Rise of a Valkyrie: The Kayla Barnes Saga, #1

By Simon Holley

Young colonist Kayla Barnes needs to become a super soldier if she is going to save her home. She would rather die than fail.

The Helvetic League's rule over Earth's thirty-seven colonies is failing. Desperate to hold onto power, its corrupt leaders send notorious terrorist Allana Rayker to the new world of Caldera, where she uncovers a horrifying weapon, as old as civilization itself.

After her father is killed in front of her, Kayla is rescued by a mysterious commando named Urtiga. She offers Kayla the chance to one day join Valkyrie; a secret force of enhanced female super soldiers that protect humanity from the abandoned war machines of an extinct alien race.

But until she is old enough, Kayla must attend a top girl's school and earn her place in the elite training. She finds herself studying alongside some of the galaxies' wealthiest aristocrats, like the beautiful and talented heiress Rose Djallen, who believe that colonists like Kayla should be subjugated by the 'superior' Helvetic culture.

To become Valkyrie, they both face a gut-wrenching selection course that forces most recruits to quit. As Kayla struggles to keep going, she finds that to succeed she will need not only courage, and humility, but also friendships so strong, she and her fellow warriors would die for each other as they prepare to face the most terrifying enemy imaginable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Holley
• Release date: Dec 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224106158

Book preview

Prologue

High on the shoulder of an alien mountain, Owen Shelden trudged up a steep slope as pain and exhaustion piled on his soul like the snowflakes on his jacket. But neither the harsh weather, nor his burning muscles, nor even his doubts about the expedition would convince him to turn back. It wasn’t in his nature.

A life in the colonies had taught him it took more than courage to survive on other planets. Either dangerous weather, disease, or the invisible horror of radiation from an unprotected sky could destroy generations of work. Only a fierce, collective desire to keep going could prevent a colony from collapsing, and tens of thousands from dying.

From his fellow pioneers on the young world of Caldera, Owen had learned to expect trust and loyalty.

But on this climb, he could expect none. The off-worlders who had hired him as a guide wouldn’t even tell him what they were looking for, hidden among peaks never disturbed by humanity.

Thousands of feet below the snow blanketed slope lay a glacial valley; a corridor that channeled the wind for miles until it accelerated to shrieking speeds. Cold air bit through Owen’s Crylar weave jacket, and the polar fleece below. It bit through his skin and into his aching muscles. Soon, it would begin gnawing on his bones.

A turbulent gust kicked icy powder into his face, and he raised an arm for protection. It was an automatic gesture; his face was already numb, his beard crusty with snow. Ahead on the trail, he caught sight of the dark figure of the expedition’s leader—Rayker. She was waiting for him, as still against the blizzard as the rocks around them.

The cold bit deeper. Owen had been climbing for thirty years, but somehow this Earther was leaving him in her tracks. Even from the beginning, her strength and stamina had seemed unnatural.

He lowered his head, summoned a fresh burst of willpower, and pushed himself forward.

She waited where the ridge split, her arms folded, and a contemptuous expression on her gaunt face. Owen stopped beside her and cast a glance backward while he tried to catch his breath.

Behind them, the dozen other members of Rayker’s team were still snaking their way up the mountain’s treacherous ledges. Their heavy steps showed the toll the climb was taking. Owen glanced at her face again, but saw no warmth there. She obviously had as little concern for their welfare as his own and would probably drag them onward, even if it killed some of them.

But something else bothered Owen. The rest of the team were all male, very fit, absurdly self-confident, and obeyed one of their own—Halloran Reed—without question.

Owen recognized their bearing, plain speech, and blunt manners from his own time in a militia. Earth’s empire—the Helvetic League—was weak and aging. What were their soldiers doing so far beyond their own frontiers?

Rayker’s voice pierced through the wind. I thought guides led their clients, she said in a mocking tone, not the other way around.

Owen felt a little heat return with a flash of anger. She had the arrogance so typical of Helvets.

Go on ahead without me, he said. See how far you get. You need more than a map location to climb a mountain without getting yourself killed. I just need a moment—

You’re slowing me down, she snapped. I thought I was paying for the best guide in the colony?

You’re paying for the only guide.

He turned to inspect the ground ahead of them. A gentle snow-covered slope stretched off to the east, while a steep rocky climb awaited them to the north.

This mountain was unknown to Owen, lying further beyond his usual range than he had ever been before; further than any human had explored on Caldera. Only cheap satellites crossed the skies, and the terrain data they provided was not high resolution.

He had studied the ridge lines on their approach, and, with Rayker’s images, they had formed a rough approach plan. Now he worried he had lost his sense of their location. The white air shrieking around them was too thick to make out landmarks.

He turned back to the rocks above and tried to push his anger away. Up, he said.

You’re sure? When he didn’t reply, she snorted with derision. Typical colonist. Always unprepared—

We ascended the ridgeline for three hours, so I think we’ve reached a cutback up to the col—a pass between the lower peaks—which should open into your valley. But it’s easy to get confused in the mountains, and sat photos can’t help you navigate rough terrain.

Rayker gave him a look, like a cat watching a cornered mouse.

To be brutally honest, lady, my professional advice is that we should turn back, camp below the clouds, and try again after the weather has cleared.

She shook her head. No—it’s up there. We must find it.

Find what? Owen snapped. Despite his earlier enthusiasm and curiosity, she had never once shared the true goal of the expedition.

She didn’t respond at first, and when she did, her tone was as icy as the wind. The valley. Unless you’re too weak to continue?

