by Richard Fox
The rumble of thousands and thousands of feet rose in the distance as a dark tide of thralls advanced toward them at a run.
“Sancti spiritus adsit nobis gratia,” Davoust said, putting one hand on Santos’s armor.
“Not how I planned on dying,” Santos said, “but…we’ll make these Geist remember us.”
The oncoming wave of attackers stopped just beyond the fog. Arms and crude weapons flailed up and down, but they didn’t come any closer.
Santos fired a single bullet from his gauss cannon. A ripple of energy burst from in front of the Geist and the shell ricocheted back, striking the Ark a few feet over Santos’s shoulder.
Ibarrans cursed in Basque and ducked behind the wall.
“Cease. Fire,” Davoust said.
“Hey, now we know there’s a force field. Also, my bad,” Santos said, watching light glow from beneath the Ark’s hull. “That’s new. Not sure if it’s a good new or a bad new.”
The whole planet moved like a wave beneath their feet, and the Geist beyond the force field fell away. Santos looked up and watched as clouds lowered toward him.
“We’re moving?” Davoust stomped on the ground. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”
Nekara’s sky stretched out around them as the Ark ascended higher and higher.
“Brave warriors of the Ibarra Nation,” Stacey said through an open IR channel, “don’t panic. I have this under control.”
****
“Admiral!”
Makarov looked away from the Warsaw’s holo table to the bridge. Her XO was on his feet, a red light growing from the twin rings of pyramids around Nekara and flooding him and the rest of the crew with firelight. The event ended before Makarov could get to her command seat.
“Get me Davoust,” she said. “Try the Lady’s Templar guards again. Anything from the surface!”
She went to the sensor officer and put one hand on the back of her seat. “Change detected from the pyramids?” the admiral asked.
“Everything got overloaded in that…whatever it was,” the sensor officer said, rebooting systems and tapping against her keyboard as progress bars filled far too slowly.
“Give me a telescope from the prow point defenses,” said Makarov as she looked over her shoulder. “XO, ready the Keystone gate. Withdraw all personnel to the construction ships and leave all equipment behind. If we’re about to leave, we’ll need to do so in a hurry.”
“But what about our troops on the ground? Lady Ibarra?” Andere, the executive officer, asked.
“What chance do any of us have if those pyramids just came back online?” She unsnapped a small data slate from her belt and keyed in a code. “Authenticate Fleet Admiral Makarov, Ivana, delta phi 9909. Arm all denethrite charges on the Keystone.”
The sensor officer looked up at her, eyes wide.
“You want to see a thousand of those Geist ships over Navarre?” Makarov asked.
“Negative, ma’am.” The officer touched a screen and a camera feed came up.
The pyramids glowed from within, slowly rotating their apexes away from the planet’s surface and toward the Warsaw.
“Battle stations!” Makarov ran back to the holo table and brought up local space around Nekara. The two rings of Geist ships fluctuated as sensor data trickled in from the rest of the Ibarran fleet. The tiny plots within the holo, each a pyramid several times the size of her Warsaw, stretched away from the planet and toward the Keystone.
A red diamond—an unidentified detection—pulsated over the Ark’s location.
“XO, order the—”
Red energy beams snapped across the prow of her ship and Makarov braced herself against the holo table.
“Damage report!”
“No hits,” the XO called back.
In the holo, error messages appeared over the frigates Biscay and Rutledge. Neither ship responded to Makarov’s hails.
“Warsaw!” The captain of the carrier Victoria appeared in the holo. “We just lost two of our picket ships. Both destroyed in that volley.”
“Then why are any of us alive?” Makarov looked at the last-known location of the ships and found her answer.
“Fleet, this is Makarov,” she said on a wide channel. “The enemy is after the Keystone. Close on the jump gate at best speed. Put your hulls between the gate and the Geist. I believe they won’t fire if there’s a risk of hitting the Keystone.”
She touched another of her ships in the holo.
“Breitenfeld, how long until we can get the hell out of here?”
A timer appeared over the Keystone.
