by Scott Moon
“Cla-ven-da!”
“I am no longer of this world. You will not see me again.”
Droon will see Cla-ven-da in memories and dreams!
Her waking dream-thoughts came from across a great distance even though she stood within view. Droon will dream. Be warned. The Burning One is neither Reaper nor Slomn. It was not created by the humans or the Mazz.
Droon said nothing. He did not move. Wind caressed his face, body, and imagination.
I will not tell you to destroy the Burning One, she thought. Yet it might be for the best. The creature is the most unnatural of all the monsters on Hellsbreach.
Droon screamed in rage because he did not like the implication that the Burning One was a thing of his home world.
The Burning One must die. His wounds ached and burned as he remembered battles with the imposter.
He moved in the opposite direction of the winged princess. Solaa and her remaining bodyguards circled him, closing the perimeter of their trap steadily. Droon wondered where they had learned timidity. None of the Kindred feared to leap on a victim. Traps and ambushes were for the fear they caused. Slaughter was the way to bring a victim down.
Droon is outnumbered, yet they stalk and refuse to attack. He understood Solaa would not come until her warriors weakened him. She was stronger, quicker, and smarter than her male counterparts. He had never met a Reaper like her. She was no lesser queen. Thoughts of her size, her sharp spines, and her constant fury excited Droon. He wanted to jump on her with his teeth bared, and he wanted to run away. So strong. Mighty and glorious like the Queen of queens. Too strong for Droon. But easily fooled.
“Come to Droon, Solaa!” He ran toward her hiding place. She was above him, hard to see from this angle, and had the advantage of the high ground. “Cla-ven-da has escaped. Now there is only Solaa and Droon.”
“There is only Droon until the Burning One is killed,” Solaa said. Voice full of pain, she was ready to give up — crawl back to the place of her birth. Her sinuous body and long spines blackened a section of the sky where she stood in silhouette.
A Reaper could jump down from such a nest. It was a defensive position for healing or giving up. On another day, looking up at such a sight would be dangerous.
“Droon thought Solaa was a Queen of queens.”
“Solaa is Queen. Droon hides the winged woman so Solaa cannot cross the galaxy to feast and kill and dominate the Children of Earth. Now we must serve the Burning One or die. Solaa must chose death.”
Hellsbreach blew through the night, touching many things, poisoning some creatures and revitalizing others. During storms, the planet burst with life. Between storms, it was as though the giant slept and healed. Few of the humans had survived a true storm. None had escaped the mating time. Fewer would want to live after the carnage of such an event.
“Solaa will lie down before Droon and beg for mating.” Droon controlled his lust.
Silence.
“Fight the Burning One,” she said.
Droon enjoyed the sound of her words. He wanted to resist but could not.
“Droon is and has always been the King of the Kindred,” Droon said. “He will have his queen and all the others.” He dashed at her elevated position, jumping over rocks and flying up a ridge.
“Droon Zeabl!” she cried.
Droon took her while she was weak and wounded, aware that she might not survive pregnancy with so many wounds. It was now the season for mating and Droon did not think he would live long.
He had other queens to subdue and a horde to command in the canyons.
Many would die when the Burning One came.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Fate
“YOU will approach the Omega,” the Slomn-Reaper said.
Kin sipped the last of his water and rubbed the wound he had used to purge Jojo’s tracking serum from his body. The Rage had shown him how with all the finesse of a good Slomn-Reaper. Kin found it easy to forget the monster had started life as a shapeshifter and understood their ways, even though he was now insane by the standards of any race.
Jojo had stolen the tactic from shapeshifters, counting on Kin’s ignorance to misunderstand the injection and fail to counteract it. Kin had assumed it was a grim imitation of Reaper bonding. His assumption might have cost his soul if the Rage hadn’t explained the difference almost by accident.
Kin watched the Rage before speaking. “Then what?”
