Burning Sun (SMC Marauders Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Special Offer

  BURNING SUN

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PART ONE

  1 - Death or Chrysalis

  2 - A New Threat

  3 - Images of Cassandra

  4 - The Son of Raf & Other Secrets

  5 - Brothers

  6 - Decision

  7 - KDV

  8 - Tricks of the Trade

  PART TWO

  9 - Waiting Game

  10 - Devil's Bargain

  11 - Reconnaissance

  12 - Twist of Fate

  13 - Last Chance

  14 - To Siris

  15 - Or the Devil Himself

  16 - Doctor's Orders

  PART THREE

  17 - Stand-by

  18 - Hot Heads

  19 - Assault on Siris

  20 - Hive Creatures

  21 - Black Vein

  22 - Still Water

  23 - Leader

  24 - Kimberly and Amanda

  25 - Face Down in the Dirt

  26 - Reunion

  PART FOUR

  27 - One Must Remain

  28 - Voice of the Forever Siren

  29 - Fire and Darkness

  30 - Grounded

  31 - Ignari Walkers

  32 - The Rise of Cronin

  33 - No Ammo, No Power, No Choice

  34 - The Enemy of All

  35 - An Alliance Made to Fail

  Also by Scott Moon

  Sgt. Orlan is the toughest dog in the Fleet. Gangsters kidnapped is son. What is the worst that could happen?

  Sgt. Orlan: Hero of Man (a subscriber exclusive!)

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  BURNING SUN

  SMC Marauders: Book 2

  Scott Moon

  Copyright © 2017 Scott Moon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  DEDICATION

  This book, as always, is dedicated to my family and all those who have taken the considerable risk of believing in me. It is most especially dedicated to the growing team of advanced readers from every corner of the world. Writers live and die by the number and quality of reviews they receive.

  I must also salute all the men and women serving their countries. As a young man in college, I developed a burning need to join the United States Marine Corps. I applied to OCS, went to MEPS, and spent a year and a half (approximately) in the candidate pool. Then, during what I suspect was a downsizing phase for the military in general, my medical file was reviewed in more detail and I was disqualified for suffering chronic migraines.

  The news devastated me when my recruiter delivered it.

  I still love and respect the United States Marine Corps and all branches of our military. Some of my best friends are or were in the Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines.

  So, having said all that, please excuse the inevitable mistakes I will make when writing military science fiction. One of the hardest parts of writing this book was deciding when and how to capitalize Marine. The Commandant of the United States Marine Corps says one thing, the Chicago Manual of Style says something else.

  Just remember that Marine is always capitalized to me, regardless what displays on the page.

  Thank you!

  PART ONE

  1

  Death or Chrysalis

  CRONIN dreamed of the end, a galaxy on fire with humans standing on the Diamond Ziggurat of the Forever Siren. It saddened him that humans were deaf and blind to the sacrilege they committed. He wanted to warn them of the darkness hiding behind a million suns.

  He wanted to go home.

  Light hurt his eyes as the time for Chrysalis approached. Peering through the eye slits of the organic face mask, controlling his breathing and feeling alone, he decided to make his move in the darkness of night. Diamond-shaped spots, dark red around the edges, now patterned his brown exterior layer. He could not stay away from Siris for much longer.

  He dreamed of the Forever Siren burning in the night, of humans and lost battles, and of something he had been but no longer remembered.

  Contrary to what scientists and priests claimed, there was no sure path to dominance through Chrysalis.

  This meant there was no condemnation to the lesser role he had endured for five seasons. He might be Siren-nix for another five cycles, or he might rule as the Forever Siren herself. Glorious transformation awaited if he made the correct choice.

  No one knew. No one could know. Cronin accepted this. His superiors, both Siren and Siren-nix alike, considered him simple-minded.

  He spoke no more than needed, rarely commenting on the hypotheses of others. Assumptions held little value. Perhaps he was too Nix for comfort, but he preferred useful actions to needless distraction.

  Even if it meant his death. Even if it meant he would never be Siren again.

  A true freedom fighter was no longer Siren-nix, but pure Nix. What did that mean for Chrysalis? His biology cared nothing for politics. Would he remember his anger and the words any true Nix held sacred?

  “You could fight your way free without us,” Amanda said.

  Cronin bent at the waist to peer through the view slot in the metal door, then turned his head toward the human woman-girl. For the hundredth time, he reminded himself that the sex of humans meant less than it did for his own race. A male might be dominant, and often were in some of their older cultures. He had to be as wary of the small male called Ace as of the dominant but not dominant woman-girl-female Amanda-Margaret.

  Three or four humans the size of Ace would still lack the strength and mass to overpower Cronin. With broad shoulders and long limbs like his older brothers, Ace would become a dangerous fighter if he grew to maturity and learned to accept the help of a team. Alone and unarmed, he wasn’t strong enough to fight a Nix. Cronin had observed the young man did not cooperate with others of his race — only with his sister and only after incomprehensible emotional outbursts.