0:21:17
“Too long,” Makarov hissed and ran a time plot from the leading edge of the Geist ships to the Keystone. They had half that time before the enemy reached them.
“Shall we open fire?” her gunnery officer asked.
“Like trying to stop a wave with a lit match,” Makarov said. “Keep all power to the engines.” She set the small slate on the table edge and stared at a pulsing red button. One press and the Keystone—and all hope of ever leaving this system—would be blown to dust.
Mother didn’t waver, she thought. Her fleet couldn’t stop the Xaros, but she fought on. Bought Earth time to get ready for the invasion. If I’m to die for the same purpose…at least I can face her with honor in heaven.
“XO, send the destroyer Kalaris to the gate. They’re to return to Navarre and warn the Nation of what happened here,” she said. “Guns, bring the rest of the fleet about. We’ll do our best to buy the Kalaris time.”
“Aye aye,” Adere said, a knot in his throat.
“Makarov…” Her name came through her helmet speaker, high-pitched and tinny, but there was no new channel open. “Makarov, you must hold true.”
“Who is this?”
“Destroy the Keystone. I will bring us all home.”
Makarov tapped the side of her helmet, unsure if stress was inducing audio hallucinations.
The Geist ships shifted toward each other, like a hand grasping at something.
Makarov zoomed in and found the Ark, trailing jagged rock beneath it like it had been ripped out of the planet. The Qa’resh ship rolled over, and the tips of the shell-like protrusions wavered.
A curtain of pure energy blasted away from the Ark and the holo field scrambled. Makarov spun toward the bridge and her jaw dropped. The attack from the Ark had expanded into a fan thousands of miles across. It angled down, sweeping over half the Geist ships and over the outer edge of Nekara’s surface.
The blast snapped off and Geist ships shone like embers against the night. On Nekara, a slice of the planet was gone, leaving magma exposed, pulsating like a wound.
Makarov crossed herself.
“Destroy the Keystone,” the voice said again. “Now, Makarov! You were not born to follow every single one of your mother’s footsteps.”
“The Geist wouldn’t tell me to destroy the gate,” Makarov said, taking a deep breath before she hit the trigger.
The Keystone exploded outward, sending millions of fragments scattering across the system.
“The Kalaris didn’t make it through the wormhole,” her XO said.
“Just wait.” Makarov went to her command chair and clasped her hands behind her back. She made out the pearl-colored hull of the Ark as it approached. “Our faith in Lady Ibarra is well-placed.”
A white field formed behind the Ark, expanding dozens of miles as they kept pace with the Qa’resh ship. Makarov said a silent prayer as the new jump gate passed over her ship.
Chapter 30
Valdar shook his head, wishing he could wipe the sweat from off his brow.
“Order our Eagles—I mean Shrike—fighters off that Vish rock and back to the Guzman,” he said. “She’s been vulnerable for too long, whatever small craft the ants still have will think she’s an easy target.”
“Aye aye.” Zahar nodded and worked a screen in the holo tank only he could see. The captain’s eyes narrowed as the plots within the
holo began changing. “Admiral…the Vishrakath are moving off. They’re breaking orbit from Mars. Course plots for deep space.”
“They’re running?” Valdar frowned. “That flotilla coming around from Deimos was about to—”
The holo tank went wild with static and Valdar took a step back.
“By the Saint!” a bridge officer shouted.
Valdar turned around and his jaw dropped. The Ark was there, gleaming in pearl and ivory, contrasting with the ruddy red of Mars. A lance of light shot out from the shell tips of the Qa’resh vessels and broke into smaller rays. Each annihilated a Vishrakath vessel. Sparks seemed to fly off the tip of each lance and ray as the aliens were picked off with terrifying speed. After a minute, the Ark went silent.
“Scope’s….clear,” the gunnery officer said. “No active threat ships detected.”
“Oh,” Marc said. “Oh no.”
“You know what that is?” Valdar asked.
“You are in so much trouble.” Marc took off his helmet and tossed it onto the holo table.
Zahar put one hand to the commo suite in his helmet and stared daggers at Valdar.
