Ferrum Corde

by Richard Fox

  “Nicodemus.”

  The armor put one foot against a leg joint on Bale’s tank and pried the limb away, tipping Bale over. Nicodemus ripped the other legs off and tossed them over his shoulder, then put a sabaton on the tank to keep it from rolling away.

  “The Kesaht are tearing themselves apart right now,” Stacey said. “Their fleets have pulled out of Union space. Every ship that makes it back to their home system joins in the new civil war…and the side that sees you as a savior is losing. Badly.”

  “This is madness!” Bale shrieked. “I am the last of the Toth! I’m an endangered species. Think of what the rest of the galaxy will do when they hear of this murder. This xenocide. Don’t you have regrets for what you did to my planet? I’m a second chance! Turn over a new leaf, Ibarra.”

  “The only thing I regret is not wiping every last one of you out the first time,” Stacey said, removing her legionnaire gauntlets and dropping them to the deck. She flexed her silver fingers against each other.

  “You had a chance, Bale,” she said. “You know why I chose to sacrifice your people to win the war against the Xaros. The Toth were a scourge on the galaxy. Slavers. Murderers. Your entire species was dedicated to feeding overlords like you…getting your fix through new and different minds to consume. And when you had the chance to turn away from all that…you proved irredeemable.”

  “A trial! I deserve a trial. Humans love justice, don’t they? I’ll need a barrister and we need a neutral race to serve as a judge—”

  “You’re the last of the Toth.” Stacey looked back to the Aeon. “Others in your place chose to do good works with the time left to them. Trinia?”

  “Do it,” Trinia said.

  “Do what?” Bale’s brain swam from side to side in the tank. “This is insane! You can’t do this to me!”

  Stacey bent over, her face even with Bale’s eye stalks. “The Toth believe hell is a cold…cold place,” she said. “If only my body could spit.”

  She slapped her bare hands against Bale’s tank and frost crept across the surface.

  “There’s no need for this,” Bale said as his neural system moved to the bottom of the tank. A tendril poked at the ice crystals forming in the surrounding fluid. “You can’t kill me! I’m the last of the Toth. Don’t let me—it’s getting cold in here…Okay, you’ve made your point! Let me repent! I’ll be your slave, do whatever you want if you—”

  “I’m giving you a chance to die with dignity,” she said. “Though this is what I expected.”

  “You do this, you’ll be worse than I am! Humans would have lived…” Bale’s words came slower. Tendrils pushed his brain off the tank wall and danced around as ice nipped at the ends. “Pleassssss…”

  “I’ve learned to accept a number of things about myself,” Stacey said, peering closer into the tank as the fluid grew opaque with ice.

  The Toth’s brain bumped against the glass next to her face and stopped moving. Ice squealed as it solidified the neural tissue.

  Stacey pulled her hands away with a snap.

  “Nicodemus? Would you mind?” She took a step back.

  The armor lifted his sword high over his head and swung it down like an axe chopping into a felled tree. The tank shattered, spilling chunks of ice and Bale’s frozen remnants across the deck and around Stacey’s feet.

  “Satisfied?” she asked Trinia.

  The Aeon gagged for a second then nodded furiously.

  Stacey picked up a broken piece of Bale’s ornate goldwork that had broken off the tank and tossed it to a bodyguard.

  “There is a Karigole aboard the Breitenfeld. See that he gets this with my compliments. Now, to Earth. Time to set things right with the Terran Union.”

  Chapter 32

  President Garret hurried down the cramped hallway. His dress shirt was nearly soaked through with sweat and he badly needed one of the pills rattling around in a coat pocket. He stopped at a vault door guarded by a pair of Rangers.

  “Everything okay, Mr. President?” a Ranger asked.

  “I’ll tell you after this,” Garret said, smoothing his hair and doing his best to straighten out his suit. “Open it up.”

  There was a clang and the door rolled to one side. In the vault was a small box with a lit projection lens on a wooden stool. Stacey Ibarra stood in front of the lens, her shadow on the wall. Garret stepped inside and closed the vault.

