Chronicles of Kin Roland 1: Enemy of Man (20 page)

“You should go back to your people. Commander Westwood will never let you go once he has you,” Kin said.

“He will,” Clavender said.

Kin looked at her sharply. “How can you be sure?”

“I do not see the future, Kin, but your Commander
will
find holding me dangerous.”

“Because you control the wormholes and the weather? Why have you stayed in Crater Town all these years?”

“Don’t ask questions when you know the answers. I have kept you here, safe from my people, close to the power of the wormhole, but I cannot touch it so easily now.”

“Why not?”

“I am not sure.”

“Guess.”

Clavender said nothing. In the distance, Orlan and his troopers fired rifles and plasma weapons.

Kin checked his gear, frustration mounting. He was tired of Droon, Orlan, and even Clavender. “Laura sent me a message that the Fleet was forced to turn some of their warships into terra-forming machines. If you’re not going to help us, I’ll have to beg Westwood to take everyone from Crater Town when he leaves.”

“How could machines change the planet?” Clavender asked.

“They’re probably filling shelters with oxygen for starters,” Kin said. “Ten years, and now the planet rejects us.”

Clavender shrugged. “I am not a witch or a goddess.”

“You might be,” Kin said
.

“Nothing I can do now will keep the wormhole from touching the planet. When that happens, no magic of mine and no technology of yours will save us,” Clavender said.

Kin pondered her words and leaned against a rock. He thought of Sophia and Dax and all he had seen in the last few days. “I need to sleep for a few minutes.”

Clavender nodded and continued to stroke Rickson's hair. Kin closed his eyes and tried to think of Becca, praying for a sweet dream of days long past. Instead, the image of Orlan plagued him. Relaxing was impossible.

Kin retained his youthful appearance after his imprisonment in the space casket. For years he thought something about the voyage, as short as it had been, had kept him young. He rarely thought about it, because few mirrors existed in Crater Town. But his most recent encounter with Orlan had changed everything. The man had changed, but only in terms of physical abuse he had suffered.

Scars drew random pictures on his face, and part of his left ear was missing. His eyes revealed that he had seen many horrors, but his complexion was that of a man in his early twenties rather than a man in his mid-thirties. It was a subtle detail, but seemed important. Kin wished for the first time that he had a mirror to look at his face.

He had few things in common with Orlan. They were both trained killers and they both served on Hellsbreach, but Orlan had escaped being captured, while Kin had been subjected to torture and mutilation before they healed him with their questionable medical techniques. In that moment, he realized he had been in denial about the nature of his youth, but now understood it had something to do with Hellsbreach and the microorganisms that contaminated his blood while he endured Reaper captivity.

Perhaps that was why Laura liked him so much. They were the same age, but she probably saw him as a boy toy and never questioned his appearance. Kin had grown stronger year after year, when age should have made him slower. And his memor
y was better. He healed faster.

Something happened to Orlan when he was on Hellsbreach and Kin wondered whether all survivors of the campaign had similar benefits. He knew there were few who had been on the planet that ever left it. He thought of Raif and how the man continued to fight a
fter losing his hand.

Most Hellsbreach combatants that survived the campaign had been in space command, bombarding the planet from orbit and assuming tactical command of the men and women doing the dying. Yet, others li
ke Kin must exist in the Fleet.

Kin relived the moment Orlan ran to the rescue ship. He hated the man for abandoning him, but suddenly felt as though his worst
enemy was the only person he could identify with. He thought of Orlan's scarred face and the new scar he put on the man's mouth when he stabbed him. The vision of Orlan stared back at him, angry and amused at the same time. Kin looked into his eyes—eyes like a cloudy glass of water. He thought of Droon's mutated eyes. The Reaper and the Sergeant had too much in common.

Kin opened his eyes, aware he had been sleeping. His muscles locked him in place and all he wanted was something to drink. He saw Clavender was still awake, though she stared at the wormhole in the bright morning sun as though she were in a trance. Kin checked his weapons and his gear before waking Rickson.