“Whelp, the jig is up.” Marc looked down and his shell returned to his true self, growing slightly and ripping out of the legionnaire armor. He shrugged off what remained and backed against a bulkhead.
Lift doors opened and armsmen swarmed onto the bridge, their gauss carbines trained on Valdar and Marc.
“Admiral,” Zahar sneered, “you are relieved. Guards, secure them both.”
Armsmen grabbed Valdar and flung him to the deck. He didn’t resist as they cuffed him.
****
Gideon watched the holo over the Ark’s throne as the Ibarran fleet finished off the Vishrakath. In his many years of war, he’d never seen a battle ended so quickly…or persecuted more ruthlessly. The Vishrakath must have lost hundreds of ships; their wreckage would form a small asteroid field near where Ceres had once orbited the sun.
Santos stepped off the disk.
“All troops are inside the Ark,” he said. “Internal air is almost to Earth standard.”
Gideon switched to short-range IR for just the three Iron Dragoons.
“You get vid of the internal layout?” Gideon asked.
“Mission accomplished,” Santos said, tapping a thumb against his forefinger. “Lot of the energy cells went dark. Guess this thing will need a recharge soon.”
“You saw what this thing did—to the Geist, the Vishrakath,” Cha’ril said. “Nothing can stop the Ibarrans now.”
“At least they’re on our side, right?” Santos asked.
Gideon shifted his gaze to the four Templar surrounding Stacey Ibarra and the Aeon on the upper deck.
“What makes you think that?” Gideon asked.
“They just…wiped the Vish and Kesaht fleets attacking Earth. They didn’t have to. The war should be over.” Santos’s suit shifted from foot to foot.
“Did Earth win? Surviving on our knees isn’t what I’d call a victory,” Gideon said.
“The only one controlling this ship is the silver Ibarran,” Cha’ril said.
“I see that too,” Gideon said and clenched his fists within his womb.
“What? What—I’m confused,” Santos said.
“Head down, mouth shut, Santos.” Gideon flexed his hands and a plan formed. “The Ibarrans still have our Strike Marines and all our wounded from the attack on Kesaht’ka. We need to free them. Get them home. We need to behave.”
For now, he thought.
Stacey stood up and the light around the throne dimmed slightly. She made her way down the steps, her Templar in a cordon around her, Trinia following a few steps behind her. The Ibarran leader stopped next to Gideon.
“We meet again,” she said.
“Ibarra.”
“You’re the Union commander, yes? You and your Armor will board the Breitenfeld. I have some business to attend to, then you’ll be taken back to Earth. Agreed?” she asked.
“That ship is Union. It was always Union. We—”
“Are testing my patience,” Stacey said. “Trinia vouches for your conduct. Because of this, I am extending a courtesy. Don’t push it.”
“She will stay with me,” Gideon said. “This is her wish.”
Stacey looked over one shoulder at the Aeon, and the tall alien nodded slowly.
“She and I have some business that we must conclude together. After that, I’ll bring her to you on the Breitenfeld.” Stacey motioned toward the disk. “Go. There’s a shuttle waiting for you all.”
Gideon hesitated. With all four Templars around her…
“You will deliver Trinia to me personally,” Gideon said. “On your honor.”
“You’d accept my word?” Stacey’s shell rippled with light.
“A lot of trust has been offered lately,” Gideon said, and a snarl broke out across his face. He betrayed his emotion within his womb, not through his words.
“Agreed. I’ll bring her to you,” Stacey said and dismissed him with a flick of her hand.
“Dragoons,” Gideon said. Turning his back on them, he went to the disk.
“What are you doing?” Cha’ril hissed at him over a suit-to-suit link. “This is our last chance to—”
“Let it go,” Gideon said. “This is not your concern, Dotari.”
Ibarra’s flush with victory. Power. Gideon thought. She’s overconfident now…and that will make her sloppy. Just have to wait a little bit longer.
Gideon turned his helm to Roland as the disk pulled away and light enveloped them.
Chapter 31
Drool glistened from Charadon’s teeth. The old Toth clicked claw tips together as a timer on the data globe neared zero.
“We’ll clear the horizon soon, master,” he said to Bale. “Full bombardment of…Seoul? That is the first population center in range.”
