Blood of Heroes (The Ember War Saga Book 3)

by Richard Fox

  The bay doors closed, trapping Durand in a dark abyss.

  ****

  The Canticle of Reason hung in space ahead of the Breitenfeld. Puffs of atmosphere jetted from the seals between old hull plating. It loomed over the human carrier like a whale over a diver.

  “Christ, that’s a big ship,” Valdar said. “Engineering, are you done prepping the jump engines?”

  “Captain, three of the compromised ships are coming over the horizon,” the XO said. “They’re on an intercept course with us…ETA is seven minutes.”

  “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” Valdar mused. “Engineering, status report.”

  “That Crucible is still close enough to affect our wormhole. We can leave, but the power drain on the engines will be significant,” Levin said over the IR.

  “Engage the jump engines. We wait for a perfect solution and we’ll be a ring of debris around the planet,” Valdar said.

  “Aye aye, skipper. Two minutes.”

  Valdar tapped a button to open a channel to the Canticle of Reason. “Pa’lon, we’re two minutes from jumping out. Might be a little late to ask this, but is your ship going to hold up?”

  “This is Wen’la, life support is stable. But we’ll need the MacDougall as soon as you can spare him. What is it you humans are always saying to each other for good fortune?”

  “Gott mitt uns,”

  “Cod mittens to you too.”

  Valdar closed the channel with a shake of his head. He felt vibrations through his command chair and prayed that once, just once, that the engines would do what they were supposed to do. He opened a ship wide channel.

  ”This is Captain Valdar, prepare to jump.”

  ****

  Medics ran to the Condor bomber, a stretcher carried between them.

  “Move! Move!” The lead medic shouted to the scrum of pilots and deck hands gathering around the Condor. A path cleared, but there was no sign of the patient they’d been promised.

  “The bay doors are stuck!” Filly shouted from the open cockpit.

  A mechanic ducked under the Condor and jammed a speeder handle into a port. The torpedo bay doors opened excruciatingly slowly as the mechanic worked the tool. The doors opened perpendicular to the bay…but nothing came out.

  “Did you open the right one?” a mechanic asked.

  Durand fell out of the bay and flopped against the flight deck. She rolled on to her back and took off her helmet. Sweat soaked hair clung to her face.

  “Gall, are you alright?” Glue asked, reaching for her commander.

  Durand slapped her hands away.

  “Thanks for the pick up. Did everyone make it back?” Durand asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Glue said.

  “Then give me a goddamned cigarette.”

  Cheers broke out across the flight deck.

  “All hands brace for jump engine activation!” sounded across the flight deck. “All hands brace for jump engine activation!”

  CHAPTER 15

  The shuttle bays on the Canticle of Reason relied on massive doors to regulate air pressure and atmosphere, unlike the force fields the Breitenfeld had upgraded to in recent months. A Mule flew in to the bay and settled against the deck without a sound in the total vacuum.

  It took five minutes for atmosphere to be pumped into the bay. Green lights blinked around the bay, then went steady.

  Dotok, wearing nothing but their simple robes, came in to the bay. Two bore clipboards, the rest carried plastic wrapped packages. One of Dotok waved to Jorgen, and he lowered the Mule’s ramp.

  The last of the Dotok evacuated from the mesa filed down the ramp. The shell shocked survivors glanced around the spacecraft, then went to the welcoming party.

  Standish helped the young mother with her newborn clutched to her chest down the ramp, her feet wrapped in bandages.

  “Nice ship you’ve got here,” Standish said to her. He looked around, noting that everything looked worn, recycled.

  “Noor!” Un’qu ran into the bay and hugged the young mother, who broke into tears and a blubbery recount of her tale. The baby broke into a ragged cry and Un’qu held it in his arms. The Dotok officer gave Standish a nod and led his family away.

