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

“ORLAN has a son?” Kin couldn’t
believe the trooper would take responsibility for a child. The six-and-a-half
foot giant never bragged or talked about conquering women as other men did. As
far as Kin knew, he indulged in murder and extortion during every sack of enemy
territory, but didn’t tolerate rape. Sergeant Orlan personally swung the lash
on troopers suspected of cheating prostitutes. For a brutally masculine man,
Orlan seemed chaste in a sadistic, horrifying way.

Rebecca tightened a piece of the Fleet Single Person Assault
Armor: Mechanized Unit, officially designated on the Table of Organization and
Equipment as FSPAA: MU 291, and stepped back to appraise her work. Grease
smeared her left cheek. The lean muscles of her arms and shoulders flexed as
she worked the wrench.

“Commander Westwood ordered Raker to take the boy to the
Valley of Clingers and leave him. Orlan blames you.”

“He would.” Kin looked at the pieces of his FSPAA unit
stacked on the outdoor work table. “Did Raker do it?”

Rebecca shrugged. “He reported he did, but he lied. The boy
probably escaped.”

“You think a fourteen-year-old boy outsmarted Raker and his
counter-intelligence goons? Not likely.”

Rebecca wiped her hands on a towel and faced him. “William’s
mother was a prostitute, a shape shifter, the kind to fulfill any fantasy.
Orlan spent his entire Hellsbreach reward on her. That’s why he’s broke. That’s
why he wanted the bounty on your head and the capture fee for a living Reaper.”

“It felt more personal than that,” Kin said.

“When she realized the boy couldn’t shape shift, she dumped
him on Orlan.” Rebecca folded the towel and put it away.

“I don’t see how that helps him escape.”

“Maybe he can change forms, but didn’t want to live in a
whorehouse. Rent isn’t free.”

“You seem to know a lot about whorehouses and illegitimate
children.”

Rebecca looked his way. “Jerk.”

“I may be a jerk, but I never got a prostitute pregnant. So
far as I know.”

She slugged him in the shoulder. “Orlan risked his life and
his career to help William. Are you telling me you’ve been patronizing all of
Crashdown’s finest brothels? At least when he found out about his son, he did
something about it.”

“Like I said, that’s a beautiful story.” Kin pushed aside an
image of the trooper who left him for dead on Hellsbreach. “Orlan knows nothing
but killing. Anything else he does is only to pass the time until the next
battle. It’s hard to be a father when your solution to every problem involves
blowing someone’s face off.”

“William’s just a boy. You can’t blame him for his father.”
She smiled as she stowed a pair of wrenches in a tool box. “He was reading me
the
Commandant Brighten Saga
, but you want to hear the interesting
part?”

“Desperately.”

“Orlan stole the book from Westwood’s library and taught
William to read from it. How’s that for parent of the year?”

“Yeah? Soon he’ll be teaching the boy to make his first
kill.”

“Probably. You’re no different. I see how you look after
Rickson and the other kids from Crater Town.”

“I have a lot of illegitimate children.”

Rebecca slugged him again. “No you don’t.” She fought back a
smile, biting her lip, holding her breath.

Kin held his shoulder and feigned pain. She punched him
again, playfully, barely resisting when he grabbed her.

He looked into her eyes. Thoughts of Orlan’s lost son
vanished.

Now, Kin. Kiss her. Tell her you love her. Do something
.

He pulled her closer, nervous as he studied her face. She no
longer seemed a warrior, despite her short-cropped hair and battle scars. Kin
sensed emotions he barely remembered. His pulse quickened. Arousal came with
such intensity that he felt as though he had never experienced it. Everything
he’d done before this moment was like a story from a book, facts on a page,
descriptions of history, explanations that meant nothing.

She held his gaze without moving, without the horseplay that
brought them to this intimate position. Brightness filled her eyes. She didn’t
blink or look away.

Kin swallowed and took a deep breath.

This is the girl I grew up with. How did she get so
beautiful?

Purple light flickered across her face. Kin stiffened. After
a moment, he turned his face toward the sky, still holding her.

