Terran Armor Corps Anthology

by Richard Fox

  The ship came to rest in the dock as the Kesaht fighters roiled like a disturbed hive.

  ****

  Three Vishrakath rode a lift through the Kesaht star fort. Two held stubby gauss rifles, their white skin cracked and covered with old battle scars. The third, its skin an aquamarine blue, scratched at the deck with its four legs.

  The lift slowed to a stop in front of metal doors. Hydraulics hissed and the doors opened. A Toth warrior, down on all six limbs, bared shark-like teeth at the Vishrakath and snorted at the two bodyguards.

  Another warrior holding a crystalline pike leveled the weapon at one of the bodyguard’s rifles and let out a dull battle ululation.

  The head of the delegation sidestepped the hissing Toth. There, at the far end of the bay next to a large window, was a Toth overlord. Bale’s nervous system twitched inside the glass tank mounted atop a mechanical body with four limbs. The metal was embossed in gold, images of Kesaht history carved into the limbs and the bulging metal beneath the tank filled with bubbling water.

  “Enough posturing, Bale,” said the head Vishrakath. “It grows tiresome.”

  “Let them have their fun, Tuchilin,” Bale said. “The Kesaht are of no threat to me. You represent a bit of sport.”

  “We are not here for sport.” Tuchilin walked forward, almost stepping on one of the warrior’s hands. “We are here for a progress report.”

  “Come and see.” Bale’s forelimb tapped the glass in front of him. Tuchilin kept a wide berth as he went around the Toth.

  Below, thousands of Rakka were in a hangar, all in lines to surgery stations where thin-limbed Ixion supervised as the bestial Rakka had cybernetics implanted into their skulls.

  “The Rakka are primitive,” Bale said, “a tribal species that can barely utilize fire, though their petroglyphs are rather ornate. Their cognitive abilities are perfect for adjustment into a mind-set far more useful.”

  “Cannon fodder is hardly useful,” Tuchilin said. “Do the Ixion and Sanheel think so highly of themselves that they choose not to fight?”

  “The duo that considers themselves true Kesaht are quite willing to do what is necessary to win. They merely recognize that if there will be causalities, the Rakka should bear them. The Ixio and Sanheel tried for centuries to bring the Rakka up to their level of ‘perfection.’ I succeeded where they failed.”

  “Your raids are getting out of hand,” Tuchilin said. “You agreed to remain hidden until such time as the Kesaht were ready to destroy Earth and the Ibarras.”

  “While I am the Kesaht’s savior, I still require sustenance,” Bale said. “Feeding on my adoring subjects would be…problematic. It took Doctor Mentiq quite a while to train his gardens to appreciate the event.”

  “Eat your own kind.” Tuchilin pointed at one of the Toth guards. “Eventually, you will provoke a response and Wexil won’t be able to stop it.”

  “You are shortsighted. The Kesaht think it is their mission to bring their blessed unity to all the galaxy. We can hardly work toward that goal if we don’t have subjects to experiment on.”

  “Our bargain was to destroy the humans, not engage in some quasi-religious nonsense. Stop your raids. That’s an order,” Tuchilin said.

  “Order?” Bale spun in place, bringing the front of his tank to square off with the smaller Vishrakath. “You think you can order me to do anything? The Kesaht are my playthings, not yours. I will be the one that finally destroys the humans. I will burn Earth to cinders and force the survivors to watch, just as I saw my home world annihilated by them. Then I will savor their suffering as I feed on them and make the rest watch as I do it.”

  “You will have your revenge, Bale. Wexil and the rest of the Vishrakath want you to have it. But don’t force us to choose between the situation we’ve created for you and New Bastion. You’re not that important.”

  Bale’s claws dug into the deck.

  “Your armada’s growing.” Tuchilin moved closer to the glass, ignoring the angry Toth overlord. “Are you prepared to assault Earth? With the system’s macro cannons, a head-on assault would be futile. Earth must be destroyed from within. That is why Wexil has Earth and the Ibarras at each other’s throats. Let the enemy weaken itself, then strike. Simple.”

  “And how has Wexil managed this?” Bale asked. “The Ibarras are hidden.”

