Steel Sworn

by Richard Fox

  The next hit tore him to atoms, and his worries ceased.

  ****

  The void was on fire.

  Ely stared up at the Geist fleet. Pyramid ships the size of buildings broke apart as rail gun shells penetrated them, blowing debris and flames against the shields oriented toward the force protecting the Keystone.

  The Armor anchored to the Warsaw fired off another volley of rail gun shells, the flash of the launches sparkling across the hull.

  The sudden violence overwhelmed Ely as a Geist ship’s power core went critical and blew into a cloud of blue and yellow flames. The heat and light from the momentary sun made Ely shrink back.

  All he wanted to do was find someplace to hide. The chaos he saw and the many voices shouting orders through the comms kept him from concentrating on anything. The Gustav trembled in his hands.

  “Ely!” Lars grabbed him by the top of his breastplate and shook him. “Launch! Now!”

  Santos and Pulaski jumped off the Scipio and their jet packs flared to life. Within the Geist fleet, swarms of enemy fighters launched from dying and still-fighting ships.

  Marshal Roland’s Armor raised anchor and flew.

  “I…I can’t!” Ely pulled away. “I don’t know what to do!”

  “För fan i helvete! You can’t—”

  The Warsaw and the attached Scipio lurched under their feet. A Geist plasma beam had struck the prow of the ship and knocked the aft end up.

  “Armor, I can’t project our shields with the Scipio locked to my hull,” Makarov said on a wide-band net. “My ships will take care of the enemy battleships, but I need some help with the incoming fighters.”

  “Bah!” Lars threw Ely at the forecastle, and Ely’s arms pinwheeled as he lost control of his orientation, rolling over and over.

  Aignar activated the mag locks in their suit’s boots and Ely came down on top of the bridge, satellite dishes and antennae all around him. Lars landed next to him with a good deal more elegance.

  “Shoot any fighters that get in range. Can you handle that?” Lars asked.

  “Yeah…yeah, let’s do that.” Ely nodded.

  ****

  “We lost two,” Pulaski said as he and Santos flew toward the Geist fleet.

  Santos shook his head slightly. Dozens of Armor were around them, all carried forth on twin flames from their jet packs. Crescent-shaped Geist fighters were screaming toward the Warsaw, so many that Santos’ targeting systems struggled to keep track.

  “Better this way. Come on, Pulaski…I’ll teach you how to play chicken.” Santos vectored at the closest enemy fighter and his jet pack kicked him forward.

  He swung his Gustav up and loosed three rounds, the recoil of each nearly bucking the weapon from his hand. The radar fuses built into each round exploded short of his target, spewing out a cloud of shrapnel that shredded the lead Geist fighters.

  Enemy ships maneuvered out of the debris field, only to be struck by fire from Pulaski.

  Santos flew straight at a fighter trying to avoid hitting the wing of a destroyed ship. He flipped forward and brought the heel of his boot down to strike like an axe, crushing the cockpit. He ripped the engine off his target and flung it to one side, where another crescent fighter collided with it.

  He opened fire with his Gustav as his jet pack sent him toward another squadron of Geist fighters. He spun on his forward and side axes, corkscrewing into the fray. His shells burst into brief spheres of light amidst the enemy, destroying several.

  The rifle clicked empty and Santos grabbed it by the barrel. He struck to one side at a fighter that almost rammed into him. The blow broke a wing off the ship and shattered the weapon. He thrust his gauss cannon-equipped arm out in front of him and shot down another enemy.

  “Below for pickup!” Pulaski shouted.

  Santos put one hand out to the side, and a dark blur came up and seized him by the wrist. Pulaski pulled Santos out of the line of fire from a fighter and the Karigole destroyed the attacker with a quick burst from his gauss cannons.

  Santos and Pulaski spun around, back to back, their cannons putting out continuous fire and decimating the Geist fighters.

  “Steel Sworn, save some for us!” Marshal Roland called out. “All Armor screen the Warsaw. Let the Navy catch up to our kill count.”

  “To your hell with him,” Pulaski said on a suit-to-suit channel with Santos. “I will not let anyone else claim my trophies.”