“Kin? I thought you’d be in the stockade by now, or dead,” Rickson said.

Kin took a sip of water and then another. “You better eat something while you can. How much water do you have?”

Rickson held up a full skin. “I had to draw from a stream, but I think it’s clean.”

Kin nodded, but was distracted by Clavender's pale face. She seemed to be in pain and no longer as serene as when he had first found them. “Rickson, we will need to move before Droon tries to take Clavender again.”

“I am okay,” Clavender said.

“When was the last time you slept?” Kin asked. She didn't answer, but he knew she was afraid to encounter Droon in her nightmares.

They traveled toward Crater Town. When they were close, Kin retraced their trail to look for signs of pursuit and saw something that made his blood run cold—Droon moving through the foothills flanked by several Crashdown wolves. He used better tactics than Kin believed Reapers understood, and seemed to be the alpha of the Crashdown wolf pack.

“Now I’ve seen it all,” Kin said. He put binoculars to his eyes and saw Droon had taken something from Orlan's troopers as well. The Reaper wore a utility belt as a necklace. The ammunition and first-aid packs would be useless to the Reaper, but Kin thought the stim packs were dangerous. All he needed was a Reaper wearing Clinger armor, flanked by a sentient pack of killer wolves, and hyped on caffeine or amphetamine boosters.

He hurried back to Rickson and Clavender, signaling for them to stay low and led them within view of Crater Town. Huge swells distorted the ocean. The wormhole was almost round, like a giant parachute in the sky. He thought of Dax and his warriors trying to reach the wormhole, which led him to think of Dax's warning. If Clavender was not controlling the wormhole, who was?

GRAVITY pressed down. Cyclones exploded from the ground and merged with clouds that appeared in mid-air and mixed. Kin watched as one cloud stopped moving, opened, and poured what looked like black sand into the sea. The wormhole opened in five places, dumping meteors over the mountains.

“Why is this happening? Clavender is here. I’ve never seen a storm like this,” Rickson said.

Clavender shuddered. “I have.”

“What’
s going to happen to us?” Rickson asked. He stared at Clavender.

“If I know Laura, she’s covering her bets,” Kin said. “She should have Westwood wrapped around her finger by now. If anyone can secure passage for thousands of shipwreck castaways, it’s Laura. But she must believe there is a chance the Fleet will abandon us, so she’s pushing Commander Westwood for the atmosphere boost
ing and terra-forming efforts.”

“The Goliath was
a terra-former,” Rickson said.

Kin avoided looking at the boy too closely, but could see concern on his face. Clavender’s eyes were dim, as though hiding, and her wings were pulled close to her body. Normally they moved with easy grace
.

“Westwood has taken everything useful from the crater for his warships,” Kin said.

“Can they use the warships to terra-form?” Rickson asked.

“Crashdown is a hundred times larger than any planet ever attempted. It can't be done.”

“Then why are they trying?”

“They’re stalling. Every ship they convert to terra-forming means more people left behind. I’ve seen Fleet ships preparing for blast off. Westwood is in a hurry.”

“What happens to us?” Rickson asked.

Kin looked through the binoculars without answering, watching a Fleet sergeant giving orders. For a moment, the man’s voice was carried by the wind.

“Move those power coils, damn it. I said move them. Move your ass while you're at it.” The sergeant’s helmet-amplified voice sounded distorted. Kin hated the sound because it reminded him of panic. He’d been in battles where men screamed for their lives and begged for mercy—swears, curses, and prayers on the same breath.

Battle tanks had been converted to bulldozers. They were pushing the dunes into huge berms and sinking foundations for the terra-forming machines deep into the soil. Engines growled and klaxons blared warnings as machines reversed and men ran to avoid them. The smell of diesel fumes drifted on the wind. Kin could smell the stink from his hiding place.

Rickson crawled to Kin's side. “What are they doing now? They look like they are trying to build a wall.”