  “We found one of their worlds,” Tuchilin said. “Not Navarre, as we hoped, but a decent-sized colony. Earth has no choice but to attack. Open warfare will follow and the Ibarras will be flushed out. If our projections on the Ibarras’ strength is correct, they should deal significant damage to Earth before being destroyed.”

  “You would have Earth—not me—kill the Ibarras?”

  “The end result is the same.” Tuchilin clacked his claws in annoyance.

  “The Ibarras were there. With that…thing they used to destroy my world. They are more responsible for the Toth being driven to the edge of extinction than anyone else, and you would deny me this?”

  “Your ego is not our concern, only the forces you command. We estimate it will take less than two years to wipe out the Ibarras. By then, your armada will be of sufficient size to make taking Earth relatively easy. Then the Kesaht will be welcomed onto the galactic stage as heroes. Your involvement needs to remain hidden, for obvious reasons. I cannot say that anyone grieves the Toth’s absence.”

  “I grieve, you fleshy little maggot,” Bale said.

  “Cease your raids and wait for our signal to attack Earth,” the Vishrakath said. “There. My work here is done.” He turned and marched back to the door, but a pair of Toth warriors blocked his path.

  “One last thing before you go,” Bale said. “Earth is about to attack an Ibarra colony?”

  “That’s right. We traced it through—” Tuchilin stopped. The skin around his eyes flushed purple. “It does not matter. We’ll be on our way. Now.”

  Bale’s neural pathways twitched.

  A Toth guard lunged forward and chomped on the head of an armed Vishrakath, swinging the body from side to side and sending the rifle flying. The other ant-like alien barely raised its rifle before a Toth polearm sliced through its arms. The Toth leapt on the Vishrakath and began tearing at its flesh.

  Tuchilin backed away, watching as the Toth devoured his bodyguards.

  Bale’s forelimbs snapped out, grabbed him by the shoulders, and twisted him around. The overlord lifted Tuchilin up, letting him see the brain and neural pathways wriggling inside the tank.

  “I don’t know where it is!” Tuchilin shouted. “Wexil didn’t tell me!”

  “We’ll just have to find out.” A spike-tipped arm rose up from the housing under Bale’s tank. The spike popped open and thin tendrils danced across Tuchilin’s skull.

  “No! If you do this, the Vishrakath will—” He screamed as Bale broke his arms with a pinch from his claws.

  “I don’t need you!” Bale shouted. “The humans will suffer and die at my hand. Mine!”

  The feeder wires stabbed into Tuchilin’s skull and he began convulsing. He kicked and moaned for a moment, then Bale threw the body to his warriors.

  “So…that’s where I’ll find the Ibarras,” Bale said. He walked back to the window, his neural system alive with pleasure, his mind racing with possibilities.

  Chapter 14

  Roland flapped his arms across his chest, then pulled them open wide to warm up his shoulders as he entered the dojo. He caught himself mid-exercise and frowned. Nicodemus and the racks were missing.

  A woman knelt in the middle of the room, her legs hidden beneath the folds of a wide-legged martial-arts uniform. A white canvas gi top clung to her shoulders and folded across her torso. Her head was bowed, hands in a lotus position over her naval.

  Beside each knee was a Templar long sword lying parallel to her body.

  She looked up at him. An ugly patch of scar tissue made up the flesh around her right eye and stretched to her temple and hairline, where a shock of pale skin stood
out from the light-brown hair pulled into a bun. Her right eye was pale, but still focused on him.

  Without the scars, she looked to be in her late twenties, with delicate features. Even with the injury, Roland couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.

  She motioned to the mat just in front of her. Roland shrugged and sat down, mimicking her position but keeping his hands on his knees. His eyes flitted over the two swords and realized that they were sharp, not training mock-ups like he and Nicodemus had used the last time he was there.

  She looked him over. Lenses in the pale eye twisted to focus on him. A cybernetic replacement.

  “Nicodemus is right,” she said, her voice soft and kind and faintly Irish. “You do remind me of him.”

  “And who would that be?” Roland raised an eyebrow. “And who would you be?”

