Reapers of the Damned: Dark Seed

By Saqib Sadiq

The second book in the Reapers of the Damned trilogy picks up where the first book left off. We find Raza in prison for his role in the mutiny on Gemcore's mining station. A chance encounter with a resistance fighter opens up a new world. A world in which man's humanity has been restored. No longer a cog, Raza transforms into a freedom fighter, finding love and peril along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saqib Sadiq
• Release date: Sep 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005707163

Saqib Sadiq

Take the cosmic perspective,

Book preview

Reapers of the damned: dark seed

Saqib Sadiq

Published by SadiSoft at Smashwords

A SadiSoft production © 2022

Also, by Saqib Sadiq

Ar-Raan

(Short Story 1)

Reapers of the Damned

(Book 1)

Es-Haan Mund

(Short Story 2)

ROTD: Dark Seed

(Book 2)

Sidra's Story

(Short Story 3A)

Letters of the Lamb

(Short Story 3B)

ROTD: Covert Dreams

(Book 3, coming soon!)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer

All stories are a work of fiction. The characters do not exist, except in the mind of the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

REAPERS OF THE DAMNED: DARK SEED

BY SAQIB SADIQ

Chapter

One

Shallow Space:

Dark Side of the Moon

Ultramax (Gemcore's maximum security facility)

Self-emulsification in T minus 36 seconds

Cruchev tore his gaze away from the pulsating atomic clock. His roving eyes fell upon the electrodes embedded in his wrists. His taught body prone, legs lashed to an unyielding shaft. With each breath he took his chest cavity expanded, betraying the fluttering beats of his heart. Sweat dripped from his shaven scalp lending a glistening sheen to his ravaged exterior. Arms outstretched flowing to the rhythm of his discharging neurons; his conscience mind unable to perceive.

Blood dripped into an awaiting container, ferried off to an unknown destination. The blood of the people’s champion will surely bring in credits on the free market. A remote command transmitted. Splicer snips open bulging vein. A trickle of crimson fluid flowed forth. Silent prayers emitted from a soul in transition.

Territorial Range GC-2:

Corporate Headquarters

War room

General Walker couldn't help himself. He relished every moment. A gleeful smile across his face. At last, the bleeding heart Cruchev had been removed. Light from the view screens filled the room. The executioners were wrapping up the body. It would be dumped in a mass grave used by all former Gemcore workers. Which was being too generous as far as Walker was concerned.

Too generous indeed. This little mutiny had cost his employer dearly. Delayed deliveries from the mining asteroids put them behind schedule. Once behind schedule they couldn't meet their quota. Once they couldn't meet their quotas, they couldn't make payments. Once they couldn't make payments they were penalized with more interest on their loans. High interest loans drained their credits. Drained credits were unconsumed credits. Unconsumed credits were wasted credits. Wasted credits were a huge no-no.

The rule of thumb was to sever heads, the Central Repository who made those loans could care less about production delays. All they cared about was the bottom line. And the bottom line was that they defaulted on their loans. If TCR allowed this to go unpunished then other revenue engines would be emboldened to do the same.

So, while Gemcore scrambled to make payments all new loans were halted. With no capital they couldn't purchase ships and weapons. Which meant the shipping guild and Defense Consortium turned to arming insurgents and raiders in order to meet their quotas. In all a total disaster.

One thing was for sure Walker prized his head.

Territorial Range GC-3:

Gemcore Penal Colony

Alpha Site

Raza awoke in the dead of the night. Body immersed in cold sweat. Panic stricken. The screams of his dying captain still echoed in his mind. Wild eyed he frantically scanned the small room. His eyes only fell upon unyielding walls. Fully conscious he realized he was in his prison cell. He sat at the edge of his bed clutching his head trying to get his breathing under control.

Moonlight fell upon the jail cell floor through a small window overlooking the courtyard. Fresh air breezed in. He took in a deep breath of night air and let it out slowly. Despite being locked up in a cage for the past eight years Raza gave thanks for the little pleasures he could enjoy. Like breathing air that hadn’t been circulated by air purifiers. During his time on board Gemcore’s distant mining space station, known as V-323, that was his only source of oxygen.

He thought back to the day when Captain Cruchev and his crew decided to defend the resource rich asteroid against Gemcore’s brutal heal. A miner had been killed by an unknown presence in the mining tunnels. Cruchev ordered a complete lockdown of the facility and sent forth a science team. Their mandate was to investigate and report back with real-time transmissions, in case their bodies were not found.

General Walker the premier chairman of Gemcore’s board of directors did not have the patience for such niceties. He ordered his henchman the dreaded Colonel Ramsey to persuade the miners to return to the mines by any means necessary.

Captain Cruchev a stalwart if there ever was one, would not stand back and allow his men to be led to their deaths, so he fought back. In the end Ramsey’s overwhelming brutality overcame Cruchev and his flock. They were taken into custody to stand trial. Their paths have been separated ever since.

Raza was imprisoned for his involvement. The harsh treatment of prison life had hardened Raza the carefree and naïve young man he once used to be had vanished. In its place was a broken soul weary from the troubles of the world. On his voyage home he dreamt about meeting his family. It had been so long since he had seen his mother.

Her kind words and gentle ways always comforted him no matter how hopeless he felt. But his life had been taken from him he was sentenced to ten years in prison. Isolated and alone he frequently fell into bouts of depression his only source of strength was his faith. It gave him the courage to move along.

Sliding back into bed he closed his eyes and tried falling asleep. Instead of a blissful night of sleep he remained semi-conscious, his body tossed and turned throughout the night. Bleary eyed and tired he made his way over to the grimy sink in the corner of his cell. He cleansed his body to prepare for early morning prayers. Kneeling on a dingy towel Raza worshipped his lord. Raising his hands towards the emerging beams of sunlight he prayed for forgiveness and deliverance from this awful place. Putting his faith in his creator he braced himself for another day in hell.