  “Well, that’s something,” Standish said. He sat down on the ramp and watched as the Dotok took care of the refugees. He ran a hand over the dried sweat and grime on the top of his head, then took a long hard look at the dried blood on his gloves and forearms. He’d helped the medics get Hale and Bailey off their transport after it made it to the Breitenfeld. He hadn’t heard a word about them in the hour since. No word about Cortaro, Orozco or Steuben. For all he knew, he was the last man standing. The only person he was sure about was Torni. He’d seen the banshees charging up the mountain, there was no chance she’d survived.

  Jorgen sat next to Standish and handed him a canteen.

  “Shitty day,” the pilot said.

  “At least it’s over, right?”

  “Nothing on the scanners. This systems got a couple rocks in it, not a lot else. No Xaros. No gates. Nice and quiet for a while,” Jorgen said. “We’ll head back once they clear out.” Jorgen gave Standish a pat on the shoulder and went back inside.

  “Standish?” a little voice said.

  Caas and Ar’ri stood beside the ramp, hand in hand. They wore new clothes and looked like they’d been cleaned up since the last time he saw them.

  “Caas and Annie, right?”

  “Ar’ri!” the little boy piped up.

  “Where is Sarge Torni? She said she’d come see us,” Caas said.

  Standish felt like someone punched him in the gut.

  “Oh…um…” Standish got off the ramp and knelt in front of the two children. “Torni…she’s,” he pressed two fingers against his lips. “Ehtan. She’s dead, little guys. Ehtan.”

  Caas’ lips trembled. Her chin fell against her chest and she started sobbing.

  Standish wrapped his arms around them and pulled them close.

  ****

  Stacey rematerialized on Bastion. She staggered to a wall, breathing heavily. The white squares of the transit room never looked so welcoming.

  “Chuck, is it me, or did that trip take a hell of a lot longer than it should have?” she asked the station’s AI.

  “Welcome back, Stacey Ibarra. Due to an unanticipated gate usage, the system had to keep you in queue until the platform was reset and prepared for your arrival,” came from the ceiling.

  “I must have been in transit for…twenty hours!”

  “Eighteen hours and thirty-seven minutes. Did you experience discomfort?”

  “‘Discomfort?’ I thought I was going to spend the rest of eternity floating through a white abyss with no hope of rescue,” Stacey stood up and recomposed herself. “My return was scheduled, this sort of thing isn’t supposed to happen. Explain.”

  “Ambassador Pa’lon signaled an emergency gate travel. We regret any discomfort you may have experienced,” the AI said.

  “He’s back? Where is he?”

  “Pa’lon is in the atrium. Would you like me to connect you?”

  “No, I’ll go see him in person,” the doors slid aside and Stacey strode out into Bastion. Representatives of the many species present on the station appeared to her as unique human beings. Some chatting amidst the hallways, others passing her by with nary a second glance or bit of attention. The station maintained a hologram around each ambassador displaying each as a member of an observer’s own species. All in the effort of cooperation.

  The atrium held a small forest of pale white trees, tall boughs draped through the space forming covered walkways. The trees glowed from within, casting sterile light that made Stacey think of the white hell she’d just gone through.

  The nature and origin of the trees was a mystery, Chuck and other AIs claimed not to have the information. Most suspected that the trees were some sort of remnant of the Qa’Resh’s home world. The leaders of the Alliance were notoriously secretive and
if the trees were connected to the giant floating crystal entities, it would be something they’d keep hidden.

  Pa’lon sat on a bench in the middle of a small clearing. His shoulders low and his head in his hands.

  “Pa’lon?” Stacey asked. She reached out to touch his shoulder. Her hand stopped several inches from him and a buzzer sounded.

  “Contact not authorized,” the AI said.

  Pa’lon’s head jerked up, ending whatever reverie he’d been in. “Stacey, my girl, so good to see you again.” He was as young as she’d remembered him, but he looked as the weight of many worlds rested on his shoulders.

  “What’s going on? Did the Breitenfeld make it to Takeni? Don’t keep me in suspense,” she sat next to him on the bench.

  Pa’lon told her of the Breitenfeld’s arrival and everything that happened up until he had to leave Takeni, leaving his people behind.

