Copyright © 2012 Scott Moon
CHAPTER THIRTY
“YOU seem to be sitting at a civilian table,” Randal said. He stared at Becca, ignoring Kin completely.
Kin’s instincts screamed for action. Randal looked tough, but Kin thought he could shove the man’s head up his ass while fighting off his buddies at the same time. He felt waves of power surging through his muscles. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, he was facing an enemy not wearing superior armor or gifted with alien genetics designed for killing. He didn’t move. All the Shock Troopers but Randal stared at Kin and took positions around him.
“This is none of your concern, Randal. Leave it alone,” Becca said.
Kin liked her tone. She was confident. She took her time with each word and only glanced at the others.
“I thought you were one of us,” Randal said.
“I am,” Becca said.
“Then it’s my business.”
“Yeah? Well, so is my foot up your ass if you don’t back off.”
Randal and Becca stared at each other. No one moved. After two minutes, Randal nodded at Kin but didn’t look at him. “Is this the man who let the Reaper escape?”
Becca didn’t answer. Randal moved closer, whispering in her ear while looking over her shoulder in Kin’s direction. He gazed straight through Kin. Soldiers called it the thousand-yard-stare. “Now is not the time for getting involved with a local. This mission is a turn and burn and you know it.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Becca said.
Randal stepped back and smirked. “You look like you’ve known each other all your lives. How romantic. Maybe I should tell him who you really are. Would he still be interested if he knew what you did on Perilous IX?”
“If you ladies are going to fight, get to it,” Kin said.
Randal jerked his head toward Kin and started to move, but his attention shifted to several troopers entering the cafeteria. Orlan led the group to the food line, grabbed something with his hand, and began eating as he sauntered across the room toward Kin.
“I need you ready in ten minutes, Kin, by Commander Westwood’s authority. Report to the armory for gear,” Orlan said. He faced Randal. “Your brigade is now on perimeter defense, in Mechanized Armor. Situation: I will be hunting a Reaper that may attempt to breach our security. Enemy forces: one Reaper that possesses dangerous organic armor and a pack of wolves under his command. Friendly forces: me, Security Chief Kin Roland, and God, if you pray hard enough. Your mission: observe the Reaper or other hostile forces as they approach our defensive line and destroy them. Understood?” Sergeant Orlan said, still holding a sandwich in one hand.
Randal nodded and started to move away. Orlan ate half the sandwich in one bite and spoke with his mouth full. “Acknowledge the order, lieutenant.”
“I acknowledge the commander’s order, but not you, Sergeant,” Randal said, without looking back. “Becca’s Brigade, rally in the armory. We have a mission.” The Shock Troopers moved out of the room without touching their food.
“They named the brigade after you?” Kin asked.
“She won a bet,” Orlan said.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Becca touched his arm like a brother and said, “I have to go. Be careful.”
Orlan offered Kin the last bite of his sandwich.
Kin studied the smashed food. “No, thanks.”
Orlan shrugged. “I’ll show you the way to the armory.”
When they arrived, technicians were already swarming around the Shock Troopers and their oversized armor that each operator had to climb into like a vehicle. Kin walked to the battered suit of assault armor that Orlan pointed toward. FSPAA was engraved on the chest plate. Nicks and grooves made the letters hard to read.
“Did you drag this to Crashdown?” Kin asked.
“Don’t be fooled. That’s a good unit. Holds battery power longer than most and the chest plate has never been penetrated. It’s the best I could secure,” Orlan said. He looked around for a technician.
Kin began putting the armor on.
Orlan laughed. “I forgot. You suit up by yourself.”
“When I need to.” Kin manipulated each piece carefully.
Orlan found a technician and was ready to go before Kin was done, but it was close.
Kin ran his systems checks. It had been a long time since he suited up, but everything came back as though he had been in the Fleet yesterday. “Where is the rest of your squad?”
“It’s just me and you this time. We can move faster,” Orlan said.
“Sure.” Kin studied Orlan’s state of the art FSPAA. Maybe his old enemy planned treachery, maybe not. Being alone with Orlan didn’t give him a warm feeling.
They approached the loading bay. Orlan stepped beside him as they looked at a lull in the storm. “Take me to the Reaper. I have a million credits to collect. I’d have ten million if the commander let me collect it.” He stared hard at Kin.
Kin held his gaze for a long moment, turned away, and charged from the ramp, just as he always had in the past. Most planetary assaults were airborne assaults, but sometimes they deployed from a landing craft, which was at least as dangerous. Often he had been delivered into the thick of battle. Stepping off the ramp was usually the most dangerous part. Enemies targeted troop carriers and the pilots lifted off too soon, burning troopers with the engines.
Droon wouldn’t be far from the Flagship because Clavender was being held inside, and the Reaper couldn’t let her go. Orlan paced Kin easily. His armor was newer and better repaired. Kin had no complaints. After so many years relying on naked strength, the armor gave him the feeling of extreme power and agility. The gravity of Crashdown had built muscles he might not have otherwise.
“Sound off when you find it. We’re taking it alive. Don’t forget,” Orlan said. The communication link between FSPAA units was scratchy. They were now in the eye of the storm.
Kin ignored the reminder. When he saw Droon, he’d kill him in the most expeditious manner possible. To do otherwise was to place the monster on the same ship as the people of Crater Town.
“Acknowledge, Kin. Disobey this order, and I’ll be talking about you when we get back to base.”
“I can hear you,” Kin said.
“You think the commander is your friend, but he serves the Fleet, not your ego.”
“I don’t have friends, Orlan,” Kin said. They ran the perimeter defenses looking for signs of the Reaper and the Crashdown wolves. An hour passed. Without sunlight to charge the solar plates, they would need to stop in twelve hours, which was a problem because Kin thought it might take two days to find and isolate the Reaper.
“How long do we have before the first ship launch?” Kin asked.
“Not long.”
“We need to range farther from the perimeter,” Kin said. He led the way. Before long, they had cleared the area within a mile of the defensive perimeter around Crater Town and the Fleet ships. He looked back and saw the Shock Troopers patrolling in mechanized war machines capable of killing dozens of Reapers in a direct fight. Becca was in that formation. He wondered which she was.
“They don’t look so big from here,” Orlan said.
“I thought you’d be a Shock Trooper by now.” Kin used his long-range scanners to view the foothills and the first mountain pass.
“Hard to be anonymous in a Mech unit.”
Kin looked sideways at Orlan.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m a show off. But sometimes you need to be anonymous to get dirty.” He laughed.