Owen matched her stare until his eyes watered, then broke away. He ought to have walked away from the expedition, and he hated the way Rayker and her team looked down their noses at him—a lowly, uneducated colonist—but he needed the money.

Even more than that, he was an explorer. When he wasn’t working on his rundown, lonely farm, he spent every moment of his time in the mountains, discovering new trails, conquering unknown peaks, and watching the sunsets and sunrises over vistas never experienced by another soul.

Or so he had thought.

But Rayker, and whatever powers she served, had found their own secret in the shadows of his mountains, and he had to know what it was. Besides which, their first meetings had been cordial, and her smile had been so charming.

He motioned for her to continue. She scoffed at him, but, after a moment’s thought, started climbing the rocks.

The ascent ran up a broken cliff, requiring them to climb with hands and feet. It was steep—not enough for a rope, but enough to make for a dangerous fall. Owen pushed away the fog of fatigue as he concentrated on every foot placement, and handhold. He stopped thinking about time, as he often did under stress, looking only to the next ledge, or the next rest point. His muscles burned, the pain hitting him in waves, and he settled into the mindlessness of a man who can wait out torment.

At last, the mountain side opened above him, and he found himself on better ground beneath the col. He trudged up the slope, following Rayker, and as he crested the rise, he saw a vast open space that disappeared into the low cloud blanket—a valley.

The wind died, and sunlight broke through the cloud cover. Boulders littered the ground, some as large as a house. They were piled atop each other in places, creating a maze of confusing nooks and crannies. Something felt wrong about them. Boulders were usually smooth from weathering, but these rocks were jagged and sharp, like they had been hacked off the mountainside with a giant chisel.

Navigating through them was tricky, and Owen had to climb, jump, and squeeze through the tight gaps, taking care that he didn’t slip. Thick snow made for treacherous footing, and he nearly went down more than once. He shuddered as he imagined himself catching a limb in a crack as he fell, breaking it in two. Rayker’s expedition had taken him far beyond his already sizable comfort zone.

She stopped near the center of the valley. The coordinates were incomplete, but it’s somewhere around here.

Owen caught occasional glimpses of the ridgelines through the clouds above them. Do you want to tell me what we’re looking for? he asked.

She shrugged, now apparently unconcerned by the question. If you see it, you’ll know.

Great.

He glanced back down the slope to see Reed slowly cresting the rise with another man. Even though the climb had been exhausting, Owen had seen how relentless the soldiers were. Unlike other climbers, they did not become sluggish and careless after a hard day. No matter how much fatigue weighed them down, they were always diligent with their tents and equipment. No doubt they would be as eager as Rayker to begin the search for the expedition’s actual goal.

He respected their drive, even if he didn’t trust them, but he was also keen to discover what these Helvets were after in the wilderness of an alien world. Was it a new meteorite the League had been tracking, with important scientific implications? Or an experimental probe that had strayed off course and crashed? Owen had to know, though a glance around the mess of rocks gave him doubts about their chances for success.

He sighed. Well, it’s going to be tough finding anything other than snow in this weather.

We have plenty of time, Rayker said airily. We can camp among these boulders if needed—they offer adequate shelter.

The rest of the men arrived and took a quick break, but they soon broke off into pairs and headed into the rocks. Owen found himself alone, and he wandered aimlessly towards the valley’s cliff wall, letting his eyes dart towards the slightest oddity in the landscape.

The team searched for hours until night fell, and they had to switch on head torches. Caldera’s moon—a blackened sphere whose tectonic plate boundaries glowed livid red, while vast lava flows poured across the surface—rose against the stars. Its light gave an eerie tinge to the shadows. Meteors sailed across the sky like sparks thrown out of a fire.

A prickly sensation ran up Owen’s spine as he rounded a tall column of rock jutting from a cliff. He stopped dead. The torch light had flickered across something odd in the darkness, but he wasn’t sure what.

Goosebumps ran across his skin. A desire to leave the valley and never look back consumed him. No, not a desire; an instinct as old as time. He shook his head and slowed his breathing. He focused his mind on the moment, as he often did while climbing, when he was searching for the right move, hundreds of feet over certain death.

Moving closer to the rock, he could make out the form of a deep crack running up the pillar. Inside the crack, barely visible, a dull metal door nearly twice his size was built into the mountainside. Stenciled over the head were words written in a script unlike any language Owen had ever seen. His breath caught. This was something far more profound than he had imagined.

It had to be what Rayker was searching for, but he could not believe what he was seeing. Since humanity’s expansion into the stars, no sign had ever been found of alien intelligence. The first settlers on Caldera had landed less than five decades ago, and he was the only colonist who went into these mountains. But some League bureaucrat had sent Rayker and her team to go looking for this doorway? Where did it lead? What was the Helvetic military up to on his homeworld?

Owen briefly wondered if he should pretend he hadn’t seen anything, but obsessed as she was, Rayker wouldn’t leave the valley until she found it. With the soldiers combing every inch of rock, they would come to this cliff eventually.

And whatever lay beyond the doorway could transform the destiny of humanity. A shock of excitement ran through Owen’s nerves as he realized he would get to discover this secret before anyone else.

Guilt followed the rush of emotion. His personal feelings were irrelevant. The colonists of Caldera had no idea what lay beneath the surface of their planet, or that a foreign military had discovered it first. Owen’s duty was to go further, if only so he could report back what was happening in these mountains.

His hands shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a signal flare. It popped off with a brilliant green light that pierced throughout the gloom of the valley.

