Ashes Fall (The Ibarra Crusade Book 1)

by Richard Fox

  He looked at Valdar’s empty suit and poked at the hand and arms.

  “The hell? Why’s it empty?” Hoffman lifted the helmet up and snapped his hand back. “Shit. We shouldn’t have come up here. You shouldn’t have come up here.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  Lights snapped on and air billowed out from the edge of the deck. Hoffman pulled up a control screen from the command chair as it flickered to life.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Hoffman said. “Someone remote-accessed the computer core and rebooted the life-support system. Go to the comms station and see if the Echo-niner-niner antenna is active. Move!”

  Ely jumped to comply and came back to the deck without using the mag locks.

  “Gravity’s back too.” Ely glanced at a screen on the bottom of his HUD. Atmospheric pressure was at a quarter of Earth normal and rising. The comms station had been shot up and was a broken mess, but one screen was still working. He swiped fingers from right to left and found the menu he needed.

  “—you hear me!” Masha shouted from their helmets.

  “Yes.” Hoffman tapped the side of his helmet. “We read you loud and clear. We must have tripped something when we came aboard. How long until we’ve got company?”

  “They’re on the way from the security station on Ceres,” Masha said. “And all traffic through the Crucible’s been cancelled.”

  Hoffman raised a fist and let it fall on the back of the command chair.

  “We’ve still got an out. You get to the Crucible and I can open a wormhole. Thirty minutes is the best window I can give you.”

  “The pod won’t make it in time.” Hoffman grabbed Ely and dragged him to the lift.

  “Then you don’t take the pod. They’re looking for the pod. The plan was to get him to Earth, so there’s fuel to get through the Crucible.”

  Hoffman locked his boots on to the lift’s mag line and pointed at Ely. “Deck sixteen. Cemetery number two. Don’t get lost.”

  Ely nodded.

  Hoffman slid down as Ely looked back at the bridge where Valdar should have died, and he vowed to find him if he was still alive. A drone flashed by an open blast shield and Ely jumped onto the mag line and slid after Hoffman.

  “—because there’s a complication with the principal and you don’t know how that’s going to affect him!” Hoffman shouted. “No, I don’t know that for sure and neither do you. What choice? He’s in an emergency vac that’s made of tissue paper and duct tape. But we do this and—of course there’s a choice!”

  Hoffman kicked open the emergency release on a door and swung inside. He reached out and snatched Ely off the mag line, pinning him not so gently against the bulkhead. The passageway was lit by flickering lights, the walls moist with condensation as the void-cold metal heated up.

  “Agreed…we’ll make contact when we’re off the ship. Good luck, Masha. I apologize for all those times I tried to kill you…no, I didn’t think you would. Out.” Hoffman removed his helmet, unsnapped a small box from the speakers, then crushed it with his heel.

  Ely took his helmet off and his sinuses and throat ached from his first painfully cold breath of shipboard air.

  “They’ll track us through the IR. Linking into the ship’s system put our key code in the database.” Hoffman took Ely’s helmet and tossed it down the shaft.

  “Don’t I need that?” Panic grew on Ely’s face as he heard it careen off the walls.

  “Now it’s a decoy for them to chase. There’s another one in the emergency lockers. There’s probably one in the emergency lockers. Stay on my heels until we get to the cemetery. Let’s move.”

  Chapter 17

  Noyan walked around a coffin-sized container, the six fingers of one hand tracing the intricate lines carved into the resin coating. This chamber was deep within her pyramid ship, segregated from her laboratories and any prying eyes that might be watching. A trio of ant-like aliens stood against the wall. Their thoraces and heads were upright, a thin skin over their skeletal frames.

  Humans referred to the Vishrakath as “ants,” a nuisance species on Earth.

  “There was no record of your arrival?” Noyan asked.

  “New Bastion is neutral space; the Geist do not monitor transit through the system, and our hive runs that Crucible.” The three aliens spoke as one. “This item is of cultural significance and was acquired and transported at great expense. Payment in kind is expected.”

