Dead Worlds (Necrospace Book 2) (14 page)

Samuel gaped at the smoking corpse of his friend and comrade of the last six years, then back to Bianca as the woman he’d grown to love went into shock convulsions. All around him marines were dying or already dead.

Without conscious thought, Samuel ripped his boarding knife from its sheath and charged straight at the cyborg.

Before the titan machine could react, Samuel plunged the wide blade deep into an exposed area of flesh in the creature’s side.

The cyborg howled in what Samuel hoped was pain. It attempted to rake him with its claws, only to have its attack interrupted by Boss Ulanti slamming into it from the back, ramming her own knife into its body.

As the two marines repeatedly stabbed at the creature, Jada Sek leapt into the fray and began slashing it with her knife. More marines joined her, all of them clinging like burrs, despite the titan’s efforts to dislodge them. All of them hacking and slashing and screaming, in a frenzy of anger that was almost madness.

The lone marine who had first started up the steps fell to his knees as the cyborg used its claws to tear his mid-section into ribbons. The titan opened its mouth, but before it could make a sound, Boss Marsters appeared atop the heap of attacking marines and drove the point of his blade through one of the beast’s eye sockets.

The pulse of energy powering the creature ceased instantly, collapsing the mighty machine and sending the marines tumbling down the platform with it.

The remaining legionnaires collapsed in boneless heaps to the floor.

Samuel was unconscious when he landed at the base of the platform, tangled in the body of the titan with the other marines. By the time he started to come around the Reapers had been reinforced by more marines, who worked quickly to attend the wounded and secure the area.

Samuel lay on his back as an unknown medic pulled away his armor, skin and body glove melted to the armor in places, and began treating the burns. Samuel rolled his head to the side and saw other marines carrying Bianca away on a stretcher. She was horribly mangled, but Samuel was able to slip back into unconsciousness knowing that she was at least alive.

TERMINAL INJURIES

Once back aboard the tug, much to their disappointment and frustration, the battle weary Reaper cadre was bluntly informed during their debriefing that Grotto Corporation had determined, based on intelligence and evidence gathered, that the Reaper force was not to be deployed on extended salvage duty of the alien site.

It had been decided by the Board of Executives and their advisors that further study was required before any salvage ops were to begin. Surprisingly, though the marines had been denied the several months of hazard wages performing the salvage, each marine was awarded the promised completion bonus. The Reaper fleet was en route back to Baen 6 within the hour

It was hard to absorb, but Samuel finally had the money to wipe out his debts, a wife to remarry, expatriate from Grotto Corporation, and still have enough left to stake a homestead somewhere on the frontier. Despite the joy and relief this brought him, after stripping his armor away and cleaning up, rather than celebrate his good fortune, he went to begin his vigil in med bay.

Samuel was there when Bianca Kade awoke from surgery. He knew from experience that a familiar face was important when a marine first returned from the black. Boss Marsters had once again exercised his privilege as their platoon leader to make medical decisions for one of his troopers.

The doctors had installed a high end Augur brand prosthetic knee joint. However, keenly aware of the tremendous financial impact of non-covered procedures, Wynn opted for Bianca's actual leg prosthetic to be the basic metal and synth-flesh limb covered by the Reaper health plan. He had done the same for her arm and as Samuel held her human hand while she slept, he couldn’t help but think of Mags as he looked at the crude machine arm. It reminded him of the cyborg hostile they'd defeated planetside, Patrick's grisly death, and the horrible deaths of so many others.

Samuel lowered his head and closed his eyes as he listened to her breathe. Suddenly she squeezed his hand making Samuel raise his head. He made no effort to hide the fact that he'd been weeping. 

"The longer we do this the less of ourselves we become," whispered Bianca as she touched Samuel's face with her new arm and it was cold on his skin.  

"Then let's get out while we can," said Samuel, leaning closer to look in her eyes. He gripped both of Bianca's hands in his own. "If we stay we'll either die or turn into people like Marsters or Ulanti.” Samuel paused, closing his eyes briefly, then charging on. “My family is on Pier 16, I know it’s crazy, but come with me. It’ll be messy, but we'll figure it out." 

