by Richard Fox
+I am Armor.+
Ely rolled his eyes. “Are you an AI construct or something? Do you have a name?”
+I am Armor.+
“Aaah,” Ely said in frustration. He flexed his hands and feet, then touched the name on his suit. “Ghost…Elias, he redlined and was never able to leave his suit again. I can get out, right?”
+Back in the old Corps, we took ‘death before dismount’ seriously.+
“Ghost.”
+You can leave the suit, don’t worry. But I don’t recommend it until you’re someplace safe for your crunchiness.+
“Why did they make you? Does Armor not need plugs anymore?” Ely rubbed the back of his head against the collar, feeling where the neural link would have gone.
+I’m an auxiliary. Armor spend years learning the finer points of being. I feel your will and turn it into the commands the suit reads. In a way, I am the plugs. From what Trinia told me, I’m a very rare system. When I was called out of the darkness…it took a toll on the Lady.+
“Weird way to create an AI.”
+I’m no AI. I am Armor. Hard part’s coming up. I blow the shield and then you flip feet-down and blow the last of the jet pack’s charge. Savvy?+
“Isn’t…isn’t the pack damaged?”
+A bit. But if we don’t try, you’ll find out that your cocoon can crack just like an egg if it hits with enough force. We’re in gravity’s hands now, and she is a harsh mistress. Mark in three…two…mark!+
The heat shield ripped off and Ely hit the air like it was a wall. He shot an arm out and caught enough drag to flip around. The city below was alive with explosions and energy bolts stabbing back and forth. Smoke rose from scattered points, tall signals of continued death and destruction.
The spot the pilot gave them was too far away to reach and Ely picked what looked like an empty spot close to the fighting. He snapped his legs straight and the jet pack fired up, a single column of blue-white plasma so hot, his left heel felt like it had been bitten off.
“Ah!” He shifted his left leg to one side and his descent turned into a wobble.
+No, not like that! Get your orientation right!+
Ely veered to the right, overcompensating and moving even farther from his intended landing spot. He flew through a cloud of smoke and straight toward a blasted-out high rise. The jet pack un-bolted from his back and took off like a firework. Ely hit the building and crashed through glass and two floors then burst out the other side. He smashed against the angled roof of the next building over and landed on a car, flattening it to the ground.
The Armor was still, one arm bent badly at the shoulder joint.
+Ely…I know you’re conscious. Get. Up.+
“I’m waiting for the road to collapse into the sewer.” Ely raised his head and the HUD fizzled in and out. He rolled off the car and smacked against a dusty street. His right arm jerked back and forth in its socket and that hand moved of its own volition when he tried to brace it against the ground.
His vision swam and an ache grew from his spine.
+Stop. Stop!+
Ely’s suit locked up and the pain subsided.
+Don’t try to move damaged parts of your suit. It creates a neural discordance that’ll slag your connection and you’ll redline. I’m applying a nerve block…one second.+
Ely’s right arm went numb. He reached over within the cocoon and gave it a shake. No sensation at all.
+Good. Now don’t take any more damage, deal?+
Ely felt the suit again and he got to his feet. This part of the city was quiet, but the sounds of weapons fire and muffled explosions carried with the breeze. The high rise had a fresh—Armor-sized—hole and the shingles he’d bounced off looked like they belonged to a church.
Ely concentrated on the small antenna on his helm and a comms menu unfolded on his HUD. He accessed a radio frequency when the whole menu blinked off.
+What are you doing? Broadcasting in the open is how you get shelled. This is a war zone. All Crusaders will be on short-range IR and bouncing off relays.+
“Then how do we find them? This city looks like it’s already dead.”
+You hear that?+
Targeting systems came up and direction/distance arrows appeared with each explosion and heavy snap of weapons fire.
+Charge to the sound of gunfire. Default orders that have held true since Napoleon.+
“Should I do it with one arm and no weapons?”