  “I am armor.” She lowered and twisted her head enough for him to glimpse the plugs at the base of her skull.

  “You’re…Morrigan, aren’t you? I had your sword. That’s where you were hurt, wasn’t it? You lost your sword there and the legionnaires gave it to me.”

  “It was mine to give, not theirs,” she said. “I saw iron in you during the fight with the Kesaht. I did not think you were so young. You fight with the fury of an older soul. Gideon has trained you well.”

  “You and Nicodemus knew him?”

  “He never spoke of us? Of his old lance?”

  “Never. Gideon focused on our mission, our training. It never occurred to me that there was more to know…”

  Morrigan brushed a strand of pale hair away from her face.

  “We knew he would take the three of us leaving badly. I wanted him to come with us, but he would never have accepted. I remember the look on his face during that last vid call. That man has no capacity for forgiveness, which serves him well in the armor.”

  “You said three of you. Who’s the last?”

  Morrigan’s lips twitched. The skin around her milky eye crinkled.

  “Does it bother you?” She brushed her fingertips across her scars.

  “No, not at all.” Roland shifted in his seat. “I know someone that can’t get vat replacements. He’s…stronger for it.”

  “The Ibarra Nation has the medical know-how to replace damaged tissue. I could have this taken away,” she said. “But why would I? I earned my scars. To deny them is to deny myself.”

  “Like Gideon,” Roland said as he traced his lance leader’s scars down his own face.

  “You are of Mars. You’ve been to Olympus…is Saint Kallen’s tomb still there?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He frowned. “Why would you think otherwise? Because Templar defected with the Ibarras? That was before I ever got my plugs. Saint Kallen fought and died on Mars. She’s buried there with the memento mori of all those who died on the Xaros world. Why would that ever change? Just because some of you—”

  Morrigan grabbed his hand.

  “You’ve seen her?” Her one green eye looked at him with hope.

  “Once. Tongea took me to the tomb.” Roland looked down at her hand on top of his and almost pulled away. “It was…was…you’ve been?”

  She smiled and nodded slowly.

  “I’ve never been religious,” Roland said, “but Saint Kallen’s statue made me feel something…different. I can’t explain it. Then a drop of water from the ceiling ran down the statue’s face and—”

  Morrigan pulled her hand back and covered her mouth.

  “What?” he asked.

  “If the Saint wept for you…you know what that means.” She frowned, her remaining eye full of emotion.

  “That I’ll die in my armor? That’s just a story.”

  “The last time we saw her,” Morrigan said, brushing her hand across her eye, “she wept for him…and now he’s with her.” Morrigan snatched up a sword and rolled backwards. Momentum carried her to her feet and she stopped in a fighting stance, weapon level with her shoulder and pointed at Roland.

  “Nicodemus says you fight ungrounded. That your footwork is atrocious. Get up. I’ll not let one who’ll bear the cross embarrass it by being sloppy. You’re not leaving this dojo until you meet my standards.”

  Chapter 15

  Admiral Lettow watched the force field over the entrance to his small shuttle bay. The Crucible and Ceres hung just beyond the edge, a thin crescent of Earth in the distance. He knew what was coming, knew—intellectually—that it wasn’t a threat, but his heart was racing and his hands kept brushing past his hip where his sidearm should be.

  A shadow flitted past the open bay. Lettow felt sweat drip down his face as he bent slightly at the knees.

  A gray-black Xaros drone rose up and passed through the force field. The eight stalks bent forward and morphed together by twos. The oval-shaped body shrank and reformed into a human body, fractals swirling over the Keeper’s shell as she stood up. A simple jumpsuit and boots formed over her shell as short blond hair framed a face riven with wrinkles.

  “Hello, Admiral,” Keeper said. “Still not used to this, I see.”

  “I get my orders from High Command through sealed and encrypted channels. That’s what I’m used to,” Lettow said.

  The Keeper walked up to him, her bearing and pace of a much younger woman than her elderly face suggested. She held up a palm and a data chip emerged from it.

  “I’ve got that,” she said. “The Ardennes has been on commo blackout since New Bastion. Any reason to believe there’s been a breach?”