She followed the direction of his gaze, or perhaps she had
seen the anomaly first. Her arms squeezed his body, then relaxed.

Kin let her go. “The wormhole is back.”

Rebecca stepped away, moving closer to her Mech unit and
watching the tube of light reaching toward the horizon.

Kin rubbed his face with one hand before stepping toward the
table where his armor waited. “I thought Clavender broke it.”

The final battle between Earth Fleet, Reapers, Mazz Imperials,
and the Ror-Rea tore apart Crater Town and surrounding foothills. Clavender had
called meteors from the wormhole, blasting sections of the coastal mountains to
pieces. She wielded the space anomaly like a weapon, despite her protestations
against war. In the end, the wormhole seemed dead. It retreated over the
horizon and plunged into the ground. Kin shook his head. Something that
powerful could never die.

He shivered.
The wormhole would have to be alive to die
.

“I’ll bet you a week of vacation on Earth VI that Imperials
come through it before long.”

Kin checked the power level on the dormant FSPAA and turned
toward her.

She swayed as she watched the sky. “You’re the resident
expert on the wormhole. Does it seem right to you?”

Kin observed the length and diameter of the anomaly. He
studied the surface and the opening, which wasn’t pointed at Crater Town.

That’s new
.

“It seems passive. That’s normally a good sign. I need to
talk to Clavender.”

“Good luck.”

Kin laughed without humor. “Thanks. I’ll need it.” He looked
at his feet, gathering his thoughts.

“What are you thinking, Kin?”

He looked up, forced himself to stare at the thing that had
hung ominously above Crater Town for so long. “The wormhole has always been
aimed at Crater Town. I wish I knew what has changed its course.”

“You’re the expert.” Rebecca sauntered away from her work
table to pick something off the ground. She stood casually as she stared down
the trail. “We have company. I’ll bet you a case of whiskey he’s coming to ask
about the Valley of Clingers.”

“What is it with you and betting? Is that all you learned
from the Shock Troopers?”

“I understand why you’re afraid to gamble. You already owe
me dinner, a new lens for my helmet visor, and two days of menial labor. But
you’re kind of a bad sport. And you never pay up.”

“Like I said, what is all this betting? And why do I always
lose?”

Rebecca smiled mischievously, raising her eyebrows.

“If Raker took Orlan’s son to the Valley of Clingers, he’s
dead. You understand that, right?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t think he does.”

Orlan strode up the hill, stern faced, but without the
hateful stare Kin expected. He seemed distracted. Once, before he was close
enough for conversation, he stared across the foothills. After several moments,
he approached.

“Is your armor charged?”

Kin glanced at his gear. “It could use another hour in the
sun, unless you have a new battery for me.”

Orlan nodded. “I heard you’ve been to the Valley of
Clingers.”

“Orlan,” Kin said. “No one survives that place.”

Orlan clenched his jaw.

Kin braced for an attack, spreading his feet wider and
adjusting his balance. He took a cleansing breath through his nose and released
it through his mouth. He watched Orlan’s every move, no matter how subtle. The
man radiated danger and raw strength. His tall, broad shouldered frame carried
muscle normally hidden by armor.

Orlan lowered his chin, staring hard, eyes fading as
humanity gave way to the need for violence. But then he grunted. “That’s what I
heard, but I’m still going. William’s tougher than he looks. Read’s too much.
He’s built like his mother. But he’s smart. When I found him he was living on
the street, and that means he’s a survivor.”

“That’s different.”

“Everything is different. One minute you’re a hero. The next
minute you’re broke with a whining brat who doesn’t know his place.”

“Relax.”

“Piss off. Maybe I don’t want your help.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“You don’t understand.”

Kin found no help in Rebecca, who waited near a pistol on
the workbench. He shook his head when she was watching and Orlan wasn’t.

“I didn’t realize William meant so much to you.”

Orlan’s stare emphasized the momentary silence. “I see
Becca’s been telling stories again.” He faced Rebecca. “Don’t think I won’t
punch your pretty face.”

“Oh, how sweet. You called me pretty.” She picked up the gun
and held it by her leg.

Orlan smirked.