Once Rayker had brought her men over, Reed and another man struggled to crack the door with a pry bar.Inside they found a dark tunnel, and Rayker strode forward, followed closely by the soldiers. They ignored Owen as he fell in behind.

Typical Helvets; not even a word of thanks.

After some distance, the tunnel emerged onto a balcony overlooking an immense underground space. Flashlights cut through the darkness, revealing giant crystals, many of which were larger than a human. Perfect geometric shapes, interlaced with striated patterns of all colors, decorated the cavern walls. Owen recognized them as much larger versions of the crystals he often found on his hikes. He called the gems bilrusts, and he collected them to sell to farmers who worked on the plains.

A bridge of rock reached out from the near wall, crossing the gulf to tunnels on the opposite side. As they traversed the span, Owen wiped away a layer of dust from the carved parapet, and saw mirror-polished stone. He cut off a gasp of breath. The surface was inlaid with spider-thread, intricate patterns and runes that shifted in color under light. No human technology could have created this structure.

Once over the bridge, Rayker approached a panel carved into the wall. As she passed her hand across it, a type of indecipherable sigil appeared, which she examined, before turning towards one of the downward sloping tunnels.

Owen’s pulse quickened, but he could no longer contain his curiosity. How do you know where you are going? he asked, breaking the hushed silence.

That was a sign, Rayker said dismissively. I can read it.

But this place can’t be human!

She laughed. What do you know about aliens, mountain man?

No sign of intelligent life has been found on any colonized planet, including Caldera… His voice broke off as he wondered why he had mindlessly accepted this commonly repeated factoid.

So the galaxy’s power-brokers have told you.

Owen’s cheeks flushed with anger. Right, he said. So, the Helvetic military has somehow discovered secret alien ruins—is that it?

The others stopped and stared at him.

Reed spoke first. Why do you think we’re military? he asked.

Owen rolled his eyes and gave Rayker a pained look.

She had the decency to look contrite. Well, perhaps you could use a bit more practice passing yourself off as a civilian, Reed.

Reed’s eyes flashed annoyance at Owen. Yes, Ma’am.

Rayker turned to Owen and gave him a wink. Would you like to see some alien technology?

The group came to another huge open cavern, and their flashlights flickered over a mess of strangely shaped equipment. Owen’s mind spun as he took in odd metal bulges and complex forms that looked like no machining he had seen before. Tall floodlights hung from the walls and ceiling, while thick power cables snaked up into the darkness. Banks of computers converged on a central plinth, atop which stood a row of hemispherical glass chambers, each much larger than a man.

To one side was an enclosed booth, and Rayker strode directly to it and stepped inside. After a short pause, the cave echoed with the tapping of a computer keyboard, and within moments a dull hum filled the air as floodlights flickered to life. The soldiers spread out, examining everything carefully.

Owen shivered. The hall had a lifeless and sterile feel that gave him the creeps. His gaze was drawn back to the chambers at the center of the room. They looked perfectly formed, and only a hairline crack hinted at their openings.

He wasn’t an engineer, but he didn’t like what he was seeing. Alien machinery? Advanced technology? What if he was looking at some type of weapons laboratory? He wasn’t interested in politics either, but everyone knew the Helvetic League was both in decline, and ruthless enough to do whatever it took to hold on to power. What if they had discovered something that would help them do that? It would certainly explain why they had sent soldiers.

Owen made a decision. Nothing that Rayker and her men wanted with this lab could be good for the colonists of Caldera. He had to get out and warn them.

He backed away as adrenaline flooded his veins, and he struggled to recall the path they had taken through the maze of tunnels.

Owen—you’re not leaving yet, I hope? Rayker called from amid the machinery.

He cursed. She had shown unnatural perception throughout the hike, hearing distant animals before they were even in sight.

Uh… you know, I’m just a mountain guide, he stammered. All this… it’s not my area of expertise.

Reed stepped forward, a machine gun now in his hands, as the other soldiers began withdrawing weapons from their backpacks. The lady has requested that you stay, he said in a tone that left no possibility for disagreement.

Owen knew he couldn’t make it to the tunnels before they shot him. Ice ran down his spine, and his mind filled with the horror of the unknown. What would they do to him?

He put his hands up. Another soldier walked over and grabbed his coat.

Do be gentle, Captain, said Rayker. Fortunately, the manual my benefactor provided appears to be accurate, and we need our test subject in one piece.

Owen wanted to throw up. What manual? What kind of machine were they going to test on him? If they were armed, they had to be here for something dangerous that they would need to protect. Some kind of biological or chemical weapon?

He struggled against his captor’s firm grip, but his muscles felt weak and useless. There was no way out for him.

They threw Owen into one of the glass chambers and sealed the door. He yelled, and beat his fists against the smooth wall of his prison, but it didn’t crack or bulge. Tears ran down his cheeks as he cursed his stupidity. He should have listened to his instincts, and escaped while he had the chance. But his lust for exploration had led him too far.

The colonists would have no warning; they would assume he had fallen off a cliff in a storm.

Rayker emerged from the booth and approached the chamber. If it’s any consolation, had you refused earlier, we would have taken you at gunpoint. We needed a test subject for the transformation process. No need to blame yourself, but your willingness to go along speaks to the open and curious nature of frontiersmen, and that is something I do admire.

Owen banged a fist against the chamber. What are you? You’re not human.

She grinned and gestured to the soldiers to spread out around the chamber. That’s not really your problem anymore.

