Fall of the Reaper: A military Scifi Epic (The Last Reaper Book 14) Read online

  Copyrighted Material

  Fall of the Reaper Copyright © 2022 by Variant Publications

  Book design and layout copyright © 2022 by JN Chaney

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

  www.jnchaney.com

  http://www.scottmoonwriter.com

  1st Edition

  CONTENTS

  Don’t Miss Out

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Important Terms and Characters

  Join the Conversation

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  About the Authors

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  1

  “Break time is over, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “You cannot possibly finish that chapter before we deal with this alert.”

  “Can.” Holding a book tablet in one hand and a whiskey glass in the other, I savored each word as the protagonist charged toward home. This was my reward for all the crap beneath the surface of Camis Shae and the void battles that followed.

  “The lost canine successfully makes his way across the continent and reunites with his family.” X-37 adopted his most unsympathetic tone. “I had to do that, Reaper Cain. You understand.”

  “I said no spoilers, X. That’s the first rule of book club.”

  “Of course, but an attack while still in the slip tunnel trumps your literary sensibilities.” X-37 displayed a list of combat alerts in my HUD.

  “Shut the front door!” I snapped the tablet closed, stowed it in my jacket, and headed for the bridge. Since when did we have fleet battles in the slip tunnel? What the actual—I choked back a half dozen seconds of pure vitriol.

  “Good work, Reaper Cain. I am making a note that you have successfully refrained from profanity twice in one day.” X-37 posted a list of my personal goals next to the combat details. Moderate my use of foul language was near the top.

  Alarms warned everyone in the hallway. I stood aside for fighter pilots running to the launch bays, soldiers deploying to repel boarders, and non-essential personnel hurrying to quarters. No ships had been launched and no one had stormed Maglan’s Hope, but it looked like that time was coming.

  I switched into combat mode and reviewed what we were up against as I traversed the ship. Scheid had made common cause with the Dark Triumvirate, creating a grim alliance we called the DTA. Drakainis, an alien AI, had probably wiped his dual LAIs and taken control of his nerve-ware. Not sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good.

  Glento and the Shae Triumvirate had evacuated Camis Shae and were either hostages or allies of their Camis brethren and the Dark Triumvirate. I wondered how that reunion had gone. The DT had spent decades smashing neighboring star systems with poorly understood technology given to them by Drakainis.

  This corner of the galaxy was a rough place.

  Now Scheid’s goons were attacking inside the slip tunnel. Dumbasses.

  Elise met me just inside the bridge. We strode along the work terminals, catching snippets of information and plenty of danger alerts. “This is bad, Reaper.”

  Images of a damaged Oroth cruiser breaking apart and disappearing through the slip tunnel wall filled the main screen. Silence held every ship in the fleet. As bad news went, this was the worst.

  “That’s a recording,” Elise said. “Happened about two minutes ago. The ships behind it backed off but are coming on strong now.”

  “How many ships fit side to side in this tunnel?” I asked, suspecting the answer.

  “Two warships with barely enough room to maneuver, and by maneuver, I mean minimal shifting side to side. This is a shooting gallery. We’ll see high casualties on both sides.”

  “Tell me about the Sovereignty of Oroth ships,” I said.

  “Not sure, but we think they’re Hagg design. Heavily armored. Practically rectangular. Not exactly nice to look at.” She reviewed new data. “The Darkness Illusion Class ships would be worse.”

  “That’s what we’re calling them? Seriously?” I asked. Thoughts of my experience with the mind-bending void ships were something I avoided. We dispersed them with a variation of the technology that created them, an element known as Darkrendul, and I still hadn’t completely recovered from exposure to the substance. No antidote was perfect. Avoiding the Illusion Class ships was high on my priority list.

  “Yes, Reaper. I need solutions, not shitty comments.” She pointed at a comms officer. “Clean up that link. I want a live feed from our rear guard.”

  “Right away, General. Two cruisers, the Yokain and the Endless Fortune, are holding the line,” the officer said. “Both have sustained heavy damage.”

  “Work on a rotation. Pull them back. Switch with any warship with fully powered shields.”

  “Right away, General,” the officer said.

  I listened to Elise and her warship captains as I headed for the armory. Bug, Path, and the Sethorn warriors arrived at the same time. Everyone was out of breath, ready for action.

  “Archangels in micro fighters, is what I’m thinking. We should have sufficient agility to strike hard and race back to the Nightmare or Maglan's Hope for repair and ammunition,” I said.

