The Thin Hex Line
The Soul Eaters
Gwyndolyn Russell
THE ARTIFACT
There the crystal sat upon a pedestal of black stone. It hovered, slowly spinning in place. Bits of the stone arched up and towards the glowing crystal. Its light was bright enough to blind when looked directly at. A faint hum came from it, a voice calling for them.
This was it. Everything they had fought to retrieve. This was why they lost their friends.
On closer inspection, something moved beneath its surface. Lines streaked up and down beneath its surface. They moved in motion with his eyes, as if following his gaze.
Come to me…
Creatures scattered out of sight. The crystal was their only light in the cavern. The hair stood on the back of his neck. He was trapped in the crystal’s gaze. Captivated by the surreal refinement of internal endlessness. He had to have it, but his body hesitated. His mind screamed to touch it. Snatch it from its pedestal. Yet his body trembled at the thought.
Hisses from the shadows embraced him and made him freeze in place. The sounds of claws scratching against stone.
“Take it.” A resonating snarl from the ether. A gust of icy wind blew down his spine. “Take it!”
At first, he thought it was the crystal talking. Yet the voice was familiar. It vibrated through his bones, churned the marrow that filled them.
“We must have it.”
He reached out, twitching fingers glazing through the beams of radiating light.
Come to me…
He heard its voice then. Pulled his hands back.
This crystal should not be touched, and he knew it somewhere in the pit of his stomach. No human should. No creature alive should.
Come to me…
A growl came from the darkness. His bones trembled. He looked over his shoulder. His stomach twisted. Glowing red eyes pierced through the shadows and into his very soul. He swore he saw teeth glistening under the blue hue of the crystal.
“They come!” The raspy voice bellowed through his being.
Snarls and hisses grew louder and louder. Claws scraped into the stone above, below, at the sides. Faint reflections of blue caught his eye.
Come to me…
The crystal hummed louder. He reached again. Grabbed the crystal with both hands.
The earth shook something awful. The cavern threatened to cave in over his head. Water splashed as a hurricane coming through the tunnel.
He pulled, yet the crystal did not budge.
A shriek from the shadows cut him like a knife.
The tremors increased. He didn’t know which was worse: The world cracking apart under his feet, or the sudden guttural growl threatening to break his bones with sound alone.
He yanked on the crystal. It let loose. He tumbled backwards, clutching it like a baby to his chest. Something rotten wafted to his nose. His hair tingled. Goosebumps textured his skin.
“They are here!”
ONE
We were scot-free. We made it out of that death cave, soaking wet. The taste of salt in our mouths. I don’t think I have ever run so fast in all my life. Not even back in boot camp. All we had to do now was climb up the basalt pillars and get on some steady, solid ground. I couldn’t wait to be as far from the ocean as possible. The smooth stone was wet, my hands and feet kept slipping off. Reaper and Yaaranam were right above me, reaching down to grab me as soon as I reached them.
That was when the sun was abruptly blocked out. A black shadow laid over top of us, cold water trickling down like my personal storm cloud. I didn’t even have time to react! I was already up in the air, kicking my feet and waving my arms around like a madman. I was screaming. Free falling to the dirt. I saw all three trucks and everyone else panicking.
I stopped. Midair. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. An intense, stabbing pain rushed up through my body. It flowed in unison to the blood coursing up one side and down the other. That was when it clicked in my head.
Something huge had caught me in its mouth. One of its conical teeth thrust into my thigh. Its other teeth were poking at the rest of my body. I was stuck in a cage of bone. My pants were more wet, soaked straight through, and it burned like hell. Disgustingly warm. I could feel the creature hiss. I gagged on its breath. It must not have brushed its teeth in a hundred years.
I didn’t have time to figure anything out. Everyone was shouting. They were shooting. I could hear Mjolnir and Fenris both snarling. The creature descended back towards the water. I was helpless. What the hell could I do against some sort of colossal sea snake when I was already stuck inside of its mouth?!