  “Lady Ibarra,” Garret said, flopping his hands against his legs, “I suppose thanks are in order.”

  “You ‘suppose.’”

  Garret sighed. His breath fogged and he noticed a distinct chill in the air. “Your fleet arrived in time to keep Mars from falling,” he said. “Then your new…ship? Is that what it is? Your new ship put an end to the siege, so I—”

  “Now my Ark is over Earth and you’re worried I’m going to turn this planet into a cinder,” she said as light from the lens played across her chrome surface.

  “There’s no reason for that! There are a billion people here who—”

  “You’re right.” Stacey held up a finger. “There’s no reason for me to punish Earth for what you’ve done.”

  “What I’ve done? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Relations between the Ibarra Nation and the Union were strained, surely, but—”

  “Do you know what I did to the last worm that sniveled and squirmed at my feet?” Stacey took a step toward Garret and the chill grew stronger.

  Garret did a double take at the box then looked to Stacey as she stepped out of the light and grabbed him by the wrist. He yelped as his flesh began to freeze. Stacey put a finger to his chest and pushed him back into the wall.

  Garret reached for the panic button on his belt.

  “Don’t,” she said, wagging the finger at him. “Let’s not ruin your sterling reputation for grace under fire. We need to get some issues worked out between us. Do you want to talk or do you want to piss your pants?”

  “Talk,” Garret said, his voice going an octave too high, and he cleared his throat. “Talking is always good.”

  “Something has…awoken,” Stacey said. “Something ancient and terrible. They’re called the Geist, and I don’t know when they’ll get here, but they’re coming. For you. For me. For every soul in this galaxy. You must reopen the procedural farms. You must rebuild your fleet. Your armies. All of it must be stronger than ever.”

  “We can’t just…do that,” Garret said. “The Hale Treaty—”

  Stacey grabbed the projection box and hurled it at Garret. It exploded against the wall behind him.

  “Fool! You kept to that damn treaty and the Vishrakath took advantage of your stupidity and weakness. You will not survive the Geist unless you restart the tubes. I slowed them down, but I don’t know for how long.”

  “Bastion!” Garret said, brushing bits of plastic off his shoulders. “Bastion will never go along with that. You think they’ll believe some Ibarran boogeyman is the reason we just abandoned a treaty that we spent so much political capital to keep in place? Maybe you can convince them.”

  “I won’t have to,” Stacey said. “My next stop is Bastion and I’m bringing a very large, very fast comet with me. I’ll aim it at that pathetic city and give them hours to get off world. They will see me in my Ark, a horrible and awful god, and I will tell them that human space—all human space, Ibarran and Union—is off-limits. Any incursion by any race, any attack, and that race will face my Ark—my Ark that doesn’t need the Crucible gates. I am out of mercy.”

  “If there’s some new threat coming, won’t we need the other—”

  “No!” Stacey backhanded the quantum projector and smashed it into fragments. “Bastion is corrupt. The rest of the galaxy thinks we are the enemy. We must divorce ourselves from them, let them fight amongst themselves and learn that we are not the threat. By the time the Geist reach them…they will be ready to fight beside us.”

  “The Senate will never go along with this,” Garret said. “We have a long-st
anding relationship with—”

  “I’m not asking,” Stacey said, cutting him off. “I need a strong Union as my ally against the Geist. I will accept a conquered Earth fighting under my orders.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Garret sneered. “Your soldiers are still human. They won’t do it.”

  “They are mine, you weakling. They are all mine. Do you want to test my resolve? Do you want to see the full power of the Ark?”

  Garret wiped cold sweat from his face. “You’re insane. We’re not your slaves. No matter what doomsday weapon you’ve found.”

  “I only ask you to act in your own self-interest. In your Union’s interest. I will ensure the Ibarra Nation will endure the coming darkness. It is better if the Union is an ally in that fight and not fodder for the Geist. Reopen your procedural crèches. Rebuild your defenses. If you do not act quickly…I will.”

  Garret’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “You don’t want to see me again, Garret. You won’t like how that ends. Now…we have some business to take care of.”