Bianca shook her head. "Sam, I can't afford it, not for at least a few more years." There was a hint of reproach in her voice. "The medical bills and expatriation fee would clean me out. I'd have nothing to live on. Not to mention my husband's bond and expat fee. I'm not leaving him behind, Sam, and before you say you've got it, don't, because you have your own family to worry about." Bianca blinked back tears and her voice quaked with both anger and grief as she spoke.

"Respect me,” Bianca said, “and respect yourself, Prybar." A new edge of hardness crept into her voice and her expression. She opened and closed her new hand as if truly experiencing it for the first time. "Samuel, Get your family off that station and live a better life." 

After that neither of them had much to say and they sat in awkward silence for a few moments more, simply holding each other by the hand. Eventually Samuel took a deep breath and stood up, letting her hand slip free. He looked down at Bianca and forced a smile.  

"This is the job," he said in a choked voice. 

Bianca forced a smile of her own and nodded. Her features softened as she watched Samuel turn around and leave the ward. Lifting her new metal hand again, she flexed the fingers and sighed. "This is the job." 

As Samuel walked down the corridor he saw Ben leaning up against a wall nearby. He fell in step with Samuel as they continued towards the mess hall for the pre-night cycle meal.  

"Want to talk about it?" asked Ben in his cold, digital voice.  

"It's done. Whatever we had is over," Samuel said as they walked, "Doesn't make it any easier, but I have to keep moving forward. I've got a family, a wife. I'm walking into a new life where I'm not getting shot at every other day.” Samuel snorted in disgust, “Not that getting shot at is an excuse for infidelity." 

"Mags would say it is what it is," Ben responded, "She'd probably also throw out some clichés about battlefield romance, keeping war and home separate, or whatever. Boss was full of that kind of crap." 

"That she was," laughed Samuel as they entered the mess hall, but somehow it made him feel a little better hearing Ben say that, even in his wrecked voice. "What about you Ben? Staying in?" 

"Nothing for me back on Baen, no family but Samuel Hyst and his love triangle." Ben slugged Samuel in the shoulder playfully. "Nah, I'm going to go after another merc coin, try to get into the Merchants Militant. You probably haven't heard since you've been here all day, but more planets and systems are showing up on long range scans.

Whatever we did down on that planet seems to have started a chain reaction. More and more of necrospace on this side of the Line is starting to chart. Where there are new worlds there will be wars fought over who gets to own them. I bet there’ll be hired armies duking it out before we even get back home. Maybe I'll find our boy, Imago, and give my resume to the Folken, become a wargir." Ben’s accompanying digital laugh sounded like two saw blades dragging against each other. 

"That'll be the day," Samuel said, picking up his tray while Ben walked next to him, having already sipped his nutrients for the cycle.  

"Well, Harold has some Blotto left over from Vorhold; we're throwing a little going away party for you and Tillman." Ben led Samuel over to the Tango tables. "She's mustering out, too. Going back to Baen." 

"What's her plan?" asked Samuel as he smiled and waved at the marines who waited with glasses held high as they toasted those who took early retirement. 

"I think she's going to join the unionist movement back on Baen 6," scoffed Ben, "For all the good that'll do, we haven't had labor unions for centuries, they're fighting an uphill battle." 

"We're Reapers, Ben," Samuel replied, accepting a glass from Harold. "That's what we do." 

"Drink up, Boss," said Harold. He raised his glass in a toast, "To your last day as hard meat." 

Everyone laughed and drained their glasses, ready to forget their troubles for a few blissful hours.

PIER 16

Samuel had walked the bustling corridors of the space station for what seemed like hours. His reunion with Orion had been achingly sweet, and even though he felt as if he hardly knew the boy, Samuel was overjoyed to be with his son for good. Sura had wept when he'd stepped off the transport shuttle and at first she would not approach him, then as Orion pulled at her arm she finally embraced her husband.  

It had been strange for Samuel to be there, surrounded by his family and on the precipice of a new life. He was no longer a Reaper, though as yet he was not anything else. As a man raised within Grotto culture, Samuel Hyst defined himself by his work, so without a rifle in his grip and nothing to replace it, he had felt as empty as his hands. Still, Samuel began to realize that emptiness held vast potential. That he was, in fact, not empty, but for the first time in his life was experiencing the feeling of true freedom.