Nothing! That’s what. I was going to die. This was it. Drowned in an ocean on some random ass planet I didn’t even know the name of. A snack for some stupid snake with the intelligence of a jellyfish. I guess I could see how long I could hold my breath. Break my last record, even if no one else would know.
You’re probably wondering how I even ended up here. Fuck, I don’t even know. How does a soldier of the Human Federation end up in the mouth of a sea serpent? He’s got to be either stupid or brave. It’s not like I waved my arms around and called its mother a sea hag. I have something it wants, but I can’t get into that yet. That’s not how I ended up here.
No, it was a series of unfortunate events. Bad decisions. A lot of beer. A desperation for a good heroic story. Everyone knows a hero rises from tragedy, and I am not short on that.
You know that, though. You should anyway. I know you’ve been watching; if you’re even real. Captain is probably praying to you right now. Begging you to snap your fingers and make me magically appear next to him. Honestly, I’m kind of hoping you will. I don’t want to die like this. Please.
If you’re real, then you’re probably listening to me right now. Maybe you’re talking, but I can’t hear you. You probably want me to go over everything. Maybe that’ll ease the pain. Reliving the memories. Some of them are pretty good. I’m going to miss everyone….
Like I said before, it was all a series of unfortunate events. It all started when we were attacked by pirates. See, our ship, the Syndicate, is a small class warship with some aftermarket modifications. It doesn’t look like a warship. It’s a cargo ship! On the outside, anyway. Six hundred people on board. There was a lot at stake, but those pirates had no idea they were walking into a bear's cave.
We killed all of them. The only good pirate is a dead one. I had a small team with me when we boarded the vessel. We rigged it to explode, but I decided to check out its database first. Found an interesting log about a recent shipment to an Apex facility. It twisted my stomach up. Something about it made me think something awful was happening there.
When I told Captain Phillips about it, he thought little of it. It could mean anything. A gut feeling was just that until better evidence came up.
Captain Phillips, or Reaper, as I know him best, was a war vet just like me. We actually served together in the First Contact War. He was just a Sergeant back then, in charge of a unit of newbies. We went through hell and back together. I wouldn’t follow another man into battle.
Despite his doubts, he took my gut instinct for what it was worth and set the course for Corona Ilioneus.
We never found out if I was right or wrong. When we got there, they treated us like the guests of honor. They toured us around, showed us how they operated. The commander must not have gotten many guests.
It was nothing more than a mining facility. I don’t know how they got so many people there. Probably trafficking. Could have even been a contract that ultimately screwed those poor souls over. Most were humans, but there were prisoners of war,
and other non-humans working just as hard. Nameless. Faceless. Broken souls living for their next scrap of food.
It was uncomfortable. As a vet, I fought and sacrificed everything to keep humanity from becoming slaves to the eldiravan, or worse, wiped out from existence. As a Martian, I knew this life all too well and killed to get out of it. I knew their pain and their struggle. It made my gut wrench.
I could see the look on Reaper’s face. He hated it. If he were not duty bound, he would have shot the place up. Set them all free. I would have been shooting right there with him.
Luckily, the infuriating conversation and tour ended as quickly as it began. Gunshots rang throughout the hall. A red light started flashing, and a siren wailed. The screams only got louder. The door we had just come through exploded wide open.
One slave dropped dead at our feet from out of the smoke. Then some guy came out. Dressed up like some sort of soldier. Head to toe, he dressed himself in a jacket and random armor pieces he must have pulled out of an army scrap yard. What he had on would not protect him from anything but the elements. He had a sword in his hand and a pistol on his thigh. I could see his mouth frowning, the rest of his face covered up in a metal skull of a wolf, the lower jaw hanging down around his jaw while the top of the skull pulled down so low he could not possibly see.
He looked me dead in the eyes. No way that guy could see a thing. I’m pretty sure he was blind!
