Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) (16 page)

A cracking sound split the gloom, so loud that Kin heard
some of Laura’s people shout in alarm. He stared with fascination and horror as
a bony region of the Slomn’s chest cracked open to reveal a glowing orb trapped
in a ribcage of spider web complexity. The latticework separated. More cracks.

If this were an attack, at least it was slow.

Kin’s self-assurance faded as fire burst from the
Salamander’s torso, cutting through the air toward the ship like the
afterburners of a space fighter.

The beam was narrow, perhaps three inches across, but when
it struck the side of the Earth ship, metal glowed.

“Kin Roland, now is our only chance to escape. More of the
Slomn vanguard approaches,” Nander said.

Kin pushed the Imperial aside. “Warn Laura and the others.
I’m going to draw this one away.”

“Don’t be a fool!”

“I can’t let it destroy that ship. There are people inside.
You said so yourself.”

“Dead people. Forget them. If they were going to fight, they
would have done so already. The Mazz Empire doesn’t need cowards. Let them
die.”

Kin jerked his rifle to his shoulder, aimed at the burning
chest of the Slomn and fired. Something in the corner of his vision startled
him, but he focused on making his shots count.
Am I really shooting at a
nuclear weapon?

The insanity of his actions threatened to make him laugh and
curse at the same time, but he grunted something primal instead. He couldn’t
detonate a nuclear device with a rifle shot. The greenest recruit knew that.
But the Slomn wasn’t a device. Nothing in Fleet training prepared him to deal
with half-human fire-breathers and lost armadas from Earth.

The Slomn wheeled to face him. Kin disappeared behind a
transport ship. He ran, looking for more of the creatures as he moved. A beam
of fire burned through the ship he used for shelter, slicing toward him with
every stride. Tucking into a roll, he hugged his weapon and closed his eyes
until he came to his feet and scurried in a new direction.

More attacks came seemingly at random. The larger vessels
resisted Slomn fire. Smaller ships fell to pieces. Slags of molten metal
caromed through the air. Chains of lesser explosions lit off in rapid
succession. Beams of Slomn energy cut into the walls like blowtorches.

Kin found himself separated from Laura and the others by the
second wave of Salamanders.

I can’t go to Laura. That’ll only draw hell down on them
.

A dozen Slomn moved toward the target ship, surrounding it
and opening their chests to pour burning destruction at the hull.

“Orlan!”

No answer.

Kin moved. He spotted the Hero of Man firing aimed shots at
a third group of Slomn emerging from another entrance to the cavern.

No help from him. Move
.

Kin circled the attack. If the Slomn focused on destroying
the ship, Laura and the others might get away. He didn’t get his hopes up.
There were too many Salamanders in the room now. A second ship fell under
attack.

Kin planned his retreat even before he approached. After one
quick attack, he would flee. He moved as close as he dared and unloaded a
well-aimed barrage of gunfire and the back of a Slomn head. Orlan would call
him an idiot. Nander would call him a fool. Becca would already be charging
straight into the fight.

He knew his attack was foolish. Escape was the only thing
that mattered. But he couldn’t watch the ships burn. It was just wrong somehow,
and if there were people inside, he wouldn’t want to see anyone die like that.

The Slomn crouched as Kin’s bullets hit the back of its
skull. No unarmored creature Kin had encountered could survive so many hits.
But this was the world-destroying monster that drove the mighty Imperial fleet
across the universe like frightened children.

“What did you do?” Nander yelled.

“I wanted to see how hard they are to kill.”

“Damn hard.” Nander watched Kin’s victim break from the
others and pursue.

Kin selected new targets until the ship destroyers abandon
the mission of destruction and swarmed after him. 

Good job, Roland. You’ve saved a derelict antique for
another five minutes. Now you’re going to die.

Salamander men came in a rush, tails lashing the ground,
eyes burning bright. Despite the hellish fierceness in their eyes, they sent
warriors forward in large intervals, never moving close to one another.

Kin turned to Nander. “Here they come. You might want to
start hauling ass.”

Nander stood paralyzed, but only for a moment.

