Son of Orlan (The Chronicles of Kin Roland Book 2) (5 page)

Kin frowned, glad she couldn’t read his expression. The
reason he knew it wasn’t the commander was Rebecca’s revelation that Orlan’s
son might be a shape changer. He would have been fooled otherwise.

“How can you tell?”

Laura shrugged. “Benjamin has a heart condition. A fact he
explained to me before climax. He never wanted to cum too hard.”

“Nice.”

“I’m not the one with an old girlfriend.”

“Laura, I never thought I’d see her again.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to know about your childish
infatuations. You don’t need me anymore. She’s young, attractive.”

“The Imperials have made a decision.”

“Never mind that she’s flat chested, acts like a man, and
curses worse than a sailor.”

“You’re lecturing me after you just described Commander
Benjamin Westwood’s orgasm routine? Really? I ought to let the Imperials
capture you. You could drive them crazy.”

Laura leaned around Kin, aimed her pistol, and fired. The
bullet struck the lead Imperial in the foot as he put it down, causing him to
trip and fall face first.

Kin stared at her. “Nice shot.”

“He’s getting up and the others are right behind him. Now’s
a good time for your brilliant plan.”

Kin spent the peak of his career fighting Reapers, trying to
understand them, trying to predict attacks and detect weaknesses. The Imperials
fought as Earth Fleet troopers did, with a few differences. As fierce as the
Reapers were, battling the Mazz Imperials was more dangerous. He feared
disciplined troops more than he feared monsters.

The Imperial platoon regrouped and charged with precise
small unit tactics. Most of their force surrounded Westwood and Raien’s team as
though they were an army instead of a few individuals.

Aggressive, but cautious. How can I use that to win?
“I wish Orlan was here.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Laura said. “Tell me
what to do, or I’m heading back to the others.”

“Go. I’ll take it from here.”

“Lean down.”

Kin bent to accept her kiss. He watched her lips touch the
helmet shield and smiled. She closed her eyes as she released him, something
she rarely did. She turned away and hurried up the trail.

WITH no better plan, Kin fired
grenades, fell back, fired his rifle, fell back, and fired again.

Figure it out, Kin
.

He reloaded, transferring ammunition from the protected ammo
vault deep in the armor, and scanned the area. Nothing about the terrain helped
him. He had the high ground, but not for long. If he remained where he was,
they’d be on him soon.

Falling back, he launched another volley, dodging return
fire and worrying he would be out of ammo soon.

Four Fleet troopers assigned to protect the refugees descended
the trail and joined him.

“Laura sent us.”

“And you listened to her?”

“This is where the fight is,” the trooper said.

Kin grimaced and allowed the troopers to exchange fire with
the Imperial platoon. During a pause, he borrowed ammunition, then fell back to
the narrowest part of the trail and waited for the Fleet troopers to withdraw
after a scrimmage.
Retreat by the numbers. Shoot. Move. Take cover. Repeat.

Laura and the others were on their own now. Kin hoped they
didn’t stumble across Droon and his Reapers. He looked to the sky, unsurprised
by its emptiness. He couldn’t get lucky enough to have the Ror-Rea warriors
save him again.

“I’m out of ammo,” a trooper said.

“Get out of your suit. Set it to self-destruct, then run.
We’ll draw them into the explosion.” Kin expected an argument. Troopers valued
armor more than their skin, and Kin wasn’t in the Fleet. He wasn’t in charge.
Yet the trooper obeyed, quickly programming the FSPAA and dashing up the trail
as the timer ran down.

“I’m ready when you are,” Kin said to the other troopers.
They nodded without letting the Imperials out of their sights. The vision of
them staring down rifle barrels, silent and ready, inspired powerful nostalgia.
These were good men.

Kin counted to ten. He waited a moment longer. If the FSPAA
exploded this close, his problems would be over.

“Now! Run. Panic. Make it look real.”

The three remaining troopers fired blindly, turned, and
bolted up the hill. Kin followed them, pausing once to fire down on the
speeding Imperials. Moments after he ran, the FSPAA explosion rocked the trail.

