by Scott Moon
Desperate, he poured some of the blood onto the red sand and squeezed juice from the shabby melon he had found. The mixture bubbled, and to his complete amazement, smelled worse than either liquid smelled alone.
You always were weak, Orlan said.-
Kin shook his head, then looked around. “Do any other dead people have something to say?” Then, without hesitation, he drank everything in the canteen and slurped down the Hellsbreach melon slime.
Death refused to come as his face puckered and his body twitched in revulsion. Strength seeped into his muscles.
“I don’t want to live like this.”
The universe mocked him with the crash-landed form of an Earth Fleet airship shimmering in the heat mirage of the red sands. He wanted to go to it and look for weapons and supplies, although he feared finding the bodies of friends, and if not friends, at least people he knew — like Major Eagle or even Westwood. Figures, unidentifiable at this distance, crossed the inconstant glare of orange sunlight. Not Reapers, and probably not belonging to the downed ship, Kin thought they must be Dog Rolston and his buddies.
Killing Jojo would make him feel better, but he needed an actual plan. He watched the scene for as long as he could and moved before a predator caught his scent.
Movement equated to survival on Hellsbreach. Most of the time.
A second out-of-breath cry from Droon touched the edge of Kin’s mind, growing louder and clearer second by second. He heard something else in the distance, then saw a flash of light that reminded him of a plasma weapon malfunctioning. Kin moved to concealment, such as it was, and stared into the dry haze — his senses on high alert.
He smiled.
The Rage chased Droon in a large circle. That was the way Reapers moved. It was the way they hunted. It was the way they turned the tide of battle when their enemies thought they were superior in strength or firepower.
The last thing Kin wanted to do was to move toward the inevitable battle, but he did his duty.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Fool’s Choice
FIRE cut through the Hellsbreach darkness like a beacon. Kin glanced around and saw dozens of eyes studying the disturbance. Many shifted nervously, others backed away and fled across the sand toward distant rock formations. A few dangerous silhouettes crept forward. He watched in fascination as the biggest thing he’d seen on this planet moved through the night. Larger than an elephant of Earth and moving like a great lizard or a hunting cat, the multi-eyed stalker lowered itself to the ground. It scented the air and rumbled a growl that reminded Kin too much of Reaper throat clicks — only bigger.
Two hundred meters away, the Burning One rushed Droon, tumbling him down the sand dune for the second time. Eyes on fire, voice screaming in triumph, the monster stood to beat its chest.
The giant night stalker backed away from the confrontation, turned toward the deep desert, and bolted with speed that belied its mass.
Droon rallied as two of his Crashdown wolves died in fire and blood. Kin saw flicks of darkness fly from the Reaper King toward the Burning One and realized the Clingers were launching against their master’s enemy. Impossible as it seemed, Kin found himself cheering for the Clingers.
He also realized that he was less than one hundred meters from the fight now. None of the Hellsbreach natives were this close, probably because they were smarter than he was with better survival instincts. With one last look back, he saw Solaa and her warriors crouching on the horizon of the night sand. A purple moon rose behind them, casting black light that didn’t deserve the name.
“You owe me for this, Droon old buddy.”
Battle adrenaline and fear were as familiar as his own skin, yet different. There had been a time when walking the Red Sands of Sorrow was enough to strike terror into his thoughts. Going into battle against the worst of the Reapers and the monster kicking his ass made his previous worries seem like the concerns of a sheltered child.
Committed now, he moved to the last point of concealment before confronting Droon and the Burning One — the top of a dune that loomed above the low area the two monsters had tumbled into as he ran forward. The sand was dark in the weak illumination of the strange moon and seemed alive with malevolent shadows. Kin used them to rush forward unseen.
He aimed, then imagined what would happen if he missed. The Burning One seized Droon’s throat with both hands and shook him. The Reaper King counter-grabbed with his powerful hands, digging his talons deep into his rival’s flesh, and lashed out with his feet.