  “We can let them catch up.” Santos and Pulaski flew back to the screen of Armor. In the distance, Geist fighters maneuvered beyond the Armor’s effective range. The Armor had agility and firepower on their side, but the fighters had speed.

  ****

  “They’re coming right for us!” Ely readied his rifle and pointed at the flares from Geist fighters.

  Lars nodded and his rotary cannon spun to life.

  Point defense turrets around the Warsaw opened fire, burning tracers sweeping across the void toward the enemy. Crescent fighters blew up, but the swarm closed even faster.

  Ely was about to fire when Lars pushed his barrel down. “Wait. Wait until we can do some actual good,” he said.

  “Fish in the void!” came from the carrier.

  “What was that?” Ely looked around, confused. “Fish?”

  “Torpedoes incoming!” Lars raised his rifle.

  A streak of light struck the Warsaw mere yards from the Scipio. Flames flickered from the point of impact for a few heartbeats.

  “That hit the sequestered air tanks,” Ely said. “Must have penetrated several decks…”

  “Less talking. More shooting.” Targeting the point where fire from several point defense turrets converged, Lars dumped almost half his magazine before striking the torpedo. It broke into fragments that bounced off the Scipio.

  “Aignar…can you change the firmware on the proximity fuses?” Ely tapped his rifle magazine.

  +Yes. What do you need?+

  “Adjust target distance for the fuse to blow at…point two seconds early. Hurry.”

  “What’re you going on about?” Lars asked.

  The rifle buzzed in Ely’s hands.

  +Go.+

  Ely raised his rifle and fired two shells at a torpedo coming in on the port side. The shells popped, destroying the torpedo in a flash.

  “Lars, you shoot the fighters. I’ll worry about the torps.” Ely fired another pair of shells that winged a torpedo, sending it into a spiral before its warhead cooked off.

  “Fine by me,” Lars said, unloading the magazine from his Gustav and mag-locking it to Ely’s leg. Lars switched to his gauss cannons.

  Ely shot off four more shells when an alert popped onto his HUD: out of proximity fuses. He tried to pry the magazine out, but it was stuck.

  +Use the latch on the bottom! User error!+

  “I’ve got—”

  “Incoming!” Lars spun Ely around to starboard, where two torpedoes were coming for the forecastle and the bridge.

  The magazine finally came out and Ely slapped Lars’s into the weapon. He got the Gustav to his shoulder, but the Geist torpedoes were closing fast.

  Point defense hit one, and the other arced up. Ely’s first shots missed completely, leaving him with only two shells.

  “Saint Kallen…help us,” he prayed and fired. The shells exploded short of the torpedo, and a single knife of shrapnel cut into the fuel tanks. The fireball swept over the top of the forecastle and overwhelmed Ely’s optics.

  He didn’t see the hunk of fuselage that bounced off the Warsaw and slammed into his suit. The blow broke his mag locks on the hull and sent him tumbling into the void.

  Aignar knocked Ely unconscious before the damage and pain could destroy his mind.

  Chapter 23

  Marc Ibarra washed bits of egg and ketchup off a plate. Doing the dishes always helped calm his mind, even though the automated kitchen could have handled everything for him.

  “Stacey! Almost time for school!” he called up to the cei
ling. He heard the pitter-patter of feet against the ceiling—but it stopped halfway down the hallway. Cut out completely.

  “Stacey?” Ibarra went to the stairs. The upper floor was darkness, an abyss of nothing that closed toward him without a sound. He backed away and tried to will himself out of this memory, but the construct held.

  Color seeped out of everything, running into the drain. Ibarra’s world stretched and his final cry degraded into static.

  Then everything was cold. Chilled liquid surrounded him. Stale air came through a mask over his nose and mouth, forcing its way in and out of his lungs. He opened his eyes and there was a green hue all around him. He reached out, fingers bumping against a glass tube.

  Shadows closed in on the tank and Ibarra struggled weakly. He kept trying to revert to his Ambassador body, to get clear of whatever trick the Geist had him in, but it wasn’t working.

