by Scott Moon
“Yeah, sounds like something Kin would do,” Dwarf said.
Kin slipped down and floated away from the rock under the passive current. Fish and serpents bumped his legs. Vines brushed his boots. He pulled his feet up to avoid entanglement. Air tasted good when he emerged downstream.
The squad hadn't moved. They didn't see him. He crept on shore and took the high ground above them, climbing rocks with almost reverent concern for each movement.
“I don't know where the ship is,” Kin said. “You can stop following me.”
“Come closer. I can't see you,” Dwarf said, rifle ready.
Kin ignored him and spoke to Jojo's shadow. “Do you think you can follow me?”
“Who says we're following you?” Dwarf asked. “We've survived this long. You're a dead man anyway unless you figure out how to use the serum.”
“Way ahead of you, Dwarf. Don't cry,” Kin said.
Dwarf spat.
“Why did you want me to come here?” Kin asked, then moved to a new location in the darkness.
Jojo raised both eyebrows. “I don't know what you mean.”
Kin wanted to punch the man and was unnerved by the amateurish manipulation of information and stolen maps. Jojo wasn’t this simple. “I never heard of this ship. You're wasting time with these games. If I had a way off Hellsbreach, I'd be gone.”
“Not when you see what is in Meridian Canyon,” Jojo said. “What did your pre-deployment psych exam say? I'm guessing it marked you as creative-aggressive with a deep need to be a guardian.”
“You're not guessing. I wonder if your buddies know how much information you're holding back,” Kin said.
“Go to Hell, Kin. I trust him more than I'll ever trust you,” Dwarf said.
Kin laughed. “That's not saying much.” He looked at Dog. “You're awfully quiet.”
Dog held his gaze a moment, then checked the area for Reapers. Kin waited until Dwarf and Jojo moved to help their leader, then slipped away.
“You’re easy to follow, by the way,” Dwarf said just loud enough to be heard.
Kin didn't answer, though he was still close.
“He's gone,” Jojo said.
“I can track him,” Dwarf said.
“Not this time, I think,” Dog said.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Gobbi’s Feather
KIN didn't want to hunt the injured Reaper, despite the nagging concern that Jojo's poison serum had converted his metabolism to a Reaper parasite. Did the desire to hunt the rulers of this world spring from his hate and revulsion of monsters that had killed so many of his friends, or was he feeling a more primal need? Something darkened his thoughts, and he didn't like it.
His secret fear was that the serum only accelerated what had been happening to him for years.
The newcomer glanced right and left, up and down — stopping several times to listen for the sounds of pursuit. Twice it dropped its head in resignation and jolted upright after winning an internal battle — probably telling itself there were lots of little beasties to eat in the world; Reaper positive thinking was a scary thing. What kind of self-respecting demon wouldn’t look forward to eating live prey as it squirmed and screamed?
Kin compared his own actions, cravings, and inner dialogue with his assumptions about the immature Reaper. The Hellsbreach veterans might not see the need to feed on their monstrous enemies as parasitic, but Kin didn't know what else to call the dependence. The planet didn't tolerate humans to live without mechanized support, not for long. He recalled nights of encampment when screams echoed across the distance, bringing the desert and the canyons to terrifying life — death and terror thriving in every direction. Years later, the stillness disturbed him.
Full of dark thoughts, Kin abandoned his hunt of the young Hellsbreach Reaper, only to find it over and over again.
Night stretched into day without shelter in sight. The only way Kin could flee and hope to avoid Dog's squad, Droon and his wolves, Solaa’s war band, and the Burning One was right down the trail blocked by the injured Reaper. It was like the entire universe conspired against him. Weakness and fatigue made him a self-pitying coward with too many memories of dead friends.
Maybe Clavender, Laura, and Rebecca had gotten together to send him to Hellsbreach. Get rid of him. Laugh at his expense. Sigh with relief that he was finally gone.
He licked his lips. His head swam with visions. He doubted he was sweating but felt like he should be. Heat stroke would inaugurate his quick deterioration into madness and physical collapse.
