The Mongrel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 1) Read online

  “Dance? Why?”

  She reached for his wrist and hoisted him to his feet. It was not the motion he expected when she grabbed him. He expected to be launched to standing with forklift-like grace, only to be unceremoniously dumped into the grass. Instead, her touch was light. He was more led to stand versus being forced to.

  “Because we can!” Kat pronounced. Her lounge singer voice very seductive and sultry minus the static.

  The two whirled in the snow for several minutes. Her laughter was infectious and even the stoic Lasher chuckled here and there. She twirled away from Kel to kneel in front of him on the ramp.

  Tears raced down her newly healed skin as she looked deep into his eyes. “You kept your promise to me. You came for me when everyone else forgot. Ask anything of me and it's yours.”

  Lasher raised his face to feel the sun warm the chill on his cheeks. It had been a long time since he was able to feel relaxed. The painkillers were helping. The smile he returned to her was as warm as the dawn. “Live your life on your own terms. Let no one forget you. Make the universe more beautiful for you being in it.”

  Her bottom lip began to quiver. Tears came unhindered, the words striking some part of her that was not who she was. The part that hopes, even when there is no evidence to prayers being answered or waking from dreams. Even Kel was shocked by the gentle kindness that the fierce friend had shown.

  Kat whispered to him. “The woman you lost. The one who took you in. Seladriel. She must have been some woman to have raised someone like you.”

  “She was. I was lucky.”

  “Tell me about her.” Kat flattened her feet and sat back on them. “I want to know everything.”

  It was Lasher's turn to have tears chasing both sides of his chin to see which side got to the bottom first.

  Kel sighed. It was a mighty puff, clearly visible in the crisp mountain dawn. “I'll go put on the coffee.”

  The fire lit up the night sky. Lasher stood with the torch in his hand while the funeral pyre began its grizzly work. Kel was standing next to him, a cup of hot chocolate steamed in defiance of the cold. Off in the tree line, Kard wolves looked on in interest, their eyes reflecting the light like fireflies bobbing in pairs.

  Kat was wrapped in a fur-lined cloak they had found in the commander's quarters. Everyone was sure that she wouldn't need the garment for warmth. She was clearly enjoying the feeling of the fabric on her skin.

  On the opposite side of the mongrel, a hologram of Castillo stood with Commander Hylaeus, watching the spectacle in ghostly fashion. No one said anything. They were content to watch the fire. Only Kel registered any movement as he occasionally sipped on his drink.

  “Thank you for this, Lasher.”

  He nodded to Castillo. “Least I could do.”

  Hylaeus asked, “Where will you go now?”

  “I have leads in Kabran City. We'll start there.”

  There was quiet for a bit more before Hylaeus spoke again. “They'll be hunting you. You've accomplished the impossible. People with plans within plans don't want people like you around to ruin them.”

  Lasher barely moved to acknowledge the force commander's glowing image next to him. “Their problem, not mine.”

  “The lancers will also be hunting Kel. He's responsible for the death of several number, not to mention the theft of my ship.” Hylaeus said as though he were reminding Lasher of the course of events.

  In response, Kel took a loud slurping sip of the hot chocolate followed by a resounding “Ahh!”

  “He did what I asked him to do.” Lasher said, a hint of menace creeping into his tone around the edges. “I'm responsible for the death of those lancers. And you are responsible for letting this happen on your watch. All of this is our fault because we were too busy putting out all of these little fires to notice the firestorm coming our way. I bear that burden. Do you?”

  Hylaeus looked impressed. “Fair enough. I'll leave you to your service. May the stars light your way, Orin.”

  The commander faded from sight, leaving only the single hologram of Cas to stand beside the friends. Kel was the first to leave, slowly turning and making for the warmth of the cabin he had picked. After a moment, Lasher turned to Kat.

  “You don't have to do that. The stimulant to keep you awake? I can see it in the Way. Go get some rest. Real rest. Fluff and I will take first watch.”

  She looked at him. There was admiration in her eyes. There was hope. “Good night. Wake me for the next watch.”

  He nodded as she made her way up the ramp. The cloak she wore made her look like a queen taking her leave from an adoring public.

  “You don't plan on sleeping,” Cas said through the ether.

  “No.”

  “I don't envy the task you have before you, Orin. But at the same time, I am glad that I 'm not ignorant of it. How did we let this happen?” Cas asked.