“Why would you build a wall?” Kin asked.

“For protection.”

Kin nodded.

The sight of tanks converted to bulldozers wasn’t new, but it had been a long time since Kin had seen it. He studied the mounds of dirt and marveled at how many purposes they could serve—foundations for atmosphere reclamation factories, protective barriers for the launch of ships, or makeshift walls to stand against an invading army. Commander Westwood was showing caution. Kin could feel urgency in the air. There were no slackers today. Every trooper was trying to earn a seat on the evacuation mission.

“Can they really remake the planet? You say it can't be done, but how do you know?” Rickson asked.

Kin didn't speak at first. The activity below reminded him of how much power a Fleet division possessed. The hopeful look in Rickson's eyes broke Kin's heart. The boy had lived most of his life here and the thought that it could be made a paradise must have been a dream of his since he could listen to stories of better worlds.

“Listen Rickson, these men are desperate. Look at the way they move. Look at how they're pushing people out of the way. They want off this planet and the only reason they want off is because something terrible is about to happen. I was in the Fleet for a long time. They're professionals, well-disciplined, and brave to
a fault. But they don’t leave a place without foraging. If there wasn't impending danger that Commander Westwood thought would destroy them, they would spend years salvaging every possible resource. Only then would they leave. Expeditions are expensive and you can’t return to the home worlds empty handed. They need millions of gallons of water for each ship. Water is recycled while in space, but you can never have too much. When I was in the Fleet we fought wars just for water. Now think of everything else they might want from this place.”

Rickson watched the Fleet troopers move. “I thought they came to help us.”

“I can't go down there, Rickson,” Kin said. He thought of Becca, but continued to talk. The words sounded as though they came from someone else. “Take Clavender to Laura. Go directly to her and no one else. If Westwood realizes what she is, he’ll take her. The Fleet won’t be gentle with her.”

“Why would they want to hurt Clavender,” Rickson asked.

“The men you see don't want to hurt her, no more than any normal man would. But others in the Fleet will see her only as an alien. They’ll want to study her. And they might want to use her as a weapon or sell her for profit.”

“What are you going to do? You can’t stay here,” Rickson said.

Kin knew his fate if he surrendered to Commander Westwood. After he had been sentenced to death, the only people who fought for his life had been those wanting to study him and try to learn about what happened to him on Hellsbreach. Only the most high-ranking officers and scientists with special security clearance knew everything. They had debriefed him. And he gave his report like a soldier. When he had told everything, and done his absolute best to explain what had occurred on Hellsbreach, the scientists began with psychotropic drugs to learn more. He was put into sleep deprivation, light deprivation, and sound deprivation all at once and individually.

Strong men who knew how to hurt people beat him. They told him lies and called him a traitor. Then they praised him as a hero and offered rewards and bribes. He gave them t
he same detailed report. He held nothing back during his first interview, though he knew he was contaminated and that fact alone would probably cause him trouble. He had expected to be dissected and put back together. During his worst moments, he believed they could reduce his brain to digital information to be plugged into a computer for analysis.

Kin didn’t enjoy the
memories. His entire body ached at the mere thought.

The only thing he
experienced worse than the interrogation after Hellsbreach was the captivity he suffered at the hands of the Reapers. They had eaten parts of him and then regenerated his flesh by putting repulsive organisms and microorganisms into his body. They purged him with strong spirits and chemicals and dreams that were nightmares worse than he had ever known.

He didn’t want to explain this to Rickson, but the boy needed to understand humans would do anything to preserve their own welfare. He hoped he didn’t have to explain that the people of Crater Town meant nothing to the Fleet. They were outsiders, local indigenous people—merely a resource that could be used or discarded.

“What are you going to do?” Clavender asked.

“I can return to Crater Town and throw myself on the mercy of Commander Westwood or leave and wait for Droon and his pack to hunt me down,” Kin said.

“His pack?” Rickson asked.