The Burning One that wasn’t a Reaper or a Slomn jerked back in surprise but didn’t let go. It was so damn big and probably even stronger than it looked. Kin had fought Droon. He understood the amount of force the Clinger-covered Reaper could generate. Wolves and Clingers attacked, but the giant understood them now and didn’t run as it had after the battle on Eagle’s ship.
Leaving his pistols holstered, Kin realized he didn’t have a sword. With a knife in each hand, he raced down the sand, jumped, and plunged each blade into the neck of the Burning One.
The creature spun, causing Kin to soar through the night to impact a dune covered in red and black streaks of darkness.
“False creature!” Droon howled the words and attacked with his violent menagerie flanking him. Clingers whipped through the air to cover the Burning One’s face. Wolves sank teeth into muscular arms and legs. Droon unhinged his jaws, spread multiple rows of teeth, and latched onto the throat of his enemy.
Kin charged, intent on driving his knives into the beast, only to realize his hands were empty and the blades were still lodged into its neck. He kicked it in the spine hard enough to break a man’s back.
The counterattack was like a sand storm. Blind, he grunted as something hit him hard. Desperate, he fought back.
And then he was alone with the thing that had smashed Droon to the ground and sent his pets scampering away.
“Kinrolanda,” it said.
“If you are trying to imitate Droon, the inflection is all wrong.” Kin tried to catch his breath and move to higher ground.
“Fine.” The Burning One dimmed its eyes and squatted. It adjusted a fleshy tunic decorated with spines, spikes, and hungry little mouths that reminded Kin of the Clingers. “Do you like my outfit? Becca liked it. She wanted me to cover my sex organs.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” Kin said. “Where is Rebecca?”
The monster sulked. “She doesn’t like me.”
“Where is she?” Kin moved forward a step.
“Gone to look for humans. Major Eagle, I bet.”
Kin put the pieces of a large puzzle together in his head. Human created Reapers. Mazz created Slomn. The other major force in the galaxy were the shapeshifters — and he suspected they must have created this freak. It had a juvenile sense of right and wrong, it seemed. “The universe is unfair as hell.”
He tried to look for Droon without showing he was looking for Droon.
The Burning One snapped his attention back to Kin. “Yes, it is unfair. I am the Rage of my people. You are the traitor of yours. You must die.”
“Where is Rebecca?”
The Rage snorted. “She ran off to find help, like I said, even though she promised to help me kill everyone.” A moment later, it stood and laughed at Kin. “You fell into the Omega’s plan, but so did I and so did the Earth Fleet major.”
“I think I will just back away before your next outburst,” Kin said.
“No,” the Rage said. “You must stay with me.”
“Doesn’t work for me. I have this crazy idea about living.”
“Solaa and her warriors will kill you. Can’t you hear them?”
“No.”
The Rage laughed. “I have better hearing than Kinrolanda! They see that Droon is down and now they want you. They want me. They think Droon and his pets were weak and that I will fall to them.” Slithering forward, then bending over Kin, he clicked his throat and talked at the same time as though
the two actions were not from the same part of the body. “What would the great Kinrolanda do?”
“Running is always a good start.”
“Hah! Then we will run.”
“I meant from you.”
“No, Kinrolanda — Kin-rol-an-da — you are too slow to escape me.” The Rage jumped high and came down softly despite his size. “Maybe we will see Rebecca.”
Kin had never been herded forward, not even by a creature as deadly as the Rage. He didn’t like it. Twice he looked back for Droon’s downed form but could not see it in the Hellsbreach darkness.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Jojo Does the Work
LESS. Dog Rolston, former Earth Fleet Corporal, embraced the concept. He spoke less, judged less, ate less. Bathing during ten years of abandonment on Hellsbreach? What of it? He used his mind, however, and thinking about what to do with a functioning airship was more exciting than daydreaming about the brothel in Cathy’s Town.
“God damn! A God damn airship!” Dwarf strutted across the red sand as though he had just defeated the entire Earth Fleet air force with his bare hands.