  Bug, Path, and several of Locke's people helped Jag, Naaman, and Decima slip into their new armor. They had adapted well to the Maglan Archangel gear. I wondered how they would incorporate the new technology into their own systems when they returned home.

  Billiam, Sykes, and several squadrons of Archangels arrived and geared up without asking permission. One of the soldiers already had her helmet on and didn't talk.

  “X, does that Archangel look just a tiny bit suspicious,” I asked.

  “There is an eighty-three percent chance that individual is General Elise Hastings,” X-37 said. “Should I burn her secret identity on the main channel?”

  I gave the mystery Archangel the stink ey
e. “No, but help me keep track of her. I don't want the kid doing something stupid.”

  “Do you mean something more reckless than what you intend to do?” X-37 asked.

  “Yeah, exactly.” I went through system checks and then a review of the Archangel capabilities with Jag, Naaman, and Decima.

  “Thanks, Halek,” Decima said. “We've got it. Give us some credit.”

  “You've never fought in a void fighter this small. Keep track of your fuel and ammunition. Don't get cocky,” I said.

  Jag, Decima, and Naaman stared at me for several long seconds. I looked to Bug, Path, and Locke for support. They shrugged and spread their hands, none of them backing me up.

  “Fine,” I said. “Let's get out there and kick some ass.”

  “Captain, as one of the smaller ships in this part of the convoy, I can move past the larger ships to help perform combat control,” Jelly advised. “Tom and Henshaw volunteered to assist in any way possible.”

  “You're not a warship, Jelly,” I said.

  “With all due respect, Captain, I have proven myself, and so have Tom and Henshaw,” Jelly said. “Henshaw may not be a combat operative, but he will be extremely useful if we run into Drakainis or other surprises.”

  “You're not wrong,” I said. “I'm just not entirely sure how he suddenly popped into the Maglan fleet unannounced.”

  “Stealth is definitely the Lady Faith's specialty,” Jelly said. “I can vouch for her at least, and monitor James Henshaw.”

  I could see the unnamed Archangel wanting to quash the argument, but she held back, aware that she would reveal her identity to anyone paying attention. Which Archangel would have the authority to tell everyone what to do?

  General Elise Hastings, that's who.

  I took the lead, not because I was the best Archangel, but because I insisted on going first. “Sykes, make sure that the unnamed Archangel goes last. Could be a rookie.”

  “Uh, if you say so, Reaper,” Sykes said, clearly nervous about putting this mysterious unnamed operator in her place. Billiam didn't seem any more comfortable with my order than his partner.

  I could practically hear Elise cursing me, but for once, she had no way to argue.

  We shot out of the launch bay, two by two. Other Archangels and small ships deployed from the exterior of the Nightmare and joined us. We fell into a three-layered formation and crossed the gap between our rear guard and the Hagg cruisers. Jellybird and the Lady Faith II progressed more slowly, careful to maintain their stealth fields.

  Rockets and kinetic weapons fired steadily. I steered around a volley, almost feeling it was too easy to avoid being hit.

  “My analysis suggests they are aiming at the capital ships and do not believe you can hurt their heavily armored vessels,” X-37 said.

  “Or they’ve been ordered to absorb whatever damage we dish out,” I said. “Scheid seems to use them as missile magnets in most battles.”

  “That is also a likely scenario, Reaper Cain.”

  “Cain for unnamed Archangel rookie, what do you think?”

  The Archangel unit in question sent back a text only response. “Problems with my audio comms. But of course you're right. You're always right. Why would I have an opinion?”

  “Someone's cranky about not being in charge,” I said to X-37 privately.

  “Should I dime her out, as you say in your detective novels?” X-37 asked.

  “Those aren't my books, those are Tom's,” I said. “I'm reading them to be nice. It's hard to get the guy to try something that's not a technical manual.”

  “That is incorrect, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “His library is extremely diverse. He also reads three point five times faster than you—”

  “I get it, X. Don’t make it ugly. You know what I mean.”

  X-37 answered before I was done talking. “Reaper Cain, I am not a mind reader, nor does your statement contain the logical structure for me to extrapolate a meaningful point.”

  I focused on the task at hand, namely an increase in missile fire aimed at our micro fighter formation.

  “Listen up, everyone,” I said on our unit wide channel. “Save your rockets for a strike that will do something. Let’s work together. Each squad will launch simultaneously for maximum effect. Keep track of who you’re flying with and try to stay together. Don’t leave your wingman.”

