by Richard Fox
"Lieutenant Hoffman,” the man said, “I’m Kutcher, military intelligence. I’ve…had some work done.” He motioned to his fresh scars.
Hoffman readied himself for a confrontation but kept his expression neutral. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
"I apologize for all the subterfuge,” Kutcher said. “This mission is sensitive, to say the least.”
"We are Valdar’s Hammer…Gott Mit Uns."
"You’re more right than you know,” Kutcher dabbed a handkerchief at his abused face and addressed the rest of the room. “I just need to remind each of you about the operational security requirements of this mission. Nothing you see or hear leaves this room.”
"We understand. I can speak for my people on this point. This can't be any more secretive than our previous missions," Hoffman said, gauging the man's reaction and realizing the intelligence officer knew everything there was to know about Valdar’s Hammers.
Kutcher held the silence, then knocked against a door three times.
A door opened at the back of the room and a man seemingly made from pure chrome strode inside. Heat drained from the room and a thin sheen of frost formed over the metal man’s body.
Hoffman backpedaled, reaching for a sidearm missing from his hip. Another metal monster like Stacey Ibarra.
"Steady," King growled at the team. “This doesn’t change anything.”
"Jolly green giant women and now this. Got a name?” Garrison asked.
"I am Marc Ibarra, after a fashion," the chrome man said. "I hope Kutcher is right about this team.”
“Is every Ibarran like this?” Hoffman asked.
“You saw Stacey Ibarra, my granddaughter. ‘The Lady,’ as the rank and file call her.” Ibarra said. “She and I are the only ones like this,” he rapped the side of his head, sounding like a gong. “I lost my body many years ago, got used to the genie in a bottle routine, but then I had to take up this shell in an emergency. Stacey…her situation is a bit more complicated. But that’s not why you, or I, are here.”
Hoffman placed himself between the stranger and Garrison. "What do you want from us?”
"I've got to give it to you Strike Marines. You never miss a beat. You see a man made of shiny metal and it’s just another day at the office, for the most part.”
“You know what was chasing us on Eridu?” Max asked.
“We ride TITs into battle for breakfast,” Garrison dead panned.
King put a heavy hand on the back of the breacher’s neck.
“Then we lose our breakfast. Lower, Gunney, I’ve got a knot on my—ack,” Garrison stopped talking as King tightened his grip.”
“I never thought I’d meet the infamous Marc Ibarra in person,” Hoffman said. “Why now?”
“Me neither, LT,” Duke said, glaring at Marc. “Your people have been a real pain in our ass for the last four or five missions, just so you know.”
“I don’t like him,” Gor’al added, hissing quietly.
“And you don’t even know him like I do,” Steuben said. Light glinted off the tips of his teeth and he looked ready to do violence. “I think we should find a new mission that doesn’t involve this person…or whatever he is.”
“I’m not all bad,” Marc muttered. “Saved humanity. Defeated the Xaros. Developed mountains of technology from one little probe…”
“I haven’t forgotten Diamond, Opal, and all the others. You’re not on my good list,” Hoffman said. “The question is, why are you here and why should we trust you?”
"The question is, Lieutenant Hoffman," Marc Ibarra said, "do you all want to sit on your duffs or do you want to rescue Valdar and the Breitenfeld?”
“Your people stole it in the first place,” Booker said, her arms crossed and eyes hard.
Hoffman's team perked up but stayed alert in their assigned areas—tactical angles on each door that would give them the advantage if anyone stormed the room. Or if Ibarra tried to run.
"We’re listening,” Hoffman said.
"I’m on the outs with the Ibarra Nation," the metal man said. “Exiled. To be specific. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Lady’s prison cells for some light treason. But while I was in that cell, I—through sheer brilliance and guile—freed Admiral Valdar and got him to the helm of an Ibarran fleet that then saved Earth from the Vishrakath and Kesaht assault. We were almost home free when the Lady showed up in her Ark and everything went pear shaped.”
“Get to the point,” Hoffman said.