In reality, they had come upon the crew of the ship three days ago, finding them disoriented and more than desperate. Separated from a larger force, the soldiers and pilots performed as professionals with advanced training and skills.
They prepared for everything except the Lords of Hellsbreach.
Dog Rolston, Gregory “Dwarf” Teamster, and Jojo Vontros came upon the newbies as they argued over betrayal. The leader blamed the Emperor of the Mazz Empire, whoever the fuck that was, and a gaggle of shapeshifting turncoats.
There had been a brief fight. Dog and the others wiped sweat and blood from their eyes when it was done. The planet was hot even during the orange time. None of the Hellsbreach survivors were out of breath at the end.
“I could stand to see a shapeshifter customer service representative,” Dog said as he walked around the airship looking for hidden damage.
“Of course,” Jojo said. He sat watching the Earth Fleet prisoners in their fancy armor marked with Blue Eagles. “What brought that on?”
“Haven’t been laid for a while.” Dog ran his fingers along a claw mark that had cut steel that should be rated against lasers and supersonic surface-to-air projectiles. “What do you think did this?”
Dog didn’t want to talk about the thing in the night, the creature that slaughtered Reapers and did everything that should get it killed in this unforgiving land. It was a nightmare and a boogeyman of myth. None of them dared invoke it, but they were all wondering.
Jojo stood from the staring contest he was winning against the prisoners, then walked near Dog and spoke in a low voice. “They say it was some kind of Reaper crossed with a Slomn.”
“What is a Slomn?” Dog asked. He broke a loose piece of armor free and studied it.
“A Slomn is a biological weapon created by the Mazz Imperials, similar to the way humans made Reapers as weapons of war.”
Dog laughed. “Man, that feels good. When was the last time I laughed?”
When Jojo didn’t respond, Dog turned and looked down on the smaller man. “Don’t act like I never laugh.”
“No one laughs on Hellsbreach,” Jojo said.
“We laugh all the fucking time. Dwarf doesn’t stop to breathe he laughs so much,” Dog said. He dropped the broken piece of airship armor.
“He has lost his reason,” Jojo said.
“You should lose yours, Jojo. That’s rich, you implying that I don’t laugh. Have you ever just cut loose and giggled? Chuckled? Smiled when it wasn’t part of an interrogation tactic?”
“Ha, ha. Ho, ho, he,” Jojo said. “Look at me, I am laughing.” He grimaced and rubbed the patches of hair that protruded from the top of his partial helmet.
Dog shook his head. “We have a new ship, probably something on a covert mission, and some Earth Fleet green beans talking no sense.”
“It is just an airship,” Jojo said.
“Ask them where the wormhole jumper is. If they don’t tell us where to find it, put them out into the Sorrow.”
“By the book, then,” Jojo said.
Dog grunt-laughed. “Yep. Right by the fucking book.”
He remembered a time when all the survivors on Hellsbreach clung to rules and regulations as the last vestige of Fleet life. Ten years changed things. Over twenty thousand men and women had been abandoned when Kin Roland blew everything the fuck up. I bet they didn’t put that in the news feeds, did they, Roland? Not even a posthumous pat on the back for us dead. Resentment flared with physical force in Dog’s veins.
About twenty troopers from the planetary assault force were still alive, and only in small groups of crazy survivalists. If Earth Government hadn’t dropped prison ships onto the planet nine years ago, there wouldn’t be any humans alive with even a chance of remembering they weren’t monsters.
“Are you a monster, Jojo?” Dog asked.
The intelligence agent stood facing the men he had put to the question, watching them as he answered, “We are all monsters on Hellsbreach.”
“Roger that,” Dog said.
The men tied to the outside of their battle armor squirmed when they saw the diminutive master of interrogation approaching them again. “I need access to the ship and the armor. Which is a good thing for you, because you can provide both, and since you need water, shelter, and protection from this planet, we might be able to make a deal.”
He pulled a gag out of the officer’s mouth, squatted over him like a Reaper, and waited.
