Fear the Reaper: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (The Last Reaper Book 2)

by J. N. Chaney

  I ignored his question. "You can't control him."

  "But I can," he said, then pressed a button. Elise screamed and tumbled out of the chair, weeping in pain.

  "I said don't hurt her!" Thane lunged forward, punching Gold out of his chair.

  "I'm not sure Mr. Gold's actions had the desired effect," X-37 said.

  "Agreed," I said.

  Gold scrambled backward, holding his bloodied lip. He watched Thane with wild eyes but constantly jerked his attention toward me, because he had probably just realized I was the more rational mass murderer.

  "Don't talk to your Reaper AI," he demanded, struggling to his feet but continuing to back away.

  "Limited AI," X-37 and I said at the same time.

  I had a feeling there was a safe room or something he wanted to get to.

  Thane seemed to have forgotten me or didn't care I was here. He grabbed Mr. Gold and lifted him off his feet, slamming him against the wall. "I told you not to hurt her. You promised she would go with me and that you would get answers from Cain."

  Four AG guards in heavy armor appeared through a door that had previously been a section of tasteless wall paneling. They aimed HDK rifles with extended magazines at Thane.

  "Put him down, now!" the leader shouted.

  Thane shifted so that he held Gold between himself and the guards. He grabbed Elise by her hair and dragged her closer to him. She tried to get up, but another shock drove her back to the ground.

  Gold breathed heavily, his pride starting to show through. "You're just a kid, Thane. Can't even control your hormones." He laughed. "You're sweet on her. Which is cute. But it won't be cute when you take her to Fratley. He'll sell her, but not to you."

  Thane grabbed both sides of Gold's head and screamed as he twisted his head around backward. “You're a liar! You're a liar like everyone else!"

  I dove toward Elise before the guards opened fire. X-37 was shouting at me. Thane was beating Gold’s corpse. The assassins’ guild guards were advancing, firing until their magazines ran dry and reloading on the move. The sound of their weapons echoed from the high ceiling.

  Falling over another person seemed like a simple maneuver, but was surprisingly difficult. Elise twisted and turned, but I noticed something.

  She wasn't squealing and crying in pain as she had been when Gold zapped her. It was more like she was trying to break free of my weight.

  "Can you get off me!" she hissed between her teeth. “You’re ruining everything."

  "I'm saving your life," I said.

  Thane leapt over us, extending a blade from each of his augmented Reaper fists. Blood spurted across the room as he stabbed the first two guards where their throat plates were weakest.

  "You're not rescuing me, you're ruining my escape. Do you have any idea what it was like to get dragged all over the city by that idiot," she said, then attempted to knee me in the groin.

  I heard shouts from the doorway, then saw stun grenades bouncing near us. I rolled off Elise and held up my left arm to protect my eyes. At the same time, I opened my mouth and leaned forward to prevent the overpressure of the explosions from damaging my lungs. These were probably less lethal, but knowing the Union, they were also probably overcharged.

  I heard Briggs and Crank yelling orders. I saw more assassins’ guild guards entering from one of their secret doorways.

  Elise scrambled toward a floor grate, clearly too confused to execute her escape plan because the grate had solid bolts holding it in place. A heartbeat later, she pushed the entire mechanism aside and dropped into the ventilation system like she'd planned this or something.

  I came to my feet but stayed low to avoid getting my face shot off. "X-37, you're fired."

  "I'm not sure what you mean," X-37 said.

  "You should've seen this coming," I said as I ran, dove, and rolled out of the middle of the gun battle.

  "As a limited AI, I did calculate 17,235 possible scenario endings. Would you like me to begin at the beginning or help you with what you're facing now?" X-37 said.

  I would've told him to fuck off if I had the time and thought it would do any good.

  "I feel it is a good time for me to point out that you are too big to follow Elise," X-37 said.

  I slipped into one of the doorways and drew my .45. I had four rounds left.

  “Thanks," I said. "I figured that out already.”

  “I’m hit!” Bane shouted.