The shock wave flattened him. He held his rifle close to his
chest and took much of the fall on the shield of his helmet. Rolling over and
looking back, he saw the Imperials regrouping and setting a perimeter. They
checked each other for damage and waited for reinforcements.

Not bad. Now if I can
regroup with Rebecca and the Shock Troopers, we might have a chance
. He
found a boulder overlooking the meadow and climbed it. Far below, Captain Raien
faced the consequences of her actions.

MAYFIELD had impressed Kin during
the escape into the mountains. Alert, professional, and tireless, he was the
ideal soldier. Watching him go down reminded Kin of hopeless battles on
Hellsbreach and the misery of seeing comrades die in a lost cause.

Johnson didn’t fall, he disappeared as three rockets struck
him simultaneously. Debris clattered over a wide area. Smoke drifted away from
the impact like a ghost.

“They’re going after the Captain and Westwood. We can hold
the rest from the high ground,” a trooper near Kin said.

Kin shook his head. He started to respond. Raien was far
away and surrounded by Imperials, fresh soldiers who hadn’t been fleeing a
superior force. He couldn’t help her. She made a bad decision and was about to
pay for it.

Before he knew it, his feet took him dangerously close to
the confrontation, down the trail he had worked so hard to climb. The closest
Imperial platoon remained in a defensive perimeter, apparently confident they
would overtake the Crater Town refugees soon enough. Whoever led this unit
wasn’t rushing to failure. Smart commanders grew tired of ambushes. Time was
firmly allied with the Imperials.

Kin observed units being freed from the action against
Captain Raien. They had her surrounded, and they had who they thought was
Westwood. Situation in hand, the Imperial leaders turned toward the refugees on
the trail.

Kin stopped. Two of the remaining Earth Fleet troopers in
his squad aimed careful shots at the enemy platoon. FSPAA weapons, when not
used in rapid-fire mode, were relatively quiet. Higher rates of fire
overpowered sound suppressors. He watched the two destroy the few Imperials
unable to find proper cover or concealment. It was a low intensity event
compared with what came before.

A third Earth Fleet trooper, Kin thought it was Corporal
Pax, fired long sniper shots at the Imperials around Raien. He scored a few
kills despite the armor of his victims. Kin watched the drama unfold, knowing
his sniper couldn’t change the inevitable.

“I should be with her!” Pax grunted over the radio. A
wordless sound followed the exclamation, a drawn-out groan-snarl. The corporal
increased his rate of fire. As sniper attacks went, he was ripping off rounds
with less and less concern for the art of long shooting.

Three Imperials rushed Captain Raien, crushing her under
their combined weight as she fought hand to hand. She kicked and punched,
twisted, head-butted, struggling against overwhelming odds.

“She’s my battle bitch.” Pax’s voice crackled over the com
system. Pride colored his words, but Kin detected more. The boast trailed off
as though the man would have said more.

Raien paused. Imperial troopers started to bind her with
nylon cords. When the first restraint touched her wrist, she attacked like a
banshee.

Nearly escaping wasn’t the same as escaping. Kin released
his breath and punched his right fist into his left palm.

Commander Westwood
ducked into a cluster of bushes.
Kin waited for him to emerge, but saw only leaves and branches thrashing. Imperials
closed around the spot, proceeding cautiously.

What the hell are they doing? They have him
. He
waited for the Imperial troopers to dog pile Westwood.

Kin’s heart ticked off seconds that swelled into existence
like air bubbles struggling toward the surface of the ocean. Imperials dragged
Raien from her armor. Others closed the circle the bushes where Westwood hid.

Everything stopped.

Kin held his breath.

A Reaper burst from the undergrowth, slashing with claws and
snapping teeth, but missing. Imperials staggered back, surprised. Two of the
veteran soldiers tripped and sprayed bullets at the sky.

The Reaper dashed away as rockets pursued it.

Kin waited for them to chase the
Reaper-that-wasn’t-a-Reaper, but they closed around the bushes and dived in.
Other Imperials formed attack squads and blasted the area around the fleeing
Reaper.

Kin watched, realizing the troopers with him had ceased
firing and stood in amazement.

“He doesn’t run like a Reaper,” Kin said.

The trooper next to him spoke slowly, confusion in his
voice. “No, it doesn’t. Is there something wrong with it?”