The feeling did not last long.  

The courier found Samuel on one of the lower decks watching the starships come and go as they either delivered or picked up cargo from the many docks on the station.

Samuel signed the courier's datapad and unrolled the ultrathin wafer of printed information. He read it once, twice, and then a third time before he let it fall from his numb fingers to the floor. 

#Message Orbital 65.73SH#

Boss Samuel Hyst, Tango Platoon

We regret to inform you that your Expatriation Application #223.01SH has been declined, pursuant to Reaper Code 1627, paragraph 35, which explicitly states that:

During a declared emergency-state-of-war, no active duty Reaper shall be allowed to resign his or her post for a term not less than two years and not in excess of five years from date of the declaration unless and until Grotto Corporation deems the emergency-state-of-war lifted.

An emergency-state-of-war has been declared by the Board of Executives, effective as of thirty-seven hours prior to this message timestamp. Your expatriation payment has been returned to your personal account, less processing and administration fees.

You are to report to your nearest duty station for orders and transport within twelve hours of receipt of this citizenship status update.

Have a nice day and Grotto thanks you for your service.

#REAPER Desk - Offices of the Citizen Actuary#

Read on for a free sample of The Lost Empire

UNTIL THAT DAY

A Note from the Author

Thank you for taking this grim adventure alongside the Reapers of Grotto Corporation. Victory in this corporate age is difficult to define, no matter who is left standing, and this story is far from over. Corporate executives maneuver for position and mercenary armies prepare themselves for the inevitable bloodshed that follows the discovery of new wealth.

Stay alert for the next installment of the Necrospace series, where the journey will continue for some, and end for others.

This is the job

Chapter 1

Command Carrier Dominance

Affiliation: Feng Empire

Fleet Admiral Fengus Utang sat in his chair on the battle bridge of his command carrier, assimilating thousands of points of data as they were gathered, as filtered by Captain Paxo Klingu.

“Sir, our battle group is exiting spacefold in the Humana System.”

“How far out?”

“One point seven three nine kilaparsecs, sir.”

Admiral Utang was about to initiate the final stage of his intergalactic scourge against the United Intergalactic Coalition. One by one, in his march across the known galaxies, overlooking the Uncharted Sectors, he had led the Feng Empire in its conquest to reclaim the glory of the Old Empire. In a vicious campaign, he toppled world after world, nation after nation, whittling away the overstretched United Intergalactic Coalition. From the Vampiri to the Homunculi, each member of the UIC was outmatched by the superior armada of the Feng.

The invasion of Humana, the seat of the United Intergalactic Coalition, was the end game in this great Intergalactic War 4.0.

“The Humani have detected our arrival, sir.”

This was to be suspected as the deep cold of space made it impossible to mask the heat signatures of large vessels and battle groups.

“Captain, release the hunter-killers.” These hunter-killers were the first ships in the history of armada vessels to utilize the dark matter of space to conceal themselves from detection. Admiral Utang watched as they entered the Humani battle group’s outer screen, circumventing detection. In turn, they gathered data on enemy positions and relayed them back.

“Have them take out the passive Humani scouts,” ordered Admiral Utang.

The on-screen display showed the frail Humani scout satellites take fire and explode, as they were designed for detection rather than engagement. Within thirty micros, the outer screen of the Humani defense forces had been eliminated.

“Sir, the hunter-killers are breaching the Humani’s inner screen.”

“Mobilize the battleships and dreadnaughts just outside the outer screen, and dispatch Warmonger squadrons.” Every squadron in the invasion fleet launched and approached the now non-existent Humani outer screen, outnumbering the Humani Vortex fighters in the inner screen two-to-one.

As the Feng hunter-killers breached the inner screen, the Humani Vortex defenders buzzed around blindly, groping out into the cold darkness with their sensors, desperate to detect the smallest heat signature.

The stealth vessels, rather than engaging, reached out with their own sensors, reporting back on the Humani Vortex positions and formations. The quantum computers of the Dominance extrapolated data from prior Humani encounters, assessing the threat axis of the Humani defense forces.