  “They’ll make it, Pa’lon. Valdar’s tough and smart, if there’s anyone who can find a way, or make a way, it’s him,” Stacey said.

  “I know, I was most impressed with him and the rest of the humans. I have some hope left,” Pa’lon sank back against the bench.

  “You’re acting like things are a lot worse than they really are.”

  “When I returned, I went to the cartography lab and ran some simulations. The Grand Fleet was likely overrun by only a few drones. Given when the fleet must have been compromised and the time it took to reach Takeni…the AI think that all of our fleets have been destroyed or corrupted. The Grand Fleet knew every planet we were going to colonize. Transmitting that information to drones in neighboring star systems would be too easy,” Pa’lon said.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Stacey said.

  “No, but the math is not in our favor. We won’t know for centuries if the other fleets made it to their chosen planets, or if the Xaros are there waiting for them in force. That is a long time to wait to know if your species is extinct,” he said. “There’s a part of Bastion just for ambassadors who’ve lost everything. They’re not allowed to interact with the rest of us, they have nothing else to contribute to the war. No vote at assembly. I wonder what it’s like there…”

  “You know, I’m probably closer to that fate than you are. Xaros are a little over a decade away from Earth. We lose that fight and I’ve got nothing. Do you see me having a pity party?”

  “No, not at all. If I am morose I apologize. My hopes for the Dotok to spread across the stars and contribute more to this war…have been turned to ashes. How would you suggest I take it?”

  “You have hope. Your people will get off Takeni and they’ll make it to Earth. Just a little hope is enough to get me through the day,” she said.

  “I never knew humans could be so wise until I met you. Or so ugly when I saw the rest of you up close. Though that one you always talk about, Hale, he seemed less ugly than the rest,” Pa’lon sat up and took a deep breath of the pollinated air around them.

  “You didn’t say anything to him, about me, did you?”

  “No, should I have?”

  “No! In fact never mention me to him. Unless he asks about me. Did he?”

  “Our conversations revolved around survival and killing noorla. Your behavior becomes remarkably different when Hale is mentioned. Can you explain this to me?”

  Stacey frowned and shook her head. “Nope. Nothing to explain. I’m glad you made it back to Bastion.”

  “And I am glad to see you again. Thank you for your help saving my people.”

  “Moving furniture, dinner parties, saving each other from genocide. That’s what friends are for.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Hale felt too cool air fill his lungs. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, knocking a breathing tube loose from his nose. His tongue felt like sandpaper against his mouth and his body felt like glaciers of pain were grinding across his every joint and muscle.

  “Sir, you awake?” he knew that voice, but the fuzziness in his head wouldn’t let him connect to a name. “I’ll tell the doc you’re up.”

  He held a hand in front of his face, the skin was leathery and dry as parchment.

  Dr. Accorso leaned over him and waved a wand across Hale’s forehead. “Ah, awake at last? I knew the last round of treatment would beat that thing.” The bed beneath Hale tilted his head and chest upwards. Hale was in a hospital ward, one with biohazard markers against the walls.

  A nurse shoved a spoon full of ice chips into Hale’s mouth. He was too thirsty and weak to protest the indignity.

  “You caught a very nasty infection on Takeni, something your green blood cells immune boosters couldn’t handle,” Accorso said. “Might have been something on the talons of that banshee that got a piece of you. Maybe something you ate? Any intimate contact with the Dotok?”

  Hale just looked at Accorso, too tired to speak. He got another mouthful of ice chips.

  “Regardless, it drove your natural immune system haywire. Really amazing reaction, we’ll be studying your blood samples for years. Had to keep you in isolation so you didn’t infect the rest of the ship. I tried flooding your system with more green blood cells, but that had negligible affects. I finally gave you a dose of nano-bot scrubbers…which cleared out the infection, all of your green blood cells and a dangerous amount of your body’s hydration. We’ll get you on some wonderful IV’s and have you up on your feet in no time.” The doctor gave him a pat on the shoulder and left the room.

