12


Long before I became part of the Reaper Corps, I was taught to move cautiously, even when I was in a hurry. Patience and aggression could be first cousins, two sides of the same coin when needed. Sneak in, flip the switch, and kill everyone who resisted. It was a staple of the Reaper Corps during the last war with the Sarkonians. They made us shock troops for that engagement.
"I'm not sure why Grady hasn't tried to contact me. I understand that he doesn't have his ship, but we should be within line of sight communications by now."
"He could be sheltering in place, trying to establish contact with Commander Briggs. Most of the threats we've encountered are on the other side of the primary trench. I expect he followed his training regardless of how safe things looked," X-37 said.
"Maybe," I said as I crept forward. "I'd like to know where the mystery spec ops team is right now. Tell me what you found on them.”
"I performed a check of the briefing minutes and found no mention of an unnamed scheme. Perhaps these were men left behind."
"I don't think so, X. Even from a distance, they seemed like a well-equipped unit with a sense of purpose." I crept along my back trail, hoping to catch these new players red-handed.
A voice spoke from a walkway I had thought was clear when I moved beneath it.
"You talk too much, Cain. Lazy habit. Of course, you’re old school. Just another broken-down has been. Someone who hasn't learned to direct HUD menus with hand and eye movements."
I slid behind the pipe and looked up, seeing a large-framed soldier squatting down almost casually. Without my infrared eye, I wouldn't be able to see much, because he was in the shadows with the building behind him. Only an amateur would allow himself to be silhouetted against the stars.
"Where's your team?" I asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know." He jumped and landing right where I would've been standing if I hadn't flung myself out of the way.
His armored boots slammed onto the deck a split second before he dropped his elbow on my shoulder.
I twisted to minimize the impact and retreated, tripping over myself and firing my HDK with one hand. It was such an amateur-ish move, I was actually embarrassed.
He came at me like a pro, moving smoothly in a shooting stance with both hands on his weapon now, firing short bursts that tore through my light recon armor.
“Fuck, he’s fast!”
X-37 didn't have a chance to respond.
"Just don't quit, Cain. That'll ruin my image of the last Reaper."
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm the guy they made to replace you and the rest of the Reapers.”
X-37 pushed information and advice at me in tactical mode, but even that was too slow. I reloaded and pulled the trigger at the same time the stranger slammed in a new magazine and fired. I struggled to my feet and retreated around the corner.
With my attacker barely a stride behind me, this was little more than a stall tactic.
"You're moving toward a ledge!" X-37 shouted, ringing my ears with several loud tones. When nerve-ware hit the max volume button, it rattled my teeth.
The spec ops man laughed as he transitioned from his rifle to a handgun, much faster than a reload. I wasn't sure how many times his bullets hit me, but I knew I’d struck his body armor multiple times and his helmet at least once despite how fast he moved.
I retreated until my back was to a railing. Behind me, the deck dropped away to a landing pad ringed with construction equipment and buildings of all shapes and sizes.
“Stop!” I shouted, hoping to stall with negotiation.
“Hah! I’ll bite. What’s your game, Reaper?”
“Who the fuck are you, really?”
“Captain Marley Callus. Now die!” He front-kicked me off the ledge.
“Five meters,” X-37 said fatalistically.
My back slammed onto the deck.
Lights out. Game over.
* * *
The sound of the super soldier’s boots striking the deck woke me up.
It was about the only piece of luck I had. My HDK rifle was gone. The auto blade in my Reaper arm refused to extend. I desperately felt around for an alternative weapon and came up empty. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I rolled onto my side just in time to vomit up the grey ooze I had consumed from the mystery fridge. The spec ops soldier ran at me, kicking me square in the ass and launching me forward, where I slid on my face before I could get my hands in front of me.
“That seemed unnecessarily personal,” X-37 said.
“I hate it when you get into observer mode.”
The soldier came at me again, inspiring me to scramble to my feet and run several steps before my legs gave out. Dreadmax was spinning more than usual. I started out falling on my face but somehow landed on my side like a power drunk.
My attacker stopped to laugh, then yelled something at his team, who were watching from the landing. “I told you Reapers were nothing.”
I grabbed the deck with both hands and pulled, scrabbling my feet behind me like a fish out of water. From a certain height, the landing area looked smooth, like a picture of military order. From my vantage point, it was a tangle of industrial rivets, tracks for railcars, and openings.
I came to a metal grate.
“That’s for drainage in the event of a fire with the need to deploy water and other anti-combustion chemicals,” X-37 said. “It dumps into the sewers.”
“Don’t care.”
The soldier’s feet pounded across the deck. “Oh no you don’t!”
I shoved myself through the gap and fell blind.