+Didn’t say they were good default orders. But do you have a better idea?+
Ely started forward, his damaged heel making him limp until the Ghost adjusted something in the knee and ankle servos. The city felt smaller, like when he’d gone back to an old kindergarten classroom and noted the disparity the years created in his memories.
“You think Stacey Ibarra’s going to be here?” he asked.
+I hope not. This place is too dangerous for her. Not that she’s one to avoid danger.+
“You sound like you’ve met her.” Ely snapped his optics toward a rustle in an alleyway. Sensors pulled in data and he could see through a wall. What looked like a hairy armadillo scampered away from a dumpster.
+Once. Briefly.+
“My father didn’t like to talk about her. Said she didn’t deserve what happened.” Ely looked for spots to take cover as the sound of fighting grew stronger, but being in a fifteen-foot-tall suit didn’t leave him many options.
+We’d be lost without her. Geist would have the whole galaxy by now.+
“And who are these Geist? What do they want?”
+Eyes front.+
Ely’s sensors went hazy, identifying hostile targets across a wide boulevard that appeared for a split second then disappeared with an error code. A bullet ricocheted off his thigh and Ely winced with phantom pain. More shots blew out glass in the cars around him and sprang off his Armor.
+Take cover. Building at our three.+
Ely ducked, holding his working arm up to protect his helm, and he broke through a redbrick wall. He was in an empty foundry, wrecked 3D printers spread across the work floor.
“Rook rook!” echoed around him.
+Those things.+
Shadows moved around the windows, hunched-over shapes with wide shoulders. The ceiling cracked open and tiles fell at Ely. He bent his arm up and caught a heavy weight against his forearm. He held an alien aloft, its wide face gray and white eyes bulging. It had no neck, a blunt snout, and a flat nose. Fragments of armor and small totems of bone and glass were fastened haphazardly to a dark under-suit.
The alien had a heavy pistol in one hand, which it struggled to point at Ely’s face as it fought to hold on to his arm.
+Kill it! Kill it!+
Ely slammed the alien into the ground and it bounced hard, bones shattered.
“Rook rook!”
More Rakka flowed into the building, swarming over Ely, trying to take him down with sheer weight and volume. Ely kicked one off and it hit a support beam head-on and slid down, leaving a streak of blood. He stomped down, feeling the crunch beneath his boots. Swinging his arm as wide and as hard as he could, he felt impacts with each swing.
An alien ran up the back of another and jumped at Ely. It grabbed him by either side of his helmet and bit at his optics. Ely slapped a massive hand on the back of its head and flipped it back, snapping its neck like a chicken.
A low horn blast hit the building, shaking dust from the walls. The Rakka pulled back, snarling and baring teeth at him.
“You better run!” Ely pointed at one then swung his finger to another. “I-I’ve got enough for all of you!”
+Turn your speakers on next time. They didn’t hear you.+
The Rakka retreated from the building and Ely felt a dull vibration through his boots.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Ely stepped aside as the vibrations shook parts of the roof loose and sent them falling down.
A tall shadow appeared on the nearest wall, but there was no light source…or
person to cast it. Ely backed away as a gray humanoid stepped through the wall and into the shadow. It was several feet taller than Ely, its surface made of smoke that solidified into dense fractals around long lines of gold that pulsed with glyphs. Smoke wafted off the face, revealing a handsome visage with a cruel smile carved into one side of the mouth.
Three more of the gray-armored beings stepped into the building, forming a square around Ely.
“My my…” The first tilted his head slightly to one side. “How did this get here?” A golden line broke from the path across his chest and ran up his chin, then circled blank eyes in an infinity shape. The line slithered back into his mouth and vanished.
A shove from behind sent Ely stumbling forward.
“Ghost?” Ely whispered, unsure if his speakers were on.
+Geist.+
“The imitator sends this to fight?” The first caught Ely by the chin of his helm and held it like it was in a vise. “Perhaps this is a baby suit. Has the Crusade run out of food for their primitive little toys?”