  Crank rushed toward her, clutching as several bullets hit him. His momentum carried him to the place she was taking cover, but he was clearly hurt badly.

  Several things occurred to me in only a few seconds. I wasn't sure what Gunny Bane had been doing, but her medical kit was gone.

  I leaned out, fired a round at one of the guards, then darted to Crank’s side.

  "Use my tourniquet on her," Crank demanded.

  It was a stupid time and place to argue, so I did what he said, possibly condemning him to death.

  It didn't take long to render aid. I'd hoped one of them had some quick clotting powder or patches I could use on Crank, but didn't find any in either of their medical pouches.

  "See if you can figure out where Elise will come out of that vent, X," I said.

  Not far from us, there were several downed guards and at least one other Union soldier. I wasn’t sure who it was. I low-crawled to each body until I found an unused medical kit, an HDK carbine, and a cheap lighter, then returned to Bane and Crank.

  “I can’t sit here and put this on you, but between the two of you, you should be able to figure it out,” I said.

  Crank gazed at me strangely.

  “I have to go after Elise,” I said. “Good luck.”

  His expression was worried and confused, more emotional than I’d ever seen one of Brigg’s troops. “Why would you help us? We would have died.”

  “You’ll still die.” I stared at the thick-necked ruffian. “Don’t overthink it. I’ve saved lots of people I didn’t really like that much. You’re not special.”

  He laughed gruffly. “Yeah. That’s no shit. Thanks, Cain. I’ve got your back after this. We’ve bled together.”

  “Yeah, great. See you later,” I said, heading for one of the small side doors the guards liked so much.

  “I’m coming with you,” Crank said. “I owe you.”

  “What about her?” I asked, checking the tourniquet on the gunnery sergeant.

  She gave me the middle finger with her good hand.

  “Mission first,” Crank said.

  “Fine. Don’t get in my way.”

  He presented his fist for me to bump. “We’ve bled together. That means something in spec ops, or have you forgotten?”

  I bumped his fist with my metal hand, careful not to extend the blade into his knuckles. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “Technically, you’re not bleeding,” X-37 said.

  “Details,” I responded, leaving the scene behind me. “Tell me something important like where Thane went.”

  “It was very confusing when everyone started shooting,” X said.

  “Tell me about it.” I fished in my pocket for one of the cigars I’d taken from Gold’s desk.

  They were both fakes. “Cheap bastard.”

  29

  “What’s the holdup?” I asked. “How complicated can the ventilation system be?”

  X-37 beeped. “Do you want me to answer that question?”

  “No. Just give me an answer to this: where is she going in that vent?” I said.

  Crank followed closer than I liked. “Why don’t we just head for the exit? She’s got to go outside sooner or later.”

  He wasn’t that stupid. Something about his eagerness rubbed me the wrong way. I really wished he’d stayed behind to help Bane. If she were here, that might be different. Or Jonji or even Briggs.

  Crank had an ax to grind. His sudden goodwill creeped me out.

  “There are a lot of exits,” I said dryly.

  “But she’s a ki
d. I bet she heads for the main entrance. It’s a place for us to start at least.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting theory, Sergeant Crank,” I said, turning to face him in the middle of a small room under some exposed ventilation ducts. “But she’s a lot smarter than either of us and probably has a plan.”

  “You don’t have to be a dick, just because we’re friends now,” he said, fists clenched.

  “Are we friends, Crank?” I asked, expecting him to punch me.

  His expression softened. “Sorry. That wasn’t cool. Old habits are hard to break. Let’s go find the girl. It’s for her own good.”

  “I don’t like his tone,” X-37 said. “Something is wrong.”

  I backed Crank up a step. “Who the hell are you?”

  “You saved my life, and Gunny’s life. We’ve been through some shit together. I see it now. We have to watch each other’s back, settle our differences later,” he said.

  “On the mat maybe, like when we first met?” I asked.

  He blushed, shrugging awkwardly. “I was a jerk back then. We trained for the Dreadmax mission and you stole it from us. All Grady talked about was what a badass you were. Sorry, sir.”