  There was a click, then the mask snapped off his face. The tube dumped him and the fluid out onto a grated floor. The liquid sloshed into a tube beneath, leaving him cold, wet, and naked on the metal.

  Ibarra opened his mouth and tried to breathe, but his diaphragm wasn’t working. A kick to his side sent a jolt through his body and he managed to finally inhale. His body ached, and an old sensation bit down on his fingers and toes.

  Pain.

  Shannon stuck her face in Marc’s, an insane smile on her face. “Well, well…how you liking it?”

  Ibarra panted, shaking his head.

  “Oh…what’s the matter, Marc? You don’t remember what it’s like to be human? You forget how to move all that meat and bone around? Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you get some exercise.” Shannon poked a fingernail into his cheek.

  “It’s…a trick…” Marc almost bit his tongue, speaking.

  “I don’t think so,” Shannon cackled. “See?”

  At the other end of the room was his Ambassador body, a glowing halo around the head. Noyen was there in her own body, the smaller Qa’Resh probe fragment taken from Ely Hale in one hand.

  “How does it feel to be in a procedural body?” Shannon propped Marc up so he could see the tank he’d come out of. “How many billions did you bring into the world…now you’re one of us!”

  “No…no, this isn’t real…” Ibarra shook his head weakly.

  “How’s this for real?” Shannon gripped Ibarra’s ring finger and broke it with a quick twist.

  Marc howled and fell over, pressing his hand to his chest.

  “You never felt pain when you were living in that Qa’Resh probe, did you? Or in that Ambassador body that rightfully belongs to the Geist?” Shannon grabbed Ibarra under his jaw and wrenched his face up to see hers.

  “Don’t worry, Marc. We’ve got nothing but pain waiting for you…or you can tell us where to find Malal right now…”

  Ibarra spit in her face.

  “Good.” Shannon smiled. “Good. I was hoping you’d make this hard on you. Don’t feel bad when you do tell us. Everyone breaks, Ibarra. Everyone.”

  Chapter 24

  There was singing. A woman humming a gentle lullaby.

  Ely opened his eyes to harsh, overhead lights that hurt to look at. He touched his face…and felt his skin and not the metal of his Armor. His jaw had a few days of weak beard to it.

  A woman sat next to his hospital bed. She was in her late twenties with dark hair cut even with her jawline to the side, and short in the back. She rocked in her chair, both hands on her very pregnant belly.

  “Uh oh.” Ely squinted his eyes and made out a guard in silver armor at the door, his face hidden by his helmet. “Not this again.”

  He winced and touched the back of his head. The skin over the Qa’Resh probe fragment was raw.

  “Welcome,” the woman said. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, one hand moving to the bottom of her belly. “Sorry, practice contractions. Not something for you to worry about.”

  “The ship…the Warsaw!”

  “She survived the battle with some damage.” The woman reached over and took him by the hand. “Your lance and every soul from Memel was evacuated…thanks to you, I’m told.”

  Ely drew his hand away. “Am I on Earth? Was all that some sort of Geist trick to—”

  “You’re on Navarre,” she said. “Capital of the Ibarra Nation. Again…welcome. I understand the Geist had one of their Shannons on you. No such worries here. Aignar kept you from redlining. You should thank him.”

  Ely smacked dry lips. “Forgive me for being a bit skeptical,” he said.

  “I need to go for a walk or the contractions will get worse. Join me?” She struggled to get out of her chair.

  The guard came forward and helped her up.

  “Sure…better than staring at beige walls.” Ely glanced under the blanket and saw he was in linen clothes. He stepped into slippers and took a step, and his legs muscles opted against supporting him.

  The guard caught him by the chest and steadied him.

  Ely looked into a slit across the top of the visor and into the guard’s eyes. They were dark-green and almost familiar.

  “Thanks.” Ely managed a step on legs that felt like jelly, but got his strength back quickly.

  “You haven’t been out of your suit for a while. Your muscles just need some exercise. Common problem for Armor.” She waddled forward, one arm on the guard’s. The door slid open and they went into a hallway with more silver-clad guards.