“That depends how you look at it,” Kin said. “Captain Raien
is captured. We can’t rescue her, not right now. I want you to set a false
trail. Start the Imperials heading to Gold Village, and then to Amanda’s Gap.
Check your maps. You’ll see where I mean.”

“That will buy us time,” a trooper said. “What about
Commander Westwood?”

“Get it done.” Kin remained where he was. “That wasn’t
Westwood.”

Corporal Pax stood from the ledge he had used to launch his
sniper attack and allowed his rifle to hang at his side. He stared at Kin. “Are
you going to bring her back?”

Kin didn’t answer.

An Imperial company joined the platoon waiting at the foot
of the trail. He saw unit leaders conferring in a small circle. When his
troopers were well on their way to setting a false trail, Kin went toward
Maiden’s Keep, careful to obscure his passage. He fantasized about Becca and
her Shock Troopers bursting from the trees to slaughter the Imperials.

Birds chirped around him as though war never existed.

Kin found a stream, lowered his helmet assembly, and knelt
to drink. He washed his face and checked his back trail. No one seemed to be
pursuing. The Imperials would find Maiden’s Keep. By then, Kin hoped to fortify
the defenses, though even that was a temporary measure at best.

On impulse he tried the Earth Fleet secure link. “Roland to
Private Morris, give me a status report.”

“Morris to Roland, we’ve concealed our trail. Hope the
Imperials don’t follow this way. If they do, we’re done for.”

Nice
. Kin joined the ruse, anticipating a compromised
communications link. “There’s nowhere to go. Let’s hope they can’t track us.
Begin fortifications. I’m going to check on Captain Raien’s situation.”

“Roger that.”

Kin thought the trooper sounded relieved, and wouldn’t have
revealed his true intention even if he could. With deliberate slowness, he left
the trail and made his way toward the meadow where Raien had been captured, but
didn’t look for her. The Imperials would have taken her away by now.

DENSE trees bordered the meadow.
The tangled branches and undergrowth were easy to misjudge from a high trail.
Before Droon came and chased him all over Crashdown, Kin would have cursed the
route as impossible, just as he thanked God for the concealment. The terrain had
become merely an expected part of a bad situation. He walked as far as he could
before crawling under a bush with limbs as tough as steel and thick as night.
Once he forced his way through, he would be out of view of patrols—or at least
out of view of the ones he knew about.

He needed to be quiet. Imperial sensors swept the area,
though it seemed the main force had moved. How many times had Kin left hidden
spies to observe a strategic position or search for clandestine enemies? A
hundred? A thousand? Twenty feet into the underbrush, he stopped, listened, and
waited.

Startling an animal would give him away as surely as
stomping down the road like a raw recruit. Nothing moved. He steadied his
breathing.

A bug crawled over his face shield. Moments passed until Kin
understood there were no animals. On Crashdown, that was a bad sign.

I can avoid one more Imperial patrol. I’ve been doing it
all day. Scoot and crawl, that’s the glamorous life of a Fleet trooper
.

An odor alerted him to danger—the faint stink of smoke
drifting through filters to his nostrils. Fire wasn’t on his list of things he
wanted to encounter while confined in brambles. Heat might not kill him
immediately. His helmet would filter smoldering particulates and draw on
limited FSPAA contained oxygen reserves, but limits defined every piece of
equipment and Kin respected the raw power of nature.

He tried to discern other warning signs, but only the smell
remained. He didn’t see smoke, or hear crackling flames. There were no animals
fleeing. Whatever it was, it had been extinguished.

I hope
.

He moved to the edge of the thicket and prepared to stand,
stopping for no logical reason. Something wasn’t right. He trusted intuition,
but never worshipped it like some veterans. Observation and analysis—that was
the way to avoid a trap. Yet the siren in his soul punished his senses. It
wasn’t fear. That might come later. That might come when death zoomed toward
him like a bullet. The emotion he felt left no room for fear or bravery. Alarm
dominated his nameless thoughts—silent, vague, all-consuming dread.

Back up
. He edged away from the clearing, chose a new
route, and proceeded cautiously.