“We must flee.” Nander’s words came evenly. His military
training and quick recovery impressed Kin. He realized the man was terrified of
the Slomn when lesser dangers fazed him not at all. But in a crisis, the
Imperial trooper seemed ready to rise to the occasion.

Kin saw Orlan and Laura driving the people of Crater Town
toward a tunnel on the opposite side of the cavern. By now, the refugees knew
the drill. They didn’t shriek or panic. They grabbed what they needed and could
carry, and moved away from the Slomn.

The serpent men closed the distance, but stopped to blast
the ships with beams of fire that seared Kin’s vision even at a distance. Heat
shields trembled from impact, but remained intact.

“As old as this fleet is, I calculate the larger ships must
be designed to withstand solar flares. The Slomn may destroy them, but it will
take time. Lead the way, or follow,” Nander said.

“You lead. One way is as good as the other.” Kin wanted to
test the Imperial. If his knowledge of the catacombs was too detailed, Kin
would know the man withheld information.

IN most ways, Nander appeared as
human as any member of Earth Fleet. Subtle differences existed in his physique.
Human ethnicity could be revealed by size or skin color, but more often it was
the eyes that characterized the descendants of Earth. Kin had studied Nander’s
eyes. He saw the promise of secrets, but little else that marked the man as an
alien conqueror.

Nander was the only Imperial Kin had seen without battle
armor. Kin didn’t dare generalize his lanky but strong form. He knew how great
the difference was between Orlan and his own proportions. Two humans couldn’t
be more different physically, mentally, or emotionally. Or so Kin told himself.

Nander’s gait was slightly abnormal. Was this because he had
spent most of his life wearing battle armor and living on a spaceship? Did
other members of his race swagger like a cross between an acrobat and a soldier
fresh out of Officer Candidate School?

And if there were no genuine differences between the Human
and Mazz, didn’t that suggest a common origin? Kin realized he should have
asked Lieutenant Raker questions when he had the chance. The intelligence
officer had lived among the Imperials long enough to go half crazy.

“This way,” Nander said. “The Slomn have not been here. The
passage is dark. There are no light trails from their scales.”

“Let me know if you see them glowing in the shadows.” Kin
remembered the fissures of hot illumination between the scales of the Slomn he
had seen up close and personal. He tried not to remember the psychic attack
that had plunged him into to darkness then blinded him with brightness. Colors
still floated in his vision from witnessing the flame thrower trick, but at
least he had been able to see.

“They ooze radiation. If I had my armor, I could track
them.” Nander moved up a steep incline into darkness. “Until they start their
mind games.”

Kin followed, feeling claustrophobic. A Slomn warrior would
be too large to come this way. That didn’t, of course, mean there wasn’t a
deadly host waiting at the top.

“They don’t have armored vehicles as we do. No tanks. Only
transport craft. But they are nuclear.”

“I can believe that.” Kin stopped and listened. Total
blackness surrounded him. The rest of the climb would be by feel and guesswork.
“I don’t understand why they don’t burn up. I’ve never heard of a nuclear
species.”

“How do you think they destroy worlds? In space, they are
vulnerable, assuming you can detect their ships. Once they make planetfall, the
end is only a matter of time. We hit them as hard as we can. Take as many out
of the fight as possible. But it is just a delaying action. Crashdown will burn
once their main force arrives.”

Kin had questions, but kept silent. Nander’s sudden desire
to share information made Kin suspicious.

“Are you nervous, Nander?”

The Mazz Imperial stopped moving so suddenly that Kin
thought he might have vanished into the dark hole, plummeting into the abyss. A
moment passed. “No more than usual. Your reputation is well known to us.”

Kin glared. His reputation had been an albatross for years.
The Imperial stared back without flinching, providing Kin a chance to read his
expression. Or attempt to. “We need light.”

Nander turned on the small flashlight Orlan had given him
earlier. Kin activated his at the lowest setting.

“I wish I had night vision.” Nander said.

“I’ll make sure to pack goggles the next time I plan to be
trapped below the earth with nuclear powered serpent men stalking me.”