He thought often of Jojo’s poison and realized his conceptualization of the injured Reaper was not of a dangerous enemy, but of a water container. So what if the water stank of Reaper blood and burned on the way down?
Where had Jojo acquired such a morbid survival technique? He began to think of the serum that would allow his body to metabolize organisms of Hellsbreach as the Devil's Bargain. It was an uncertain thing after his reaction to the serum. Changing. I am always changing and not in good ways.
Kin analyzed Jojo's motives as he closed on the injured Reaper who had stared at him across the water. He remembered the orange eyes; healthy eyes were a good predictor of Reaper vitality.
He found his quarry sleeping in a squatting position under a type of narrow tree he'd never seen before this moment. Eyes opened to slits as Kin took slow, crouching steps toward the position.
“Human.”
Kin wasn't sure if the word was a statement or a question. The Reaper, victim of a meal that had fought back, was in worse shape than during their last encounter.
“You're in trouble, beast. Cast out from your clan. I've got a better chance of surviving this place than you do.” Kin took a step back and raised his rifle.
“Human for Solaa,” the Reaper said. “Gobbi takes human to Solaa. Solaa heals Gobbi.”
“Gobbi gets shot in the face and dies.”
The Reaper turned its head to one side, confused. He lifted his hand and pointed a white knife.
Kin looked over the sights of his weapon, alarmed, then realized the Reaper held a two-foot long feather. Coiled around Gobbi's wrist was a chain of silver beads.
“Where is Cla-ven-da?” Kin asked.
“Human not for Cla-ven-da.”
Sibil Clavender wasn't a warrior. Kin couldn't determine if the feather was from her wing, but she and her father were the only Ror-Rea he knew to wear silver beads. Once, long ago in Crater Town, she had claimed they helped her hide from her people and the Mazz.
He stared, searching for a feather from the last, desperate moment he had seen the Sun Princess of the Ror-Rea. Black and slick, the second feather was partially concealed underneath the first. Unlike her normally brilliant feather, this one was battle-black as he had seen her before the crossing from the Ror-Rea to Hellsbreach. Heat swelled in his chest and tears, impossibly wet after so many days in the desert, rimmed his eyes.
Gobbi spread his jaws and leapt forward, causing Kin to stagger as he fired. Gobbi held his right hand against his torso arm broken, stomach slashed.
It was a short fight. Kin couldn't miss at this range. The first bullet took Gobbi in the mouth, the second in the throat, and the rest stitched down his body and cut through his arm and injured abdominal muscles.
Kin continued to retreat, then moved laterally. No use taking chances. This Reaper might be injured beyond the ability to heal, or he might be more devious than Droon. Kin shot him in both double-hinged knees to make sure he couldn't charge.
Dust settled. Kin walked forward and looked down on Gobbi the outcast. “I suppose you weren't bad as Reapers go. All you wanted was to eat me alive or give me to Solaa to eat alive. Six of one, half dozen of the other.”
He wrested the feathers from the dead Reaper’s grip, examined them, and put them in his pack. The beads were harder to find. He took his time, pausing to see if the sound of gunfire had drawn enemies.
Refusing to drain the blood from Gobbi and drink it, he went
in search of Clavender and Jojo's mysterious ship.
Finding nothing in the area, he retraced his steps, wasting half a day as he imagined a longer conversation with the injured Reaper than had actually occurred. “Damn it, Gobbi.”
Jojo or Raker or even Laura would have searched the body more thoroughly. Hell, Dog and his squad would have scavenged everything and drank the monster dry. Thoroughness had kept them alive a long time.
Kin organized his thoughts.
The adolescent monster hadn't thought to wonder how Kin could speak his language and Kin hadn’t had the presence of mind to interrogate him as Jojo would have. Perhaps Reapers weren't curious. Maybe Kin wasn’t losing his edge but had always been a reckless idiot who made mistakes when he couldn’t afford them. With too much time alone, Kin's mind wandered toward esoteric details. He second-guessed each move he made.
“I should have talked to you longer, Gobbi. Where did you get these beads?” Kin crept around a trio of cat-like creatures eating something bloody.
