Steel Sworn

by Richard Fox

  “My ghost…is almost always silent. He hasn’t even told me his name.” Roland felt a shift behind his mind. “I am Armor. When I move, the systems are second nature…Ely hasn’t been Armor for decades like you and me.”

  “Could it be that the great minds at the Ibarra Nation aren’t telling you everything?” Santos asked.

  “Careful. You’re alive because of the Ibarra Nation. We’re still fighting this Crusade because of the Nation and it will be by Ibarran blood that Earth is freed.”

  “And the Union Armor that you all so graciously evacuated from Earth have been bleeding beside you the entire time.” Santos bowed slightly.

  “There are maybe a few dozen ghosts in service,” Roland said. “Redliners that lost their plugs. A few specialists. If you’re going to be suspicious of the Lady and the Nation, give them credit for being a bit more grandiose in their plans. But what’s going on with Ely doesn’t look right.”

  “I know it’s Aignar in there, but I got used to the idea of him being dead and gone. Could the Qa’Resh fragment in Ely’s head be a factor?”

  “I’m not the galaxy’s expert on Qa’Resh artifacts…but, yeah. We get a miracle, I’ll get him to people that can help. Until then…he fights until he dies. Same as everyone in the Crusade.” Roland copied Ely’s data into his suit.

  “It’s your Crusade, Marshal. Your rules. I’m telling you that Ely isn’t Armor, even if the suit bears his name and he’s got Aignar with him. And Aignar is my brother…but something’s off. I have a hard time believing that’s the man I know in there and not some corrupted echo of who he used to be.”

  “That’s right…you were against Trinia trying to save him. It wasn’t your decision, Santos.”

  “Saint Kallen chose to die in her Armor! She didn’t leave behind a false memory of who she was. Her soul moved on…” Santos touched a fist to his heart.

  “Neither of us were there when Trinia called him out of the darkness. I’ve been there, Santos. I had to pass the redline to kill Gideon and if I had the choice again…I’d come back, even if it was as a ghost. Not everyone Trinia tried to save made the same choice. What’re you really here for? Theology?”

  “Take Ely off the front line. He can’t live up to his name, and Aignar’s influence over him makes him unstable.” Santos wrenched the spear out of the ground.

  A priority message flashed on Roland’s HUD.

  “Are you more or less combat effective with Ely in your lance?” Roland reopened his comms, where several of his division commanders were waiting for him.

  “Two times in battle, and both times, he’s held his own.” Santos spun the spear in one hand. “But it takes one disaster to kill my lance.”

  “Then my one standing order remains.”

  “Fight until we die.” Santos beat a fist to his breastplate and turned to leave.

  “Santos…you understand the difference between a conversation like this and when we’re in the thick of it,” Roland said, opening a channel to the Warsaw.

  “We are officers and gentlemen. Until we aren’t.” Santos swung the spear over his shoulders and shifted into his travel form.

  Chapter 20

  Ely followed Lars out of an angled tunnel and to the surface. Generators, ammo lorries, and technicians were all around them. Armor loitered at stations, rearming and recharging. Ely counted over a dozen suits, most showing recent battle damage.

  The Armor were painted black with the red Crusader cross so common among the Crusaders. Ely immediately felt self-conscious in his shorter suit still painted in old Terran Union colors.

  The shield over the city faltered. Hexagonal sections flickered as Geist craft flew overhead, strafing sections. Smoke rose from inside the city wall, and tracer rounds and plasma bolts pointed back to where the fighting was fiercest.

  “There he is.” Lars pointed to a trio of Armor just outside the logistics station. Ely’s HUD flashed a graphic over Santos as their IFF systems linked up. Ely, Pulaski and Lars went to their lance commander as he dismissed the other two Armor.

  “We were worried you’d win the war all by yourself before we caught up to you, sir,” Lars said.

  “Incorrect. The tunnel with the most direct access to your location was damaged,” Pulaski said. “We had to take a detour.”

  “A little levity to make new guy feel better.” Lars punched Ely in the shoulder and almost knocked him off-balance. “He needs the laugh to take his mind off how scared he is.”

