Chronicles of Kin Roland 1: Enemy of Man (6 page)

SERGEANT Orlan’s blood clung to Kin’s hands, though he cleaned them in ice-cold water from the hand pump. A squad of Fleet troopers rushed past him. He kept his eyes low, scrubbing harder and faster.

For a moment,
guilt affected his imagination. Orlan was never his friend, but they had been brothers-in-arms. Many times, when he could forget Orlan’s savage nature and admit he was also a man of violence, Kin approached the edge of friendship with the man. Before Hellsbreach, they had fought together, killed together, and saved each other’s lives. The blood on his hands seemed to resist washing. He rinsed his fingers clean, but when he did the back of his hands and looked at his fingers again, blood smeared them—thick, hot blood that mocked him.

Additional squads of troopers and a Stryker moved into the area, searching each street, yanking citizens from houses, and separating men from women. Kin abandoned the hand pump and moved quickly. Turning a corner, he looked at his hands and saw blood being a
bsorbed. He stared as he walked, realizing he couldn’t seem more guilty.

His vision blurred. A thought persisted. This was the blood of Hellsbreach. He shared a bond with Orlan. His blood was infected. He knew it. His time on the Reaper planet changed him, though he never imagine
d Orlan had suffered as he had.

The Reapers tortured Kin.
Evil bastards
. But maybe they just didn’t understand humans. Deep, flesh tearing bites were a form of endearment to Reapers. Eating small, parasitic monsters was their medical care. He tried to forget the things they forced down his throat, the corrupted fluids they rubbed into his wounds, and the way they wanted him to eat living things. Now Orlan’s blood had soaked into his skin as though seeking sanctuary. Kin washed again at the next hand pump, though there was no need.

He walked through Crater Town, waiving at people he knew as they repaired buildings and machines. Excited people returned his greeting and went about their work. The Fleet was here. They thought they were saved.

“Kin!” shouted a boy, running toward him. Wind pulled at his patched coat and loose pants. His hair had been cut recently, but not well. The shepherd boy had no family and no one to groom him. Tall and lean, the muscle of approaching manhood gave him strength, but did nothing to diminish the awkward appearance of adolescence. Ogre, the black and brown, half-feral mutt, ran beside the boy. The animal had become the spoiled mascot of the town.

“Rickson,” Kin said, as the boy slid to a stop on the dirt street.

“The Fleet came!” Rickson said. “I can share a cabin with you on the ship since you don’t have a family and neither do I. You can teach me more about fighting, and if I study like you are always telling me, I could enlist!”

“That’s a lot in one breath,” Kin said. He leaned over to rub the dog behind the
ears. The animal wouldn’t hold still. Kin reached this way and that to provide the dog a thorough treatment.

“I’d give you privacy when Laura came around,” Rickson said.

“The Fleet will probably leave us here.”

“What?”
Rickson’s face betrayed surprise and distress.

Kin laughed. “They’ll take all of us, even obnoxious shepherd boys that
can’t shut up.”

“I came as fast as I could. You should have seen it from the foothills. I thought the town was being attacked.”

Kin tilted his head, raising his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“And I saw a Reaper so I had to go around,” Rickson said. “It looked just like you described that time you were telling stories with Bear. You remember—that time when you both got so drunk I had to go into town and tell Laura you were okay.”

“You saw this supposed Reaper in the foothills?”

“Well, I sort of went up into the mountains to look at the ship that crashed.”

“I told you never to do that. When you see something come through the wormhole, you find me and let me deal with it.”

“I know, I know.” The boy’s expression changed as his eyes shifted to something behind Kin.

Kin turned and saw a Fleet officer walking toward him. Two bodyguards followed. None of them wore armor, which confirmed Kin’s assumption the man was an intelligence officer. The spies of the Fleet were trained to use FSPAA units, but rarely wore them when mingling with a local population.

“Go check on Clavender. Make sure none of the Fleet troopers are bothering her,” Kin said, speaking to the boy, but keeping his eyes on the men as they approached.