  “Dishonesty detected,” X-37 said.

  “Yeah, I get it,” I said, acknowledging both Crank and X-37. “Don’t get sentimental on me. Do your job.”

  Crank’s old personality reasserted itself. “Where to now, sir?”

  “We follow the ventilation system as much as we can and look for clues. Try to learn where she is going, if she has confederates, an escape vehicle, a safe hold. Access to money. Weapons. All the things a person on the run needs,” I said.

  “I’ll take point so you can think about that stuff,” Crank said. “I know my strengths and weaknesses.”

  Pain flashed through my head and static pumped my vision full of disorienting signals. I ignored the misery, refusing to let Crank see my weakness.

  “I think Thane Junior, or whoever, is on the move,” I said.

  Crank hesitated. “Maybe you should lead. I’ll follow and watch our six.”

  “You do have Reaper tech,” X-37 pointed out. “To be honest, I wish we’d left him behind or picked up one of the other soldiers.”

  “Can’t argue with you, X. Now give me a minute,” I said, moving toward a door at the end of a service hallway.

  “Are you suffering an ROS attack?” X-37 asked.

  “Maybe. Something is different.” I shook my head to clear my vision.

  “You are aware that Reaper Thane did not activate the ROS while you were assaulting Gold’s stronghold,” X-37 said. His analytical voice took the edge off the looming ROS incident. “Your nemesis is quite clever, actually. He pitted all of his enemies together but miscalculated when he found himself too deep in the assassins’ guild stronghold. You thought you were rescuing Elise, but you were actually facilitating Thane’s escape.”

  “Then why did he come here in the first place?” Pain amplified the frustration in my voice.

  “To deal with the Union, and you. His enemies are dead or in disarray. The only flaw in his plan is that he didn’t anticipate Elise’s escape plan,” X-37 said.

  “Wrong,” I said.

  “Of course, Reaper Cain. How could I forget the most critical element of his failure,” X-37 said, his voice conspiratorial now. “His worst mistake was that he didn’t kill you.”

  I missed the days when I felt like talking shit to X, but I was wrecked right now and needed to kill some shit and find a place to recover.

  Crank’s footsteps were too close. I looked back over my shoulder. “Don’t bunch up. Didn’t they teach you how to maintain tactical spacing in spec ops?”

  “There isn’t a lot of room to work with,” he said, slowing down as I continued toward the heavy door.

  “Warning,” X-37 said.

  Crank rushed me, probably attempting to be stealthy and almost getting away with it because the pounding in my head was loud as a bass drum. What felt like lactic acid filled my body, which really slowed me down.

  The blade of his combat knife was a foot long. He lunged for my throat, slicing a shallow groove through the skin of my jaw as I simultaneously pulled back and twisted away.

  My Reaper blade snapped out from the top of my left fist, nearly striking his throat.

  He punched, kicked, and then slashed with the knife in a rapid combination that might have taken a full second.

  I retreated closer to the door, watching his style, making sure I remembered his preferred combinations and timing. We’d only fought during that one session before the Dreadmax mission. He was good and more than capable of surprising me.

  Which would get me killed if it happened.

  He drew his pistol.

  I lunged, no longer able to control the pace. He had a lot more bullets than I did. A gun fight would go to the guy with the most ammunition and better armor.

  Slapping the gun down with my normal hand, I stabbed with my Reaper blade, slicing through his ear when he juked sideways.

  I followed the lunging stab with an elbow strike, still using my left arm. Instead of pulling my arm back after the stab, I just rushed forward while bending my arm. The effect was zero loss of momentum or time as my elbow and forearm smashed him in the face. In effect, the lunging stab had aimed and my elbow strike had been the real attack.

  He staggered, aiming his pistol randomly.

  The great thing about the blade thrust to elbow strike combination was that it naturally cocked my left arm for a follow-up slash. Unfolding my arm a microsecond after I elbowed him, I slashed the blade across his face. Blood sprayed across the hallway. One of his eyes bounced off the wall.