  “We’ve been back for an hour,” Lettow said. “I’ve got the ship on a gunnery drill. If anyone’s screwing around, my chiefs will notice. No breach.”

  “Good. Since your encounter on Oricon, we’ve been screening out anyone that may have been…tainted by the Ibarras. Your fleet was the first place to be cleared. You shouldn’t have any other difficulties for what comes next.”

  “‘Difficulties’? You mean when Ibarra activated sleeper agents and my artillery ships mutinied and opened fire on the Kesaht on Oricon? That kind of ‘difficulty’?”

  “After a thorough investigation, intelligence determined that the Ibarras altered up to fifty thousand procedurals while they were still in the tanks. They’ve been removed from key positions across the system. Your 14th fleet and the 30th are clean,” Keeper said.

  “Fifty thousand? Someone’s going to raise questions. Some spring butt in an important career position gets reassigned to passing out basketballs…it’ll come out.”

  “The president and I know that, but what should we do? Address the entire Terran Union and tell everyone that some of their fellow citizens are unwitting sleeper agents that might turn on them at any moment? I’m not saying we’re French and have a Huguenot situation on our hands, but it won’t be that far off.”

  “A what situation?”

  “Sorry, I don’t sleep and have been reading a lot of history looking for a solution to our situation,” she said. “You and the 30th will lead the assault on the Ibarra colony. As Keeper, I’ve examined the activity through that Crucible gate—minimal. Only a few dozen ships have ever been in and out of there in months.”

  “You’re certain my ships won’t jump in on top of an Ibarra armada? We still don’t know how they escaped us on Oricon,” he said, taking the data chip from her.

  “Your fleets will jump to DE-882, unoccupied space in the neutral zone. From there, you’ll wait until we send a probe through the Crucible in the Ibarra system. It’ll have a few seconds to gather data and get a message back to me. They’ll button up the Crucible after that, but I’ll know if you’ve got enough ships to present overwhelming force.”

  “What do you want done to the colony?”

  The Keeper crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you think?”

  “We show up with enough guns and Marines that they have no chance to beat us in a fight. Get them to surrender without a shot being fired or anyone killed. You’re not sending me there to occupy the system, are you?”

  “N
o. You’re to detain every illegal settler and bring them back to Earth for internment on Mars. Destroy all critical infrastructure.”

  Lettow’s jaw worked from side to side.

  “This is an eviction followed by prison. You think they’ll just run up the white flag and come along willingly? We’re talking about possible civilian casualties, not a straight military engagement.”

  “You’re to use all force you consider necessary,” Keeper said. “There’s no perfect solution, and yes, you’re being rushed into this before the Ibarras’ spies can get this news back and make our job even harder. Earth needs to show Bastion that we’re not in league with the Ibarras, that we’re committed to the Hale Treaty.”

  “How committed are we, Keeper? I read Gideon’s report. I know about the Omega Provision. Exactly how far does President Garret need to go to keep Bastion happy?”

  Keeper’s surface rippled.

  “The Provision hasn’t been ratified by the Senate. The procedurals on that planet are safe.”

  “For now.” Lettow’s face darkened. “How do I convince them to give up without a shot if they think they’re boarding trains to a death camp? Tell me that! How did we ever agree to do this to our own kind?”

  “Calm down, Admiral. I…you’re not the only one that sees things that way. But Earth has her back against the wall. We don’t know how strong or aggressive the Kesaht really are. The Vishrakath are on the verge of turning the rest of the galaxy against us and the Ibarras are not our friends. We need to buy time. Negotiate our way out of the Omega Provision, maybe have it become effective at some date in the future—a date after the Ibarras have been brought under control.”

  “You promise me that any civilians I capture will be safe,” Lettow said. “Military defectors will get their justice through court martial.”

  “You’re putting conditions on your orders?”

  Lettow grabbed the admiral’s stars sewn onto his collar.

  “As an officer in the Terran Union, I swore to uphold the Constitution and the rights secured by that document. I will not deliver human beings to a summary execution nor will I command my ships to do the same,” Lettow said.