“How many there?” Screens came up on the inside of Bale’s tank. “Only a few hundred thousand. Shall we demand surrender until we have a better target…Adelaide, perhaps?”
The data globe shimmered and Charadon hacked out a curse. The globe morphed into a giant conch shell, the bottom encrusted with rock.
“What is that?” Bale asked. “Some sort of message from the humans?”
“It’s there.” Charadon pointed a long finger out the forward window. The Ark was squarely between the Last Light and Earth.
Thin rays of light snapped out from the Ark’s shell tips and crisscrossed over the Toth dreadnought. Charadon slunk back, hands covering his face.
“Our ships,” he said. “All our Kesaht escorts are gone.”
“Prepare my escape pod!” Bale practically leaped off the throne and made for a door. “Do…do what the humans did! Set a collision course. Charadon, this is your ship. You should go down with it.”
New rays leapt away from the Ark and the Last Light rumbled with impacts.
The throne exploded with sparks as a nearby energy cannon on the hull overloaded. Charadon found himself in a puddle of yellow Toth blood and saw Bale exit the bridge. He tried to crawl out from under what was left of the throne, but both his hands were gone, replaced by blackened, smoking stumps. He hissed a menial to help, but the smaller Toth flicked its tail and bolted off the bridge, following Bale.
Charadon felt the spine of the Last Light crack under the Ark’s assault, and realized he would follow Bale’s final order. Like it or not.
****
A half-wrecked Toth escape pod lay canted on the Warsaw’s flight deck. Armed and ready legionnaires formed an outer ring around the craft, while Ibarran Armor made up an inner ring. Trinia peeked over Roland’s shoulder as Nicodemus wrenched open a ramp and tossed the garage-door-sized piece of hull to one side.
A Toth menial jumped out of the hole, small claws brandished and tail whipping around furiously. Nicodemus caught it by the neck and broke its spine with a twist of his wrist, then tossed the still-twitching body aside.
“I’m pre
pared to negotiate!” came from within the escape pod.
Nicodemus raised his gauss blaster and stepped back. Bale emerged slowly, three of the four mechanical legs of his tank functioning normally, the fourth catching and sputtering as he crawled out of the pod.
The Toth overlord straightened his legs against the deck, trying to bring his disembodied brain level with Nicodemus’s helm. When he came up almost a yard short, Bale crouched back down, one leg prodding the dead menial.
“I don’t remember that one’s name…” Bale said. “But let’s make a deal, yes? An armistice, perhaps? Yes, yes…a cessation of all hostilities. I’ll need transportation back to Kesaht Prime to make sure everything comes to a complete end. Ending a holy war is just as easy as starting one, in my experience.”
“You are a monster,” Trinia said as she stepped out from behind Roland. “They know what you’ve done!”
“I got carried away,” Bale said, his tendrils writhing within his tank. “After you humans wiped out my race, I thought a little ‘eye for an eye’ was in order. Can you blame me? And look where we ended up! Earth needs a little repair work and the Kesaht can—I can turn their passions elsewhere. Let’s just wipe the slate clean and I’ll—”
A legionnaire stepped forward and removed her helmet. Silver skin and hair shone beneath the deck’s lighting.
“We are at the end,” Stacey Ibarra announced. “Millions are dead because of you, Bale. The Kesaht were no threat to the galaxy until you turned them loose. Trinia told us of the abomination you forced her to create. We know your plan for all of humanity.”
“It wouldn’t have been that bad,” Bale said, backing away as Stacey walked toward him. Nicodemus gripped the upper edge of his tank and stopped him cold. “Remember Nibiru? What old Mentiq had in place? Happy humans! Living and working and—”
“Cattle,” Stacey said. “You would have turned us into cattle to be bred and slaughtered.”
“When you put it that way…but let’s deal with reality. The Kesaht still have their holy war against you. You want to kill me now? The Kesaht won’t stop just because I’m gone. Make me a martyr, you’ve got a long-term problem—one I won’t be able to rein in. Yes? Yes. So send me back and I’ll—”