“Sure, Kin. They wouldn’t do that, would they? Aren’t they here to help us?”

“They might be, but
don’t get your hopes up.”

T
he two bodyguards armed with short rifles, pistols, and hard gazes flanked Kin.

“Are you Kin Roland?” the officer asked.

“I’m Kin Roland. Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Raker.”

“Raper? That’s a horrible name.” Kin heard the man perfectly, but rake sort of rhymed with rape, and he compulsively taunted the pretentious officer. It was a stupid, foolish indulgence. Kin only regretted it a little.

“Raker, as in a Reaper rakes a man with his c
laws. I was not informed you possess a sense of humor, which must mean you are mocking me.”

“You have an accent I’m not familiar with,” Kin said, leveling his gaze on the man, holding it as he tried to dominate him psychologically. Or maybe he just hated the man on sight.

Raker adjusted his collar and looked away for a moment. “I was a prisoner of the Imperials for several years. Infiltrated them for several more. I don’t expect you to appreciate the danger I faced, but you will respect me.”

“Try living on a hostile, uncharted planet for ten years,” Kin said. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about the lighthouse.”

“I asked around. It seems Brian Muldoch doused the light. He must have wanted to avoid being executed as a deserter,” Kin said, watching Raker’s every move and studying his postu
re.

“Yes, that is what Laura Keen told us. What is your relationship with the Councilwoman?”

Kin ignored the question. “Did you have another question about the lighthouse?”

“Are you a subversive, Mr. Roland?”

Kin met his gaze and held it. To his surprise, Raker didn’t look away. Perhaps captivity had hardened him.

“There was another Kin Roland. My mentor, a skilled intelligence officer, branded his face.” Raker laughed as though not talking about torture and disfigurement. “To hear him tell the tale, the Traitor of Hellsbreach was eight feet tall and had claws longer than a Reaper’s.”

“I went through this before. The captain of the
Goliath
did a thorough investigation and cleared me before granting my commission.”

“Yes, of course. But sadly, he is dead and his ship’s computers were ruined.” He tapped his chin several times with long fingers. “You have remarkably young skin for a man your age.”

“Thanks, for noticing. I’m seeing someone.”

Raker snorted a laugh. “Are you a vain man, fond of cosmetic surgery?”

Kin didn’t answer.

“The other thing—that just occurred to me—is Se
rgeant Orlan’s condition. He fought on Hellsbreach—suffering terribly, to hear him tell it—and now he does not seem to age, not like the rest of us. Perhaps, you did not have a tattoo and branding scar removed. Perhaps, you are a freak of nature, growing new skin as a Reaper does. Perhaps, Hellsbreach blessed you as it did Orlan. Were you, Mr. Roland, on Hellsbreach?”

Kin was a step ahead of him. The question could damn him, but he knew a lot of men bragged about their imaginary heroics on
Hellsbreach. Captain Zelig claimed to be a veteran of the campaign and Reaper expert. “I was there. Made planetfall three times. Captain Moore of the
Goliath
gave me the security commission on his ship because of my service.”

“Where exactly did you make planetfall? Keep in mind that I will check the veracity of your statements.”

Kin pretended to be nervous, avoiding Raker’s gaze and shifting his weight. When he sensed Raker taking the bait, he listed three popular battles he heard other false veterans speak of. He fumbled some details and talked louder, as liars did.

“Are you an agent of the Imperials?” Raker asked.

“I never heard of them until you arrived,” Kin said. “If they’re an enemy of Earth Fleet, then they’re mine as well. The only ships to come through the wormhole in the last ten years have been explorers, pilgrims, and pirates.”

Raker looked at his feet, then studied the buildings made of scavenged ship parts, drift wood, and other materials. “We will talk again, Mr. Roland, and I will be watching you.”

“Are we done?”

“We are done. Commander Westwood requires you to assist Captain Raien with a reconnaissance mission. Report to her first thing in the morning.”