Nander chuckled.

They climbed for hours, stopping short of each intersection
to look and listen. Nander didn’t seem to have a secret map or knowledge of the
catacombs. He merely went up each time there was an opportunity.

Shy daylight reached into the tunnel. Kin realized that he
was seeing texture where blackness had concealed the rock. He turned off his
light. Though he came to the surface gradually, the glare of sunlight blinded
him when he emerged into open air.

“When you’re ready, we should descend into the valley. There
isn’t much concealment on the higher slopes.”

Kin agreed, but he didn’t like it. Imperial patrols
dominated the lowlands. He followed, searching for indication of Orlan and the
others. Nander led him past two squads of enemy troopers, but the third
surrounded them.

The leader of the patrol stepped forward. “Good work,
General Nander.”

“General Nander?” Kin asked.

“I told you I was trained as an officer.”

“You told me every Mazz trooper was trained as an officer.”

Nander shrugged.

A trooper took Kin’s gun and sword.

Kin stared into the opaque face shield of the Imperial
armor.

The trooper leaned down aggressively. “You’re not going to
fight? No Mazz soldier would surrender his weapons.”

“They’re not very good weapons.”

Nander laughed. “Good enough to disrupt a Slomn fire
attack.”

The soldier stepped back and reconsidered Kin. He handed the
pistol and sword to a subordinate, then saluted Nander.

“What are your orders, General? Back to the fortress?”

“In time, Captain Trak. He has something to show us first,”
Nander said. He waved his hand at one of the troopers who immediately shed his
armor.

Kin watched three men help Nander into the Imperial FSPAA.

Trak spoke in the Mazz language, seeming to respectfully
disagree with Nander, but relented in the end. Once Nander was geared up and
ready to go, he faced Kin.

“Take us to Sophia’s Pass.”

“You didn’t say please.”

The troopers tensed. Captain Trak growled something profane.

Nander lowered his helmet, tucking the chin.

Kin understood the gesture. He had spent his life around men
with concealed faces.

Nander drew out the moment. “Take us to Sophia’s Pass,
please.”

“What will happen to my friends?”

“If I can help them, I will. But don’t concern yourself.
They have probably been incinerated.”

The words punched like a fist, though Kin didn’t believe the
coldhearted declaration. Nander changed as the Imperials responded to his
orders. Each soldier saluted and obeyed.

Images of the cavern overlaid the mountain scene—Laura and
the people of Crater Town fleeing, Orlan shooting, falling back, and shooting
again. Rickson had pulled William the Reaper by an arm. Kin doubted he would
see anything like that again.

“Do all Imperial officers lie with such fluency?”

Nander’s helmet looked at Kin. “I didn’t lie as much as you
failed to listen. You must yield to the Mazz Empire. You must fight Slomn. You
must deliver Clavender, or this planet will burn. In time, Earth Fleet will
burn. Are you going to tell me you would openly cooperate with your captors?”

“I think that’s a trick question, since your goons seem to want
me dead.” Kin gestured at Captain Trak. Something about the man’s bearing
reminded him of Orlan. Trak was taller and nearly as broad. How much of that
was armor, Kin didn’t know.

“I may have misled you in certain aspects of the situation,
but in this you can have absolute confidence—the safety of your friends is up
to you.”

“I’ve seen how you treat prisoners,” Kin said.

“Uncooperative prisoners. Captain Raien attacked her
guards.”

“Good for her. I hope she killed a few.”

Captain Trak grunted.

“Take us to Sophia’s pass or the Slomn will overwhelm the
tunnels and the refugees of Crater Town.”

Kin held Nander’s gaze for several moments, then led the way
through trees and mountain trails, wishing he could hear the radio
communications of the Imperials. They weren’t likely to use Fleet speech, but a
soldier’s tone was universal.

“I was serious when I said you should join the Mazz Empire.
Since you aren’t part of Earth Fleet, not officially, there is precedent.”

“What kind of precedent?”

“Many humans fight for us. Some are compensated. It depends
on what they bring to the table.”