  “We lead the war against the Ibarrans. What more can the Geist do for the Vishrakath?” Noyan smiled, revealing double rows of pointed teeth.

  One alien skittered forward, its mandibles twitching rapidly for a moment. Its body shivered, then its skin burst as a Geist ripped away the cocoon of the Vishrakath. The metal strands of the Geist’s body were twisted into a lumpy knot as it fell to the floor, covered in the alien’s viscera. The knot unwound to a humanoid shape, blood boiling off its surface.

  The Geist swung an arm back and a strand locked out into a scythe, neatly decapitating the two Vishrakath.

  “Zegor…I should have known.” Noyan crossed her arms.

  “The Vishrakath are my vassals.” The new Geist shrugged a shoulder and his body expanded to the same height as Noyan. “You think I would miss when an item like this was smuggled out from under my watch?”

  “I did, yes.” Noyan’s lips twitched. “You were always interested in more corporeal pursuits than spiritual.”

  “Blood games have their appeal. You should see the predators I’ve Turned from Vishrakath planets.” Zegor put a hand on the casket and his fingers elongated over the top. “What do you want with this, Noyan? You already have one.”

  “Not like this one. The Apostate’s defenses have proven…formidable, but I’m in possession of something unique and powerful that can aid us,” Noyan said.

  “Which you haven’t shared with Pallax or the rest of the Exalted.” Zegor wagged a finger in front of his face. “What are you playing at?”

  Noyan took a step back.

  “Don’t,” Zegor snarled. “You didn’t detect me in my flesh puppet; what do you think I brought with me in the other bodies?”

  “I would have sensed more of you.” Noyan narrowed her eyes.

  “Then try and kill me and find out how right you are.” Zegor’s eyes grew brighter. “I can be quite reasonable, Noyan. So long as I get my share of the prize.”

  “You don’t have the courage to take the same risks as me…but you might prove useful. Observe.” Noyan flicked a hand to one side and a door in the floor opened. The Qa’resh probe fragment lifted up.

  “My my.” A forked tongue slipped out of Zegor’s mouth and flicked in the air. “All the Qa’resh probes in the galaxy were destroyed…with the exception of the one the Ibarrans stole from us on the Ark.”

  “This one came from beyond the galaxy. Providence from our Lord Malal. Now open the case and let’s test my hypothesis of what this artifact can still do,” Noyan said.

  Zegor ripped the top of the casket off. Inside was the tall silver body of a Vishrakath. Frost formed against its shell, occluding the light reflecting off of it.

  “The Qa’resh gifted only one of these to the races that joined with them in their fight against the Xaros,” Noyan said. “They’re nearly indestructible, and the Xaros kept them for study when they destroyed the old Bastion. The Vishrakath recovered some when they built a new Crucible in the Bastion system. They doled out these ‘Ambassador bodies’ to their allies, in some attempt to regain the mantle of leadership the Qa’resh abandoned at the end of the Ember War.”

  “Some of the Synod wanted to demand them as tribute. But you were with the vote against. Why do you want one now?” Zegor asked.

  “They were useless to us before now.” Noyan held up a palm and the probe fragment floated to her. “Now we can adopt Malal’s flesh, be more perfect in his sight.”

  “And?” Zegor snapped. “Our bodies are as close to the Qa’resh technology as we could fashion. What
else is there?”

  “The humans are a sacrilegious lot, but they have their charms. They have a saying, ‘tough nut to crack.’ My ability to interface with the fragment is limited….the Ambassador bodies were designed to flow through the probes. With this,” she stroked the silver Vishrakath in the casket, “I’ll have the tools to crack one nut in particular.”

  Zegor’s tongue flicked again.

  “Let’s begin.”

  Chapter 18

  Masha slipped out of the computer stacks and brushed dust off her utility uniform. She reached behind a rack and stretched deep into a recess, scraping her wrist against a metal corner until her fingers grasped a cloth loop.

  She pulled a leather bag out and unzipped it. Inside was a rather normal-looking stylus and a flat-blade dagger with a thin handle. She slipped the stylus into a slot on her sleeve and put the bag into a cargo pocket on her hip, open just enough to get at the weapon within.