Kin nodded and turned away.

“Mr. Roland.” Raker’s level voice was cool.

Kin looked over his shoulder.

“Do you know the penalty for sabotaging the only marker that would have helped us find this town?” Raker asked. “Many lives could have been lost, had we landed elsewhere.”

Kin waited a moment and said, “Whoever doused the lighthouse should be shot.”

“I am glad we understand each other.”

KIN stood at parade rest. Captain Raien walked around him, studying his body as her company of Fleet troopers waited at attention behind her. She placed the palm of her hand on his
chest. Outwardly, the touch wasn’t intimate or wanton, but lingered for a moment as she studied the muscle beneath her hand before inventorying the rest of his body with her eyes.

Instead of the gesture of a comrade, the hot hand became a none-too-subtle signal of intent. Captain Raien acted like one of the men, but she was a woman with her own needs. She reminded Kin of Laura, self-assured, unashamed of her sexuality, and not likely to be denied. He hadn’t expected the sudden appearance of the Fleet Planetary Assault Force to provide him a new sexual partner, but he wasn’t going to say no.

“You can put your shirt on.”

Kin winced as he pulled his shirt over his head. He anticipa
ted something like this and beat his left arm with a stick, bruising it from elbow to shoulder before his injury could be exposed and examined. A close inspection would reveal the finger marks Orlan’s gauntlets left, but Raien wasn’t interested in his arm.

She turned to her company. “Full armor. Ten minutes. Sergeant Orlan will not be joining us on this mission, but is expected to recover,” she said.

“More for us,” one of the men said.

She scanned the ranks for the owner of the voice, found him, and spoke. “This is a reconnaissance mission into dangerous enemy territory. There is a Reaper out there. We’re not marching into the mountains to rape and loot.” She smiled just before turning away from her men. They smiled and exchanged sly looks. Raien’s men, the 11th Light Reconnaissance Company, dispersed to prepare for the mission.

“My quarters, Roland. You will suit me up,” she said.

Two minutes later she was holding him down and biting her lip, twisting against his upward thrusts, and tossing her hair as tho
ugh it was long enough to toss.

She wasn’t completely flat chested, but it was a near thing. Her well defined abdominal muscles clenched, relaxed, turned, and twisted as she moved. Her sculpted shoulders pulled back, thrusting her chest forward as she rode him. Her hips and thighs,
muscular and rounder than a man’s, gripped him firmly. Kin never closed his eyes. He memorized her body, admiring her feminine grace diminished only by the winged skull tattoo in the center of her breastbone.

“Oh, God
, I love a stranger,” she said, grabbing his chest, squeezing, and then pushing down forcefully. A moment later, she patted his face and stood.

Kin massaged his neck and watched her. She saw that he hadn’t gotten up, snapped her fingers twice, and beckoned him impatiently—using only her fingers like one might summon a dog. He smiled, rocked onto his feet, and crossed the room.

Raien dressed quickly. Her jumpsuit was faded and patched. She looked at his naked body. “You don’t have scars.”

“This is when you notice?”

She made a dismissive sound, neither a grunt nor a laugh. “You seem like you should have scars. Your arm is beat to hell. You walk like a fighter. I wondered after seeing your bare chest, but Fleet armor is strongest around the torso. I’d have thought you’d have scars.”

“I have scars.”

“You know what I mean. Battle scars, not accidental scars. Not scars from the occasional fight.”

Kin secured her armor expertly. Planetary assault armor was extremely tough, but each piece needed to be fastened and adjusted in a precise manner to form one cohesive whole. When done properly, few organic creatures could penetrate the metal and ceramic exoskeleton. An improperly sealed suit could leave hydraulic tubes and circuitry vulnerable. Reapers were one of the five known alien races that could kill a Fleet trooper in assault armo
r, but it wasn’t easy for them.

“You’ve done this before,” she said. She watched him approvingly.