Ely tried to pull away, but he was stuck. He beat at the Geist’s arm and accomplished nothing. The Geist lifted Ely off the ground then glanced at the name on the Armor.
The Geist’s face shifted momentarily to anger, the features becoming more alien. It threw Ely aside and sent him sliding across the ground, through a printer, and to the feet of another Geist.
“You think you can insult Malal like that?” the first asked. “We won’t give you the honor of being Turned. Rip him apart then crack his shell. I want to look into his eyes before I tear the plugs from his brain.”
The Geist standing over him pinned Ely to the ground with one foot. Another grabbed him by the ankles and pulled his legs taut.
The ground pounded against Ely’s helm and the Geist looked at the nearest factory wall.
Bricks went flying as a shield broke through. Black Armor charged into a Geist and sent it flying. White ripples of energy coursed over the round shield as the Armor slammed it into the Geist at Ely’s feet.
The Armor was bigger than Ely’s, bulkier at the legs and shoulders, the helm fashioned like a knight’s and with a Crusader cross embossed across the face.
The first Geist slapped hands together overhead then sliced them at the Armor. A scythe of green light struck the shield and dissipated into shrinking motes of light.
The Black Knight slapped the side of a leg where a hilt was locked to the metal and flicked the guard away. Segments of crystal snapped out, surrounded by a dark wire lattice. The white energy on the shield leapt to the sword, and the Knight swung an expert cut into the Geist’s exposed neck.
The edge cleaved through the Geist. It froze in place, cracks spreading from the damage through its entire body. It collapsed into rubble like an ancient statue giving way to time.
The Knight didn’t linger over the victory. He twisted around and ducked beneath his shield as another Geist thrust a hand at him and a green lance struck the shield, beating the Knight down.
The white light leapt from the sword back onto the shield and the Knight charged forward, the Geist’s lance breaking into an umbrella of fading light over it. The Knight rushed the shield into the Geist and lifted it up and over him, dumping it to the ground. He brought the sword back and the glow jumped again as he swung it through the Geist, bisecting its head from ear to ear.
A Geist brought its hands to one side then swept them across its body. Rubble and machinery came alive, forming into a wave that came down on the Black Knight and coalesced into a cage.
The Knight tossed the glowing sword at Ely and it flared as it bounced against the floor. The Geist was focused on crushing the Black Knight and didn’t see Ely snatch up the sword.
Needles of pain ran up Ely’s arm, and the sword shook like it was trying to buck out of his hands. He pointed it at the Geist and lined it up like it was a rifle. The light in the blade shot off and obliterated the Geist. Its arms hung in the air for a split second, attached to nothing, then fell to the ground. The legs stayed in place as they crumbled.
The last Geist crawled out of the machinery the Black Knight had knocked it into against the wall, its hair a wild mane of red light. It raised its hands up and lightning crackled from the fingers.
A glowing sword stabbed through the wall and impaled the Geist. Its face turned up in a silent scream, then it collapsed into sand and stones. The killing sword stayed for a moment, then withdrew.
The sword in Ely’s hand had deactivated, the crystal dull and cold.
The Black Knight kicked a printer housing away and went to Ely. The Armor held a hand out to Ely and he gave the sword over, hilt-first. The Knight turned the sword tip down, then bent a knee in prayer. The crystals pulsed with light.
“Was I not supposed to do that?” Ely got up slowly. “Because I don’t know how I did it. I swear. Sorry?”
The Knight remained in prayer.
“Ghost?” Ely tapped his helm.
+He heard you. Just be silent a moment. That can’t be him…+
The Black Knight raised his chin as the sword glowed. He twisted the weapon and the light ran up his arm and behind his back. The blade collapsed back into the hilt and he snapped it to mag locks on his leg. He stood up, definitely taller than Ely’s suit. The Knight held a hand to the name and the iron heart.
“Elias?” he asked. He sounded middle-aged and exhausted.