One of the stealth vessels took a fatal hit, the explosion ripping through its cloak of dark matter. It quickly became a lifeless husk, its crew drifting out of its gaping wounds into the vacuum of space.

“Sir, the Humani have dispatched hunter-killers.”

Admiral Utang was stoic, entirely expecting this.

“Mobilize countermeasures.”

He and the captain watched as the wave of battleships and dreadnaughts breached the outer screen. Cloaked ships traded fire, desperately trying to get a fix on the others’ positions. More Feng stealth vessels were neutralized by the cloaked Humani hunter-killers. Those few remaining switched from reconnaissance to engagement out of self-preservation, taking a dozen or so Vortex fighters with them as they rejoined the Aether.

“Sir, we have lost all hunter-killers,” said Captain Klingu.

However, Admiral Utang was unfazed. This was war and was to be expected.

The Vortex fighters pulled up in battle formations to the edge of the inner screen, waiting to greet the Feng battleships and dreadnaughts. Their sensors scanned the cold depths of the battlespace, targeting systems and weapons running hot.

“Release the chaff,” Admiral Utang ordered.

The battleships released a cloud of radioactive nanites, lighting up the targeting systems of the Vortex formations and the cloaked Humani hunter-killers. Their targeting systems confused, registering vast clouds of bogeys, the Vortex formations retreated back into the inner screen.

The nanites swept over the battlespace, latching onto the cloaked hunter-killers, causing the Humani stealth vessels to register as silhouettes on the Feng scanners. Although the cloaked ships remained below the thermo-gradient, the effect was like throwing a sheet over an invisible man.

“Send in the fighter squadrons,” ordered Admiral Utang.

The Feng armada targeted the revealed Humani hunter-killers and engaged, neutralizing them in short order. The Humani and Feng fighter squadrons charged the battlespace.

Tactical maneuvers broke down into chaos as the squadrons of fighters swarmed each other, pitching and rolling, engaging in zero-gravity dogfighting.

The Humani fighter pilots were superior in matters of reaction time and tactics, and it showed as they made quick work of the Feng squadrons. Captain Klingu viewed the battle on screen with great apprehension. However, Admiral Utang knew that the Feng only needed to whittle down the Vortex screen enough, and that was exactly what they accomplished.

“Sir, the Humani are transmitting for reinforcements. Forces from Earth are entering spacefold.”

Admiral Utang sneered. “The Humani must be desperate if they are enlisting the help of the Humans.”

The Humans were the last race to enter the United Intergalactic Coalition. Their abilities were limited, and their training was cursory and inadequate due to the demands of war and the urgency to bolster UIC forces with numbers.

The Humans were an embarrassment, losing every skirmish in the war to the Feng, even to the lesser races of the Feng Empire. Therefore, they were largely relegated to supply chains, piloting transport vessels carrying munitions and parts as well as food.

Utang’s sneer morphed into a smug grin. “More target practice for our ships.”

The arrival of Human transports would serve as nothing more than a nuisance, putting off the inevitable Feng victory.

The Feng dreadnaughts entered the inner screen, pummeling the Vortex fighters and initiating offensive ECM, jamming the planet’s communications, cutting off the Humani from what was left of their crumbling forces.

This was a glorious day for the Feng Empire, and total victory was imminent. The Feng believed in ‘eating what you killed,’ and they were about to feast upon the remains of a decadent and obsolete political-economic union.

Once the dreadnaughts and the Feng second and third waves neutralized the Humani HVU’s, Admiral Utang would release battalions of the dreaded cyborg Cybion warriors onto the planet. While the Humani pilots may have been superior, their marines were woefully inferior to the ruthless Cybions. Flesh would always yield to metal, and the Cybions were killing machines, designed to instill fear and end lives with brutal efficiency.

Captain Klingu’s eyes went wide. “Sir, the Humans are exiting spacefold.”

“Prepare to engage,” said Admiral Utang.

“Sir, they are opening a wormhole exactly onto our coordinates.”

“What?”

“They are going to unfold in the dead center of our battle group.”