Owen collapsed to his knees, head in his hands. Whatever they were going to do to him, he could only hope it would be over quickly.

Rayker flicked a switch on a control panel, and a buzz filled the air as the system powered up. She smiled at Owen and punched a button.

There was a faint hiss. Gas poured into the confined space from vents in the floor and ceiling, accompanied by a sharp chemical scent. Owen tried to back away and felt like a fool when his back hit the glass wall of the chamber. The world spun around him as he began to cough. Pain lanced through his belly, and the coughing turned to retching. He dropped to his knees and vomited blood.

Agony shot across his body like lightning as bony spikes broke out from his back with wet cracking sounds. Skin tore apart as his throat let loose a gurgling scream. His arms lengthened into claws, and his legs grew longer and more muscular. Bloody spines and sharp fins erupted along his limbs, while a chitinous armor hardened over his flesh. His torso bulged and expanded, and when he tried to vomit the acid that flooded his guts, his voice gave out only a dry shriek.

Owen clutched his head and lay still for some time. He was almost drunk with the pain; couldn’t feel, or see, or remember a thing. Where was he? What was he doing here? Why couldn’t he focus?

The electric shocks jolting his body eased, though blood was still boiling in his veins. As the heat cooled, he felt tension throughout his muscles. They felt coiled, ready to explode into motion with incredible strength.

He was almost sick with rage, as though it were forcing its way up his throat until he would spew vile black poison onto the floor. But the floor of what? Reaching out a claw, Owen felt it brush against a smooth wall.

A dim flash of memory told him he had feared the glass, but now he hated it. He had to destroy it, and he raised his arm, but another image flashed into his mind—a figure, and a voice.

It was not the glass he hated, but what was beyond it.

Owen curled his claws into fists and sat up. Beneath him was a ragged pile of blood-stained material. What did that mean?

Clouds of vapor cleared from the chamber, revealing an approaching woman. Through the fog of confusion, a beam of clarity flashed for an instant. He hated her more than anything. He was going to kill her.

Another man grabbed her, but she brushed him away as she approached closer. Owen realized she was not afraid. She would let him out.

The woman walked right up to the door. Around the hall, more men aimed guns at him. They were all so small, and he sensed they were fragile too, while he felt so strong. He would easily kill them. All he had to do was wait.

The woman’s hand was steady as she reached for the lock. The door swung open, and she backed away, eyes fixed on Owen.

He emerged, sniffing the air, and grunting with suspicion. He felt light, as though he could jump over mountains. His arms moved so freely, and he felt a rush of energy.

The woman stepped closer; her eyes were wide with curiosity. Can you hear me? she asked.

Owen stared at her as she reached out to touch his arm. Why did he hate her so much? Did it matter? Blood hammered in his ears at the thought of destruction. It would feel so good, but why was he still waiting? Why couldn’t he think?

She spoke again. Do you remember anything?

Rayker. The name flashed through Owen’s mind, washing away the uncertainty. He screamed, swung his arm round, and struck her, sending her body flying into a row of cabinets. The hall erupted with gunfire, but the soldier’s bullets bounced harmlessly off his hide. He leaped forward, grabbed a man in both hands, and tore his legs from his torso with a wet ripping noise. Pure joy flooded through his veins. He was so fast, and powerful, like a god. He turned, saw another man frozen in fear, and skewered him with his claws.

The others hid amongst the machinery, taking potshots as he destroyed everything in his path. Pain blossomed in his shoulder, and black blood sprayed across the floor. Owen didn’t care; could barely feel the wound. Nothing was going to stop his limitless rage.

On the other side of the lab, a man ducked behind a machine. Owen covered the twenty yards that separated them in a few powerful strides and crushed the metal structure in his grip like a tin can.

His prey darted from cover, but Owen tossed a scrap of steel that struck him in the temple, dropping him to the floor. The man’s leg twitched, and Owen closed in for the kill.

Another flash of memory threw up a name—Reed. Owen nearly had his hands on his enemy when something punched him hard in the chest, stopping him in his tracks. He looked down at a long needle of bone poking through the armor below his shoulder.

Numbness slowly consumed his arm. Owen tried to move the limb, but it flopped uselessly, while rivulets of his blood poured onto the floor. He looked around to see the woman a dozen yards away, standing in the open, one arm outstretched, and mad determination on her face. The smooth white skin of her forearm was torn open, revealing a fleshy cavity.

She raised her other arm.

Owen tried to turn and lunge towards her, but the stings of more bullet wounds were taking their toll. His movements had become slow and awkward, and his endless reserve of strength had drained to nothing. He felt tired and weak, stumbling forward with a roar of pain as he fell to the floor.

The world became cold, while the rage that had consumed him was washing away with his blood. He raised his head to see the tip of a second spike rip through the flesh of Rayker’s arm. She drew her fingers back and aimed carefully. Owen screamed in defiance, but the spike shot forward and everything went black.

Rayker stared at the protruding tip of the bone needle she had fired into the monster’s skull. Her chest rose and fell in ragged pants, while fire burned in her eyes. Eventually, she regained her composure and glanced at her arms, watching as the skin curled back into place. Torn strips of flesh merged, cells stitching themselves together to cover the small cavities that housed her weapons. Even under stress, her body would regenerate new spikes within hours. One of the more enjoyable gifts her benefactor had lavished on her.