“Well, yes, but actually no,” Ely said. “Ely…Hale. I came from Terra Nova and—”
“You’re damaged.” The Knight touched Ely’s shoulder and tiny drones came out of his forearm housing. Thin servo arms unfolded and joined the drones around the non-functioning servos.
“Thank you for…” Ely looked at the pile of dust that remained of the Geist that had tormented him. “I have to find Stacey Ibarra. I brought something from Terra Nova for her and my father—Ken Hale—he needs her to help me. I need her to help me. There’s this—”
The Knight held up a finger.
“We need to get back to my lines,” the Knight said. “My lance found a way that doesn’t go through as many Rakka or Shi-rai.” The drones and servos returned to their housings.
“Who are you?” Ely touched the back of his helm with his now-functional arm. “Because this thing in my head keeps saying—”
“I am Armor.”
Ely slumped a bit.
“But you can call me Marshal Roland Shaw, commander of the Lady’s 2nd Crusade here on Aachen.” Roland beat a fist against his chest. He looked at the stenciled name and insignia on Ely’s. “Never thought I’d see this suit again…I heard a rumor of a mission on Earth. You…must have a ghost. Not plugs.”
“That’s right.” Ely nodded.
“Who’s in there with you? Aignar?”
“What’s an ‘Aignar’?
+Tell him ‘always ready,’” Ghost said.
“Always ready?” Ely raised his hands in confusion.
Roland nodded.
“Come with me.” He pointed through the hole he’d made, where three more suits of dark, battle-damaged Armor waited for them in the street.
Chapter 22
Roland led Ely through ruined city blocks at a jog, which in their Armor was faster than Ely could have ever managed on foot. The Marshal and his lance formed compass points around Ely. No one spoke to him.
A pair of Shrikes roared overhead and a fireball rose up a few blocks away, the blast wave shattering what little glass remained in the buildings around them. There was no sign of anyone who once lived there, but dead Rakka and other bodies were crumpled against walls and sidewalks.
“Ghost, did I do something wrong? They’re so quiet…” Ely said.
+Crusaders. You’re lucky they haven’t ripped you out of your pod and taken this antique as a new shrine. They’re like that.+
“Wait. What? Since when is there even a ‘crusade’? Dad told me about the Templar order in the Armor Corps. Did it get more popular or something?”
&
nbsp; +They’re just the way Stacey Ibarra wants them. Even the ones that she didn’t pump out of the procedural tubes.+
“Here.” Roland pointed to a tall garage, where soldiers with the same Crusader cross on their visors as the Armor had formed a perimeter. A garage door rolled up and there was a hole the size of a car in the concrete. A Dotari in goggles stood up from a cupola of a big piece of machinery jutting out from one side of the gap.
“Oh, they’re not all bad?” Ely asked through his speakers.
The Dotari’s quills bristled and the alien sat down in the machine. A hatch closed over him.
“Don’t piss him off.” Roland jumped into the hole. “The Oath are the best tunnelers in the galaxy.”
Ely hesitated at the opening, but below was a space almost eight yards across. His mind recognized the drop as dangerous to him outside Armor and he wasn’t willing to drop in.
+Move.+
His suit stepped off and Ely fell, arms pinwheeling as control came back to him. He landed facedown in a pile of rock chips and dust.
“You’re right,” an Armor said, the voice female and Irish. “This one has two minds in there.”
Ely got up and brushed himself off. They were in a tunnel without lights, pitch-black ahead of them, a digging machine with the faded painting of a pastel-colored snail with eye stalks behind them. Drills and crushing tools formed a wreath around the machine.
“You mind? You’re embarrassing me in front of the Knights,” Ely said to the ghost.
+That leprechaun was about to kick you in the hole if you waited another second. She’s just as bad as the rest.+
“Why don’t you like them?”
No answer.
“Ely, travel config.” Roland tapped the side of his legs, then plates on his thighs unhinged and treads snapped out. Hydraulics in his hips and waist extended and the treads fell forward onto the ground.