by Richard Fox
Elias tossed the General’s empty mask and mail helmet away and fell onto his knees.
“Iron Hearts…who needs help…” Elias fell to his elbows.
Bodel, half-buried beneath a wrecked lifter, held up his remaining thumb.
“Ar’ri is unconscious,” Caas said from her brother’s side, “but he’s stable.” She shifted her body around to look at Steuben, who lay motionless on the ground.
“Steuben?” Hale got to the Karigole’s side and rolled him to his back. Steuben’s right hand was a mangled mass of blackened flesh, and a sliver of his blade was embedded in his face from the top of his right eye socket down across his jaw.
Steuben looked at Hale and gave the Marine a pat on the side of his head.
“Good fight,” Steuben said.
CHAPTER 29
Valdar got out of his command chair and walked slowly across the bridge. There, in the skies high above Sri Lanka and barely visible from his ship’s position high over the Pacific, a Xaros construct unlike any other he’d ever seen grew larger as more and more drones melded together.
The drones formed into a stretched pyramid, the tip pointing at the Earth.
“Ibarra, what is that?”
“Not…not something we’ve seen before,” Ibarra said from a small screen on Valdar’s faceplate. “The probe’s picking up an impossible amount of energy in that thing. If the math is right…this new construct could cut through the Earth’s crust and into the center of the planet. It’ll heat up the planet’s core. Drive the continental plates apart, volcanic eruptions everywhere. Worldwide devastation. This is impossible. The Xaros don’t destroy worlds—ever!”
“I’ll trust my lying eyes.” Valdar snapped his head toward Geller. “Set a collision course. Full burn.”
Geller nodded quickly.
“Valdar, the Vorpal will join you,” Captain Go’ral said. “We will not let our final colony die before us. Gott mit uns.”
“Thank you, Go’ral. Ibarra, can the Naroosha and Ruhaald get their ships to Earth in time to help?”
“The Xaros will fire in…minutes, ten at the least. It’ll take an hour for anything with firepower to get from the Crucible to you,” Ibarra said.
“Minutes?” Valdar watched as the pyramid’s surface glowed red. “We’re not going to make it,”
****
On the dark side of the moon, drones zipped across the surface as they raced to join the construct forming over India. Light from their stalks danced over the glass ocean scarring the Tsiolkovskiy crater and miles beyond its rim.
In the small circle where Torni had devastated the Xaros swarm, the ground shifted.
An arm burst through the blackened ground. Long, skeletal fingers clawed the vacuum then slammed into the ground. Torni pulled herself out of the hasty grave the explosion made for her. Her body was a mess of heat-warped shell and gaps across her surface, resembling some horrific creature made from sea coral more than a human being.
+Join. Combine!+ The call was overwhelming, stronger than any urge she’d ever felt. The drone gestalt pulled her away from the moon and on the same path as the drones flying overhead.
+Together. Together.+ Torni grabbed a hunk of rock as big as her arm and transmuted it into omnium. The glowing material flowed down her arm, restoring it to her human form like a healing salve. She took in more of the dark rock and made herself whole.
She morphed into her drone form and took to the sky, falling in with a pack of drones.
The demands of the gestalt lessened as she came around the horizon and saw the Earth. Drones fed themselves into a growing mass. Data from the drones assaulted her mind like her head was inside a beehive.
Beneath all the noise, a still small voice remained.
What’s happening…where am I going? Torni thought.
The drone mass shifted, transforming into a jagged spike pointed at the Earth’s surface. The tip opened like a blooming flower and the spark of a disintegration beam lit up in the center.
We’re going to…burn through. The image of the beam burning through the Earth’s crust and into the mantle came to her: the Earth’s core superheating and breaking the planet apart.
The fleet…impressions of human and other defenders came to her, all too weak and too spread out to have a hope of stopping the planet killer. She saw the Breitenfeld, her hull scarred, weapons broken, yet still attacking the Xaros without mercy as they went to join the construct. The words she’d put against the hull in gold lettering, Gott Mit Uns, shown in the sunlight.