“Are we eating dinner or something?”

“Dinner, dying, disappearing—there are options. But if you
want to help your friends, you should be a friend to the Mazz. By now you must
realize the futility of resistance. All sentient races must unite against the
Slomn.”

Kin studied his guards as he walked. “Especially the
Ror-Rea.”

“Most especially.”

“But not because Clavender tricked you through a wormhole.
Her people sheltered you for a time, and you taught them war. That’s why she
won’t help you.”

“The Ror-Rea is the only place the Slomn cannot go.”

“Then why did they come here?”

“They think they can find the place, but it is impossible.”

Kin checked his holster for a pistol that wasn’t there.

“Old habits are hard to break, aren’t they?”

Kin looked away, irritated with his own transparency. “The
Ror-Rea is on the other side of Crashdown. Dax told me they have hundreds of
thousands of warriors ready to fight.”

“That is not the Ror-Rea. Is that what Commander Westwood
told you? He saw the population density and assumed he understood all there is
to know about our winged friends.”

Kin concentrated on listening. Talking was getting him
nowhere. Perhaps a good dose of silence would loosen Nander’s tongue. He seemed
pretty happy with himself right about now. Perhaps the General would brag.

For the first time since Orlan rescued the Imperial, Nander
spoke with his hands. “This planet is full of mysteries, isn’t it? The Ror-Rea,
the wormhole, glass moons.”

“What?”

“Since you’ve never been off the surface, you couldn’t know
the moons used to be habitable planets. They teemed with life. Now the surface
is melted smooth.”

Kin looked up at the ring of moons, some large, others
fragmented and forlorn.

Nander chuckled. The sound rumbled from his helmet dryer
than a naked voice. “I see you’re not going to bite.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“We lived here for generations before Clavender cast us
through the void.”

“Tell me about the Ror-Rea,” Kin said.

Nander shrugged in his armor. “It is not so much a place as
a state of mind. The Ror-Rea is a race, a realm, and a way of life. The winged
ones are esoteric creatures, and full of contradictions. How could such a
peaceful society become what they are now? We did not teach them war. We
awakened their bloodlust.”

Kin stopped at the top of a ravine, recognizing a good place
to escape. He calculated his chances of outrunning troopers in powered armor. A
fool might risk it. Kin qualified as the biggest fool on the planet without a
doubt, but he turned toward Nander and diplomacy.

“Ten-thousand years is a long time to hold a grudge. I
suppose it is a coincidence the Slomn have also sought Crashdown.”

“Edain. Crashdown is a crude name for the center of the
wormhole nexus. And you’re right. We have ulterior motives. They don’t concern
you.”

Kin popped his knuckles and thought of Orlan. The trooper’s
habit had always annoyed Kin, yet here he was using it to buy time. “How long
will the Slomn forget about you if they find the home of Clavender’s people?”

“Not long. But they won’t find it. Slomn aren’t good at
riddles.”

“Neither am I.

“You do yourself a disservice. Guess. Where do you think the
Ror-rea might be found?”

Kin pondered the question, focusing on Nander’s confident claim
that the Slomn could never find Clavender’s homeland but believed they could.

He didn’t know enough about the Slomn. How could he predict
their thoughts or analyze their beliefs when he had not the slightest idea of
their culture, history, or even language?  He had a better chance of speaking
to the wormhole.

Nander ordered his troopers forward. “Scout ahead. Stay
sharp. We may be near the Slomn landing site.”

Kin recognized good advice, but could barely concentrate on
the terrain as he considered Nander’s words.

The Salamander’s can’t go to the Ror-Rea
. He had seen
them swim and been told they endured the void of space as a minor inconvenience.
They had spacecraft and navigated wormholes.
I’m missing something
.

“The Ror-Rea is a place of peace. Or more accurately, it is
a condition of tranquility. So long as the Slomn seek destruction, they will
never find the realm of the Wingers,” Nander said.

“But they’ll find the Bleeding Ground,” Kin said.

Nander flinched. “Pray they do not. Not before we do.”