Where is Clavender? Could you have just told me a direction? Unsure of what he was looking for, he searched for Gobbi’s body.
He looked back and saw three sets of eyes following him. The creatures remained wary. They'd probably never seen a human before. Kin was comforted by their presence. When they fled, he would know something worse had taken their place.
He found Gobbi’s corpse untouched by animals, although insects had burrowed — were still burrowing — into his flesh to lay eggs. Fine red dirt covered his body, face, and open eyes. In death, the narrowed orange eyes had relaxed to reveal slow decay. The color faded toward yellow even as he watched.
He could smell Gobbi's blood and other death functions. Without further thought, he rummaged around the Reaper until he found Gobbi's kit. He was in luck. The provision sack contained something like fruit.
“I expected rodents and bugs. Thanks, Gobbi. I'll leave your blood in your body.” Three times he searched, but there was nothing else to help him — no secret messages from Clavender or scavenged weapons. I can’t let myself get sloppy. No more mistakes. No more rushing to failure.
He avoided the cats during the return trip, savoring the rare food items as best he could. Flavor was something he ignored. Nutrition was all he needed. Nothing else mattered.
None of it satisfied him, but it was the best he could do. Step by step, the journey was a contest of endurance and he wondered why he didn’t give in to Jojo’s serum, the Devil’s Bargain that kept people like Kin alive in the Sorrow.
The people of the Ror-Rea were fond of high places. They took flight more easily when they could jump in the air and soar. Kin found a circle of winged warriors, or their remains, on the best fighting ground in the area. He imagined them standing on the rock ledge as though they were destined to fight here. Bold and deadly, none of them would have admitted they were doomed.
The scene looked like a total defeat, but Kin suspected it had been a Pyrrhic victory, because someone had arranged the bodies in positions of dignity and honor. Faces, arms, and torsos had been mangled but not eaten. Reaper corpses had been dragged away.
Beyond the defensive position was a narrow pass with towering pillars of stone marking the entrance. He wept when he sensed Clavender's presence, having forgotten the peace she brought to his soul. The sensation of her fled. His first reaction was that she was leaving him behind. Logic suggested she was avoiding one of the planet’s many predators, so he set out after her, intent on rescue.
He was tired. His heart was broken and he felt lost. The genetic manipulation of his ancestors and the repeated assaults in the Reaper birthing pits left him feeling like the shell of a man — as though free will had never been his. Jojo’s serum and his own desperation whispered lies about the pleasure of surrender and sleep. At this point, he almost wanted to be locked in a space casket and left for dead.
Searching for Clavender, he instead saw the imminent confrontation of Droon and the Burning One. The deadly creatures were miles apart, but from Kin’s vantage point and his understanding of the terrain, there could be no doubt what would happen. He exhausted himself in an effort to reach Droon before the battle began, hoping against all of his prior experience that the Reaper King would help him destroy the abomination.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Breakfast of Champions
DROON, old buddy, I am dying to drink Reaper blood. A little help, please.
The Reaper King stood on a blood-red sand dune with the sunrise at his back. Stronger than during the Crashdown days, Droon faced the over-sized Slomn-Reaper from the Ror-Rea crossing.
Kin laughed through cracked lips. Something is wrong with that demon. He wasn’t sure which monster he was thinking about.
Dust trails twisted toward the Hellsbreach sky, rising on currents of heated air. Clouds moved across the horizon, seeming to seek high places like the rock spires and their hidden reserves of water. The orange sun hurt Kin’s eyes and burned his skin, but not like the red light had during the Earth Fleet invasion ten years ago. If he wasn’t about to witness an epic battle between Droon and the Slomn-Reaper, he would wonder what had changed since his last trip to this place.
“Bur-da-on-on!” Droon called. His wolves formed a half circle facing the Slomn-Reaper. The Clingers that covered Droon’s body twitched and jumped in agitation but never quite let go of their host.
Kin lowered himself behind the rocks at the edge of the sands. He glanced over his shoulder, seeking other Reapers or Dog’s crew.