  “I’m not—” Ely raised a finger. “I mean, who isn’t? Am I supposed to know what’s going on because I’ve been following Lars this whole time and my HUD is screaming at me with data?”

  “Lars, tune him down. He doesn’t need the noise.” An antenna extended up from Santos’ helm as he spoke.

  Lars put a hand up next to Ely’s shoulder and data lines snaked out to connect to ports at the base of Ely’s neck servos. Overlays shut down and Ely was left with just his suit’s readings and simple outlines of his lance mates to the bottom right of his vision.

  “Steel Sworn.” Santos beat a fist to his chest as he addressed his company. “The Geist have broken through the outer trenches in sectors five to eleven. Marshal Shaw asked us to stop those monsters cold. What say you?”

  The snap of MEWS weapons surrounded them. The Armor had their modular weapons configured into long swords held in a reverse grip. As one, they stuck the tips into the ground and went to one knee.

  Ely did the same, though he hadn’t drawn his sword. He looked at Lars and Pulaski and saw a pale-blue ghost light curl around their blades.

  Santos reached out and put a hand on Ely’s shoulder. “Saint Kallen…Lord Jesus and our eternal Father,” Santos said, lowering his head, “lead us onto battle. Witness our deeds so that we may be judged worthy in your sight. Reserve your mercy for our fallen. We have none for the foe. Amen.”

  Santos beat the hilt of his weapon to his chest, then turned and jogged away, accelerating to a run.

  Ely pushed his suit hard to keep up as the Steel Sworn fell into step with each other. The steady tempo of the Armor echoed off buildings. Ely felt like he was listening to war drums.

  The sound of fighting ahead of them grew louder as they neared.

  “What is the target?” Pulaski asked.

  “It matter?” Lars flicked his wrist and his MEWS snapped into a Saxon axe head.

  “If I do not bring a trophy back from the battle, then there is no tale for the fire,” the Karigole said.

  “The harder we fight, the better foe will come to us.” Santos’ antenna snapped up and down, then retracted into his helm. “For now, we cover the retreat.”

  A way point appeared on Ely’s HUD at a nearby intersection. Lars and Pulaski went to the corners and unfurled their shields from their forearms. In the distance, legionnaires and scratch company soldiers made their way toward them.

  Ely stood awkwardly in the middle of the intersection.

  “Behind me,” Lars said suit-to-suit to Ely. “Just stay with me. You don’t have the Wield yet.”

  “Sure thing.” Ely followed instructions. He looked up and saw the city’s shield faltering. The energy dome pulled back from the wall, exposing an edge to the sky above. Soldiers made their way past them, some rapping their knuckles against Lars’s and Pulaski’s suits. None gave Ely the double look that he’d gotten used to. They were focused on getting away from the front lines as fast as possible.

  “2nd, 3rd platoons, keep the roads open.” Santos’s voice grew strained as Wield swirled at the center of his shield. “Prepare to advance.”

  Ely checked that his gauss cannons were indeed loaded. He felt something off, like there was static at the edge of his perception. Lars’s Wield came off his shield like a fog, dissipating as it touched Ely’s suit.

  A plasma bolt shot down the road and struck Pulaski’s shield. The bolt dissipated into white ripples.

  “Steel Sworn, forward!” Santos walked into the middle of the st
reet and raised his shield over his head. His Wield stretched and linked with Pulaski’s and Lars’s. The three marched slowly, carrying a shield wall with a gap beneath just large enough for a man to pass through.

  Ely fell a few steps behind, waving retreating soldiers toward them and to safety.

  More plasma bolts struck out from the ruins ahead of them, smearing against the Wield. Enemy fire hit the gaggle of retreating soldiers then slowed to nothing.

  A howling rose in the distance.

  “Here we go…” Pulaski’s MEWS changed to a short sword.

  The last soldier limped past the Steel Sworn as war hounds came running down the street. Ely froze for a second, an atavistic fear rearing up from deep in his consciousness.

  +We fight. We die. But we must fight,+ Aignar said to Ely.

  “Aren’t you already dead?” Ely asked as he unfolded his shield and readied his gauss cannons over the top edge.

  +I don’t recommend it.+

  Santos pulled his shield down and the energy snapped back to his sword. He lowered a shoulder and charged forward, sword raised.