This was a guy with a bad attitude and a destructive impulse. He left a trail of corpses wherever he went. He liked to make them suffer. He didn’t attack us, though. He shot the commander right between the eyes and he never stopped staring at me! He waved us off, put his pistol up, and tried to continue his rampage.
I say try, because I would not let him kill innocent people, even if half of them aren’t so innocent at all. When he tried to walk down the hall ahead of us, I jumped in his way. Guy did not miss a beat. I stepped. He swung. I blocked and countered. He simply twisted his body and nailed me right in the nose. He moved like a goddamned ninja. Silent. Effortless. The coolest motherfucker in the room. It was like he knew exactly what I was going to do before I even knew what I was going to do!
My nose was pouring blood, bent sideways and throbbing as fast as my heart. My eyes teared up from the pain. Each breath stung. I was seeing stars, sitting there on the floor against a wall. I heard muffled voices. Couldn’t make out what they said. Probably “Stop! Freeze!” Or some other nonsense Reaper would choke out before probably suffering the same fate as me.
After I blinked enough times, my vision cleared up. That guy was standing over me. Sword pointed at my neck. That sword was made of titanium and carbon fiber. Self-sharpening, nearly black. A fancy blade with one sharp edge and the other a bar of plasma. He bent down real close to my face. Scruffy. Scratched lips. Permanent scowl. He was blindfolded! I could not believe this guy was blind, or blinding himself. He cocked his head one way, then the other. He nodded. Stood. Walked off. Not a word out of him. Not even a sound. I don’t think he made a noise at all. He was a bloody phantom!
Reaper had a pistol aimed at him the entire time and he never seemed to care. The nerve of that guy. A pistol? He insisted I didn’t bring a weapon. “It will be peaceful,” he said! Pretty peaceful trip so far, if I say so myself!
Reaper kept an eye out in case that guy changed his mind. Sparrow and Mjolnir knelt down next to me.
Sparrow was an average sized woman. Built like a runner. Cute face. Caramel hair tied into a neat bun at the back of her head. Green eyes dark enough to be black. We called her Sparrow because of how she fought. She looked young and innocent, but when shit hit the fan, that was the woman to have watching your back.
Mjolnir was pretty far from human. An ardrizi. Basically a bipedal, highly advanced cat man. I never cared much for cats. Devil incarnates those damned balls of fur that really enjoyed sticking their butts in human faces. Mjolnir wasn’t like that, though. White, gray fur with black stripes and spots. He liked to put blue war paint on his face. Pierced ears, tight braids and loose hair. Canines like tusks, well decorated and surreal cyan eyes. He got his name because of the big ass hammer he carried with him everywhere. He wasn’t small and agile either. Around twelve feet tall, big as a rhino. He could kill a man without thinking about it.
They helped me up to my feet. Sparrow touched my nose. She whistled, then laughed.
“Damn! He got you good, LT!” She put her hands on her hips. “Can’t believe you let him get away with it.”
Copper filled my mouth, so I spat it out. I never cared for the taste of blood, even if it was rare. Most people who put blood in my mouth ended up on life support, if not dead. This guy, though... I was going to have to let it slide just this once.
“I’ll kick his ass next time.”
TWO
On the Syndicate, no one actually knew of the slaughter planet side. They lived in their own little worlds. Children went to class. Adults went to work and the stay-at-home spouses went shopping or simply sat at home. No one would have guessed it was a warship. Uniforms were loose for the employed. Everyone got to wear generally what they pleased as long as they followed the rules of conduct. Engineers primarily stayed in orange and yellow jumpsuits with hard hats and tool belts. They ran around the inner halls, spaces between the main corridors, running checks and basic maintenance. Plenty of them were human, but surprisingly, most were kotoli.
Kotoli were only about a meter tall at most. Furry rodents with a natural knack for mechanics. They were intelligent, resourceful, and loved inventing things. They had actually built their own tunnel system within the Syndicate that only they could fit in. When it was quiet enough, the pitter-patter of them running back and forth could be heard.