She turned to see soldiers emerging from the destruction that covered the lab. Several were badly wounded, while others lay in pieces on the floor. She certainly couldn’t say the test had been unsuccessful. Owen had seemed like the obedient type, but apparently impetuosity could lie hidden beneath the surface, like an alligator waiting for prey.

When Rayker checked the unconscious Captain Reed, she found he was still breathing, and her expression softened. He was a good officer, and loyal. The years of work ahead of them would need his leadership.

He regained consciousness and tried to haul himself to his feet. Sergeant Venta? he called, but received only morose looks from his surviving men.

Dead, I’m afraid, Rayker said, along with three others. And our unfortunately powerful test subject.

Reed stumbled as he tried to move, but she grabbed his arm and helped steady him as he recovered his balance.

I’ll unpack the medical kits, he said, and turned to Rayker, his eyes glancing at the bloodstains on her arms. Are you injured, ma’am?

No, she said. But you have a concussion, Captain, and I insist you rest for a moment. I will take care of the wounded.

Reed checked his body. I’m not hurt. Just let me gather my senses. His brow furrowed. Owen… was he conscious after the transformation? What happened?

Rayker sighed. I believe the thing recognized me, and it waited until it got out of the chamber to make a move. It must have retained something of Owen’s memories and intelligence.

Reed nodded. I thought that was the goal? A killing machine that can think?

Yes, but intelligence without obedience… well, you can see the consequences. Building an army isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. Once we’ve cleaned up this mess, we will have a lot of work to do.

Will we be needing to find more… test subjects?

Just the local wildlife, for now. There will no doubt be some trial and error until we understand the transformation process better. It looks like are going to be here a while.

Yes, ma’am.

Chapter 1

Wide-eyed and covered in mud, eight-year-old Kayla Barnes listened intently from her hiding spot in the bushes as the truckers described the attacks. The men stood in a roadside rest area, draining canisters of coffee, and sharing the latest rumors. They talked of terrifying shrieks in the night from animals they had never heard before, and the mutilated cattle carcasses littering the fields in the mornings. In hushed voices, they said it would only be a matter of time before the strange new creatures killed someone.

Kayla said nothing, though she was bursting with questions. Even a slight movement would reveal herself. She breathed slowly, kept her body still, and listened patiently for more news about the monsters. She liked to daydream about fantastic creatures, and how she would hunt them down. The stories didn’t scare her because her father would certainly keep their village protected. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

The Brunnard boys formed themselves a militia, a tall man with a thick beard said.

People are carrying guns everywhere they go now, a shorter, bulkier fellow pointed out.

Kayla’s imagination wandered. Maybe a militia would recruit her and give her a rifle? Probably not. Her father wouldn’t let her touch a gun until she was older. On her back, alongside her black ponytail, was slung the homemade bow she carried everywhere, and used to harass birds and vermin. The thin branch she had made it from wasn’t very strong, but in her fantasies, it could punch through steel. She pictured the amazed expressions on the faces of her fellow villagers as she dragged a monster’s dead body through the streets by herself.

I just can’t think where these cursed things came from, the bearded trucker said. Fifty years since we settled on this planet, and never seen animals like this.

I can’t wait to catch one, cut it open and figure it out, the short man said.

It’s a Helvetic plot, I tell you, another voice called from behind one of the trucks.

Shut your mouth, Tom, the bearded man replied. Everything’s a Helvetic plot to you. The solar flare last month, which you said was one of their space lasers? And the drought the year before? Nature’s harsh is all. These things probably migrated here from one of the unmapped territories.

So why don’t they eat what they kill? the voice said.

The bearded man waved a dismissive hand and moved back to the cab of his truck, while his shorter friend grinned after him.

A fly landed on Kayla’s nose, but she didn’t dare swat it away. She’d crawled slowly and patiently through the bushes to get the actual story from these truckers. The attacks were accidents, her father had said. Like he had told her that there would always be enough food. And meteors never struck the ground. And they would one day be free of the Helvetic League, even though no-one pretended to believe it.

She waited until the men returned to their vehicles and drove off before she crawled back through the bushes. In the hedgerows and forests of the Lanstead farming plain, she was the Huntress of Caldera. No animal could hide from her, or dodge her arrows, though she was only allowed to have blunt ones. When she smeared mud over her face and vanished into the long grass around her house, she could even give the local cats a fright.

Kayla snuck through the hedgerows to her family’s farmhouse. When she hid, she could go wherever she wanted, and do whatever she wanted. When she was seen, she got into trouble for sneaking out.

Oh Kayla, you’re so filthy! snapped her mother, as Kayla returned to the house. And in the nice new dress. I only bought it last week! Why can’t you behave like a normal child?

Kayla sniffed. It was the same rebuke for anything that she did. She was starting to suspect her mother didn’t know what normal meant and just enjoyed scolding her.

The people in Brunnard made a militia, she said, and they’re going to hunt the monsters that ripped their mayor’s buffalo in two. I didn’t see it, but my friend Kesan said its guts were pulled out all over the field.

Her mother grimaced. Just stop, won’t you? I can’t stand it when you talk of horrid things. Go and get clean, and don’t talk to me again until you’re civilized.

Kayla ignored her. As usual, she ended up talking to herself, but it was nice to pretend. Dad told me I’m supposed to muck out the pigs today, she went on. But there’s a lot of dung, and I think I need help with it.

Not that she would get any.

He shouldn’t ask you to do such things—no wonder you spend all day rolling around in the mud, her mother said. She tutted. And he’s always out, helping other families fix their broken crap. Meanwhile, your poor neglected mother has to figure out how to do everything by herself.