Memories of Solaa’s Reapers dying right and left as the sun went down flashed in his mind. He was sick with helplessness. The shapeshifter killing machine kept him captive as easily as a child put a frog in a jar. He wanted to escape, but every attempt failed.
“You could fight me and die; that would be like escaping,” the Rage said as he squatted over him.
The monster was so huge and quick it made Kin’s stomach sour to think about it. “Are you a mind reader now? Tell me what to do after I contact the false Emperor.”
“Tell the Omega I want what belongs to me.”
Kin checked his gear, then moved away from his captor. “I assume he will know what that means?”
“He will know. Go to him. Tell him my demands.”
Kin hesitated on the edge of the defile. The Slomn-Reaper could afford to allow him distance. They had played cat and mouse several times. Kin couldn’t outrun the freak. He gathered his thoughts and wondered how much worse his situation could become.
The Rage faced the other direction, squatting like a Reaper — knees almost as high as his ears. “There will be others with the Omega. They want to kill me. They will ask for your help.”
“Great. How I can convince them that is a bad idea?”
“I do not know, but you will try to kill me with the others and you will all die. There is nothing that can be done to change your fate. I play the game to see if I can change mine. Yours is already written.”
“Thanks for the pep talk. I will be back in half an hour to kill you,” Kin said. He didn’t enjoy the sound of the Rage laughing.
Hellsbreach seemed to tremble and back away from the monstrosity.
“Do you wish the Omega to live? You might kill him, then me. You will never kill me, then him,” the Rage said.
More laughter. Kin thought it sounded both crazy and sad.
Once Kin was over the ridge, he spotted a gathering just short of a kilometer in the distance. Dusk was upon the desert and the colors were dark and foreboding. He saw at least two Mechs of strange, contrasting designs and a Winger he suspected was Ceana in the modified FSPAA equipment.
Tears streaked down his face as he laughed.
The other individuals didn’t surprise him — Rebecca in the modern Earth Fleet Mech, Trak in the equally huge and powerful Executioner model, Rickson, Ogre, and William. The last person in the universe he thought he would see was Laura in FSPAA-IIA gear.
The small group had armor and weapons to spare. Kin touched the hilt of Dax’s sword. He wanted armor and modern weapons to go with the blade.
Rickson and the dog ran to greet him. Rebecca came, although it was evident she was on the clock and expecting an attack. Laura, barely in control of the complicated rig, walked forward like something from a training video. The others stayed inside of their defensive works.
“Kin!” Rickson shouted. He arrived out of breath. “It is good to see you! Laura came with reinforcements!”
Kin gave the young man a bear hug and then walked with him as the dog pushed in for attention. “Where are the reinforcements?”
“Dead, mostly. There have been Reapers like I never imagined, not even after the Bleeding Grounds and the Ror-Rea disaster,” Rickson said.
“We are on Hellsbreach,” Kin said.
“Kiss my ass, are we?” Rickson said.
“You are starting to talk like a trooper. I blame Rebecca,” Kin said, looking at her as she did her job like a professional soldier. He moved his attention to Laura, wrestling with the familiar guilt over his relationships p
roblems, when he saw a trio of men he thought would be dead by now.
“Yeah, those guys are scarier than this planet. Who lives on a place like this for so long?” Rickson asked.
Walking toward the center of the camp perimeter, he studied his former troopers and looked for a trap. “None of these men can be trusted.”
“No worries, Kin. I learned that lesson about a hundred times. Don’t trust anyone.”
Ogre barked.
“Not even your dog.”
Barks, growls, and more barks came from the dog.
“Sorry, mutt. It is a hard, cold world and I’m just doing what I have to,” Rickson said.
The dog snorted.
Kin stopped near Rebecca. “It’s good to see you,” he said. “Love what you’ve done with Mech warfare.”
She laughed. “This thing is a piece of work. Better than Trak’s machine, but not by a lot. We have been working on a plan. The Rage doesn’t stand a chance.”