Logistics wore a jumpsuit similar to the engineers, only more suited to the vacuum of space. They were around cargo bays all day and night, and their safety was top priority. They managed the cargo and with a small team of mechanics, all the vehicles. Trucks and shuttles were neatly lined up, always ready to go.
The soldiers on board acted as security, posted up at key locations on the ship. Patrolling wider areas. They were the police and kept the peace when the unruly got out of hand. There were also just soldiers, training and waiting for their chance to fight. They had their own barracks, armory, and simulation rooms. They were in a relaxed variant of uniform, though still the most professional out of all the uniforms. Everyone knew who they were on the ship.
Captain Arturo “Reaper” Phillips looked just like a retired soldier. He was still actively serving the Federation, but the pain of war was etched into the lines on his face. The scars that littered his body. A canvas jacket comprising mostly of matte black, with moss green edging and straps along with coyote tan patches. The right half of the jacket was a mesh like chain mail that reinforced some parts; on the torso the matte black left side, which came to a point across the breast, overlapped it. A high collar, thin and snug against his neck. One of two survivors of his unit. His leadership skills were acknowledged throughout the whole Federation. It was why he was promoted and put in charge of a ship. People requested to be part of the Syndicate, accepting demotions just to be led by him.
Reaper ran his fingers through his hair, straightening the locks out into a backward sweep. He leaned over his desk, scruffy chin in his palm. His other hand held onto a glass of whiskey, neat. He had his boots tucked underneath a bar to keep him grounded in the chair.
Jackal was sat across from him, feet kicked up on the edge of the desk. One hand gripped a bar on the side of the chair. A bottle of strong beer rested against his stomach, loosely held. He groaned, throwing his head back. Jackal was usually just as well dressed, only right now his leather jacket was slung over the back of the chair, a tight tank top rippled by a well-toned body. He was much bigger than Reaper. As a Martian, they genetically engineered him when he was still a baby to be bigger and stronger than your average Terran. He was nearly seven feet tall, a middleweight, and his body
was covered in tattoos.
“I just don’t get it!” Jackal sighed. “Why would that guy choose not to fight us when we were right there? We’re witnesses! We know what he looks like. We know what he did and when!”
“We don’t know who he is, Jack.” Reaper’s lips pursed. “We have no name. No face identification. Not even a voice sample. That guy is a ghost.”
“Why attack that place, anyway?” Jackal gulped down some of his beer. “He didn’t do it to save those slaves. He killed those poor sods, too.”
“To send a message?”
“To who?”
“That mine was owned by Apex Corps, right?”
“Judging by all the banners and patches. That’s a positive. Why Apex though? I know they got enemies. They’re a hard company to like.”
Reaper sat back. Scratched his cheek and hummed in thought. He sipped his drink, blue eyes wandering down to the tablet he had sitting next to him. The last thing pulled up on the screen was a news article. The headline read “200 Civilians Dead on Markias: Black Wolves Suspected.” Of course the Black Wolves were suspected. They blamed every terror attack in the last few years on them. They were a bigger threat than any eldiravan activist group, and they hated the Order. Boy, did they want that organization to burn.
Reaper put two fingers to the tablet and slid it across the desk. Jackal picked it up. Reaper did not even have to say anything. Jackal already knew what he wanted to say.
“No.” Jackal drew the word out. Shaking his head, he tossed the tablet down, but the magnet did not hold. It spun slowly, floating across the room. “We don’t know if they have anything to do with that guy. He wasn’t marked.” He spoke slowly, enunciated each syllable as clearly as he could. He was trying to make a point to Reaper. Get the thought out of his head before it took root.
“We could only see that guy’s mouth. We don’t know if he has the mark, or not.” Reaper leaned across the desk, a finger pressed into the surface. “He moved smoothly. Quick. He was rehearsed. Only Alpha Hunters are trained like that.”
The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) Page 1