what looked like the arm of a powerful robot. Sparks dribbled toward the floor. “The Rage didn’t like their attitude,” the Rage said. He dropped the broken machinery, displaying the fire that edged his claws.

  “That isn’t possible,” Shield said. Each word struggled to leave his mouth. “Those Mechs are rated to take out a hundred Reapers before showing signs of decreased efficiency. Destroying one of them, let alone two, is impossible.”

  He looked up, suddenly hopeful, though still struggling with the concussion of his head and body being slammed against the wall. “This is one of your tricks. It’s just an illusion!”

  He was laughing when the Rage unhinged his over-sized Reaper jaws, spread his mouth wide, and snapped down his teeth. The attack obscured Shield’s head, shoulders, and part of his torso. Omis-tri-valeon, the Omega of his people, the Emperor called Filoussage Onderbock by the Mazz people, and the final word and authority on Crashdown, watched as heat incinerated and reduced the mass of Shield’s body. When enough had drifted away as ash or been swallowed, the Rage took another big bite — this time covering the Earth Fleet Admiral to the waist.

  “Next time, do it faster. No need to show off for me,” the Omega said.

  The Rage finished his meal and then broke everything in the room.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Exodus

  KIN thought he knew every tributary stream and canyon valley leading to Crater Town and the sea. Clavender and her people were teaching him otherwise. The Ror-Rea procession moved on foot, which surprised him at first. When he thought about it, they were marching toward the summit through a high-walled canyon that any decent soldier would avoid. A small contingent of Ror-Rea men and women scaled the heights and moved far above the rest of the migration, ready to swoop down with their swords and narrow shields that could be held ahead of them like an air sled.

  The conversation between Dax and Shield replayed in his mind during the days of hiking. He imagined Wingers with aerial versions of FSPAA gear that allowed them true flight and wondered if swords could be made strong enough not to break on the firs
t power-assisted strike. Would the Wingers keep the shields and find a new use for them?

  He remembered Dax thrusting the edge of his narrow, rectangular shield down on a Reaper’s neck and reconsidered his assumptions. What did he know about the Ror-Rea martial arts? Winger shields were defensive, offensive, and ornamental.

  Ten or twelve abreast, Dax’s people crowded their way forward — solemn and grim. Kin looked over his shoulder. Often, he walked backward, expecting a Mazz attack that never came — expecting the wrath of Admiral Shield to charge up the canyon pass in the form of Major Mike Eagle and his Lightning Troopers. Everything about the journey to the Ror-Rea made him feel vulnerable. Too many people from Crater Town had left with Kin and the Wingers.

  Too many and too few. He missed Laura and her confidence.

  Earth Fleet might have taken freedom from them, but maybe they were spoiled after so many years living in the wilderness — self-governed and self-sufficient. On Earth Fleet ships, they would be safe, well fed, and cared for by real doctors. Every person to leave with Admiral Shield or even Admiral Westwood would be given meaningful work, trained to earn a living, and given purpose that would be all their own. Laura would guide them to better lives.

  What can I offer them?

  Kin stopped, then moved to the side of the trail, intent on checking for anyone or anything following the migration.

  Clavender glided down from the sky and landed beside him.

  “I didn’t see you climb up there,” Kin said.

  “You are too busy looking for enemies that will not come,” she said. “Beyond this point, we are no longer on Crashdown, or in Crashdown’s space. The path to the Ror-Rea is impossible to describe in languages that are not of the Ror-Rea.”

  “Your father told me that many of his warriors died crossing the Storm Lands,” Kin said.

  “Yes, they must die going that way.” She looked toward her father’s part of the procession. “He has forgiven me for refusing to take them this way, but others have not. I fear it will always cause strife between my father and the High Lords.”