Kin said nothing at first. “I need to talk to Dog and his crew. There may be a few things we need to do before we take on the Rage.”
“Like?”
“Kill the fake Emperor.”
“Trak will be down with that. I am too, for that matter. Right now, if it involves killing something, I am good to go.”
“Rebecca,” Kin said.
“Later,” she said, the words quick and clipped. Her communications system was suddenly on mute.
“Okay. Later.” He talked with Laura, hugged her, cursed her for coming, and admitted it was good to see her one last time before they all died. Next, he greeted Ceana, Trak, and the others before meeting with Dog in as much privacy as they could manage near the perimeter of the defensive camp. Ship armor and other parts had been buried in the sand near rocks and desert scrub. Everyone understood the makeshift palisade was window dressing. None of it would slow the Rage or a Reaper war party.
“If you can control Droon, we will need him. The Slomn-Reaper has cut a path across the desert that I am only now learning about. Jojo reestablished radio communications with the way stations and prisons. Those people are in a panic,” Dog said. “As if the Rage isn't bad enough, there are war parties gathering in Meridian Canyon. At least nine queens, not including Solaa, have been spotted.”
“Okay, Dog,” Kin said. His spine trembled with dread. The Reaper nation was gathering. Now was the best possible time for him to die and start their extinction.
Dog looked at Jojo and Dwarf. Both men were watching the conversation. “Jojo says Macy’s Bowels has been seized by someone claiming to be the Mazz Emperor. He has a squad of bodyguards in modern armor and what Jojo thinks are shapeshifter warriors. Without seeing them, we can’t know for sure.”
Kin evaluated the information without comment.
“Your buddy Trak really wants to get this fake Emperor. He says there is a ship like we need and all we have to do is assassinate this shapeshifter chief and Hellsbreach becomes a memory.”
“What else?” Kin asked.
“There are people in that prison. They want off of this world just like the rest of us. Personally, I think it’s a moot point unless we put a stop to this Slomn-Reaper that has your girlfriend so worked up.”
“Do you trust Jojo?” Kin asked.
“I never trusted the man, but he’s my friend. I will do right by him, regardless.” Dog studied Kin, then swallowed. Years ago, the non-verbal gesture would have involved spitting, but on Hellsbreach, it meant something different — like dying of thirst. “There is a simpler way to do this. Take all of our resources, fall back to one of the larger prison bunkers, and dig in for a long siege. That is the way to survive on this planet. Going for the big win gets everyone killed. I’ve seen it. Get your hopes up and you’re done.”
“I understand. Unfortunately, the Omega isn’t the type of adversary you can ignore for long. He not only infiltrated the Mazz Empire but took control. His people created the Slomn-Reaper, what they call the Rage.” He wondered again about the monster’s obsession with finding his name. Most likely it was a childish need, but what if it was something more? What if the identity of the creature was the secret to its undoing?
“How much does Jojo know about shapeshifters?” Kin asked.
“More than he will tell.”
Kin struggled with the decision to share information with a secretive, double-crossing spy who wouldn’t reciprocate without a knife to his throat and decided he had nothing to lose. “The Rage captured me, just like he did Rebecca. He had several demands. One was to find his real name.”
Dog listened but said nothing.
“He also feels like the Omega, this fake Emperor, betrayed him.”
“We should wait until after they fight and deal with whoever is left standing,” Dog said.
Kin shook his head. “The Rage wants us to fight him.”
“I don’t care what he wants,” Dog said.
“I have fought this thing several times and tried to escape from it. No luck. Not even close. It has kicked Droon’s ass at least twice and drove the Reaper horde into the Ror-Rea so that Clavender would be forced to send them here.”
“And you,” Dog said.
“And me.”
Trak dismounted his Executioner Mech and started toward Kin.
“Last chance for privacy,” Dog said, watching the same thing Kin was watching.
“If we can steal the ship and get our people onto it, then we don’t have to fight anyone. How do you feel about putting Hellsbreach behind you?”