  A jet of steam escaped Orin's nose before he spoke. “That's not the question for tonight. Tonight the question is, who was Sister Leeuwen? Who were the lancers who fell? Who was Seladriel Ferrand? Enjoy the broadcast of the fire as you convalesce. Imagine the heat to your front, while the mountain asks for your heat from behind. Imagine that your holo-projector can show you the embers joining with the light of the stars. Imagine the pain coursing through my hand as my loss sends it straight to my soul. Now take all of that spectacle and form it into the question that you really want to ask. Will all this revenge solve anything?”

  There was a long silence. Pops of the burning wood mingled with the moving of brush as the wolves continued to watch the mongrel and the ghost stand side by side.

  “What's the answer?” Cas asked, breaking the silence.

  “The fire is my answer.” Lasher offered.

  “I don't understand.”

  Lasher gestured to the funeral pyre. “Each person responsible for this is a stick I am going to stack so I can watch it all burn.”

  Both men continued to watch the pyre in silence as it smoldered to embers just before the dawn. Lasher nodded to the holographic specter.

  “Good night, Chief Inspector, Brother Esteban Castillo.”

  “Good night, Orin.”

  The two ghosts faded away in their own fashion.

  The two herders walked beside the Sezi dog. The herd had been less temperamental today. Easier to control. Ranging today had been a lax series of dips and rises for the herd made their way across the steppe.

  “D'hagine' shooda fau kadi.” the younger of the pair said, pointing to the rise leading into the sunset. Someone was riding a Dross, a Tythian Horse. It was an immense creature by human standards. The person riding it was definitely not a Tyth. The way they reacted to the bob and sway of the animal was all wrong. Whoever was in the saddle, they would be sore in the morning.

  “Mmm hmm,” intoned the elder herder, motioning for the bow to be put away. These were tense times, even among the tribes. The Targen bow would have to be used to fight rather than for food. Many were the stories of such times. All of them were more melancholy than jovial, sung to remind people of the troubled times that shaped them.

  The horse and rider stopped at a hundred meters from the two. The proximity to the herd stirred the Serapti a bit. The dog was quick to bring them back in line with the herders’ route. This close, they could see that there was a rider and someone leading the horse. The second non-Tyth waved in the fashion of the tribesman.

  “Heh. Mara Kal,” the older of the two said with a grin. He motioned her to approach, adopting a casual stance, vigilant for the dog to keep the herd together.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Mara Kal. I did not think to see my scarf so soon.”

  She bowed to both. “My pleasure, too. I have your scarf. Clean and folded.” She handed it back to the elder, who graciously accepted it. He checked the weight, noticing something wrapped inside.

  “Khieveh?” The elder asked. “I had this as a boy. My father bought for me on a trip into the big tribes. This i
s too rare a gift.” He reached across them, trying to return the fruit resembling a greenish-blue tangerine.

  Mara brightened, excited to give the small care package to her friends. “My gift to you for your earlier kindness.”

  “May I?”

  Truveau nodded, producing a small knife to peel the succulent fruit. The elder waved off the utensil, favoring his fingers. He deftly peeled it apart, breaking it into four parts. The trio savored the sweet and tangy fruit, all closing their eyes before laughing a bit as the juices ran down their chins.

  The younger of the two walked over to the Dross. He patted it on the neck, a signal for it to be relaxed, a common thing to do on the steppe. He reached up to offer the rider a piece of fruit, an easy thing to do for a Tyth. Their taller stature made the horses easier to relate to. The rider was wrapped in a travel cloak with the hood up. She looked out from under it, gazing at the strange fruit.

  “It's okay. You can take it.” The young Tyth offered.

  The rider nodded and accepted the gift. “Are they really that expensive? You act like you don't get much of this.”

  The elder responded, “Yes, miss. Khieveh is fruit from the other side of the world. Common to the jungle regions. Please.”

  “I don't want to intrude.” Her voice was small, like a person who had stumbled into a party she wasn't invited to but was asked to stay anyway.

  “No intruding. Just eating.”

  Mara nodded as the woman ate the fruit, adopting a face of pleasant surprise.

  “We have your bottles, Mara Kal.” The old Tyth said. “But we did not expect you so soon. We did not clean them.”

  “Please, keep them for now. I'll come for them another time. My 'friend' and I have some business on the mountain. But if you will have us, we can come and visit soon.”

  The elder nodded. The younger grabbed an insulated bottle from his pack, handing it to Mara. She looked quizzically, not sure what she was taking. “We have no more bread. Day is late. We have tea.”

