Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) (20 page)

CAPTAIN Trak returned with a motley
band of fighters. Cyborgs formed the center of the formation. Human in
appearance, their muscled bodies bore machine parts of uncertain purpose.
Fluids pumped through tubes. Rows of small lights blinked sequentially around
eyes set in square faces. Scales of armor repaired themselves with agile
micro-tentacles of impressive speed and agility.

Other sections cyborg machinery could only be interpreted as
instruments of violence. Each man bore a chainsaw instead of a left hand. On
close inspection, Kin saw the scales of their armored limbs were edged with
moving metal teeth. He made a mental note never to wrestle one of the
strangers.

One of Trak’s new group stood taller than Kin, though his
exceedingly thin body gave him the appearance of a swaying sapling with a face
concealed by a shadowy hood.

Two others resembled Imperial troopers in new gear Not a
scratch marred their armor and they remained apart from the rest of Trak’s men.

“You found them,” Nander said. “Excellent work. What is the
status of our forward base?”

Trak’s earlier demeanor had vanished as though the worst
danger was over. “The Reapers were repulsed. I have word the Fortress City is
complete. Should the Slomn attack in force, we are directed and required to
fall back within the walls.”

“Very good,” Nander said.

As the Imperial Mazz general attended to business, the
sinewy cloaked figure move near Kin and leaned down. It seemed he wanted to
smell Kin.

Kin felt ice on his skin. He fought the urge to recoil.

Soul stealer
.

Nander laughed as he slapped Kin’s shoulder. “They don’t
actually take souls. It’s a foolish superstition.”

“What are they doing here?” Kin asked.

“Until very recently, they were trying to steal Clavender
away from the Reaper Chief.” Nander pointed to a place near the edge of the
temporary camp, spoke in the Mazz language, and waited for the alien band to
obey. All but one of the false troopers moved to the spot and rested.

“This is Iso-tri-tross. One of my best agents.”

When the plain trooper spoke, his voice sounded exactly as
Nander’s did. “I wish you wouldn’t tell everyone my real name.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nander said.

“Not to you. Your end is already written. For me, there is
hope,” Iso-tri-tross said. “Who are you?”

Kin raised one hand in what he hoped was a non-offensive
greeting. “Kin Roland, prisoner.”

The shape changer laughed.

“What should I call you?” Kin asked.

Another laugh. “You should call me free, but alas, it is not
true. Call me Iso, since the damage is done.”

“Enough,” Nander said. “Why did you fail to capture the
princess?”

Iso shrugged. “The warlock threw Clingers at us. Then there
was a great battle. We waited until Droon left the woman with Garjiin, but
there were problems.”

“What problems?” Nander clenched a fist.

“Teeth,” Iso said. When he smiled it seemed the fangs of
Droon’s mount reached forward.

Nander looked at the half human, half machines across the
clearing. “I suppose that is why I have three cyborgs instead of six.”

Iso examined his fingers. “Yes.”

“And two less shape changers,” Nander said.

“They were not good shifters.” Iso met Kin’s eyes. “Some of
my kind begin to believe they possess the attributes of the forms they take.
This causes them to get killed.”

“What happened to Droon and Clavender?” Kin asked.

Iso shrugged. “If I knew where they went, I would be
following them.”

Nander moved among his men inspecting equipment and issuing
orders. In the distance, Reapers ululated. Wolves howled. Kin watched a
squadron of Ror-Rea glide in silhouette across the moons of Crashdown.

“Will you accept Nander’s offer?” Iso had never taken his
eyes from Kin.

“I don’t see what is in it for me,” Kin said, distracted by
the distant sights and sounds.

Iso summoned another of the shape changers—a female trooper
by the way she strutted.

Kin’s attention quickly returned. The approaching shape
changer walked in a way Kin recognized.

“No. Don’t.” Kin stood, stumbled, and held up a hand for the
armored woman to stop.

She removed her helmet and shook out long waves of hair Kin
had not seen since before the Hellsbreach campaign. The color and texture
wasn’t right, but the face was exactly as he knew it—scars, lips, and eyes
perfectly recognizable.

Kin turned away and closed his eyes, bracing as though he
were about to be struck. “Tell her to change.”

Iso hoped close to Kin and squatted to whisper in his ear.
“Or what?”