  She touched a small case of pills hidden in her bra then shook her head.

  “I should do this clearheaded.” She fluffed her hair and walked out, putting a wiggle in her hips and a smile on her face as she went over to a coffee station. A dull-looking Commissariat guard looked her over, his eyes lingering right where Masha wanted.

  She bent over the coffee pot and kicked one hip out to divert the guard’s attention as she poured a cup, then unsnapped her left thumbnail and poured a few white crystals into the coffee. She added powdered cream and went up to the guard.

  “The watch commander sent me out for this. You mind opening the door back up?”

  “Commissar Tolbert said no visitors,” the guard rumbled.

  “Well, maybe he wants some coffee too, sugar. You know what kind he likes?”

  The guard’s heavy jowls shook from side to side.

  “Let me go ask. Then I can make you some too.” She winked at him.

  “One coming in.” The guard hit a key and the slight depression of the door crumbled away from a red centerline. The Xaros construction of the Crucible always bothered her with how eerily it functioned. The miles-long thorns that made up the gate would shift and reposition themselves during wormhole junctions. Any crew not safely in the command nodules risked being lost in a labyrinth that could shift again before they reached someplace with food and water.

  The Geist forbade rescue efforts for anyone lost on the Crucible. The gates ran on a schedule and they wouldn’t upset timetables just for one or two lost souls.

  Masha knew he was staring at her rear as she entered the Crucible’s control room. The dozen technicians had their heads down and were doing their best not to get noticed as Terry squared off against a male Commissar in his deep-green overcoat and glossy black boots. The Commissar’s pistol was holstered, though the flap was unbuttoned.

  “—because the transfer order was signed by Administrator Kutcher, that’s why!” Terry wagged a slate next to his face. “If we get backed up here, it causes delays through the entire Crucible network. It affects the war!”

  Masha slipped the stylus out of her sleeve and held it along the seam as the door reformed behind her. The door mashed against the stylus and she twisted the end cap hard to one side. A dull glow pulsed a few inches around where the device was embedded, growing very slowly.

  “My presence here will absolve you of any repercussions,” Commissar Tolbert said, clasping his hands behind his back. “There’s a security situation that Exalted Noyan is personally concerned with. I do hope that I won’t have to tell her that you interfered with our efforts.”

  “These orders are from the Geist?” Terry sputtered. “Why didn’t you say so? I’ll have the Alameda adjust course and go into a holding orbit around Ceres.” The watch commander pressed his hand into a biometric reader and a command field materialized in the holo. He entered a command and the Crucible appeared. The great thorns slowed to a stop and the course of the oncoming troop transport shifted to one side.

  “Your attention to the Geist’s war efforts is to be commended.” Tolbert smiled. “But remember that the Commissariat always acts in the name of the Geist, Commander.”

  “Yes, sir, always.” Terry held out a hand to Masha as she handed it over. “Took you long enough. At least this is still warm.” He took a sip and frowned. “There’s cream, but it’s still so bitter.” He took another sip. “How old is the…uck…pot?”

  Terry set the cup down and put a hand to his throat. Masha put a hand to her mouth and gasped, covering her smile.

  “Commander, are you well?” Tolbert asked.

  Terry wheezed and slapped at the holo table. Tolbert reached out to steady him. The rest of the command center staff perked up from their workstations like groundhogs.

  Masha slipped the dagger out of her cargo pocket and reached back. She slammed the blade into Tolbert’s temple and he seized up. Masha jammed her hip against his back and held him up as she slathered blood spurting from the wound against her palm and fingers.

  She drew Tolbert’s pistol and aimed it at Dershowitz at the communication station. She shot her between the eyes and the woman fell back with a yelp. Tolbert fell like a tipped mannequin as Masha pushed him aside. She turned the pistol on the pair of graviton computation technicians and killed them both with headshots.

  “Help! Help!” The surviving command center crew were at the only exit, where the stylus was still embedded and the eggshell-white color in the basalt-colored material had fractured into an ugly spider web across the door.