“There are quite a lot of moving pieces in my plan, but what’s going to bring it all together is this,” Ibarra said, slowly opening his hand to reveal a glowing IFF code block.
Max leaned forward, eyes wide. “How do you do that?” His attention, however, seemed to be on the details of the actual code block.
Ibarra snapped his hand shut and pulled it back. “Are you trying to steal my secret ‘get out of jail free’ card? Bad Strike Marine. I swiped an Ibarra Nation transponder code from their system just before I was taken prisoner—again—and kicked off their ship. Quite literally. No one will notice I’ve taken it for about twelve hours. Keeper owes me a favor. I can get a ship, a Terran Union ship, to the prison planet where Valdar and the Breitenfeld are being held. Free him. Rescue the ship. But we have to move fast.”
Ibarra closed his hand and the holo disappeared.
“You all interested?” he asked.
Hoffman looked at his exhausted, beaten up and grieving team. He didn’t see a hint of doubt or hesitation.
“Break it down for me, Mr. Ibarra,” Hoffman said.
“Why, of course,” Marc said. “I thought you’d never ask. The first thing we do is take the Scipio to Liberty. Now, before you argue that there will be an Ibarran defense network ready to shoot first and ask questions later, let me assure you I’ve got it all worked out.”
Hoffman crossed his arms.
Marc continued. “Leave the disguise of the ship up to me. My people have been working on some auto-camouflage. It’s very impressive, let me tell you.”
“I’m sure it is,” Hoffman muttered.
“Is that sarcasm or skepticism? So hard to tell with you Strike Marine types. Nearly as annoying as void fighter pilots or, God help me, Armor,” Marc Ibarra said. “Valdar is being held on Liberty. Ironic. I know. You’ll take a team of your best Marines, and Steuben, down to do all that sneaky stuff you do in situations like these.”
“Continue,” Hoffman said. “This is getting interesting.”
“I take an element of your team to the Breitenfeld. It’s moored on the dark side of Liberty’s largest moon. We get control of the ship systems, disrupt the station’s communications with the planet and the Crucible network, then put Valdar back on the bridge of that rattletrap he calls a warship,” Marc said.
“Sounds easy,” Garrison said under his breath.
King glared at him.
“Sorry Gunney. Couldn’t resist,” Garrison said. “Should I start doing push-ups now or wait until after the meeting?”
Hoffman ignored the cross talk, focusing on Marc Ibarra. “What else?”
“Where Admiral Valdar is being held is…a little weird,” Marc said.
****
"I know it sounds crazy that I’m gonna be the devil’s advocate on this one," Garrison said.
Everyone in the room looked at him, too stunned to speak.
"Hey, maybe I'm turning over a new leaf,” he said, shifting his weight to stare down his teammates.
"Be very careful with what you say next," King said.
Garrison talked with his non-gun hand, waving it for emphasis and possibly attempting to show off his biceps. "I know, I’m normally just a guy who breaks shit. But doesn't anyone else think this will really piss off the Ibarrans? What’s our relationship with them, exactly? Their fleet broke the siege? Saved Phoenix from being wiped by a mass driver? They have some giant super weapon now? We show up in their back yard and break things. Steal stuff. There's going to be some blowback."
/>
"Well put," Marc Ibarra said. "Remind me to send you a job application if I’m ever back in power. You have ‘intergalactic emissary’ written all over you."
Hoffman crossed his arms, leveling his gaze on the chrome Ibarran.
“President Garret wants this done,” Kutcher said. “Detente or no detente with the Ibarra Nation, the Breitenfeld means something to the Terran Union. Valdar means something to all of us. The Lady thinks she can steal from us? Punish Valdar after he saved millions of lives—again?” The intelligence officer looked at Gor’al, and the Dotari’s quills bristled. “She’s evil. Vindictive…and possibly insane.”
“She’s not entirely without reason,” Ibarra said. “I know her. She has her…moments, if you will. But she knows she’s wrong about Valdar and the Breitenfeld. We can do this mission without killing any Ibarrans. That’s her red line, isn’t it, Kutcher?”
“Kiss my ass,” the intelligence officer dabbed at his scarred face again.