Kin shoved the shape changer leader away. “Or I’ll kill all
of you.” He reached for weapons that weren’t there. “I’ll kill you all!”

William’s mother was a shape changer. Rebecca had called her
a prostitute—the kind to fulfill any fantasy. Kin had never been to one of the
pleasure houses, but he knew the fantasies they acted out were rarely sexual.
Conversations with lost loved ones, memories of better times, manipulation of
emotions—that’s what the changelings did.

He wanted to see Rebecca so badly. Every time he heard the
Shock Troopers fighting, he feared he would never hold her again. Their
vacation after Westwood’s Retreat had been too short.

When he opened his eyes, Iso waited nearby.

“I am sorry, Kin Roland. It will not happen again.”

Kin waved angrily and strode through the camp.

Nander nodded at Captain Trak, who followed at a safe
distance with two of his troopers.

Kin ignored them. He went to a spring day on Earth VI.
Rebecca sat close as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I volunteered for the Hellsbreach campaign,” he said. Then
he edited the conversation as he had done hundreds of times.

“Don’t go. Stay with me. Let the Fleet handle Hellsbreach.”

Tears ran down Kin’s face, slow and full of relief. “I’ll
never leave you. My enlistment will be complete at the end of the month. I can
find work near Headquarters until you’ve completed your obligation.”

The flickering light of Crashdown’s wormhole tainted his
daydream. He closed his eyes but could feel Captain Trak and the others
standing close, watching him, and judging his silence. He stood and faced away
from the camp.

“Have you ever lost someone important to you, Trak?”

“I have.”

IMPERIAL reinforcements arrived to
escort Nander’s company. Kin stayed away from the mercenary slaves and refused
to look at the woman who had so artlessly attempted to entice him. Iso walked silently
at his side, apparently full of remorse for the cruel ruse.

Explosions methodically widened the mountain pass to the
south. Before they finished the final cut through rock and dirt, wheeled war
machines maneuvered single file past the engineering crews. In the distance,
they seemed to move ponderously. Plumes of dust rose from the fifteen-meter
high wheels. Heavy tread grinded trees down like bits of pavement.

Kin could see why the Imperial forces wanted this valley.
The land climbed gradually in the middle of the vast space. Once out of the
foothills and away from the pass, the forest gave way to fields of grass and
wildflowers. The forward base, though recently assaulted by Reapers, was
stronger and better defended than Kin remembered from two prior.

“If given enough time, this base will be nearly as strong as
the Fortress City,” Nander said.

“Why do you want me to join the Mazz Empire?” Kin asked.

Nander fumbled with a reply. “When we defeat the Slomn,
there will be negotiations with Earth Fleet for a ceasefire. Our leaders feel
it will make the process easier if a human had been crucial to the victory.”

Kin laughed so hard and so long that Nander started to
fidget in annoyance.

“Your leaders came up with that?”

Nander looked uncomfortable. “I put forth the idea.”

“I have news for you, General, the Fleet wants me dead.”

“Perhaps. But when it becomes known you not only stood by us
to face the Slomn, but ended the Reaper threat, attitudes may change.”

Kin decided the Imperials weren’t as similar to their Earth
Fleet counterparts as he had begun to think. The Fleet wouldn’t thank him even
if he killed every last Reaper in the universe. He had failed to obey a direct
order. Each life spent to take Hellsbreach and place the Worldbreaker Nukes was
his fault. No matter what Nander or Westwood or Raien said, he was an outlaw.
His comrades had died for nothing.

“I might help you,” Kin said. “But you have to protect some
people for me.”

“The Crater Town folk. Yes, we have been trying to bring
them into the fold for some time.”

Columns of Imperial troopers marched inside the newly
finished walls of the forward base. Most had seen battle recently, but repairs
had been made to infantry armor and vehicles. A score of the enormous wheeled
war machines took positions around the base. A fresh army advanced through the
North West gap, widened by explosives.

Kin could barely believe the fighting power of the Imperial
Grand Army.

“When the Slomn come, we will fight them to the death. Edain
is the last world they will destroy. On the Ror-Rea Bleeding Ground or here, it
must end.”