The body he discovered could have been a robot. Intense heat
had melted ceramic and steel, vaporized the flesh from inside the helmet and
damaged plates. Short of a nuclear detonation, Kin tried to imagine what kind
of weapon caused such destruction. He crawled closer, picking his way around
smoldering patches of stone. For several moments he pondered the identity of
the fallen trooper and decided it must have been an Imperial.

Few Earth Fleet troopers remained on Crashdown, and Kin
thought he knew approximately where they were. That alone indicated this
soldier had been one of the invaders. The armor, though distorted, seemed
Imperial. The identity wouldn’t have concerned him, except for what he found
just beyond the dead man.

A beacon he doubted was of Earth Fleet design had been
screwed into the earth. He couldn’t know how deep it penetrated, but wouldn’t
be surprised if it reached bedrock. The surface of the device spread over six
meters of the clearing and was perhaps fifty centimeters thick. Sections
interlocked. Indecipherable symbols ran along the border. Someone had folded it
down for better concealment once installed.

Kin rose to a squatting position as he scanned the area for
danger. Signs of fighting marked the forest—branches blown from trees, pieces
of armor, liquid fire eating into the trunk of a Crashdown oak. There was only
one body. He returned to it, but didn’t touch the heap of metal and ceramic
parts. Dreading what he would learn, he scanned the debris.

Radioactive
. Had someone used a nuclear warhead?
Surely he would have seen the mushroom cloud of a battlefield nuke. As he
reviewed his memory of recent battles, he stalked the clearing searching for
clues, saving the burning tree for last.

In time, the Crashdown oak would go up like a torch, but
tough bark and green wood resisted the incendiary assault. Kin leaned close,
documenting the scene with his FSPAA cameras. The glowing liquid was thick,
reminding him of napalm. He stared at it for a long time, thinking it clotted
like blood, though the FSPAA sensors detected radioactive qualities and nothing
organic.

Kin had been around. He’d fought every creature in the
galaxy and mastered their weapons. Nothing fit the details of this scene. One
thing was certain. The device screwed into the ground had a purpose. On close
inspection, he noticed a translucent panel in the center reflecting the
wormhole in the sky. He looked up, then back at the device, and admitted the
anomaly above didn’t match the swirling colors in the glass. Whatever caused
the undulating rivers of light in the device was contained under the protective
casing.

Imperials
. Clavender used the wormhole against the
Imperial army many times. If her tale was to be believed, she cast them across
the galaxy to prevent war between them and her people. She claimed an unknown
force was interfering with her control of the space anomaly. Without
understanding how her power worked, Kin took her at her word. It seemed logical
that the Imperials developed their own mechanism to influence the wormhole.
Earth Fleet had never been able to move one and barely understood how to chart
their destination points. The Imperials had been fighting through the galaxy
for thousands of years. They were motivated by fanaticism Kin couldn’t
comprehend. Imperial scientists probably tortured secrets from every advanced
civilization they conquered and knew things Humans only wondered about.

Kin exhaled. For several moments he stared at the clearing
without thinking. Revelation ignored him.

Thoughts of the incinerated Imperial coalesced into a
warning, but retreated and reformed into nameless emotions belonging to the
house of dread. He didn’t understand how or why the trooper died here. Kin’s
instinct suggested the man had been trying to stop the placement of the
wormhole beacon.

It didn’t make sense.

No Earth Fleet weapon killed the man, and if he killed
himself placing the device, the device should be damaged as well. Reapers
didn’t have nuclear weapons. Neither did the Ror-Rea.

Kin hated the implications of his logic. If he had to face a
new threat, he wanted it to be a known threat. What he’d found didn’t fit in
that category.

He explored the edge of the device with gauntleted hands,
then tried to move it. He tried to break it, realizing that he might join the
dead Imperial in hell. When at last he backed away, it was clear the alien
construction couldn’t be destroyed without heavy weapons.

What good would it do for Clavender to close the wormhole if
the Mazz opened it again? And what if it was a trap? What if fiery death
awaited her the next time she tried to touch the opening?

With few options available and the fate of William, Rickson,
and the others on his mind, he left the thing he now thought of as a wormhole
beacon and scouted the area. With Fleet discipline, he expanded his search in
an increasing circle from the device until he located two more.