Torni flew into the construct, her limbs melding with other drones as they added themselves to the weapon. More drones piled on top of her and she felt the entirety of the Xaros mass through the gestalt.
Deep inside her mind, she felt an itch. The kill command she’d received and carried since Malal’s vault scratched at the back of her consciousness.
Will they know? If only…if only I could have seen Standish one last time.
Torni didn’t fight the kill command, didn’t banish it away to the back of her mind like every other time before. She let it course through her…and into the rest of the drones. The command, designed to prevent the capture of a Xaros drone, was a fundamental piece of the drones’ programming, written by the Xaros Master who designed them. The kill order overrode the General’s last decree and the beam forming at the construct’s tip faded away.
Torni felt a gentle warmth spread through her, then the sensation of pins and needles as her body began to burn away. The gestalt that had been hammering her mind faded away as the drones went off-line, leaving their bodies to disintegrate.
A ring of burning embers erupted from Torni and flashed through the construct. The spike broke apart and fell into the atmosphere. The Xaros became a rain of fire that would have covered all of Sri Lanka had any of their remains made it to the surface.
The last of the Xaros siege dissipated in the monsoon winds.
****
Valdar watched the Xaros pyramid crumble away.
“Why?” he asked, the word hanging heavy over the bridge. “Why would it just…die?”
“No one’s complaining, Captain,” Ericcson said.
“Ibarra?” An error message popped up on Valdar’s visor. He keyed the channel back to the Crucible and tried to hail the command center again. No response. He tried to open a new channel to Gor’al on the Vorpal, and got nothing.
“Comms, were the antennae arrays damaged?” Valdar asked.
“Negative, sir…looks like there’s some kind of IR interference going through the atmosphere,” the comms officer said.
A whine filled Valdar’s earbud.
“This is Prefect Ordona of the Naroosha. The Crucible is ours. All Earth ships will take their weapons off-line immediately and set anchor in orbit around your larger moon. Noncompliance will be met with deadly force. Noncompliance will be punished with the nuclear destruction of a human settlement every twenty-two minutes, beginning with…Phoenix.”
Valdar snapped to his feet. He went to Geller’s station and saw the camera feed of the Crucible. The Naroosha and Ruhaald ships surrounded the jump gate. Shuttles from the silver vessels descended on the command center where the probe and Ibarra had taken up residence.
Broken human warships drifted away from the jump gate, bleeding atmosphere from wrecked tanks and trailing bodies. Valdar had left a small contingent behind to guard the Crucible…and they were gone, destroyed by the Ruhaald and Naroosha.
“They stabbed us in the back,” Valdar said.
“The human fleet over the fourth planet will not leave orbit. Noncompliance will be met with deadly force. No human ship will travel between worlds. Noncompliance will be met with deadly force. You have ten minutes to obey.”
Valdar felt the gaze of every man and woman on the bridge fall on him.
“Sir, what do we do?” Ericcson asked.
There were fewer than twenty warships still able to fight, all damaged and crewed by exhausted sail
ors. Even with the Vorpal, Valdar knew he didn’t stand a chance against the newly arrived “allies.”
“Get our fighters back aboard and get us into lunar orbit,” Valdar said evenly.
“We’re giving up?” Utrecht asked.
“No!” Valdar slammed a fist against Geller’s chair. “This isn’t over, you all understand me? I will be damned if we surrender to these bastards, but this isn’t the time to fight. Not yet.”
Valdar turned his eyes to the Crucible.
Ibarra, you crafty bastard, you’d better have something up your sleeve.
CHAPTER 30
An arrowhead fighter wobbled through the air, trailing smoke and steam. Standish winced as the craft skipped against the desert floor and bounced twice before grinding to a halt not far from one of the linked bunkers.
“There’s no body in that one,” Egan said. “It was abandoned the last time we pulled the lines back.”