Kin wanted to tell the trooper to leave, just for the look
he gave Rebecca. After a moment of hesitation, Kin imagined a child lost in the
Valley of Clingers. The image refused to stop bleeding.

“All right, Orlan. But here’s the problem. If the Clingers
got him, there won’t be much evidence.”

Silence. Orlan glared at Rebecca instead of facing Kin and
the truth. The words he had for Kin were heavy with history and suspicion. “How
soon can you be ready?”

Kin reviewed his repairs and the amount of ammunition
Captain Raien allowed him to keep. “Meet me at the town square. I’ll be
waiting.”

“I’ll be there first.”

Kin shrugged. “Then make yourself useful and help Laura with
the salvage effort.”

Orlan walked away without snapping a rejoinder.

“Orlan.”

The Hero of Man stopped and turned his head, barely looking
over his shoulder or changing his posture.

“We’ll be seeking confirmation of his death.” Kin held the
grip of his pistol in the holster. He stared at the profile of the trooper’s
rough face. “Not a chance to save him. You better get your mind around it. The
valley is a dangerous place.”

Orlan abandoned the conversation, focusing his attention
forward as he walked away. “Fuck you, Roland. I don’t need your help.”

Kin gathered his gear and strapped himself into the battered
FSPAA unit. He waited near the well the rest of the afternoon, helping Laura,
Rickson, and the refugees retrieve the bucket and attach new cables.

Orlan never showed.

MAZZ IMPERIAL warships landed hours
after the survivors and the Crater Town refugees relocated to the foothills
near Sophia’s Pass. Commander Westwood’s ships had destroyed everything of
value in the coastal town during launch, and still scores of people came down
from the mountains, grimacing at evidence of the recent combat while hoping for
news and protection.

“We have to wait,” Laura said. “Anyone surviving the Reapers
will come here.”

“Two days. Then we leave anyone who argues.” Kin remembered
his ultimatum. The words rang in his head. Abandoning one person would crush
him with guilt. Waiting would get everyone killed. “Two days. That’s the best
we can do.”

Laura hadn’t resisted long. She understood what was at
stake. Townspeople drew water from the well, scavenged tools and clothing, then
hiked away from their home of nine years. Every step across the battlefield
reminded Kin of what the future held. Laura and the others appeared stunned at
the amount of carnage: a Reaper corpse with jaws extended so wide its skull
seemed inside out, piles of Ror-Rea heads—men and women—and scraps of burned
and bloody armor.

Captain Raien entered the desperate four-sided battle in her
log as
The Carnage at Crater Town
. Kin hadn’t been the only person
telling her to call it
Westwood’s Retreat
. If Raien were to survive and
rejoin Earth Fleet, her log entry would become the official name for the
engagement, due to her position as the highest-ranking Fleet officer on
Crashdown.

“Westwood is a brilliant tactician. I’ve seen him take well
defended, heavily fortified planets, suppress fanatical resistance movements,
and barely damage a single building.”

Kin concentrated on the horizon. “I’m sure that came during
the looting.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Roland.”

With fatalistic detachment, he watched from the foothills as
waves of Imperial ships slipped out of the wormhole and glided to the landing
area.

Those pilots are good
.

Kin understood the Mazz Imperials came to destroy Sibil
Clavender’s people, the Ror-Rea, or Wingers as Rebecca and the others called
them. This was what it looked like to see a ten-thousand-year-old vendetta
carried out. Yet he couldn’t believe the number of ships or understand why they
built a city with them, locking the warships together like bricks—or perhaps
like the shields of an ancient Roman army.

When he observed the first of these new vessels, his
impression was of heavy, blocky things impossible to maneuver in atmosphere. As
spacecraft, they would be functional, but gravity and environmental factors
would make the huge cuboids difficult to handle in a terrestrial setting.

Then he saw them click together like bricks in a giant wall.
He couldn’t comprehend the expense of such an enterprise.

Why is Crashdown so important?
Another thought came
unbidden.
What are they afraid of?

