“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.
15. 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#
16. UNTIL THAT DAY
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
Read on for a free sample of The Lost 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.