As a coping technique Raza had started to write letters to his beloved mother. Although the letters never reached her, he took comfort in communicating with her in this way. Sliding his hand under a grimy pillow he pulled out a worn piece of paper and a pencil. It was no small wonder that he was able to smuggle this simple wooden pencil into his cell. Gemcore considered it contraband and deemed it illegal to possess. The chiseled instrument could easily serve as a shank. And he knew where to check for a pulse.

The guards could care less if the prisoners used it on themselves. It was their own safety that concerned them. Even with full riot gear the guards were afraid of any confrontation. They were always sure to roam in packs. Even with the best equipment imported from TR DC-2, the cowardly fighting men could not afford to have an armed prison populace.

Frequent spot inspections insured that any device that could be fashioned into a weapon was taken away. A favorite among the more rambunctious were slingshots that hurled stones. Those prisoners were always the hardest to put down. At any rate any act of defiance was always met with punishing force.

Even now the prisoners were under lockdown. A recent skirmish with a new batch of inmates had warranted a heavy-handed response from the warden and his men. Raza didn't care much he didn't like going to the courtyard or the mess hall for that matter. The food wasn't any good and the air wasn't that fresh anyway. He still didn't belong to a gang and was easy pickings. In fact, he was glad the guards would hand deliver his meals to his cell. At least he could dine in peace.

Chapter

Two

Mars:

Mining Station P-626

Control Room

Terrance loved working for Gemcore. It beat toiling away at a worker camp. He relished his role in operations. Just now he was monitoring the progress of a freighter craft. He watched intently as it lumbered away for Earth. Carrying within its cargo holds a day's worth of extracted ore. The ever-present danger of pirate raids meant he had to keep a close eye. But lately there had been other threats.

At first, they were just rumors, tales of other worldly encounters. Possessed bodies, unearthly screams and desecrated stations. Terrance had dismissed them as propaganda. Bleeding heart liberals and SoviScum saying anything to keep Gemcore from claiming what was rightly theirs. But out here in the vast wilderness of Mars he could hear something.

At first, he thought he was losing his mind but others had heard it too. Usually around the time mining crews were at their deepest levels, breaking new ground. It could have something to do with the geology. Gas fissures were known to make similar sounds. But that wouldn't explain strange happenings. Oxygen tanks depleting in an instant suffocating the miner inside. Ruptured fuel cells delaying shipments. Not to mention the cadaver they found a few days ago.

They found it in a utility closet during routine inspection. Judging by the insignia on its clothes it was one of theirs, but no one knew how it got there. Nonetheless they followed protocols and kept it isolated from the rest of the population in sickbay's quarantine unit. The med team was doing a complete analysis in hopes of finding any clues to who this thing used to be. Until then they just had to wonder.

****

Blaring klaxons indicated a rupture in the stations outer shell. Atmosphere was rushing out of the breech at an alarming rate. Automatic containment protocols were triggered. Shutters dropped into place to reinforce the outer shell; an engineering team was dispatched to the location. Before Terrance could relax the shell breeched at multiple locations. This time the shutters were stuck in place. Caught off guard the engineers scrambled with bulky plasma torches desperately making their way towards the gaping holes.

But it was already too late. No matter how quickly they fused molten metal, they couldn't keep up. Soon oxygen levels were critically low. Crewmen scrambled for space suits hoping their meager oxygen tanks would prolong their lives for a few hours. Terrance was lucky to be in a secured portion of the station. Reinforced walls slid into place around the control room. Independent oxygen tanks began pumping life-giving air into the room. He would be safe, for a while but he now cursed the vile megacorp known to all as Gemcore.

Territorial Range GC-3:

Gemcore Penal Colony

Alpha Site

Raza wanted nothing to do with the bloodied man lying on the cell floor. The guards had worked him over pretty bad. With one year left on his 8-year sentence he didn't want to know what the man had done to earn their wrath. He kept to his side of the enclosure imagining himself being released, free to go home to his mom.

Water… the man mumbled through swollen lips. Raza hid under his blanket pretending to be asleep. His heart went out to the man but he just couldn't risk getting involved. He soon drifted into a fitful sleep. When he woke up the next morning the man was still lying there, blood caked to gruesome wounds. It was only his heaving chest that let him know the man made it through the night.

So as not to disturb him Raza carefully rose from his bunk. Making his way to the cell's faucet, splashing his face. He marveled at how cool and refreshing the sensation of water on skin felt. The poor man just needed something for his wounds. Perhaps he should have helped, after all who would know?

Don't worry I helped myself. Raza was startled to hear the man speak. Not sure of his motives he approached cautiously.

Who are you?

A friend.

More like a liability, why did you get the crap beaten out of your ass?

The man smirked because I don't know when to shut up Raza's suspicions were confirmed, the guy was an insurgent. Talking back to the guards when they gave him a command was the perfect recipe for a beat down. No wonder they opened up on him, they had to put him in his place.

A word of advice this is a penal colony, they are here to make us fall in line. It's better for you to keep your mouth shut, do your time and before you know it you will be out of there again. Raza reasoned out loud.

Now what's the fun in that, bush? the man said with a sly smile. Raza couldn't believe his ears, did this guy have a death wish?

Listen you punk assed bitch, I don't know what your deal is, but I will not waste any more time on you. Do whatever the fuck you want on that side of the cell. Keep your god dammed mouth shut and stay the hell away from me. Comprendo mi Amor? With that he went to his bunk and plunked down.

Suit yourself, bush, guess you won't be joining me when my buddy's come bust me out of this joint.

Chapter

Three

Territorial Range GC-2:

Corporate Headquarters

Walker's