The Slomn-Reaper walked back and forth, ninety degrees to Droon and his mismatched monster pack. It never looked away from Droon, although other Reapers howled in the distance — moving closer at an alarming pace. Kin assumed they were the band led by Solaa. Curiosity about the Reaper Queen tickled Kin’s imagination, but not enough to get himself killed to see her.
“Come on, Droon. Get that bastard,” Kin said. He growled between words and caught himself imitating Droon’s throat clicks. Really, Kin. What the hell?
Vertigo pounded Kin until he retreated into the rocks and sat with his head in his hands. “Jojo, I’m going to find you and rip your balls off.” By the time he returned his attention to the scene, Droon and the Slomn-Reaper were gone. He tracked them, hating everything that had stolen his humanity over the years. Jojo moved to the top of his list as incarnations of evil jack-wagons. Whatever the secretive Earth Fleet trooper put into his blood wasn’t going away.
I need to find Clavender. She could heal him, give him a second chance at humanity. Then he could die as he was born, a human with a time bomb in his genetic code. Hellsbreach was his problem. All he had to do was let go and it was done. If there were Reapers elsewhere in the galaxy, then they were someone else’s nightmare.
Twice Kin came across the trail of Dog and his crew. He followed for a while, just as a Reaper would, but instead of slaughtering them, he veered away from their heading and scavenged for water, food, and a safe place to rest. He was sleeping under the skeleton of a giant beast when he heard a familiar voice.
Kin-rol-an-da.
He sat up, grabbed his gun, and searched the night. “Stay out of my dreams.”
He waited for the Reaper King to speak from the shadows. The tone of Droon’s call worried Kin. There had been both fear and anger in the words. A Reaper out of breath was a strange thing to hear.
Time passed. Unable to sleep, Kin checked his gear and searched the area, hoping to find Droon’s footprints and follow them.
The next morning, Kin encountered the rear guard of Solaa’s hunting party. He knew from experience that the rear guard would become the vanguard in a major battle and was often comprised of the strongest warriors. He saw one Reaper, bigger than Droon — almost fat — lingering the farthest behind. He ambushed the monster with merciless brutality, drained some of its blood into a canteen that hadn’t seen water for days anyway, and retreated to a cave near the edge of the sands to see what drinking Reaper blood was all about — fan
tasizing of the muddy river he used to hide from Gobbi and Dog’s crew days ago.
He scrubbed his hands with sand whenever a drop of the dark fluid touched him. How am I supposed to drink this if I can’t even touch it? He imagined Jojo and Dwarf laughing their asses off as they found him with his insides rotted out of his dead body.
He smelled the contents of the canteen.
Wow!
He looked into the hole, sure there was Reaper blood in the canteen and certain it would smell like ten kinds of rotten death, but unable to force his nose close enough to test the theory. Sloshing around the contents assured him the container was still mostly full. Not worth it, he thought as he recapped it.
Crashdown wolves howled in the distance. Reapers, Solaa’s warriors, he thought, echoed them with angry sounds. Kin marveled at how far the sound of their throat clicks traveled.
Exhaustion is making me overcautious and dull. He reviewed the survival training he received a lifetime ago and decided there were steps to take when testing a new food or water source. Taking a tiny sip, he waited an hour and tried again, unsure if the hallucinations that blasted through his mind were from the Reaper blood, Jojo’s serum, the effects of the birthing pit ordeal, or some other gift of Hellsbreach.
After several attempts, he decided it was time to speed things up. He searched for something to dilute the liquid he needed to choke down, and found a melon the size and shape of a Crashdown cockroach.
Sap from a Hellsbreach melon tasted foul, like spoiled poison mixed with mold. Kin had never dared drink it, although there were stories of troopers living for days on the stuff. The sap was calorically dense and packed with fiber — a bit like bug guts. It was easy to spot a person who had developed an affinity for the melon by their frequent diarrhea.
Kin couldn’t find water. His entire body was shaking from the effects of Jojo’s venom-shot and he was weak from dehydration and poor nutrition. He was afraid to drink the Reaper blood in his last canteen — worried it would burn the inside of his mouth and everything on the way down to his stomach.