  “More?” Garret chuckled. “You want the Union to break off from the galaxy and prepare for a war against some phantom mena—”

  “Saint Kallen,” Stacey said, interrupting him again and putting a hand to her hip. “I’m taking her bones to Navarre. Her legacy belongs to the Ibarra Nation. Your armor lost the mantle when they turned on the Templar.”

  “Agreed…if you return the Breitenfeld and all Union prisoners. Especially Admiral Valdar.” Garret licked his lips.

  “I will return the Breitenfeld’s crew. Masha. I need her back.”

  “Valdar. His ship. That strike carrier has significant historical and cultural significance to the Union. You can’t have Kallen and the ship that won the Ember War,” Garret said, leveling a finger at her chest.

  Stacey snatched the finger and Garret gasped in pain. He went to his knees, whining as her freezing touch burned down his hand.

  “Valdar killed my sailors. Tricked them into a fight that wasn’t theirs. He will answer for those deaths. I just might destroy the Breitenfeld while he watches. Let him feel that loss. You will return Masha to me…and you will send one more person along with her.” Stacey flung Garret’s hand to one side and he fell on top of it, clutching the frostbitten flesh to his chest.

  Garret heard his pill bottle rattle within his coat. His hand was numb, but the tingle of nerves promised a world of pain in the near future.

  “This was never a negotiation,” Stacey said. “Take your ‘meds,’ and get ready for more instructions.”

  ****

  Valdar was on his knees, a hood over his head, hands bound behind his back. He could tell from ambient noise that he was in the Yalta’s main hangar bay. He’d been kept blind for hours and felt a Crucible gate jump just before he was dragged from the brig to the bay.

  The hood came off and he blinked against bright light. Through the open bay doors, he saw Ceres and Earth through the force field holding in the bay’s atmosphere.

  Marc was on the deck next to him, an Armor’s foot pinning him down.

  “Valdar, we are not in a good situation here,” Marc said. “Let me do the talking.”

  Valdar’s breath fogged as a chill washed over his face.

  Stacey, the real one, and Captain Zahar stopped in front of Valdar. Her doll-like face was inscrutable, but Valdar could feel the anger inside of her. Zahar looked cowed, ashamed.

  “Granddaughter!” Marc called out. “So I take it things went great on Nekara.”

  Stacey held up a finger and the Armor pressed its sabaton against Marc’s chest. Deck plating groaned under the pressure.

  “Shutting up! Shutting up!” Marc shouted.

  The foot eased against him.

  “Captain Zahar tells me you tricked him into leaving Navarre and helping Earth,” Stacey said. “Is that accurate?”

  “Zahar believed he was following your orders,” Valdar said. “No Ibarran but that one,” he cocked his head toward Marc, “knew any wiser.”

  “Why did you do it, Valdar? Why go along with this charlatan? This…lying piece of garbage.”

  “For Earth.” Valdar got to his feet and looked Stacey in the eye. “For the Union. You knew we were losing. Knew how many were about to die. Why did you ignore us?”

  “I came around eventually,” she said. “Once I realized just how badly I’d need Earth in the near future.”

  “Before that? You could’ve sent the Fifth.” Valdar motioned to Zahar.

  “And more Ibarran lives would’ve been lost,” she said. “I destroyed every Kesaht and Vishrakath ship with the Ark. No human casualties. Ibarran or Union. Though I wish I could have arrived sooner.”

  “And Phoenix would be destroyed if I’d arrived any later. Can that Ark of yours bring people back to life? Rebuild a capital?”

  “No…it can’t. But Zahar is blameless for what you did?” she asked.

  “He fought well. Fine commander. You can’t hold him responsible for what I did,” Valdar said.

  “Captain,” Stacey held up a hand, “you are dismissed. Return to your duties.”

  “My Lady.” Zahar bowed slightly and hurried away.

  “As for you…” Stacey grabbed Valdar by the collar and the cold of her touch numbed one side of his neck. She ripped the rank insignia off his uniform and tossed it to one side. She tore away the Ibarra Navy patch on one shoulder and plucked the ship commander insignia off his breast, leaving his void suit in tatters.