  Truveau smiled, handing it back. “I wouldn't dream of stealing evening tea. You'll need that to bring in the herd.” She signed across her chest, a symbol of gratitude in the tribes of the steppe.

  The younger returned her smile, grateful he didn't have to give up their tea. There was a hint of sadness to it, as it was clear that they didn't have anything to offer to match the gift of the fruit.

  Mara signed her farewell to the two. “We should be on our way. Night is coming and I want to make the rise to camp. That will let us rest before the remainder of the trek to the mountain tomorrow.”

  “Our village is just over that rise.” The elder pointed toward the horizon. “You could stay with us tonight. A warm blanket and meal. It would let us repay your kindness for the fruit.”

  “We couldn't intrude.” Mara said, waving her hand to gesture she wanted to refuse the offer without insult.

  “Intrude happens when there is no invitation, Mara Kal. It would honor us to have you.”

  Mara sighed. “I guess that's settled, then.”

  The younger Tyth looked to her and asked, “Would you tell us the story of the Mongrel Champion?”

  Mara looked over, feigning ignorance of what he was asking. The young man doubled down on his request. “We've heard stories of the mongrel who championed our cousins. Surando. Do you know what happened? Could you tell us?”

  She shared a knowing smile with the elder. Both then turned to look over to the rider as she shrank deeper into her cloak.

  “I could tell a story. But it would cost you some Vasga bread,” Mara said with a wink.

  THE PLANET KOBAN SUL: SOME TIME AGO

  The woman walked to the panting mongrel. He was staring at the head of the thing she had just decapitated. Its cold machine-like eyes were just staring at nothing. Now it was no more than a discarded camera.

  She knelt next to him. “Probably got some broken ribs under that look of determination.”

  She took the axe from him and extinguished the blade before setting it down. All around them, the world had gone from chaotic to absolute anarchy. Lancers were fighting the crowd and subduing the slavers who ran the arena. Drop shuttles were either swooping in to deposit more troops or scooping them up for Hells knew what else. The roar of the crowd had been replaced with cries of fear.

  The boy was anything but frail. He wasn't relaxing like a victim waiting to be saved. He remained standing like a wounded soldier who was resolute to fight through the next wave.

  “Thank you for helping me,” the boy said.

  “You are welcome. My name is Seladriel.”

  “Are you my new master?”

  “No, my strong boy. No one will ever hold that name over you again.” Her voice was like honey topped in pepper. It was sweet but carried a bite that helped him process her words.

  “What will happen to me?”

  She replaced her weapon onto the magnalock at her belt, as her features softened under the weight of the question. “I will hand you to the lancers, who will get you back to your parents.”

  He looked down, taking a breath to steady himself before his ribs disagreed with the action. “Father gone. Mother dead. I am nothing because I have nothing.”

  “Whoever told that to you is wrong.” Seladriel said, probably more stern than she meant to. “Live your life on your own terms. Let no one ever forget you. Make the universe more beautiful for you being in it. Can you do that for me?”

  The boy seemed to think about it for a moment. He looked at her through the Sight. He could see possible futures and a past of grim determination. “I can do that with you.”

  Her look was one of surprised interest. She never thought of herself as a mentor, let alone a mother. “I have no home, little wolf. You would have to become an apprentice and live my life. This is not a life that chooses you, it is a life you must choose for yourself. There is no easy road beside me.”

  The boy pursed his lips. He reached down, grabbed the axe, and rushed forward. She thought for the briefest of moments he was set to attack until he wrapped his arms around her. His embrace was that of a child who had once known love and had it torn from him. He could see it in this fierce marshal. He wanted to hold on to it forever.

  He whispered into her, “And there are no lonely roads beside me.”

  She felt her breath catch in her throat. What had this boy been through? How did such an old soul come to inhabit such a young body?

  Lancers saw the spectacle and formed a defensive line around them. They knew this. It motivated every part of their desire to serve. The marshal was struck by his trust and his sadness. She returned his embrace. The hug, totally inappropriate for where they found themselves, made her feel like a completed puzzle who never knew her final piece was missing.

  He pulled away slightly, looking to her as she knelt, holding him. “What is it, little wolf?”

  “They're getting away.”

  She smiled, standing to take in the calamity of the assault on the arena. “Lancers! Let's corner and burn these mag-rats! Strike Forward!”

  “Ever Onward!”

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  ALSO IN THE HUNTER’S MOON SE
RIES

  THE MONGREL

  THE REVENANT

  THE SENTINEL

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