Three devices formed a triangle a thousand meters on each
side. Definitely some sort of beacon or landing device. The strangest aspect of
his reconnaissance was the presence of a ravine in the center. The dark pit
opened like the maw of a dragon, or perhaps, a gate to the underworld.

If I wasn’t trying to rescue Raien and William and
Rickson and every other fool on this planet, I might be able to win the war
right here. Closing the wormhole must be the key
. He needed more time to
sabotage the beacons. Even as he daydreamed about shutting the devices down, he
doubted his theories. The symbols engraved into the metal vaguely resembled the
Imperial alphabet.

Rebecca was missing in action. Clavender was occupied by the
Ror-Rea High Lords. Orlan was being Orlan. And Kin had no idea what he was
really dealing with. Things were much simpler before Earth Fleet and Droon fell
out of the wormhole.

What he would give to be arresting a few drunks fighting
over a woman or defending the town from raiders. Arguing with Laura. Dreaming
of Becca. Looking for Rickson because a wolf had been seen near the sheep and
the boy had gone alone to hunt it.

His life hadn’t been too bad, even with flashbacks crowding
his sleep.

Kin checked his ammunition inventory and was pleased to find
more remained than he feared—not as much as he would’ve liked, but a far cry
from throwing rocks.

At least on Hellsbreach he had one enemy, one mission, even
if he found the final decision too hard to make.

He moved out of the area after plotting the location of each
device and the ravine in his FSPAA log. Eventually, he would return to Maiden’s
Keep and share what he learned. Captain Raien might be able to process his
recently gathered intelligence. Perhaps she knew more of the Imperials than she
had shared. Officers always possessed classified information. With luck, she
would understand what his discovery meant and what to do about it.

That left Kin in a predicament. Raien was beyond his reach.
He doubted the Imperials would release her. For all he knew, she was dead.
Either way, he still needed to find the others and take them to safety.

He made the difficult trek to Bear’s cabin, hoping Rickson
might be there and that he might find a better view of the valley. Only the
ghost of the mountain man remained. The front door was shut. Inside, none of
his stores had been touched. Rickson would have left a memorial for his friend,
had he plundered the larder.

Even though Bear died far from here, devoured by Clingers
.

Kin spread Bear’s maps across a table and planned his
course. He placed thimbles and shot glasses to mark Imperial held areas. A gold
coin marked the point of Raien’s capture. A feather pointed the direction
William the Reaper fled.

Beyond all of it was the Valley of Clingers. Kin placed a
bullet to mark Orlan’s probable location. Hiking all day and avoiding Imperial
patrols made his mission feel like circumventing the world, but everything was
occurring close to Crater Town, well within the area he explored during the
last several years.

I can do this. No one knows this place better than me
.

He decided the Reaper that had been, for a short time,
Commander Westwood, was closest. He would range out from Bear’s cabin, descend
into the first valley, and look for signs of the strange Reaper’s path. If he
were right about the creature, it was the least likely to survive Crashdown
without help. Rickson could live off the land as long as he didn’t do something
stupid like try to be a hero.

Kin searched for the Reaper. After descending the mountainside,
he spotted it hiding near a minor waterfall. He expected the shape changing son
of Orlan to choose a poor refuge and wasn’t disappointed. The boy hid from
Imperials pursuing him, but if they circled ahead, they would see him.

Kin wasn’t surprised by the boy’s unsophisticated tactics.
He
was
surprised to see Orlan coming the other way, stalking down a
trail in a bad mood.

Orlan spotted the Reaper and changed his approach, using
terrain to hide his movement. He unlatched his rifle from the magnetic scabbard
on his back and aimed as he crept toward the cowering form.

Don’t do it. He’s your son
.

Kin tried coms but Orlan didn’t answer. “Roland to Orlan,
respond.”

Nothing. Either the Imperials were blocking line-of-sight
transmissions or the sergeant turned off his communications link. Kin made
three more attempts, though he worried the Imperials would triangulate his
position.

At the last possible moment, the Reaper twisted, saw Orlan,
and shrunk to the ground, cowering against the attack. Kin watched the most
murderous trooper he knew move in for the kill.