Her voice had become low and bitter, almost theatrical. Kayla wondered if complaining made her mother happy, because she seemed to put a lot of effort into it.

No, Kayla, she said firmly, I want you to help me with the irrigation drone. There’re dozens of leaks in the line, and we need to go over every yard.

A high-pitched call came from outside.

Her mother glanced out the window. Those wretched hawks are nesting in the barn rafters again. Another chore for your father when he gets back.

I’ll do it! Kayla raced for the door before her mother could react.

No—stupid girl! her mother yelled after her.

Kayla didn’t stop. Relieved at another chance to get out of the house and do something useful, she ran into the barn, taking the steps to the top level two at a time. She climbed onto a set of shelves that were backed against the wall, steadying herself as they shook beneath her. Overhead, a pair of hawks shrieked as she swung herself into the trusses like a monkey.

Kayla climbed along the narrow wooden struts until she stood over the center of the barn, trying not to think about the tractor and trailer below that she would hit if she fell. Once settled, she pulled out her homemade bow, aimed carefully, and shot an arrow at one of the hawks. It tumbled, flapping to catch itself before it hit the ground. Kayla steadied herself as it flew towards her. With one hand gripping a beam, she smacked hard with the outstretched bow, and the bird shrieked as it beat a hasty retreat. Another few shots had both hawks taking to the skies, abandoning their newly made nest.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Kayla climbed through the beams and sighed as she kicked the hawk’s pile of twigs away. If it were up to her, the birds would be welcome to nest in the roof, if only they didn’t keep attacking whoever went inside.

She climbed out the barn’s main window, seized the drainpipe, and used it to climb up to the roof. Sat on the edge, with her legs dangling over the drop, she gazed at the open fields. Everything outside of her house was glorious—golden fields, dotted by villages and farms, all the way to the horizon.

Kayla liked to watch her fellow colonists as they worked hard to build themselves a new home on Caldera.

The tall peaks of the Sentry mountain range framed the horizon, the natural border of the Lanstead plain, and she wondered how high she could climb if she could visit them.

Later that day, Kayla’s mother sent her into town to find her father. He was gathering men and women in the town square to form a militia, so she sat nearby on the fountain, swinging her legs. Jack Fenway, the town’s bailiff, winked at her as he carried rifles from his truck.

One of the younger men looked nervously at the assembled weapons. Didn’t you see what those things can do? he whined. We can’t just go out there with hunting rifles.

Kayla’s father stepped forward. Tall and muscular, his imposing figure dwarfed the younger man’s slight frame.

You weren’t born here, were you? her father said quietly.

The man shook his head. Arrived a few months ago, after I lost my business on Misian.

So, you don’t know our ways yet. It’s true these rifles aren’t much, but it’s all we have—and sure, maybe it’s not enough. So, point to the man or woman you want to die in your place.

W-what?

You said yourself the creatures could kill us all. So, who’s going to die in your place while you hide in your basement? Choose.

I, uh… The young man looked around for support, but the gathered crowd watched him with hard faces.

Is it me? That’s fine kid, I’ll do it while you run on home. Only pack up your belongings and drive back to the starport, because there isn’t a family on this planet that will work with you again. He turned away, a grimace on his face.

Jack rolled his eyes at Kayla’s father, then stepped up to the young man and shoved a rifle into his chest. Rolf’s only teasing, he said. We’re not really giving you a choice.

He winked at the cowed young man before turning to the others. I shouldn’t have to tell anyone that we’re on our own out here. Nobody’s coming to help us deal with these creatures. We can show them we’re dangerous, and, like any other animal, they’ll back off. But if we try to hide, they’ll only get more brazen.

As the small crowd began lining up to take a rifle, Kayla jumped off the fountain and joined her father, tugging insistently on his trouser leg. When are you going to teach me to shoot? she asked.

When you’re twelve, and not a day before, he responded firmly.

Kayla pouted. Uncle Jack will teach me to shoot. Jack Fenway was not her real uncle, but he had a strong friendship with her father, and often taught her new skills.

You’ll listen to your dad, young Kayla, said Jack. If I catch you sneaking around in the fields again, I’ll take you right to the lockup.

Kayla was startled by the severity of the punishment. Only criminals went to the lockup, and criminals were the lowest form of life in a colony town.

It’d be, what, two years imprisonment for sneaking out? her father asked, his face stony.

You’re lying! Kayla challenged him.

Two years would be the minimum, Jack agreed. Though it could be longer, depending on how dirty the culprit is.

But I hate staying home, Kayla moaned. Mom hates me.

Her father glanced at Jack, then dropped to his knee and looked his daughter in the eye.

No more games, Kayla. I didn’t want to scare you, but we heard that these creatures have killed some people in the farms closer to the mountains. You see why we’re handing out guns now? This is a very serious situation. I want you to promise me you won’t sneak off outside anymore. Alright?

Kayla dropped her head and promised, though her heart ached to do so.

Several nights later, she awoke in the early hours of the morning to hear a commotion in the streets, and her father rushing out of the house. Kayla dashed outside to see him, and the rest of the militia, driving off in their trucks. One of the older farmers explained to her that the Jaysons had sent a desperate call for help. Something had killed their dogs, and now it was sniffing around outside their home, clawing at the doors and windows while they cowered in the basement.

Kayla waited in her garden, not caring about the chill. She hated not knowing what was happening to her neighbors and hated not being able to do anything. Painful energy burned through her nerves while time stretched on forever.