The planet wasn’t called Crashdown by Clavender’s people.
They called it Edain. Kin considered the ancient myth of Eden, deciding the
similarity of the words must be a coincidence. Hellsbreach would have been a
better name for this place. What kind of paradise held murderous beasts and
weather that made meteor storms seem placid? This wasn’t Eden. This was a death
trap that never released its prey.

Kin watched megalithic warships rearrange to form the
foundations of a city. Blast shields thick enough to resist nuclear detonations
appeared almost at once. Ships landed one on top of the other until the walls
protecting the position were a hundred meters tall.

“Did Earth Fleet use nukes against the Imperials?”

Captain Raien shook her head.

Rickson slipped into the well-concealed observation post.
“They can’t make that place any bigger.”

Another wave of ships entered the atmosphere and landed like
an assault force. Kin studied details and made notes in his FSPAA computer log.

“Looks like these new ships will be mobile.” Kin wondered at
the gigantic wheels sliding from the sides of the battleships. “Not sure where
they think they’re going. Those monsters are a hundred times larger than a
Colossal Class Battle Tank. The mountain pass is too narrow and steep for them
to traverse.”

“Mazz Imperials level mountains that stand in their way,”
Raien said.

Rickson stared, fascinated by the sight of the vehicles when
they began rolling across the coastland.

Captain Raien finished her log entry and turned toward
Rickson. “You shouldn’t be here.”

The young man shrugged. “I’m pretty sneaky.”

Without looking away from his surveillance, Kin said, “I
didn’t hear him.”

Raien grunted. “Stay or go, it doesn’t matter.”

Rickson smiled, mischievous and cocky. “Stay.”

Raien ignored his answer. She addressed Kin. “I’ll send you
relief. Keep eyes on the landing zone.”

“I forgot how comforting it is to take orders.”

“Would you serve Earth Fleet again if you were pardoned?”

Kin thought about it.

Raien waited. “I reviewed your record. You scored top of
your class on every officer assessment test and served as a company commander
three times during Hellsbreach.”

“Officers died quicker than they could find replacement
volunteers. Don’t get excited. I just held the line until a new CO arrived.”

“You’re a natural leader, Kin. I’m going to need you.”

Kin maintained his surveillance of the enemy movements.
Despite everything, he loved the Fleet. There were problems; foolish leaders,
politics, dishonest equipment providers, and soldiers that joined to escape
prosecution. Corporal Raif—the murdering thug—came to mind.

Raien’s suggestion opened wounds. When the Fleet convicted
him as the Traitor of Hellsbreach, he felt betrayed. Before Crashdown, two
things had mattered to Kin—Rebecca and his unit.

“I can’t make any promises,” Raien said.

Kin cut her off with a hand gesture. “Neither can I.”

Raien clenched her jaw, glared, and finally shook her head.
“All right. I’ll be back.”

In her wake, an uncomfortable silence grew. Rickson watched
the titanic machines, his enthusiasm waning as the Imperials performed routine
maneuvers. Kin thought the young man wouldn’t be satisfied until he crept among
the enemy buildings like a thief, daring adventure to come and get him. Yet,
something bothered his friend, something he didn’t want Raien to hear.

“Why won’t you help Orlan find his son?”

Kin glanced over his shoulder, then back at the growing
fortress and wheeled war machines. “I told Orlan I’d help.”

“I can’t imagine how scared the boy must be.”

“He’s dead. You’ve seen the Clingers. No one survives their
valley.”

Rickson chewed a piece of grass, looking straight ahead as
Kin did the same. “Droon survived.”

Kin almost blurted that Reapers were better equipped to
fight than human boys, but thought of what Rebecca said about William. Could a
shape changer survive where a human would die?

“Course, Droon’s a Reaper. You’re probably right, but we
need to know for sure.”

“We?” Kin faced Rickson. “William is Orlan’s problem.”

Rickson clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. “I thought
you’d rush after a helpless boy in danger and save him. Guess you’ve changed.”

“I only told Orlan the truth. I said I’d go. He took off
without me. I’m not going to hold his hand every time he has a mood swing.”

“Whatever.”

“Right now he’s looking forward to a father-son reunion. In
a few hours he’ll be raping and pillaging again.”

“Really? You say things like that, but I’ve never seen it.”