  “Ferrum Corde!” Santos yelled as he sidestepped forward and cut to his right. The blade tip hit the war hound in the flank and ripped down the side of the beast. It hit the ground, limp before Ely, and slid against his shins. Blood still dripped from the hound’s maw as its eyes flickered out.

  “Ely!” Lars shouted.

  Ely snapped out of his fugue and ran to catch up to Lars. Plasma bolts intensified, striking Lars’s shield and the Wield over it.

  In the distance, Geist emerged from the ruins of the city. They stood a bit taller than the Armor, their humanoid shape broken up by extra arms—thick tentacles that rose from their spines and ended in pincers. Some didn’t use their legs, propped up instead by stalks that bent from their backs and walked on the ground for them.

  Bands of golden runes spun around their bodies, their true faces hidden by silver masks that captured a fallen Crusader’s last painful moments before death.

  “They’re sending their uglies against us,” Lars said. “I’m insulted.”

  “Kill these and better ones will come,” Pulaski said, spinning his short sword.

  “Grab them by the nose.” Santos fired both gauss barrels at once. The shells ricocheted off the Wield of a Geist skittering forward on spider legs.

  The misshaped Geist howled, an inhuman noise of tortured beings from the other side of death. They charged and Ely felt the ground shaking beneath his feet.

  “Open fire,” Santos said as his rotary gun spun up. Bullets interspersed with tracer rounds, the burning tracers looking like a laser beam as Santos swept his rotary gun across the charging Geist.

  Ely thrust his arm between Pulaski and Lars’s shield and joined his lance as they fired on the Geist. Wield flared around the alien monstrosities, but they didn’t slow as they charged at the Steel Sworn.

  Ely dropped an empty gauss magazine out of his back. “This doesn’t seem to be working…” he said.

  “Wait for it.” Lars shifted his shield in front of Ely and it took a direct hit from a plasma bolt that would’ve hit Ely in the face.

  The Geist kept coming and Ely pawed at his leg where his MEWS was stowed.

  The enemy charged past a damaged warehouse just as a lance of Armor ripped through the warehouse doors and slammed into the Geist’s flank. Another lance came in from the other side, rolling at high speed on their tracks. The new lance transformed to their assault configurations without losing any speed and smashed into the Geist.

  Armor and Geist ripped at each other with sword and claw.

  “Forward!” Santos sprinted into the melee.

  Ely lagged behind his lance, their larger suits moving faster than his could. Wield flashed against wield as the two sides traded blows. The Armor spread around the Geist, surrounding them into a kill box.

  “Come on!” Lars buried his axe deep into a Geist’s skull and pried it off with a sharp twist. “I’ll fucking take all of you!”

  A Geist with skeletal wings and long claws climbed onto the shoulders of one of its fellows deeper in the scrum, then jumped onto Lars’s head and shoulders. Its serrated claw arms snapped up, primed to plunge straight into Lars’s helm.

  Ely grabbed the Geist by the leg and slammed it into the ground. Its head bounced off the asphalt, lenses popping from the optic housings.

  +Finish it off!+

  Ely stomped at the Geist, but it rolled out of the way, and Ely stomped on the wing frame. The Geist ripped free of its wing and stabbed a claw into Ely’s leg as it climbed, gouging out hunks of metal as it went higher.

  Ely got his arms up to protect his helm, but the Geist didn’t go for his optics or his vulnerable neck servos. Instead, a claw pierced through his breastplate and struck his pod, the claw tip twisting, digging deeper.

  +Do something!+

  Ely slammed an arm across his chest and felt the Geist writhing and bucking. He made for his lance when both his legs seized up. He fell forward hard, crushing the Geist beneath his weight.

  Control over his legs came back a moment later.

  The Geist disintegrated into smaller and smaller cubes, leaving a fine grit against Ely’s suit.

  +You’re welcome.+

  Ely looked up at the melee where the rest of the Steel Sworn were still fighting.