“You don't want to know,” Kin said. The Crashdown wolves moved like soldiers, but with perfect obedience to the mission of their pack. Even with his fears of Droon and worry about being discovered by the Fleet, the thought of those cold blooded, lupine killers unnerved him. Maybe they would turn on Droon and rip him apart, but Kin doubted it.

Rickson, barely standing still, watched him.

Clavender moved near and forced him to look at her face. “You assume that the sergeant or Laura has betrayed you, but you cannot know until we face the Commander. Why risk the planet's wrath or the Reaper?”

“Laura sent messages telling me that a man who knows and hates me is awake. Commander Westwood demands my return. I know she’s telling the truth, because that same man, a man I fought beside on Hellsbreach, tried to capture me. He only allowed me to escape because he wanted the Reaper bounty,” Kin said.

“If what you say
is true, then the reward for capturing you alive would be greater than for a Reaper,” Clavender said. Her patient but assertive reasoning reminded him of a princess or some higher spirit of this world.

Kin thought about her argument, but co
uldn’t conceive of a reason Orlan would keep silent. Laura had promised to turn him in for the reward many times, but it had been a game between them. Now he wondered what she was thinking. When he last saw her, she’d been getting comfortable with Commander Westwood. She enjoyed politics and intrigue and probably couldn’t believe her luck at having an entire Earth Fleet division land on Crashdown. Perhaps there was a chance neither Laura nor Orlan had revealed his identity, but the consequences of being wrong were serious. And if Becca was really here, she would know him immediately.

Emotions lead to bad decisions. Kin understood this. He thought of Becca standing in her Parade Dress Uniform at his execution. He thought of how Orlan
had closed the casket. He remembered the look on his face. The man had seemed satisfied and almost ready to laugh.

“We’ll need to find Laura and speak with her in private. Chances are good that as soon as we enter the town, we’ll be seized by Fleet troopers. Don’t defend me if that happens. Rickson, I want you to take Clavender to her home if possible. Just leave me
to deal with the Fleet,” Kin said.

Rickson seemed relieved. H
e faced the town, but hesitated. Kin put his hand on his shoulder, took Clavender’s hand in his other, and they walked forward. Busy, overworked Fleet personnel barely noticed Kin, but the sentries on perimeter duty responded immediately.

“You again,” said the Fleet trooper who had escorted Kin to Clavender's home. “I spoke with Sgt. Orlan.”

Kin tensed. He didn’t like the artificial sound of the FSPAA unit’s voice box. This trooper had taken an interest in him, which was bad news. The flat, deceptive voice bothered him because he sensed unfinished business. Kin knew Orlan was his enemy, but wondered how many others held vendettas against him.

“He said he remembers you,” the trooper said.

Ken feigned disinterest. “From where?”

“He said he couldn't remember that part, but I don't believe him. Orlan is like that. Just because he was on Hellsbreach, he thinks we should all worship him and believe his bullshit.”

“Well, I don’t remember him,” Kin said.

“You haven’t seen him. How would you know?” the trooper said.

Kin shrugged and started to walk past the sentries, but a gauntleted hand grabbed him.

“You must go to quarantine and get cleared by the doctor.”

A squad of troopers arrived. One carried a stun gun. The other three carried battle rifles at the ready. Wind gusted. Sand and dirt blasted everyone. The men with closed helmets barely seemed to notice.

Kin ducked his head against the unexpected blast and snuck a glance at Rickson and Clavender. Rickson shifted his weight and
nervously adjusted his grip on the staff. Clavender looked ill.

“Where is the quarantine house? We will go straight there,” Kin said.

“You will be escorted.” Moments later, the squad took them to an escape craft transformed into a quarantine stockade. They were put inside with food and water. Forty-eight hours later they came for Rickson. Twelve hours after that, they came for Clavender. Kin lost track of the time he spent alone, but it seemed so long that he wondered if the Fleet could have left the planet without him feeling the blastoff. He wondered if Droon had massacred them all. Reapers and wolves had to eat.