  Cronin had strong primary arms; either could overpower Ace. Amanda might be harder to restrain the way she moved with such incredible human perseverance. Cronin’s second and third pairs of arms could grapple the twins if needed.

  It was a strange thought. The second pair was for eating and ritual arts like prayer and word-dancing. The third pair was for private bodily functions. Fourth and fifth pairs and the single middle arm rarely moved from his back and served little purpose for a Siren-nix or a Nix.

  Cronin did not understand how such primitive, two-armed creatures survived to adulthood.

  Restless energy prompted him to pace the interior of the empty Dissident Union warehouse. Dirty moonlight filtered through the war-ravaged atmosphere and penetrated the skylights and tall windows. UNA and CWF humans controlled most of Brookhaven now — and all the frontier world cities except Hydroville in the mountainous Valley of Tor.

  The remaining DU were desperate and bitter. After the final battle, Cronin and the twins endured a three-week odyssey of escape and evasion, only to find themselves cornered in the industrial complex of the city. Half the population had fled months ago, and yet it was overburdened with people — UNA, CWF, and DU agent
s, not to mention smugglers and adventurists.

  “What purpose would that serve?” Cronin asked. His mission was to obtain and protect the human twins. Why would he consider anything less?

  “Do you want to live?” Amanda asked.

  “He wants Chrysalis,” Ace said.

  Cronin faced the man-boy-male without turning his body from guarding the door. The angle was too great to hold for long. Injuries reduced flexibility as did the need for Chrysalis. He looked into the eyes of Amanda. “If my transformation elevated me to Siren, things would be different.”

  “You could abandon us here and escape — fight free of Agent Dbonden’s goons if you don’t wait too long,” Amanda said, waiting for his reaction without revealing her own emotion.

  “This action you describe is without purpose. I have forsaken my people, masters and brothers alike, to protect you and your twin. I will continue until death or Chrysalis.”

  The Amanda-female was small, even for her kind. Cronin believed what the Ace-male said about his sister, that she was the smartest, most beautiful of all humans. He accepted the Ace-male’s word.

  “Let me talk to him,” Amanda said.

  Cronin moved to the window, bent to peer through it, and saw the man named Felix Dbonden smoking what humans called a real-paper-wrapped-cigarette. “I do not see his goons or his partner. Perhaps they have left.”

  Ace laughed.

  Cronin turned toward the warbling sound. The human-boy-male’s complexion was paler than most — dark around the eyes and slick with sweat. “Your mind has failed.”

  Ace laughed with greater intensity — an unhappy sound, Cronin thought.

  “You find my hypothesis regarding the human mercenaries amusing,” Cronin said. “I can assure you, boy-male-human, that the officers and agents of the Dissident Union command no real loyalty. My Nix brethren supplied them with Void Trolls taken from the stockpile on Siris, and their officers could not control the sleepers who have awoken.”

  Ace stood, his face alive with interest for the first time in days. “Stockpile? Sleepers who what?”

  “The Void Trolls came to our world in stasis — riding on asteroids with no real form or function. I was still Siren-nix when we found them during mining operations. Over a period of several years, they came to exist in the form you know as Void Trolls — a poor imitation of Siren-nix warriors.”

  “What if humans had found them first?” Ace asked.

  “They would have become small and weak and gender-confused like all humans,” Cronin said.

  Amanda laughed. Ace glared.

  “The Forever Siren kept them. Once the Void Trolls grow as strong as they can, they sleep on Siris until the Ignari come. Nix rebels sold Void Trolls stolen from Siris to fund our invasion.”

  “What invasion?” Ace asked, moving closer to Cronin.

  “Our invasion of Earth. The Forever Siren demands we wait. The Nix will not wait. We will take the Sol system and the planet you call Earth before the Ignari trap us in this galaxy,” Cronin said.

  Ace and Amanda made strange expressions and backed away from him.

  “You want to destroy Earth,” Amanda said.

  “Why would we destroy it?” Cronin asked. “I am no longer Siren-nix or Nix. I am only Cronin.”

  “Then let us go,” Amanda said.

  “You would be used or killed by the Siren as are all dreamers,” Cronin said. “What purpose would that serve? Do you wish to help the Siren?”

  The human twins argued, but he did not hear them. The pain of his injuries flared in his secondary arms, the limbs meant for eating and spiritual development. He had foolishly used them to support his primary limbs to defeat Rog. Pride also hurt him, aching like a physical thing. None of the other Nix were as dedicated to protecting dreamers. He knew his actions would ruin him, and yet he had survived when Rog the battle lord had died.

  There was no Chrysalis for the dead.

  A morbid thought, but true.

  He remembered Tion, the Siren hero greater even than Eigon the sword saint. The black-haired female had spared him, defying Eigon on a flimsy excuse she needed to fight Rog’s Nix warriors and Void Trolls who also wanted the twins.