  “No, he never shuts up,” the medic said with the same familiar voice he knew. Hale squinted at the medic, and finally recognized Yarrow.

  “What…what happened?” Hale croaked.

  “We got hit by our own grenade. Messed you, me and Bailey up pretty good, but nothing serious. Got off world and back to the Breit and now we’re in orbit around some brown dwarf in the low-rent district of the galaxy, waiting for the engines to recharge. Should be another ten days until we can get back to Earth…supposedly. Open up sir, you’ve got to eat the rest of this ice,” Yarrow mashed a spoonful against Hale’s closed lips.

  Hale grabbed the spoon and tried to feed himself. The spoon glanced off his nose and sent ice chips down his hospital gown.

  “You were pretty touch and go for a while, sir,” Yarrow took the spoon back. “I’ll tell the others you came up strong as an ox, full of piss and vinegar.”

  A corpsman wheeled in a metal stand with several clear IV bags on it.

  “I’ll get him hooked up,” Yarrow said to the new arrival, who left without a word.

  “Where’s…everyone? We get the Dotok out?”

  “Canticle’s full to the brim and holding steady. Those Dotok know how to make a space ship,” Yarrow said, careful not to look directly at Hale when he spoke. He ran a tube from the fluid bags to an intravenous port on the back of Hale’s left hand. Hale felt cold creep up his arm.

  A plastic screen slid aside, revealing a grim looking Captain Valdar holding a folder.

  “Give us a couple minutes, son,” he said to Yarrow, who left with a nod to Hale.

  Valdar sat down next to Hale and watched as Yarrow left the room.

  “You trust him?” Valdar asked.

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

  Valdar shrugged at his question

  Hale cringed as the cold from the IV crept through aching muscles. Hale regarded the captain, a man he’d known since childhood. The captain wasn’t acting like the Uncle Isaac Hale knew. Valdar’s face was emotionless, solid, the mask of command officers learned to adopt early in their careers.

  “Just tell me,” Hale said.

  “Sergeant Torni stayed behind. The Mule didn’t have the life support for the last of the civilians. She gave up her spot so more could make it out,” Valdar said.

  “We’ll go back. She’s a fighter, trained to survive behind enemy lines,” Hale said.

  “No, son, she’s dead,” Valdar opened the folder handed a photo to Hale. An orbital picture of the mesa showed a dozen Dotok lying in
the dirt, Torni’s armored body was on her side, blood stained the ground beneath her.

  “It should have been me,” Hale said. “If I hadn’t been hit…it should have been me.”

  “It wasn’t you, Ken. We’ve all…lost so much,” Valdar’s countenance cracked for a split second, giving Hale a glimpse at the pain Valdar hid from everyone. Valdar cleared his throat. “I’ll write up a posthumous award, handle the rest of the paperwork. Get back on your feet when you’re ready. This fight’s far from over and I need you leading Marines.”

  Valdar tried to take the photo back, but Hale refused to let it go. The captain left without another word.

  Hale stared at the picture for a long time. There were tears, but none he could ever admit.

  ****

  The armory was quiet. Racks of rifles and all the Marine’s weapons of war had been cleaned, accounted for and stored since the Breitenfeld left Takeni’s orbit. Even though there was no such thing as night and day aboard a starship, the crew and Marines still stuck to a twenty-four hour cycle. This close to ‘midnight’ and there shouldn’t be anyone in the armory.

  Hale looked over the room, failing to note anything out of place or in need of cleaning. Good, he thought, Cortaro’s been keeping them busy. Focused on their jobs. The sound of laughter bled through one of the storage bays.

  Hale went to the door and raised his hand to knock, then grabbed the handle and yanked the door open with the little strength he had in his body.

  His Marines and Steuben were there, sitting on ammo boxes arrayed in a circle.

  “Sir! Knew you’d come looking for us eventually,” Standish said.

  Square patches of pale skin dotted Bailey’s face and exposed arms, cloned grafts that would look more natural in time. Orozco’s right hand was missing two fingers.