  At the end of the hall was an angled window. Outside, a storm raged. Lightning backlit massive pyramids and hover cars in air lanes.

  “OK…not Earth.” Ely walked slowly, which was the best speed he could manage. He wasn’t sure if the pregnant woman was matching his pace or if she was doing the best she could.

  “Earth…been awhile since I was back there,” she said. “How does Terra Nova compare?”

  “Technically, it’s been awhile since I was back on Terra Nova. Lots happened on Earth in the last fifteen or so years…I doubt Terra Nova is just how I left it. Hopefully, it’s for the better.” Ely touched the back of his head again.

  “It’s still there,” she said and then pointed to a set of ornate wooden doors down the hallway. “Why don’t we have a seat and talk about the Qa’Resh fragment?”

  “Wait. I’m on Navarre…where’s the silver Lady? My father—”

  “Let’s sit down. My feet are killing me.” She put a hand to the doorframe and looked at Ely. “What’s inside is…sacred. Be aware.”

  “All right.” Ely examined the door that was adorned with carved panels of Armor. One had a familiar suit standing over a Xaros overlord, sword raised and about to slay the demonic alien.

  The doors opened and Ely caught a whiff of incense. He stepped through and his breath caught in his throat.

  It was a church, the interior alabaster and gold. Wooden pews with worshipers in the same simple linen he wore sat with their heads bent in prayer.

  A statue of a woman in a wheelchair was in place of the altar, crosses carved into the base. Saint Kallen’s head was angled slightly, her eyes closed, but Ely felt a presence, like the statue could see him.

  To her right, his suit was there, immaculate. The Armor gleamed in the light where it knelt beside Kallen.

  Ely sobbed, but he didn’t know why.

  “She has that effect.” The woman crossed herself and stepped into the church. She sat in a rear pew and gave the spot next to her a pat. “Your suit is something of a holy relic. I hope you don’t mind, but I had it put where it belongs. This is what Elias would have wanted. Don’t worry, we’ll have you in a newer and better Armor if you like.”

  Ely wiped his eyes and joined the woman. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “When Earth and the Ibarra Nation made peace, Saint Kallen’s bones were taken from Mars and brought here. She is Armor, and her pod is within the altar…we don’t let just anyone in here, you know.”

  “Who are you?”

  She put a hand on top of his. “I am
Stacey Ibarra. Your father sent you to me.” She smiled slightly.

  “You’re not…metal? Dad said you were injured and they had to keep you in some sort of fake body.”

  “I found a way out. Though being in that cage has its perks, especially when I consider what’s a few weeks away.” She shifted in her seat. “Your father sent you to me to remove the fragment before it can kill you and…I’m sorry, Ely. I can’t remove it, not right now. But I can keep you stable until the time is right.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “The Stacey Ibarra your father knew could remove it…and I still can, just not right now.” She touched her belly and a little kick jiggled. She giggled. “Settle down, you.”

  “If you were…metal? Then you could do it?”

  “That’s right, but…priorities. Be patient. Please?” She gave him a sad smile.

  “If I’m stable, then I can afford to wait, I suppose…boy or girl?” he asked.

  “It’ll be a surprise.” Stacey gave her belly a pat. “I owe you, Ely. You brought the Astranite drive to us. It could turn the tide of the war, if we still have time to do that.”

  “Wait, is Aignar in there?” He pointed to his old suit.

  “No, he’s waiting for you…assuming you still want to fight,” Stacey said. “Roland says you have natural talent, which is high praise from him.”

  “What will happen to Aignar if I say no?”

  “Tough one.” Stacey frowned. “The fragment in your skull’s made for some…interesting developments. We might not be able to reset Aignar if you choose not to suit up again. I have my top scientist on it.”

  “Oh…” Ely thought for a moment. “Not so easy now.”

  “There’s…one more thing. I must beg your forgiveness.” She raised a hand and beckoned her guard over. “Show him.”

  The guard gripped his helmet, paused, then removed it and held it at his waist.

  He was younger than he remembered, but Ely recognized him instantly.