  Hitting the button on the controls to open the door was useless, as the thermite charge in the stylus burned hot enough to damage the alien material of the door, and the Crucible’s self-repair functions took primacy over all other tasks.

  One of the techs grabbed at the nub of the stylus and howled as his hand burst into flames.

  Masha shot the one with the hot hand and put the two bullets in the larger of the remaining men. She stuffed the weapon with one bullet left into her waistband and wiped the Commissar’s blood on Dershowitz’s shoulder.

  “Do I have your attention?” Masha announced. The survivors at the door crouched behind workstations and didn’t answer. “Every last one of you is a collaborator. You kept this Crucible open as slaves came through and the Geist sent warships out to fight the Crusade. You’re going to get what you fucking deserve.”

  “Please!” someone squeaked. “Please, we didn’t have a choice.”

  “You took this position for an extra stack of ration coupons and an air-conditioned studio apartment, Janice. You told me that several times.” Masha went to Terry, who’d turned very blue and was barely breathing.

  “You stay over there and don’t bother me and I won’t kill you.” Masha put one boot to the dead Commissar’s head and braced as she wrenched the knife out. “Any of you count how many shots I took? Fuck around and find out how many I’ve got left.”

  “Masha, what are you doing?” Janice peeked over her cover. “We know Terry’s a scumbag, but don’t take it out on us.”

  “Oh, they don’t like you.” Masha patted Terry’s cheek and sat him up. She stuck one leg against his back, then flopped his hand into the biometric reader. “That poison came from a particularly nasty reptile native to Navarre. It’s just potent enough to keep you flexible and alive for an hour. The brain damage is rather permanent.”

  Control screens came up and Masha dialed in a code. She felt the Crucible re-shuffle its thorns through the floor as a progress bar filled slowly. The survivors were in a heated discussion, and she picked out the word “terrorist” several times.

  Thumps knocked against the door and ashen hunks fell off. The frame glowed and shrank slightly as more material was fed into the damaged area for repairs.

  “Hurry up, Hoffman.” Masha mussed Terry’s hair and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “In case you were wondering, yours is pretty pathetic. There’s no such thing as a ‘good size.’ And I know you’re sleeping with that harlot in shipping.”

  Chapt
er 19

  Hoffman ran down a corridor, his breath fogging instantly in the cold air. The Breitenfeld’s lighting was intermittent, strobing against the deck and bulkheads. Ely caught glimpses of horror—wide blood streaks and red dabs of melting slush from where frozen blood had landed when gravity returned and the temperature rose.

  The smell of copper and ozone grew stronger and stronger the deeper they went into the ship, like an infected wound with the bandage removed.

  Hoffman slid to a stop at a blast door cutting off the passageway. He put a palm against the metal and ran it down small cracks in the paint.

  “What…” Ely gasped for breath and bent forward, his elbows on his knees, “…why’d we…stop? Not that I mind.”

  “We’re in the outboard corridor,” Hoffman said, rapping knuckles against the blast door. “The ship should’ve dropped all blast-control measures when it came back online. This stayed shut because the hydraulics are damaged or because there’s raw void on the other side. Surface is bowed out slightly. No echo from the other side.”

  “Just check the environmental sensors.” Ely reached for a control pad, but Hoffman grabbed him by the wrist.

  “This ship is a tomb,” Hoffman said. “You access any system and it’ll—”

  There was a pitter-pat against the hull as something scrambled over the other side of the bulkhead from them. Hoffman shoved Ely back and fumbled with his helmet as he raised his gauss rifle.

  “Shit,” Hoffman whispered. “They brought drakes.”

  “I’m going to assume that’s bad.” Ely backed against the bulkhead and his leg bumped into a metal cabinet bolted low on the wall. He whacked the door with his heel and it creaked open. Empty.

  “That’s the fourth emergency locker that’s got nothing in it,” Ely said. “Should be void hoods and air tanks and—”

  “The last team that was on here reported the ship had been picked clean.” Hoffman led Ely down a small corridor lit only by the glow of door controls. “Which was good news. Tomb robbers don’t waste their time on empties.”