Nander spoke with conviction, but the sickness of the destroyed
wormhole beacons hadn’t left him. His eyes sank into his head. Sweat beaded on
his pale skin. He didn’t bother with the helmet anymore.

“You must answer my request,” Nander said.

“I’ll fight the Slomn. And the Reapers.” Kin still wondered
at Nander’s persistence. “Do you get a recruitment bonus or something?”

Nander smirked. It was the closest sound to a laugh he had
uttered for a long time. “I am required to name my successor.” He looked at
Trak bringing up the rear of the formation with his bodyguards. “That is why
Captain Trak hates you.”

“Since when does a captain become a general?”

Nander stopped and faced him. “For us, rank means everything
and nothing.”

“No Earth Fleet general would share your opinion,” Kin said.

They began walking toward the central command tower. “What I
said about your part after the victory that must come is true, but I also chose
you because I believe you can lead my army to where others will fail.”

“How many divisions make up the Imperial Grand Army?”

“Forty-four.”

“Which division is yours?”

Nander laughed. This time it was a surprisingly gentle
sound. “They’re all mine.”

“You’re insane.”

“Perhaps.”

“They won’t follow me, no matter what you tell them.”

“You do not understand the Mazz.” Nander returned the
salutes of men guarding the command tower. “I’m not dead yet in any case.”

An immaculately dressed contingent of troopers escorted them
to the highest level of the tower, which Kin noticed was serviced by twisting
stairs instead of elevators. No one spoke to him or gave him more attention
than was required by duty.

“Trak is my son,” Nander said without warning, and without
looking at Kin.

“This keeps getting better and better.”

“I want you to understand how
serious I am. You will destroy the Slomn. Forget about Hellsbreach. Should you
fail, every habitable planet from here to Earth will burn.”

KIN found himself in a comfortable
cell with two guards stationed outside the door. He used the small shower,
carefully observing the time limit warning. Scrubbing soap away in a desperate
rush against the clock might not define luxury, yet, when he was done he
struggled to remember the last time he had been so clean.

On the bunk waited gray fatigues and a shirt. He dressed,
looked for his old boots, and finally slipped his feet into the pair issued by
the Mazz quartermaster.  He looked in the small mirror above the sink,
considered shaving his unruly hair, and decided against it.

The room lacked a computer or any type of reading material.
The only thing he learned of the Mazz Imperials during his wait was that they
kept simple, adequate quarters. As prison cells went, his new home was
comfortable.

The bunk wasn’t soft, but was flat, unlike the ground he had
been sleeping on. Unable to relax on the thin mattress and unwilling to lie on
the floor, he sat and waited.

Captain Trak stepped inside when the door opened. “General
Nander sends his compliments and hopes your quarters are adequate.”

“Best cell I’ve been imprisoned in so far,” Kin said as he
stood to face the man.

“Indeed. The General also wishes to inform you he is
occupied with administrative duties pending the final stage of his radiation
sickness.”

Kin held his gaze level. “How is it that you didn’t get sick
from the wormhole beacons?”

“General Nander took the assignment with the highest
personal danger for himself. That is why we follow him. His bravery is
legendary.”

“I bet,” Kin said. “Is it common practice for officers to
allow themselves to be captured?”

A pause. Trak’s expression hardened. “He wished to know
whether the intelligence gathered on you was accurate. Apparently, he decided
it was.”

“Captain Trak, I don’t want this. My only concern is for the
people under my protection.  I am a friend of the Ror-Rea. Don’t forget it.”

Trak handed over a small computer tablet. “My father has his
reasons.”

Kin held the device so he could monitor Trak while reading
the screen.

Trak spoke. “The Slomn will not be beaten. Not by you or any
other general.”

“Is optimism a normal trait among your ranks?”

Trak didn’t answer.

Nander’s message explained the transfer of power he intended
to implement. It warned him the Ror-Rea must be brought under the control of
the Mazz Empire before the Slomn attacked. He claimed the winged warriors were
immune to Slomn psionic attacks but would suffer if a nuclear onslaught became
a reality.

It was a short message for such an important document. The
final statement commanded Kin to submit to a battery of physical tests.

He read the message silently.
If ours scientist are not
mistaken, your ordeal on Hellsbreach has granted you an extended lifespan. Both
my friends and detractors believe this desperate measure is a temporary
solution to imminent danger. But I tell you now that much of your value
concerns the entire future of Mazz and Human interaction. You must survive long
enough to meld our societies until they are one empire with identical laws,
customs, and agendas
, the note read.