  He thought of the male-human-man-sibling to Ace and Amanda, Kevin the warrior who had fired his weapon at Rog and nearly died from the weapon’s savage recoil.

  I owe him a debt but deny the responsibility. That is not why I stay with these twins-humans that are not of the same sex.

  Cronin massaged his head with his smallest and least used hand, the one that came straight up from his back and had no pair. “I must have Chrysalis. I cannot have Chrysalis. Humans and their insanity will be the death of me,” he said.

  “Let me talk to the DU man,” Amanda said. “He will listen. I can convince him to go away.”

  Cronin studied her, deciding she meant well but could not succeed. “You will fail.” He despised the human-man who had dogged Cronin’s every move since the great battle ended.

  “Hey, don’t talk to my sister like that,” Ace said, marching forward with his fists clenched as though he would fight despite his fragile condition.

  Cronin narrowed his gaze on the boy-human-male.

  Ace lunged forward, swinging a committed haymaker punch.

  Cronin caught it, then shoved him backward the length of three human strides.

  “Let me try,” Amanda said.

  Moments passed. Cronin’s situation did not improve. “Call to him. Talk to him. Convince him to go away with all of his paid fighting servants.”

  “Open the door and step away from it,” she said. “That is the only way I will succeed.”

  Cronin did as she asked, but blocked Ace from moving toward the open door. Amanda the girl-human-female did not change her expression, although she hesitated.

  “Hello there, sir,” Amanda called from the doorway. “My name is Amanda. I am inside with my brother Ace.”

  The Dissident Union man said something Cronin could not hear clearly, but might have been “My name is Felix Dbonden. You can trust me… where is that monster?”

  Amanda looked back at Cronin. Emotions crossed her face, but he could not read them. Human expressions were a mystery. He often interpreted the contraction and relaxation of facial muscles incorrectly.

  Did humans cry in fear? She made tears, but also widened her eyes in alarm or terror. Several times, she reached for the door handle as though she might grab it to slam the door shut.

  Two squads of DU commandos burst through the door.

  Not mercenaries, Cronin thought. Two full squads of their elite warriors; I must remember to be flattered.

  The lead element turned according to a prearranged plan, not according to what they saw. With over a dozen men, dominating the room was easy and fast. Men raised weapons, rushing forward and screaming commands without waiting for answers.

  Cronin recognized the weapons and saw they were lethal, not the prisoner-taking variety humans used for reasons unknown to him. He dashed across the room, the sudden movement sending sharp pain through his secondary arms. Taking a defensive stance, he absorbed several ballistic projectiles before lashing out with his sword to decapitate the lead commando.

  More gunfire.

  Shouting.

  Smoke grenades exploding.

  Humans dragging comrades from the fight because they could not walk with stab wounds and slashes to their legs and torsos.

  Cronin spread his arms and roared a challenge, demanding death or Chrysalis through his deeds. The universe and her servants refused him.

  Ace scrambled backward in his shadow, safe from the DU attacks.

  Cronin looked for Amanda and saw her fall under a knife-wielding man who straddled her, weapon poised to deliver a killing blow. He charged, but his fastest effort was too slow. Flinging the sword, he knew it would be ineffective but hoped it would upset the balance of Amanda’s attacker.

  The blade slapped sideways against the man, then clattered down
.

  A moment later, Cronin finished crossing the room and snatched up the man by his throat, slamming him down hard on his upper back and shoulders.

  He picked up his sword, dragging Amanda closer to Ace so he could defend them. She tried to stand and tripped several times.

  “I can walk!” she yelled.

  Cronin flung her the rest of the distance to her brother. “Now follow me and stay close.”

  Fighting through a renewed DU assault on the room, he took many injuries and picked up two fallen guns with his secondary arms. Aiming was harder than he expected; the complexity of the battle required him to aim the weapons in the same direction he was swinging his sword with his primary battle arms.

  One weapon failed to fire, and he suspected it was something he had done wrong or forgotten to do.

  “Stay close, Amanda,” he said, knowing Ace would follow her through this life and the next.

  The battle to escape the DU commandos earned him no glory. He could not gain status in his masterless condition, yet a mixture of pride and revulsion swelled inside his chest. Using all of his appendages felt alien and evil in the sense of breaking traditions.

  He did what he had to do.

  You fear death, Cronin. Do not deceive yourself, said a voice in his head. The gift of Chrysalis will be denied you.

  Cronin shuddered when the Dream-rider laughed like a thunderstorm. He had never heard the voice so clearly.

  Something stranger than his increasingly desperate actions happened next.

  The Dream-rider relented.

  Amanda and Ace sang in his head, yet when he looked at them, they were only scared children seeking sanctuary.

  “You must follow me,” he said. “Never leave my side.”

  Soldiers and police officers swarmed through the smoke as they made their escape. Klaxons and flashing lights confused the scene. Spectators — a class of humans stranger than anything Cronin had experienced — lined the streets. Intoxicated, they cheered or cursed him with no effect on his progress.