“A couple of times,” Kin said. “What would it take for me to draw armor from the quartermaster?”

Raien narrowed her eyes and smiled. Her face was still flush from their tryst. She leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Having the pilot of a three-hundred-pound war machine explore his mouth with her tongue was a strange sensation. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he couldn’t pus
h her away.

“I’ll protect you, sweet.”

“No doubt.” Kin held her gaze as she tapped the button to expand the helmet from the shoulder assembly, sealing her from the environment. “I know there are replacement suits, and suits the original owners no longer need.”

“I’ll check with the quartermaster when we return,” Raien said. Her voice was less feminine, amplified by the helmet. He couldn’t see her eyes. The flash-romance disappeared.

He dragged his shirt over his head, fastened his gun belt with its drop holster over the belt that held up his pants, and followed her out the door. In her battle armor, Raien was just a few inches taller than him, but weighed half again as much. She strode into the square and brusquely inspected the company of assault troopers without another glance at Kin.

He watched her, bracing for the dark emotion about to punch him in the gut. After nights spent with Laura, he went onto her deck and stared into the night to think. Kin had never been a stranger to women and the pleasures they offered. He had been somewhat chaste when stationed on the same planet as his beloved Becca, his childhood friend and adolescent infatuation. But like any soldier, he didn’t want to face death with re
grets and missed opportunities.

He couldn’t believe Becca could love him as intensely as he loved her. The scene on Earth VI revealed the truth. She only cared for him like a brother or a trusted friend—a convenient confidant when pain and loss became too much. He was a killer, a traitor, contaminated by Hellsbreach and Reapers. Becca deserved better.

Captain Raien gave orders to her lieutenants and sergeants. Captain Zelig had given her the 11th Light Reconnaissance Company, which consisted of three full platoons and the remnants of a platoon seriously depleted during the landing. The twelve men of this fourth, much battered platoon were little more than Raien’s bodyguards.

During the assembly, Kin noticed Raien’s bodyguards were young, pretty, and athletic men. Two were tough sergeants in armor that had seen more than a few campaigns. Some soldiers were like that, cherishing their armor and upgradi
ng it rather than replacing it.

The lieutenant of the fourth platoon wore Excalibur Battle Armor, the absolute best brand—too expensive to be provided by
the Fleet. Kin couldn’t see the man’s face, but assumed he was the son of a general or wealthy politician. He guessed the man inside the EBA was stunningly handsome and Raien’s primary lover. Kin would keep clear of him.

“Do you have a vehicle?” Raien asked.

“No. I can keep up.”

Assault armor not only protected soldiers and made them stronger, but made them faster as well. He’d be running all day, which would be a challenge. Normally, he moved at his own pace. He wasn’t conditioned for a forced march. He was slightly too muscular to be a gifted cross-country runner, but he would manage. If he became
tired, he’d tell Raien of a danger area ahead and slow the pace. Kin always had a plan. His imagination and foresight had kept him and most of his me alive on Hellsbreach.

Until the final campaign.
Kin forced back the memory.

The company
left the town as Fleet engineers built fortifications and repaired vehicles damaged from the landing. The battleship made landfall more or less intact. The vessel couldn’t launch without an enormous amount of fuel, and from its current location near the wreckage of the
Goliath
, liftoff would incinerate Crater Town.

Kin wondered whether Laura had considered that fact. She nee
ded to secure passage for everyone, or they would be abandoned with nothing left to sustain them. Fuel resources could be gathered and refined to power the Fleet ships. Kin suspected it would be top priority for Commander Westwood.

Kin ran beside Captain Raien and her escorts until they approached the mountain pass. He suggested a halt. Raien ordered the company’s platoons into a defensive perimeter that spanned a half-mile circle.

“We can reach the crash site by nightfall, but it would be better to encamp and move in during daylight. Reapers love the dark,” Kin said.

“Of course. Are there other settlements in the mountains?” Raien asked.