"No killing,” Ibarra raised a finger. “We get away with Valdar and his ship, and the Lady will let it slide. I know her."
“We’re putting a lot of trust in you,” Hoffman said. “If you knew her that well…would she have exiled you?”
“I got off light. I like you, Lieutenant Hoffman, I really do. I knew another Strike Marine who was always asking hard questions and kicking my ass…” His voice drifted away, then snapped back abruptly. “Right!” He clapped his hands and they dinged like a bell. “Let’s save Valdar, that old bastard!”
Hoffman looked to the Dotari, and held up a hand.
“Gor’al, you’re a Hammer, but it may be best for you to stay behind,” Hoffman said, immediately sensing the others’ surprise.
“You’re worried I’ll be seen,” the alien said, “implicated in the plot. That the Ibarra Nation would retaliate against my people if the mission becomes a pear like the metal one said. Do not concern yourself, lieutenant. The Ibarra Nation stole the Breitenfeld from the Terran Union. Amongst my people…this is not done. Stealing a ship means being blotted out from the lists. The ultimate dishonor. The Dotari will not stand for this. They would mount an attack to rescue the Breitenfeld, the ship that saved us all—twice! It is good that I do not know where Liberty is. Honor demands action.”
“The risks to your—”
“If there were any human who could demand such a sacrifice from me, it would be you, Lieutenant Hoffman,” Gor’al said. “And I have not forgotten what Valdar has done for my people. We wouldn’t exist without his heroics. We would have been extinct long before the end of the Ember War.” He crowded into Hoffman’s personal space as he finished the speech. “Do not leave me behind. I must do this.”
Steuben, who had been quiet as a statue until now, rose to his feet and growled. “I owe Valdar and his people too much to leave them in the hands of our enemies. Death would be preferable to failing such a loyal friend of my people.”
“That’s what I was trying to say,” Gor’al said.
“Can you stop intimidating the help?” Ibarra said. “Remind me not to make you my recruiter when I start up again, Thomas Hoffman.”
“Watch yourself,” King said. “We all know your reputation.”
Ibarra spread his hands in apology. “Yes, of course. All I did was defeat the Xaros Masters and save humanity. Don’t mind me. Don’t mind me at all.”
Hoffman intervened. “You’re telling us that Valdar is being held on a prison planet guarded by legionnaire fanatics and you can get us there with a stolen ship. We need more—”
“Of a plan. Yes, of course. The Ibarran Nation never really needed a prison planet. Stacey made sure of that. There are always variables, but her people are fanatically loyal to her in every way. I’d be impressed if they could break laws if they wanted to. Valdar is being held on a planet that is a little different.”
“You made it sound like a prison planet,” Hoffman said. “I think it’s time to start filling in some of the details.”
“First of all, Steuben and Gor’al won’t fit in. Listen to your lieutenant. Stay here. Do something useful with your lives. Raise families or learn to make beer,” Ibarra said.
Steuben advanced, teeth bared. “Don’t mock us.”
Gor’al stood at his side, beak held high, arms crossed defiantly as his quills twitched.
“Oh, my. You would be very intimidating if I wasn’t made out of this,” he said, holding up his metal arms. “The Ibarra Nation has a number of experimental societies on Liberty.”
“Experimental? How?” Booker asked.
“Social experiments. Do you all know what was lost during the Ember War? Every human culture but the Atlantic Union’s was gone. I’m an old man, I remember when Earth wasn’t just one way of thinking, speaking…acting. Diversity means competition, means growth. So once we set up the Nation and got the procedural crèches running, I wanted to experiment. Bring back some of what was lost. See if we can bring back some of the old dynamic that moved humanity forward. We set up colonies full of test subjects. They’re a bit unusual. It’s actually a plus for all of you who can’t speak Basque fluently and without an accent.”
“The world was constantly at war before the Xaros showed up and wiped out everyone,” King said. “World War III. The Crusades. Human history is bloodshed, Ibarra, and you wanted to bring that back?”