  “Understood,” Jag and other squad leaders said.

  “Hold formation until your Archangel LAIs give you the evade command. If you steer out of their targeting systems too soon, they'll adjust and hammer you on the move,” I said.

  Each pilot acknowledged via HUD.

  My heart rate accelerated. I controlled my breathing to mediate the surge of adrenaline and checked each target I hoped to attack if I survived the barrage. X-37 monitored my heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, and other biometrics. LAIs were great internal guardians, no matter how much I complained.

  Battle updates flowed up one side of my vision. My pressure suit adjusted each time I turned to maintain my blood pressure. Stars danced in my vision no matter how hard X and the suit worked.

  “Forgot how snappy these micro fighters are,” I said.

  “Same here, Reaper.” The unidentified Archangel everyone knew was Elise used a voice neutralizer. Combat personnel would keep her secret. Fleet officers and politicians were the ones to worry about. They were also right. This was the absolute worst place for the leader of the Maglan fleet.

  Hagg point-defense guns opened fire. Archangel units released chaff as they veered away in a starburst of evasive maneuvers. I steered to support Elise. Billiam and Sykes stuck to her like glue, protecting her flanks and her six.

  “Excellent work, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “Press the attack. You must get closer to do real damage.”

  “Listen up, people. I need two squadrons for a run at the Hagg gun turrets. Third squadron—patrol for enemy void fighters or other surprises. Fourth squadron—you’re in reserve.”

  “Copy that, Reaper,” said Lieutenant Commander Ramsay Slip, an Archangel officer I hadn’t met. “After this run, would you mind if I assumed command of my units?”

  “Sorry about that, Commander. Got excited.” Embarrassment added to the smorgasbord of sensations kicking me around.

  “No need for that,” Slip said. “We deployed in record time, thanks to you. After this, let’s have a cigar on the observation bridge and talk tactics.”

  “Can’t wait,” I said, then punched the engine boost. Elise, Billiam, and Sykes followed in a wedge. A few hundred meters to my left, too near the wall of the slip tunnel, Jag, Decima, and Naaman did the same. Two Archangels filled in their unit, probably because Elise or Lieutenant Commander Slip assigned them to the task.

  “Incoming Hagg fire,” X-37 warned.

  “Roll out left,” I said, then cranked the controls. Elise, Billiam, and Sykes followed in perfect synchronization. I dumped a stream of kinetic rounds to keep the Hagg point defense guns honest, then started a new vector that would take us right over the deck of the enemy ship.

  “There is a lane open, Reaper Cain. It is time to go for it.’”

  “Way ahead of you,” I grunted.

  “You are not, Reaper Cain.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Admit it, sometimes I think faster than you do.” I raced over the top of the cruiser, reached the target quicker than expected, and fired my payload. “Boo-yah!”

  Billiam, Sykes, and Secret-Elise added direct hits seconds later. The hull of the Hagg cruiser rippled, then buckled outward on one end. I’d hoped to remove the guns. Now it looked like the entire ship was going to blow.

  “There is a high probability the inevitable explosion of this vessel will damage or destroy its counterpart,” X warned.

  “Hey, Commander, are you seeing this?” I asked.

  “Good work,” Lieutenant Commander Slip said. “Roll it back, everyone. Let them chew on that for a while—but stay ready. Something tells me that was only round
one. They have a lot of Hagg ships for cannon fodder if the intel guys and gals know what they’re doing.”

  I fell into formation, more than happy to let Slip and the other squadron leaders take charge of the void battle. I’d jumped my rank, or my role, or whatever I was in the Maglan fleet. “X, remind me to at least know the chain of command before the next battle. Maglan forces no longer use what I was taught in Union basic training.”

  “Of course.” My LAI added a reminder to my HUD but gave it a low priority. A lot of information packed my digital note cards.

  Two by two, enemy ships fed themselves into the slip tunnel battle. No wreckage remained. Damaged ships exploded completely or veered into the slip tunnel wall for a light show I never wanted to see again. When Hagg cruisers attempted to retreat through their own lines, the ships following them blasted them apart or pushed them out of the way with stronger shields.

  I stood exhausted on the bridge as Elise commanded from where she belonged. Her face had lines that made her look older, almost like an adult.

  “What are you laughing at?” she asked.

  “Oh nothing.” I wasn’t going down that slip tunnel. She didn’t need banter. She needed sleep and a change of the bandage wrapping her head. One of the Hagg missiles had nearly taken her Archangel apart.