Kin wanted to lie. She concealed greed well, but Kin understood officers augmented their pay with plunder and loot, which also motivated enlisted soldiers who barely received pay at all beyond food, shelter, and equipment.

“G
oat herders and trappers. A few families weaving rugs and tapestries. Nothing of interest.”

“What about the land itself? Are there mineral deposits? Fuel reserves?” she asked.

Kin studied the mountains and delayed. He thought of Gold Village. The men and women fished from Angry Blue, the river that gathered streams into a torrent leading to the sea. They also panned for gold with great success. The villagers had little need for gold, but gathered it as a recreational pastime, melting the gold dust into decorations for fence posts, doorways, and children’s toys.

He thought of Maiden’s Keep, a system of caves that had become a sort of convent where women from Crater Town and other villages often went for a few years of solitude before
starting a family. No men lived at Maiden’s Keep, just three large wolf hounds trained to bark and snarl at strangers. He didn’t believe Raien’s men were the type to rape and kill, but the possibility existed. All crimes committed on the uncharted planet of Crashdown would be conveniently forgotten when the expeditionary force returned to space.

“Don’t hold out on me, Rola
nd. You want that suit, right?”

Kin gathered his thoughts before speaking in a subdued voice. He didn’t want Raien’s men to hear him, but there was no true privacy here. Assault armor provided exceptional hearing. Kin knew the men were hoping he’d lead them to riches.

“Crashdown is a brutal, dangerous planet. Few people have been able to survive far from Crater Town. Beyond the town’s influence, there are storms, geological incidents, and creatures that don’t breathe the same air we do. Your armor will protect you from the noxious clouds that leak from caves and fissures in the rock, but we’re limited in how far we can range to gather resources. The mountain villagers live one day away from death.”

“
I’m not a monster,” Raien said.

Kin was almost disappointed she didn’t ask why Crater Town was so important, but was relieved she didn’t inquire further. He didn’t want to talk about Clavender or the power she had to tame the spirit of the planet.

“Of course,” Kin said. “There are a few settlements, fuel reserves, and mineral deposits your engineers can easily exploit.”

“Then lead the way,” Raien said. “Perhaps we can offer these poor people some assistance.”

Kin stepped away from her, massaging his neck. He checked his weapons and trotted into the pass. Normally, when he carried his sword, he wore it on his belt, but decided to sling it over his backpack next to his axe to better facilitate running. An hour after he led them into the pass and warned them of several narrow defiles where bandits had tried to ambush him in the past, Raien called a halt.

“Show me your maps,” she said.

He shrugged off his backpack, setting it on the ground to sort through his supplies. Raien laughed when she saw his compass. She probably knew it didn’t work on this planet. He produced two maps and pointed out the probable location of the crash site.

“This her
e, is it a village?” she asked.

Kin kept his face impassive.

“Well?”

“Yes.”

“I would think you would have mentioned a place called Gold Village,” she said.

“They pan for gold and make trinkets. The people of that village rarely come to Crater Town because they fish from the river and make their own clothing from animal hides and wool.” His attempt to dampen her enthusiasm failed completely.

“And this?” she pointed at Maiden’s Keep.

“Maiden’s Keep is merely a system of caves where women go to meditate by a waterfall.” Several of Raien’s troopers looked away from their security assignments and toward Kin.

“We shall reconnoiter both locations. Relax, Roland. I control my men. There will be no violating of maidens.” Raien gave orders and the troopers moved out.

Kin followed, fantasizing about fighting troopers in full assault armor, knowing the
dream was impossible and hoping Raien would keep her promise. He doubted Gold Village would have much gold left when the day was done and prayed these men would respect the sanctity of Maiden’s Keep. There were women in the Fleet. These soldiers couldn’t be completely sex starved. They weren’t rampaging through an enemy city after the thrill and danger of conquest.

Kin
enforced strict discipline when he served the Fleet and led troopers into battle on several planets before the Hellsbreach Campaign. He executed only one of his men for rape in all those years, but the memory remained vivid.