“Can’t give you the armor codes. Only Major Eagle can do that,” the officer said.
Listening from several meters away, Dog laughed. “Major Eagle! That candy ass.”
The captive troopers glared at him. “We’re not honor-less mercenaries without discipline who leave their gear unsecured.”
“Is that what Eagle is pushing these days? That kind of thinking is what gets your squad mates killed. What if they need your armor when you’re dead? What about that, you fucking pretty-boys?”
“Please, Corporal Rolston. Now they think they want to fight.”
“I guarantee they don’t,” Dog said. His sunburn was bothering him and he was bored. He picked at a sore on the back of his neck.
Jojo faced his victims. “Corporal Rolston is a Level V Weapons Master. Ten years in this place have not made him less dangerous.” He moved, causing the officer to turn his head at a sharp, uncomfortable angle to see him.
Jojo lowered his voice. “He is not the one you need to worry about. Dwarf is the angry one.”
“You are still part of Earth Fleet. Do your duty,” the officer said.
Jojo shook his head without making eye contact. “Duty means something different here.” He paused. “Did you know that Earth Government started dropping political prisoners on Hellsbreach after Kin Roland set off all of those nuclear weapons — rendering it unsafe for an extraction mission sufficiently large to pull three divisions out of the combat zone?”
The Earth Fleet officer held his breath and stared at Jojo, eyes wide, realization of how much trouble he and his unit were in showing on his face. “They told us in the briefing that the red sands neutralize radioactive isotopes. Somewhat.” He swallowed. “Three divisions?”
Jojo smiled. “Don’t worry. Somewhat less than three remain. Could you imagine if there were that many of us? What could twenty thousand planetary assault troopers battle tested by ten years of survival training on the Reaper home world do? An army like that would be invincible. So relax. What you will find here are several mobile prisons left on the surface.”
The officer swallowed.
“Men, women, and children,” Jojo said.
Wind blew fine red sand across the officer’s face, which clung to his tears. Several of the other Earth Fleet troopers and pilots struggled against their bonds.
“Resources are scarce. My duty is to protect the weak. Feed the hungry little babies t
hat just keep coming and coming no matter how many times I tell the prison wardens that childbirth is a bad idea in the environment we find ourselves occupying.”
“Stop harassing the man and get the codes to that armor,” Dog said.
Jojo never took his eyes off the captured Earth Fleet officer. “Men, women, and children. Do you know what they have in common? They all need to eat and drink. So please, Lieutenant — Leonard — remind me what you believe is my duty.”
“We can help you,” Lieutenant Leonard said.
Jojo sighed. “It would have been better for you and your men if you had started with that. Ordering Dog Rolston to stand down was not a good idea. Don’t you know who he is? Haven’t you heard of Hector’s Mountain or Earth VIII?”
Leonard tried to speak but could not organize his thoughts or words.
Jojo leaned close and whispered, “I saw him twist a man’s head off when we assaulted Hector’s Mountain, just to see if it could be done. There was a wager among the other non-coms.”
“There is a Reaper,” Leonard said. Pain caused him to grimace, interfering with his speech.
“We are on Hellsbreach. There are a lot of Reapers.” Jojo stood and pulled a knife from behind his back.
“Not like this one. Droon is the Reaper King!” Leonard said.
Dog looked into Jojo’s eyes and then over his shoulder at Dwarf, who reappeared the moment Droon’s name was mentioned.
“What do you want me to do with them?” Jojo asked. “This can’t be like the last prisoner.”
“Yeah, that worked fantastic,” Dwarf said from where he stood nearly out of earshot. His words drifted in dry static and sandy air. He seemed distracted by the approach of a slow death. They all talked about it during long nights and miserable days.
Dog shrugged, turned back to Jojo. “Harvest them or send them to the nearest prison bunker. Macy’s Bowels is the closest, I think.”
“Harvesting takes time, but we could use their water,” Jojo said.
“I told you it is your choice. Just be quick about it. We have a job to do.”