  “You don’t deserve those honors,” she said.

  “No apologies from me,” Valdar said.

  “Ibarrans are dead because of you.”

  “And more live for it.” He looked up at the Armor still holding Marc down. “Tell everyone in Phoenix they would be dead if you’d had it your way. Which lives are more valuable to you?”

  “Things…are different now, Valdar. But you…are right. I acted too late,” she said.

  “Sorry, what?” Marc raised his head off the deck. “Valdar mentioned that this was all my idea, right? Sure, he commanded the ship and blew up the Vish part, but everything else was all me.”

  “Nicodemus.” Stacey looked away from Valdar and the Armor lifted his foot off of Marc.

  “There.” Marc brushed off his chrome chest as he got to his feet. “See, a little humility can go a long way. Just let Valdar and me go back to Earth and the healing process can—”

  “Marc Ibarra!” The name echoed off the bay walls as Stacey’s voice went so loud, it stung Valdar’s ears. “I have had enough of you. By my right as leader of the Ibarra Nation, you are hereby exiled for time and all eternity. Nicodemus.”

  “Now you wait one second.” Marc held out a hand.

  The kick from the Armor sent a rush of air past Valdar. There was a clang of metal on metal and the last Valdar saw of Marc was his silver body tumbling end over end through space as he hurtled toward Ceres.

  “Am I leaving the same way?” Valdar asked.

  “You have blood on your hands, Valdar,” she said. “Our blood. You think I can just forgive that? You’re going to internment with the rest of the Breitenfeld’s crew. I’ll decide what to do with you later.”

  Valdar got one last look at Earth, his home, before the hood went over his eyes.

  ****

  Masha came down a Mule ramp with a bounce in her step, her hands cuffed behind her back, Major Kutcher leading her by the elbow. Legionnaires waited for them on the flight deck of the Warsaw.

  “So good to be home.” Masha smiled. “And a warm welcome from such big, strong men.”

  She stepped off the ramp and shimmied her hands up and down, rattling the chain between the cuffs.

  Kutcher, avoiding all eye contact with the Ibarran troops, put a fob to the cuffs and they unsnapped.

  Masha slipped out of the restraints and dangled them in front of Kutcher. “You can keep these. I’m not into that sort of thing, my dear.”

  Kutcher turn
ed away and started up the ramp, but a hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. He landed hard and slid until a legionnaire boot pinned him to the deck. One of Stacey’s honor guards bent over and looked him in the eyes, then grabbed him by his thinning hair and whacked the back of Kutcher’s head against the metal.

  “I’m just delivering the prisoner! Let me go!” His breath fogged and he went white with fear. The intelligence officer squirmed, but the Ibarrans kept him in place.

  “I’ll let you go,” Stacey said, kneeling next to him. “But you and I…there’s blood between us.”

  Kutcher tried to pull away from her, but the honor guard slapped an unkind hand against his chin and kept his face toward Stacey.

  “You killed him,” she said. “His name was Tyrel. Remember? You pulled him from an escape pod over Nunavik and you shot him in the head for being a procedural. You executed him for the simple crime of existing without your permission.”

  “It was the Hale Treaty. The Omega Provision!” Kutcher beat at the foot pinning him to the ground. “I—I had to. Bastion had witnesses there. Witnesses! If we’d let him live, Earth would have gone to war with all the members—not just the Vish, not just the Naroosha. It…I was just following orders!”

  “There it is.” Stacey shook her head. “You had integrity until just a moment ago. I know what it is to make hard decisions, little man. I could almost forgive you for what you did…”

  “I’m sorry! So sorry! I didn’t want to kill him, but I had no choice.”

  Stacey looked over her shoulder to Masha. “No choice? Masha is just as illegal as Tyrel…yet you didn’t shoot her in the back of the head.”

  Kutcher sputtered.

  “You did just what our alien enemies wanted you to do. You shed your brother’s blood on their order. On their terms. You vile…little worm. You coward,” she said as she removed a glove from one hand.