“Idiots!” was all Admiral Utang could utter before an opening in Spacetime breached the center of his command carrier…

The lights went on in the Aether chamber, and Captain Mongo Utang watched as the display of the Dominance battle bridge evaporated before his very eyes. He had been immersed in a ghost memory of the key battle in the last Intergalactic War as told through his father’s experience.

He fought his body’s urge to choke up, his face contorting with rage, as hot tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Frakking Humans!’

This was not the first time that Captain Utang had reviewed his father’s final hours in battle during the Intergalactic War. He had only been a child on his home planet when he received news of his father’s demise.

The Feng were raised as warriors, and the prospect of a ‘beautiful death’ in battle was welcomed rather than feared. However, to die at the bungling hands of Human cargo pilots, from an unwitting suicide mission that inadvertently wiped out the High Valued Units of the Feng invasion force, not to mention their key fleet commander, signaling a turning point in the war, was shameful and embarrassing.

With their most talented tactician gone, the Feng forces began to lose their tactical advantages. Additionally, emboldened by successfully defending their planet, the Humani began to regroup and rally the rest of the UIC forces in the Charted Galaxies. They even rallied a few from the Uncharted Sectors who wished to remain free from Feng oversight. All this was due to the serendipitous folly of the Humans.

With the sudden reprieve and extra breathing room, the UIC were able to train the Humans more properly, and they became more of an asset in the war than any of the other races had anticipated, despite their first impression.

Just as he slipped back into his officer’s uniform, Captain Utang’s com lit up. “Captain, Admiral Teng wishes to speak to you.”

Utang wiped his eyes and composed himself. “Very well.”

A holographic representation of Admiral Teng materialized. Utang stood and saluted him properly, crossing his arms and banging his large fists on his chestplate and then extending them in front of him. “Admiral.”

Teng returned the salute. “Captain, I have new orders.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The emperor is initiating talks with the United Intergalactic Coalition.” This displeased Utang, but he did his best to conceal it. “I know this upsets you,” said Admiral Teng, seeing through Utang’s veneer.

“My feelings on the matter are irrelevant, Admiral.”

Teng grinned, unconvinced. “The emperor is hoping to have the sanctions relaxed. However, you would be happy to know that while he is engaged in farcical negotiations with the Barberoi, he has ordered that Operation: Catalyst continue moving into the next phase.”

“Yes, sir. Consider it done.”

“Very well, Captain,” said the Admiral, saluting. “To the glory of the Old Feng Empire.”

Utang returned the salute, and the transmission terminated. He turned to return to the bridge of his command carrier when his com toned another incoming call.

He acknowledged the call, and a holographic image of General Yoshi Utang appeared before him. “How are you, little brother?”

“This is an inopportune time,” said Mongo.

Yoshi frowned, his eyes reproachful. “You have been in the Aether again. Why do you torture yourself with the past?”

Mongo narrowed his eyes, his glare intense. “What you call torture, I call motivation. There will come a time when we will have our vengeance.”

“Which is more important, your revenge or the glory of the empire?”

Mongo left the Aether cell and began his walk to the bridge, Yoshi’s image following him. “Fortunately for me, Yoshi, the two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Always remember, Mongo, the empire comes first.”

Mongo smiled. “I must go now. I have the business of the empire to attend to.”

Yoshi nodded and terminated the link, his image flickering and then disappearing.

Captain Utang’s blood was on fire. He would live out his destiny to avenge his father’s defeat. The bureaucratic socialists of the UIC were going to pay, and the Feng Empire would bring freedom and peace to the galaxies once more.

* * *

Planet: Feng

The Feng Imperial Palace, armored with a thick coating of ice, stood in defiance to the frigid wind as the turbulent sky swirled above it. Surrounded by silver-chromed industrial spheres hovering over endless ice fields, it appeared to be the center of its own universe.

Emperor Hiron sat with Monsu Kazar, the Vice Executor of the Feng Empire, in their palatial conference room awaiting the UIC Committee on Foreign Relations to convene. Hiron sat in full battle armor—heavy chest plate, jagged shoulder armor, horned helmet, and cape. Vice Executor Kazar donned the simple, purple robes of a politician. His past military term was more ceremonial than functional, and he had therefore never seen battle.