“Stagnation is death, son,” Ibarra said. “But there’s enough friction now a days between the Union and the Nation that little groups competing against each other doesn’t seem useful. At first glance.”
“I thought you said we had a limited window for this operation,” Hoffman said. “Stop with the why. Get to the how.”
“The foundries are putting together a few quantum dot communicators for us,” Ibarra said. “We’ll need them.”
Duke spat into a plastic coffee bottle, closed the lid, and slipped the vessel into a leg pocket as he leaned closer to Ibarra. “How is this colony different? You said there’re nothing but humans. That means the usual good and bad—strip clubs and local law enforcement, right?”
A slate in Kutcher’s pocket beeped.
“The devices are ready,” the spy said. “Hoffman, get your team to the Scipio. If you fail, the Terran Union will officially deny its knowledge and involvement. I encourage you not to get captured.”
Ibarra shrugged.
“Shall we get going? I’ll fill in the details along the way,” he said.
Chapter 14
Valdar carried himself with all the dignity he could manage, despite his fatigue, as he made his way down a shuttle ramp. The guards behind him hadn’t been cruel, but he had no illusions about their loyalty. They looked human but weren’t like the men and women he’d served with. These were Ibarrans.
The moon beyond his shuttle’s view ports looked strange to Valdar. He knew what Earth’s actual moon looked like and this wasn’t it. Being a prisoner of the Ibarra Nation was bad. Being a prisoner on a strange planet while his ship was hidden somewhere in the system was worse. He worried about his crew, not trusting Stacey’s promise not to harm them.
Masha walked beside him. The Ibarran spy was a petite blonde and he feared her as if she were armor in a killing frenzy. Her beautiful blue eyes and stunning features were dangerous. It was best to remember what she was and what she had done to thwart the Terran Union.
“Where are we going?” he asked. The terrain around the landing zone was wooded—tall deciduous trees that swayed at the top. Animals made sounds in the night and the stars in the sky were strange. No single element signaled danger. Not yet. Sooner or later, she would tell him to run or something and set loose alien dogs to chase him down.
Because that was the kind of games Ibarrans played.
“Welcome to Liberty. I think you’ll like it,” she said, smiling sweetly—right after she checked the safety on her Berretta 92F. “Don’t try to run. It’s a nice planet, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe at night. For a stranger. On the run. Who my help
ers would just as soon shoot in the back as allow to escape.”
“Thanks for explaining the ground rules,” Valdar said, watching city lights in the distance. The contrast made this part of the planet’s surface seem darker. He’d forgotten what it was like to stand on grassy turf with a gentle breeze swaying the tree limbs above his head.
“This way, Admiral.”
“What is this place?”
“Oh, you’re clever, Admiral. Trying to plan your escape already?”
“Anything’s possible.”
Masha’s demeanor cooled despite the fire in her eyes. “You’d better listen to me or your time on Liberty will be difficult.” She hesitated long enough to check her guards.
He wanted to antagonize her but didn’t. She was armed and had guards to back her up. But what really silenced him was the strange machine they approached.
Sitting in the middle of the clearing was a helicopter straight out of a history book. He knew what it was but was surprised it wasn’t in a museum. “Is that a…Black Hawk?”
“I’ve no idea.” Masha ordered half her security team toward the tree line. They shouldered weapons and rushed out of sight, using night-vision devices and excellent sound discipline—no talking, no smashing through the underbrush. “But it is important to maintaining the microcosm. It wouldn’t do to convince our people here they were living on Earth back in the good old days, then whisk around in Mules and void fighters. The helicopter is a vital part of the era. Just like bad music, unhealthy food, and primitive computers.”
“Is this where you’ve got the rest of my crew?”
“Some have been sent home. Your senior staff are here. Safe. Lady Ibarra made you a promise that will be kept, trust me, Admiral,” Masha said.
“That’s not good enough for me. I need to see them. Talk to them in private to be sure they’re being treated well,” Valdar said.
Masha laughed loudly. “You have to do better than that. Seriously, Admiral, why would I hand you your crew to stage an uprising and provide privacy to plan your betrayal?”
“The law of war—”