Kin knew Trak watched him carefully. He doubted the man had
been allowed to read the communication.

“How many Mazz have been held captive by Reapers?” Kin
asked.

“Nearly a hundred.”

“Did they suffer side effects?”

“Not as you have.”

Kin made a show of reading the rest of the message, then
asked, “Their lives were extended?”

“Only my father’s genetics accepted the Reaper modifications.
Our scientists predict I would be strong enough to earn the gift of extended
lifespan. But the Reapers have never been able to capture me,” Trak said.

“But they captured your siblings or others with similar
genes.”

“None that survived.”

Kin read the rest of the message.

If I had managed to capture Clavender, I would have been
honor bound to execute her once she served her purpose. Perhaps you may avoid
taking this action. But you must convince her to take my army to the Bleeding
Grounds. She must yield control. Whoever reigns there will have an
insurmountable advantage. The Slomn hope to use the power of Crashdown’s core
to do what only she can do. They may succeed. If they do, all is lost.

Kin read the words again before continuing.

The Earth ships in the cavern have been to the Bleeding
Grounds, but encountered no enemies and did no battle. Or if they did, there is
no trace of who or what they defeated there. Control of these ships may be
important. They may hold the secret of the Ror-Rea’s sacred place. Though I
fear it will not be enough to succeed without Clavender
.

“How many times are you going to read that?” Trak asked.

Kin raised his eyes but said nothing before continuing.

I lived a long time. It may be that collapsing the
Slomn’s unholy device affected me more dramatically because of my extended
life. I will die. The winged warriors will attack the Reapers to reclaim
Clavender. They will then fight Empire with all their strength, which is
greater than you know. The Reapers may war on us as well. And Earth Fleet
rallies to return to Crashdown.

Bring them together. Defeat the Slomn. What you do beyond
that will depend on your conscience and sense of duty. But I hope you will
unite all those who have stood against the destructive forces in the universe
and create peace. My people have been too long at war
.

Kin handed the tablet back. “I don’t think he wants you to
read that.”

Trak turned off the device and slipped it into his pocket.

“I’m scheduled for some tests,” Kin said.

“I will escort you to the infirmary.”

Kin waited for the Mazz doctor to calibrate diagnostic
machines. Tension drained from his arms and legs first, then from his neck and
shoulders. This was the last place he expected to relax. The doctor’s bedside
manner consisted of two word sentences.

“Sit down. Breathe deeply. Hold still.”

Kin ignored the man, acknowledging him as some type of robot
or mouthpiece for the meters and dials but little more. His mind drifted to his
friends. Sadness followed, yet he lacked the urge to rush from the room to
search for them.

He thought of William in the cavern and the odd story of a
man claiming to be the undying Emperor of the Mazz race. At the time, Kin
dismissed William’s words as a dream. Now he wondered if the stranger suffered
from the curse of Hellsbreach longevity.

Kin didn’t want to live for ten-thousand years in an Iron
Box sewer. The story couldn’t be true. Clavender’s people often seemed
immortal, barring a fatal injury. Was the Emperor of William’s story one of
them? Was there another force in the universe able to prolong life to the point
of purgatory?

“Open your eyes,” the doctor said.

Kin looked at the man who stared at him but spoke to Captain
Trak.

“He has the genetic contamination of Betaoin. The Reapers
have modified him for a hundred years of torture.”

“Good thing you’re not a Reaper.”

The doctor almost suppressed a smile. “Am I boring you?”

“Let’s just say that I wouldn’t want to spend extended
longevity in your care.”

The doctor turned his head toward Trak, then focused once again
on Kin. “I am the Imperial Physician. Until the Emperor returns to us, I attend
to the welfare of his General.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to deal with me for long.”

The words struck the man dumb. Trak exhaled and muttered
something Kin couldn’t make out.

“Why do say such a thing?” the doctor asked.

Kin wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed or how he
found his way into it. “Just a feeling I have.”

The doctor disconnected wires from Kin’s skin with trembling
hands. “Do not speak so lightly until you understand who we are and what we
strive to achieve.”