Dawn was breaking when the vehicles returned, and Kayla raced through a gathering crowd—most of whom wore sleepy expressions—to the village square. She stopped dead when she saw her father open the back of his truck and dump a bloody carcass onto the ground.

It was like no animal she had ever seen before; four-legged, like a wolf, but larger, and covered in spikes and some kind of armor. Instead of fur, the exposed parts of its body were scaly like a snake. Not even her imagination had made anything so terrifying, and her father had gone to chase it down. Tears ran down her cheeks as she thought about what might have happened to him.

Jack jumped out of another vehicle, glanced over at Kayla, and rushed to her side.

What happened? Kayla asked between sobs.

It’s okay, nobody was hurt, Jack said as he stroked her hair.

He quickly explained as startled villagers closed in. We lined up in our trucks a decent distance from the property and put the high beams on the farm. When this thing darted out from a shed and charged us, everyone started shooting. It got really close before it went down. All that armor does a good job of keeping it protected.

Did you see anything like that when you were on Misian? asked one militiaman.

Jack smiled wryly. Nope. All the monsters on Misian are human, unfortunately.

Is it some kind of shaved wolf? the man asked.

It’s not a wolf, it’s more like a dinosaur, said Kayla’s father.

What’s a dinosaur? someone else asked.

An old Earth animal, Jack explained as he led Kayla towards her father. Much bigger than this, and scaly too.

This has more armor than scales, a young man pointed out. And what’s with all the spikes? If these things mate, they must do it at a distance.

You mean through a monitor, Deak, like you do? someone in the crowd said.

Everyone laughed.

Kayla grabbed her father’s hand and buried her face in his stomach. He patted her head, but moved her to one side while he closed his truck.

Kayla wiped her eyes and turned away from him to look at the carcass. She had seen many dead animals, but as she stared at the glazed eyes and ruptured flesh, she felt cold, and wrapped her arms around herself.

All around her, the villagers continued to speculate. Two old women in one corner of the square remained silent, wrapped in shawls, and peering out through messy grey hair. They carried big backpacks, and one was resting against a tall, thick staff. Kayla didn’t recognize them, and supposed they must be refugees fleeing other attacks in the nearby villages.

Sheila, the town veterinarian, examined the carcass for some time, muttering as she worked. When she finished, she said, there is no rational use for these defensive features. She gestured to the spines and armor. Only a dangerous apex predator would force this kind of adaptation, and we would certainly have learned about such a species by now.

What do you mean. Isn’t this a predator? Jack asked.

Sheila shook her head. No, it should be a prey species. Predators have to be light, and fast, with a simple main weapon—usually the teeth, she explained.

Claws on hunters aren’t as big as these. She lifted the long spindly digits. Their primary function is to assist with grip and stability. And spikes are usually evolved by prey as a defense mechanism. Like the porcupine—same principle.

Well, it sure hunts people like a predator, Kayla’s father said. It was wicked fast, and very aggressive.

All I can tell you is that this morphology doesn’t make sense from an evolutionary perspective, Sheila said.

Well, this is an alien world, Kayla’s father said. Who says it needs to obey our rules?

From what I’ve seen, Jack said, the rules of killing are universal.

As she listened, Kayla rubbed her hands against the mud of the square. She missed hunting, and the feeling of dirt on her hands.

Maybe it migrated from somewhere else? her father suggested.

Towards human settlements? Sheila replied. When there’s plenty of open space to roam around in? I think that’s unlikely, and some major natural event would be needed to prompt them to change location. As far as we know, this planet’s environment is stable, and the human impact on the ecosystem is still quite small.

You’re right, none of this makes any sense, Jack said as he rubbed his jaw.

The moon was full last night, a grim-faced farmer observed, and a murmur passed through the crowd. Everyone knew to be wary of Caldera’s volcanic moon. The first settlers had named it Ran, after an ancient Goddess that personified the treachery of the sea.

Ran is just a ball of rock, Jack protested. What has it got to do with anything?

Wouldn’t be the first animal that responds to phases of the moon, the farmer said.

It’s a Helvetic plot! someone in the crowd yelled, prompting equal amounts of agreement and skepticism.

Kayla’s father shrugged in response. Whatever the case, I think we should start training our militia full time. We need to be prepared. We’ve been getting reports of dozens of new attacks every day, so I think this is only the beginning.

I learned some tactics back when I was fighting the cartels on Misian, Jack said. I can start training them what I know. But Rolf, there are very few families who can spare a farmhand.

Sure, the farmers might complain, but just show them that picture of that lady from Zula; the one that got torn up the other day.

Jack grimaced.

Kayla listened eagerly. Frightened as she was for her father’s safety, she nevertheless burned with curiosity. How were they going to rid themselves of these monsters?

A few days later, in the early morning, Kayla surprised her father alone in the kitchen. She had begun to wake up at dawn so she could enjoy the peace of the garden, before her mother called her for the day’s chores.

Are you going somewhere? she asked as he hurriedly ate a bacon sandwich at the table.

To Zula, he said. I need to buy ammunition for the militia.

Kayla pulled out a chair across from him and sat down. Can I come? A truck ride would be much more interesting than doing housework while her mother sipped on a wine glass and scolded her for fidgeting.

No.

Why not?

It’s a long drive, and I’ll have to work fast. You’ll slow me down.

Some of the other girls in the village bragged about how they brought up tears to get their way. That probably wouldn’t work. Her father always saw straight through her, and he might get angry.