  I never kept driving my attacks forward. Pain exploded in my brain like fireworks. Static turned my vision black and white. X-37 screamed warnings that I could barely hear, even if I wanted to listen.

  Crank threw himself backward, sacrificing his footing as he fell on his back. Bleeding, missing an eye, he aimed between his feet and fired.

  Instinct saved me from dying, but not from getting hit. The bullet slashed across my face, bisecting the bottom half of the scar under my left eye.

  I pushed off the wall, converting my desperate dodge into a final attack. My foot came down hard on his pelvis.

  Crank emptied his pistol, striking my augmented arm several times. It twitched and jerked.

  I fell on my adversary, seizing him by the throat with my right hand, then leaning my weight into the attack. We struggled. He attempted to dislodge me, but it was hard to do with a broken hip and his oxygen being cut off.

  The feel of his throat made me sick. I hadn’t killed a man with my bare hands since getting the Reaper gear.

  That probably meant something. X-37 nattered at me to focus on the fight. My conscience screamed and cursed from a place I couldn’t see or hear well.

  “Your adversary is now deceased, completely devoid of respiration or a pulse. I suggest you get moving,” X-37 said, sounding strange. “You should have anticipated his betrayal.”

  “I always anticipate betrayal, X,” I said. “The timing was bad. I’m under-equipped and constantly assaulted by the ROS device.”

  “Reaper Thane cannot be far from your current location,” X-37 said.

  “Why can’t you give me good news just one fucking time?” I asked.

  “You still have one of Gold’s cigars in your front pocket. It was undamaged by gun fire. And while we’re on the subject of health and wellness, it would be a good idea to treat your injuries.”

  “I’ll put it on my to-do list.” I rummaged through Crank’s gear, taking his pistol and several magazines. His HDK Dominator was out of ammunition, so I left it. His medical pouch was empty. What he had, however, was water.

  I ripped the hydration system off him and rinsed the nasty graze wounds from his bullets. The tear across my face burned more than the rest. Washing it out didn’t exactly feel fantastic.

  By the time I was
done cleaning wounds and drinking, the water was gone, so I chucked the pack onto Crank’s corpse.

  “You were a real dick, Sergeant Crank. It probably wasn’t entirely your fault, but I’m not going to miss you,” I said, then walked away.

  “Remorse is illogical. If you are going to feel bad about killing a person, then you shouldn’t kill them,” X-37 said.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  30

  By the time I left the assassins’ guild building, I was in bad shape. It took some work weaving my way through the massive police response. The boys in blue weren’t about to go in, despite evidence the worst of the fighting was over, but they were geared up for war and had at least three teams organizing for what came next.

  “You there, stop. I need to check you,” an officer said.

  “I’m wounded. Need to get to a hospital,” I said without lowering my coat collar or slowing down.

  He followed, giving me orders to stop, but it was clear he was having second thoughts. The scene was chaotic and I was doing my best to look like another victim.

  “I pissed myself, officer. Can you help me?” I asked, barely looking at him as I held on to a light post for balance.

  “Uh, just get to an ambulance or go to a hospital by private vehicle. We’ve got a lot of people here hurt worse than you,” he said.

  “Okay, okay. Oh damn, I think I’m going to shit myself! Why won’t you help me?” I demanded.

  The officer ordered me to leave and retreated to the command center.

  “That was undignified,” X-37 said.

  “What I need from you is less judgment and more fixing my busted-ass Reaper shit,” I said, staggering forward and leaning to one side like a drunk. “This shit really fucking hurts and my optics are jacked up.”

  “I will do what I can,” X-37 said. “Find shelter and stay out of sight.”

  I nodded, took a calming breath, and pressed onward.

  “Cain, is that you?” a familiar voice asked. “It’s Tom. Do you have Elise?”

  “No, Tom. I don’t have shit. Maybe some new scars. How’s your day? Sleep under any good bridges?” I asked, sounding like a dick even to myself.