Standish zoomed his helmet’s optics on the fallen alien ship. There was movement just beneath the canopy, but he couldn’t make out what was in it.
“We need to go help,” Bailey said.
“Now wait just a second.” Standish held up a hand. “Are we sure it’s even friendly?”
“Bloody things have been beating the piss out of the Xaros for half an hour and haven’t tried to shoot us. They’re mates.” Bailey shoved a metal hatch out of the way and ducked into the tunnel. “Come on, you ratbag deros. It’s the only decent thing we can do.”
“Oro,” Egan said, “stay with the doughboys. We’ll call you over if we need help.”
Egan stared at Standish until the Marine grumbled and followed Bailey into the tunnel.
He jogged to the empty bunker and found Bailey standing outside, her eyes to the sky. Columns of smoke rose from Phoenix. The sound of roaring engines and firing weapons that had filled the air for hours had fallen away to almost nothing.
“Maybe we won.” She slung her carbine onto her back and walked toward the downed fighter. “Cover me.”
Standish shouldered his weapon and sidestepped toward the front of the fighter, keeping Bailey out of the line of fire in case something horrible jumped out. Egan stood a few feet from him, his weapon ready.
The fighter was a bit smaller than an Eagle, with vectored engines and weapon pods built into the wings. The canopy was an angular dome, frosted over. Shadows moved within. Writing made of different-sized triangles flowed over the wings.
“I don’t have the best track record when it comes to first encounters.” Standish’s toes ground into the dirt, ready for fight or flight.
“I’m pretty sure whatever’s in there has no intention of eating you,” Egan said.
“So sure? Why don’t you go over and rub your face all over it and see what happens.”
Egan didn’t move.
“Thought so,” Standish said.
Bailey touched the fighter, running her hands along the canopy seem.
“You’d think there’d be an emergency release like our fighters,” Bailey said. She shrugged and knocked on the canopy.
The canopy popped open on her side and green water poured out, splashing against Bailey’s hips. She jumped back and drew her carbine in a hail of rapid-fire cursing. The canopy flipped over on a set of hinges and more water came splashing out.
The pilot wore a copper-colored, blocky space suit. Each hand bore a half-dozen tendrils twice as long as a human finger. Its helmet was a dome set against wide, thick shoulders. The alien had wide, squid-like eyes on either side of its head and a mass of feeder tentacles for its mouth.
“Nope. Nope!” Standish tried backing away but Egan grabbed him by the arm.
The pilot turned to Bailey, raised one hand and made a rough approximation of a wave.
“I extend culturally appropriate greetings,” came from a voice box on the alien’s armor.
Bailey lowered her carbine slowly. “You can speak English?”
“Bastion technology.” The pilot’s tentacles wafted over the voice box. The pilot pushed against the side of his cockpit, then fell back inside, splashing more water over the edges. “Assistance.”
Bailey slung her rifle over her shoulder and approached slowly. The alien held out its arms and Bailey gingerly reached out to touch it. The tentacles wrapped around her upper arms several times.
“They’ve got stickers on them,” Bailey said, her voice several octaves higher than usual, “like a damn octopus.” She stepped back, pulling the pilot free from the cockpit. The pilot’s lower body was a tail, covered in flexing scales that were part of its flight suit.
Bailey set it against the fighter’s side. Brackish water spurted up from a crack over the pilot’s tail.
“Leak. Leak.” The pilot released Bailey and raised its hand next to its head, tentacles writhing. “Get the repair kit out of my tool chest.”
Bailey put both hands over the crack. Water spurted through her fingers and hit her visor.
“What’re you doing over there? Waiting for an engraved invitation? Move your asses,” Bailey snapped at the other two Marines.
Standish ran over to the cockpit, which was full of gray water he couldn’t see through.
“What am I looking for?” Standish asked.
“Left. Front. Cylinder the size of my—” A burbling noise came from voice box. “Translation unavailable,” chimed from a pleasant voice.