“I’d feel damn good, Kin, if not for one small problem.” He walked away. “There are a lot of people in that prison. Families with babies and kittens.”
Kin braced himself to face Captain Trak even as his frustration with civilians increased. Criminals could fend for themselves, but what about kids? And what kind of criminals were in the Hellsbreach prisons? Murderers or political dissidents?
“Kin Roland, you must help me attack the prison fortress,” Trak said as he approached.
“Trak. Good to see you. With that beast you are piloting, I can’t imagine why you need me.”
Trak looked at Dog and the other Hellsbreach veterans. “He tells me the prison is very hard to crack open, Reaper proof for all these years.”
“That doesn’t make it Mazz proof,” Kin said.
“It does not. Tell me you are not angry for being deceived by the false Emperor. How do you bear the shame?”
“I am sorry he fooled your people.”
“You do not understand what it is like to see a legend arise from ancient myth like a god becoming real. My people must never learn the truth.”
Listening to the Mazz captain reminded Kin of better days. He hadn’t appreciated his situation then. There had been a clear enemy to fight. Looking back was more pleasant than forward. Tired, thirsty, and faced with impossible decisions, Kin longed for easier times.
He laughed.
Trak scowled.
“The Rage gave me a laundry list of things I must do to avoid his threat against my friends. Killing your false Emperor is near the top, but it won’t change much. The other two demands can’t be satisfied, not by me.”
“What are the demands?” Trak asked.
“He wants Clavender.”
“Everyone wants Clavender. Am I the only one who sees that her manipulation of the wormhole nexus only leads to tragedy?” Trak asked.
“I think she sees it.” Kin needed to be with Rebecca but looked at Laura. “The Omega has made us all his enemies. I will help put an end to his plots, but we need a plan.”
He left Trak thinking on smart vengeance and went to Laura.
She was the one who could outsmart the Omega.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Infiltration
LAURA, free of the FSPAA-IIA, stretched her arms, then bent to touch her toes. She tossed her hair when she rose up. “No offense, but that armor is not meant for normal people.”
Rebecca snorted. Dog and Dwa
rf stared in awe and fascination. Trak studied her as though her words defied meaning. Ceana opened and closed his gauntlets as he turned his hand to explore his range of motion. His expression suggested that he agreed with Laura but also wanted to disagree.
“I can help you fit into it,” Dwarf said. “Or get you out.”
Laura patted one hand on his thick chest. “I am sure you could. Thanks for the offer, but we have work to do.”
“Work can wait,” Dwarf said.
Dog smacked his friend on the head with the strong non-verbal implication the shorter man was an idiot.
Kin saw all of this despite finishing an intense moment of silence with Rebecca. She would never like Laura, but Kin didn’t want their last moments together to be about jealousy or his stupidity. He was tired of trying to please them both and thought they were two grown women who needed to understand the emotional quagmire that had taken ten years to mature.
“This is a good plan,” Kin said.
Rebecca made a noncommittal sound. “It is her plan. If it works, then it was a good one. If not — then I told you so.”
There wasn’t time to argue or tiptoe around the emotional minefield he had lain between them, so he checked his gear and that of the others. Trak’s Executioner Mech was beyond his understanding and he took Rebecca’s word that her unit was functioning at full capacity.
“Mine is more like 110%. I learned a few things turning a wrench for Major Eagle,” she said.
The look on her face concealed darkness and secrets. Kin wondered what had transpired between them. He wished Eagle and his troopers were here now. With their advanced weaponry and skill, things would go easier. He had argued for trying to find them, but Rebecca told him to abandon the idea. The force of her words disturbed him and he assumed they had been slaughtered just as her Shock Troopers had.
Ceana’s gear was nearly complete, although he refused to wear a helmet. Dog had coached him through some basic acrobatic maneuvers that translated well to flight. The Winger was the most dangerous single warrior of his race in that moment — with or without a helmet.