“You didn’t see what happened to Brian Muldoch. They blew
his head off.”

“Who? Orlan?”

Kin didn’t answer. Raif and his squad murdered the
conscientious objector who deserted the Earth Fleet Labor Battalion, not Orlan.
When Kin thought about it, the sergeant was more of a talker and less of a
cold-blooded killer than he had been. In the old days, Kin doubted his rival
would have allowed him to live even for a million-credit bounty. The Hero of
Man he remembered wouldn’t ask for help or acknowledge illegitimate offspring.

Hero of Man, what a joke. Orlan doesn’t have a heroic
bone in his body
. Kin’s thoughts didn’t offer comfort. It was easy to make
Orlan the bad guy. He killed without mercy.
Just like I’ve done a hundred
times
.

Kin thought about his initial encounter with Orlan on
Crashdown. Kin attacked, not the other way around. During the second meeting,
Orlan took his gear, but spared his life. When they captured Droon, Orlan
threatened to kill Kin, but didn’t.

“You want me to look for Orlan and his son?”

Rickson snorted, stood, and walked away, heedless of
concealment.

“Don’t crawl up here again unless you can remain out of
sight. I don’t need Imperials swarming our position.”

If Rickson heard the chastisement, he didn’t respond.

Kin updated his log, annoyed at the amount of detail he
missed while arguing with Rickson. He focused on his task, counting thirty-six
wheeled machines now ready to roll. A ramp dropped from the first twelve, and
five companies of Imperial troopers marched inside each.

Lieutenant Randall Dogface squatted behind Kin, speaking in
a stern but understated voice. “Roland, you’re relieved.”

“Thanks, Dogface.”

Randall grunted and took Kin’s position.

Kin returned to the camp hidden in a stand of trees between
two hills. He didn’t like waiting to be attacked on low ground, but the
Imperial scouts would see the Crater Town refugees and Earth Fleet troopers if
they moved to elevated terrain.

He searched for Rickson, growing worried the longer he
looked. Near the designated sleeping area, kids played kick-the-can, one of
Rickson’s games, but there was no sign of the shepherd.

“Sophia, have you seen Rickson?” Kin asked. A plastic
container bounced past him followed by three screaming juveniles. He almost
told them to keep their voices down, but didn’t see the point. What good would
it do to scare them? They were going to have plenty of hard times in the
future.

“Sophia.”

“I heard you, Kin Roland. Rickson brought the children a
plastic canister and told a wonderful story about a hero who goes on a quest
but comes back safe. Even the older children listened. He’s such a good boy.”

“That sounds like Rickson. Storytelling is his second-best
talent.”

“I suspect the first is the ability to cause you grief.”

“Like no other. If you see him, don’t let him leave until I
return.”

“How would I do that, Kin?”

He looked at the delicate old woman. “Who could deny you,
Sophia?”

She shrugged. “I had my way with men when I was younger, but
these days they run faster and I have such little feet.”

“Please, Sophia. Children are listening.”

She laughed. “I’ll use my charm on the young adventurer if he
comes this way.”

“You ought to put him over your knee. What about Rebecca?”

Sophia pointed toward a grove.

Kin nodded respectfully and smiled before striding across
the camp.

Rebecca squatted in her Mech unit, practicing arming and
aiming each of her weapons. The top of the unit brushed tree branches.

“Have you seen Rickson?”

The oversized helmet turned. It contained Rebecca’s torso
from the shoulders up, but troopers still referred to that part of a Mech as
the helmet. “He went to find William.”

“You didn’t stop him?”

“I put him in a chokehold for a while, but Ogre kept
snapping at me and I have things to do.”

Kin checked his power levels and ammunition stockpiled in
the FSPAA unit’s interior vault. The bullets were laughably small, until they
launched at high velocity. It was good to be using modern firearms again, but
he wouldn’t be able to get replacement ordinance when he ran out.

“I’m going after him. Tell Raien where I went, but not until
after I leave.”

“Them.”

“What?”

“You’re going after them.”

“One thing at a time. I can’t save everyone.”

Rebecca resumed practicing her tactics. “That’s not what I
heard.”