I promise to be good, and to keep up, she said. And I can carry things, and I’ll stay next to you the whole time.

Kayla picked at loose threads on her clothes as she talked. The thought of being left behind was suddenly painful, though she couldn’t show it.

Rolf sighed and gave her a worried look.

The house is so boring. And… Kayla swallowed. Everyone does things that might get them hurt except me. It’s not fair.

Her father reached out and stroked her hair. That’s because it’s my job to protect you, little gem. I don’t ever want you to get hurt.

Kayla stomped her foot. It’s not fair.

I tell you what, why don’t I teach you to shoot when I get back?

Kayla held a pleading gaze as her father watched her with a doubtful expression. But she could be just as stubborn as he was.

Oh alright, he said eventually. You promise to stay next to me? I don’t want to have to hold your hand.

Kayla’s face lit up in a grin, and she crossed her heart. I double promise.

Before they left, Jack dropped by. His normally good-natured smile was replaced with a frown. Seems some patrols are reporting larger creatures now, he said.

Kayla’s father shook his head. Great.

Listen, we’re planning an operation tonight to trap one of them. I… uh… called in a favor.

What kind of favor?

Jack’s eyes flickered to Kayla. A once in a lifetime kind.

Well, I’ll be back before dark with more ammunition. I guess you can read me in then?

Kayla followed her father through the streets of Zula as he pushed through crowds into dingy back street shops, where he haggled for small but heavy boxes. Kayla volunteered to carry some, but they were heavy, and as the day wore on her excitement subsided, and she grew tired. At least she’d gotten to spend the day with her father. That had been more than worth the ache in her muscles.

They stopped at a merchant’s cart and her father bought her a small rainbow-colored crystal.

It’s called a bilrust, he explained. There’s a climber who finds them in the Sentry mountains. Soon, people from all over the galaxy will want to buy them.

A jewel of Caldera, for a jewel of Caldera, the merchant said with a warm smile.

Kayla grinned.

Soon, the sky darkened, and Kayla caught sight of Ran rising into the sky. She tugged at her father’s sleeve. It’s getting dark Dad.

He sighed as he carried the last load of boxes back to the truck. We only got about half of what I had hoped to get, he said. The merchants are low on stock.

Why can’t they buy more? Kayla asked, as they got in the vehicle. The shadows were lengthening, and she kept an eye on them. At least the strong, heavy build of her father’s truck would keep them safe.

The local businesses try to, he said, as he drove them onto the main road back to their village. But the Helvetic League punishes anyone who trades with Caldera.

Why? Kayla had heard the explanation many times, but wanted the comfort of her father’s voice.

Because we didn’t join the League. They say that everyone has to join, or else all the planets would break down into chaos, with everyone fighting and stealing from each other. If a colony refused, but was still able to make their planet rich and happy, it would show people how useless the Helvets are. Nobody would have any reason to listen to them, and they’d lose all their power. But, when the first settlers arrived on Caldera, they agreed to go it alone, and never, no matter what it took, give into the Helvet’s bullying. What do we say about bullies, Kayla?

If you don’t stop them dead, they just keep coming back, she recited.

Exactly right. When things get hard here, it might tempt us to make compromises, give into them a little; agree to just one of their trade rules, then another. Before you know it, the League would have us in their grip and make Caldera a part of their empire. The Central Committee tyrants would be our rulers. The Adjudicate priests would make us all carry a tracking device that watches everything you do, and tells you if you’re a good citizen.

But we’ll never let that happen, Kayla said sternly.

Her father laughed. That’s right, my little huntress.

She swelled with pride.

But the Helvets still creep in, little by little, he continued. Rackeye—that’s the biggest city on Caldera—is practically overrun with them. They want to set up a ‘special trade zone’ so they can claim the city as their own.

What will they do—

Something smashed into the side of the truck and the world went black.

When Kayla came to, she was lying on the truck’s roof, surrounded by broken glass, with her seat hanging above her head. A hand grabbed her arm and hauled her through the smashed window. Her father sat her up against the side of the truck, and checked her for injuries, though she was only covered in scratches. His left arm was strangely bent, and he didn’t use it.

The sight of her father badly injured made Kayla want to cry.

Dad— she whimpered, but he clamped his free hand over her mouth.

From somewhere nearby, there was a snorting sound.

The truck had rolled over the roadside bushes into a field, and, from the other side of the foliage, Kayla heard the scraping and shuffling of something big approaching.

We’re hunting now, understand? her father whispered. You need to hide in the hedgerow over there, and don’t let anything find you. No matter what you see or hear, stay hidden.

She wiped her eyes and nodded.

He picked up his shotgun from beside the truck. Kayla followed his gesture and moved quietly toward the foliage a dozen yards away. Her hands shook as she hid herself in the bushes and smeared dirt on her face to camouflage her skin.

She knew her father had lied to her. They weren’t hunting; they were the prey.

Her father moved around the truck, craning his neck to get a glimpse of whatever had hit them in the road.

A terrible roar pierced the evening air, and Kayla almost yelped. The sound was louder than anything she’d heard from an animal. Her father disappeared into the bushes separating him from the roadside, and for some time, she couldn’t hear anything at all.

A rapid series of gunshots broke the silence, followed by a snarl and the sound of something smacking against concrete.

Then silence.

Kayla fought back tears and begged for a sound from her father. A cough, a yell, or the snap of the shotgun as it reloaded—anything to let her know he still lived. Every second that passed broke her heart a little more.

After a while, the stomping and dragging sounds of the