Standish turned his head to the side and plunged his arm into the murky water. He grouped around.
“Is it…is it supposed to be moving?” the Marine asked. He pulled out an object that looked like a piece of candy wrapped in seaweed.
“Give. Give!” The pilot reached tentacles to Standish. They stretched out and snatched the device away. The pilot pressed one end against the crack and thick red caulk came out with a bubbling noise. The pilot smeared the substance over the crack and the outflow of water ceased. It turned the tool over and jabbed the other end against a small ring inset against the suit.
The pilot sat back as its arms fell to the ground.
“Much better,” it said. “I need…medical attention. Help is coming.”
“Is there something we can do now?” Bailey asked.
A port opened on the side of the pilot’s suit and dark red goo spat out.
“I will never complain about Steuben again,” Standish said. “Ever.”
A whine rose through the air. Standish looked up and saw a blocky ship descending toward them.
“I assume that’s for you,” Bailey said. “You got a name?”
Unintelligible babble came from the voice box followed by “—second class, Ruhaald expeditionary fleet. The Xaros are nearly purged from your planet. How did you destroy the leviathan forming over this land mass?”
Bailey and Standish traded a glance. “Thought that was you,” she said.
The Ruhaald ship set down on landing skids a dozen yards away, blowing up a cloud of dirt that turned to mud against Standish’s wet armor.
“Nothing like getting dusted to learn their pilots are just a bunch of dicks like human pilots,” Standish said.
“…are…stop them,” Orozco said, the disturbance from the Ruhaald ship washing out his transmission.
“What was that, Oro?” Egan asked.
A ramp descended from the front of the shuttle. A force field held back a wall of water inside the craft. Several Ruhaald, all in the same armor as the pilot but walking on two legs, approached. Each held rifles made of tiny blocks stuck together seemingly at random.
A Ruhaald with a golden sunburst on its chest and shoulder armor stepped forward.
“I render culturally appropriate greetings,” it said.
“Hello to you too.” Bailey stepped away from the pilot. “I guess you’re in charge.”
“The doughboys are coming!” Orozco shouted through the IR. “Stop them! They think the aliens are hostile! Some got past me!”
“Why would they think that?” Egan turned around and saw three d
oughboys charging out of the bunker. Egan held his hands up and ran toward them.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Egan stepped between a doughboy and the Ruhaald as the lead soldier leveled its weapon. The doughboy leaned to the side, then slammed his rifle against Egan, sending him flying through the air.
“Enemies!” the doughboy shouted.
The soldier’s rifle fired and the high-ranked Ruhaald’s torso blew apart. Dark slime and salt water splashed over Bailey and Standish.
“Stop! Stop!” Standish threw himself over the pilot.
Electricity crackled through the air as lightning burst from the Ruhaald rifles and struck the doughboys, burning them down to their skeletons within an instant.
Standish looked up from the pilot. The commanding Ruhaald’s legs, topped by broken armor oozing whatever was left of the alien, wobbled for a moment and fell forward.
“I think we’re in trouble,” Standish said.
A shadow cast over him. He looked up and saw tentacles reaching for his face.
****
Orozco ran from the bunker, waving his arms to the Ruhaald craft as their soldiers forced Bailey, Standish and Egan up the ramp and into the watery interior.
“Wait! Wait! They didn’t know!” He ran around the smoldering doughboys and watched as the ramp closed.
The shuttle lifted off the ground and blasted off into orbit.
Orozco slowed to a stop next to the dead Ruhaald and the crashed fighter. He looked back to the dead doughboys and felt his heart sink.
He touched his gauntlet screen and found an open IR channel to Camelback Mountain.
“Area command, this is Staff Sergeant Orozco out at bunker Juliet-90. We’ve got a problem.” He looked down at the lumps of blasted flesh that remained of the alien officer.
“A really…big problem.”
CHAPTER 31
Malal sat in his cell, arms loose at his side, chin resting against his chest. His fingertips twitched with the sound of cracking bone.