  Pulaski had one foot to the small of the back of a Geist, its extra limbs reaching and snapping at the Karigole. Pulaski clamped down on the Geist’s forehead, his fingers digging into the Geist’s skull, and pulled its head off the ground. He decapitated it with a hack from his short sword and raised the head up high. The Geist’s mouth chattered for a few moments as its body crumbled.

  Pulaski turned the Geist skull around to look it in the eye as its light snapped off. The head didn’t crumble away like the rest of the dead Geist.

  “Turtle up!” Santos raised his shield over the Steel Sworn.

  +Better get in there.+

  “You’re as infuriating as you are helpful sometimes, you know that?” Ely got to his feet and stumbled forward. Lars grabbed him and pushed him into the center of the circle. Shields rose from the Armor and their Wield formed into a dome.

  Ely was surrounded by Armor…and he remembered his father taking him and his brother Jerry to Armor Square, where the Armor that perished in the final battle against the Xaros were honored. Being in the center of that circle then had given him a sense of peace. Now he was on the knife edge between confusion and panic.

  Through the gap in the shields, a giant shadow rose up from the buildings.

  “Brace!” Santos called out.

  A wave of yellow fire burst across the shield dome. Ely felt the heat through the ground and his suit. Smoke rose around the Steel Sworn, a dark forest of tendrils rising to the sky. The shadow in the distance ambled forward.

  The smoke was torn away by a shockwave from behind, sending bricks and broken parts of the city sweeping over the shield dome. When the chaos settled, the giant shadow was gone.

  “Break.” Santos lowered his shield and the Steel Sworn separated into lances.

  Marshal Roland walked up to Ely, the tips of his rail gun glowing red-hot as the vanes angled up and sank back into his suit.

  “You,” he pointed at Ely, “go with her.”

  Morrigan gripped Ely under the arm and hauled him up.

  “Wait…I’m still fighting and I haven’t died yet,” Ely said. “Why am—”

  “She’ll explain it to you on the way.” Roland unsnapped his MEWS hilt off his leg and a long sword blade snapped out. “We need you to win this battle, Ely, and you can’t do it here.”

  Ely looked to Santos.

  “Captains don’t outrank marshals.” Santos cocked his head back to the city center. “Get moving before Morrigan cuts your pod out and kicks you like a soccer ball to wherever you’re supposed to be.”

  “I’ll do it too,” Morrigan said.

  “Where we going?”
Ely asked.

  ****

  Ely rolled up to the Scipio. The corvette’s hull was cylindrical toward the back, while the fore was three long segments, the middle slightly longer and thicker.

  Robots and engineers stood to one side in the hangar.

  The Astranite rig was bolted to the outside of the hull. Thick cables and large rigs that looked like heat dissipaters were arrayed all around it.

  Standish ran over from the top of the ship and looked down at Ely as he transformed out of his travel configuration.

  “This our subject-matter expert?” Standish asked Morrigan.

  “Uncle Standish?” Ely leaned forward, his optics squinting.

  “Ely! I know that Armor. Ely…huh.” Standish put his hands on his hips. “What are the odds…do I need to go to church more? I probably need to go to church more. Anyway. Need you up here to figure out why the whats-its aren’t doing the thing-a-ma-bobs when we try and turn the thing on.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Ely shrugged.

  Standish pointed to a heavy lift near the hull. It raised Ely to the top of the ship and he stepped onto it gingerly.

  “This used to be a Union Navy ship,” Standish said, smacking his gum. “She’s a tough old bird.”

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” Ely said. “Dad…Dad was pretty sure you’d be in jail by the time we ever came back from Terra Nova.”

  “You think I—” Standish pointed at his chest with both hands, “would ever get caught? Again…that is. Did your old man mean currently in jail when he came back, or perhaps detained at some point for some nonsense that had a simple explanation?”

  “Standish!” General Halk shouted from the other side of the ship.

  “I know that tone. My ex-wives used it all the time. Here.” Standish picked up a data line and tossed it Ely. “Little help?”

  Ely plugged the line into a port behind a wrist. A diagram of the Scipio came up on his HUD.

  “You’re…you’re going to use this ship as an FTL bubble?” Ely looked over the diagram. “The math looks correct, but it’s going to eat up a lot of the fuel to expand the space-time gradient more than a few dozen meters. The Valiant—”