Iron Truth

by S. A. Tholin

  His face hardened, tense and angular. "I will need twenty minutes, give or take, to finish these repairs. If you want to talk, I will listen. If you don't want to... just know that I have some understanding of how it feels."

  He removed his hand, but the warmth of his touch lingered. There had been a freshness to his words, a pain that told her that he had given of himself deeply. A little piece of the commander was hers, a thorn that it had hurt him to pluck, and she found herself wanting to reciprocate.

  And so she told him about the drifters, every awful detail. Told him of her fear and her anger and her helplessness, and Cassimer listened, interrupting only once.

  "The red?" He set down his tools momentarily. "Rivka used the same phrase. Do you know what it means?"

  "I've heard Rivka refer to it too, but - this is kind of embarrassing - I suppose I always thought she was talking about me. " She touched a hand to her hair.

  Cassimer had told his story briefly, and with great difficulty, but for Joy, it was different. The more she said, the easier it got. It became a story instead of memory, a thing she might tell over and over, changing the details to add spice. Three drifters could easily become six, and perhaps she'd even knock one or two out. The elevator shaft could be crawling with spiders, and instead of regular men, the drifters could be demons climbing straight out of hell.

  It could make a fine story, one sure to impress even Finn. But to Cassimer, she told only the truth.

  "I know you said not to thank you, but Cassimer, when you pulled me from that shaft - when you saved me - I don't think I've ever been so thankful; so happy. Without you, I..." She trailed off, unwilling to go down that dark path of thought. "Who saved you from the Hecate?"

  He flinched at the mention of the ship's name, and she thought she'd made a mistake, that she'd asked one question too many and now the commander would slip away from her. For a moment, perhaps he did - but then he spoke again.

  "One of the possessed crewmen had a gun. I pulled it from its holster. I didn't know then what it was to pull the trigger on a man. By the time the sleeping quarters were cleared, I had learned - that, and more. Much more."

  For the first time since he'd sat down on the bed, he looked at her. There was something expectant in his eyes, as though he was waiting to see how she'd respond.

  She reached across the bed and found his hand; ran her fingertips across tanned skin and lighter-coloured scars, and told him the only truth she knew. "I'm glad you did. I'm glad you're here."

  He stood. "I need to get back to work. Hopewell will bring you fresh clothes."

  So very curt and so very professional, but now she could see the man behind the soldier's mask. She'd felt his pulse leap underneath her fingers, and the electricity in the air.

  She didn't want him to go. But if he had to, then he should take a part of her with him; that throbbing unspoken thing that couldn't be allowed to die with her.

  "Cassimer. Can I tell you a secret?"

  ◆◆◆

  She'd expected Cassimer to call her mad, or at the very least a liar, but he listened quietly. Once she'd finished her tale of the Ever Onward, he nodded slowly, as though it all made perfect sense.

  "I'd like permission to relay your story to the team."

  She blinked, frowning at his poor understanding of the concept of 'secret'. "Why?"

  "It may be of relevance. I assume you have the Ever Onward's location?"

  "You mean to go there?" No hope was too faint to grasp at, and she asked: "Were you sent here to rescue us?"

  "Our mission is classified," he said but shook his head ever so slightly.

  The commander would tell his team regardless, but now that she knew some of the man, it was easier to forgive, easier to appreciate the kindness he'd done her by asking.

  "All right." Better to comply than to force him into the role of duty-bound betrayer. "But Cassimer, we kept the Ever Onward secret for a reason. Duncan said that her systems are failing, and until we can secure a proper rescue, the ship shouldn't be disturbed. Please don't prove him right. Please don't make me regret telling you. Please don't let me be the cause of my brother's death."

  "We have no interest in the Ever Onward beyond the data she carries. If we have the time, perhaps something can be done to stabilise her systems."

  "You'd do that?"

  "If we have the time," he repeated, voice so deliberately neutral that Joy couldn't help but smile. The commander wanted to help, and she got the sense that he would do his utmost to carve a slice of time out. A minute or two - or as long as it took.

  18. Cassimer

  More than a century separated his birth from hers. Their eyes had never been meant to meet; their hands never meant to touch. Time and space had stood as obstacles between him and her, insurmountable but for a wrecked ship and a quirk of chance.

  A soldier bends to secure a strap on his boot, and the bullet that would've struck his leg becomes a headshot. A civilian runs across a field and steps on the one landmine missed by the sweepers. A pilot makes a fatal mistake and crashes his shuttle. The resulting shockwave changes the trajectory of a rocket, and a banneret commander ends up spending two days straight on the operating table.

  Cassimer knew well how the tiniest factor, the smallest decision, could change or end the course of a life - but he'd rarely known fate to be kind.

  Joy had told her remarkable story, and he'd half-wondered if it was just a hallucination brought on by fading stims. If they added gold to her eyes and fire to her touch, then why not words to her lips? Warm words, bright words, a secret that had wrapped itself around him. What the ruins under the dust had offered a spark of, she burned with.

  She'd told her story, and he'd wanted to ask so many things about her, about the Ever Onward and the time to which she belonged. And then - Earth have mercy - she'd smiled at him, and he'd understood that he wanted her.

  But what he wanted was irrelevant, and he reminded himself of that as he stood between the amber glow of Joy and the azure glow of monitors. The central area of the habitat had been rebuilt, slightly smaller, and the team had gathered inside for a briefing, and for Rhys to examine Joy.

  "Her blood samples show the presence of obsolete vaccination and traces of nanites consistent with cryo-hibernation. The augment Lucklaw detected is an h-chip, which, while basic, is the direct ancestor of our primers. They first came into circulation about a century and a quarter ago."

  "Hers is blank, though," Lucklaw said, shooting Joy a suspicious look, "with no recorded activity until seven months ago."

  "When I escaped the Ever Onward," Joy said. "The emergency protocols gave even blank chips access to most areas of the ship -"

  She cried out in sudden pain, doubling over in her seat. Rhys, pulling a needle from her spine, clamped a gloved hand around her shoulder to right her.

  "Suppose I should've given you more of a heads-up."

  "Is bedside manner not a thing future doctors do, then?" Joy scowled at him, rubbing her back.

  "Apologies. Three decades of patching up soldiers have left me with little experience of civilians. I suppose I forgot you have no anaesthetic augments."

  "Excuses, excuses. Even with augments, having your spinal fluid drawn feels like getting kicked by a bull. A light touch, our Rhys does not have." Hopewell, regarding the scene with amused curiosity, began unwrapping a ration bar. "So Joy, you look pretty good for 143."

  "I'm twenty-three," Joy replied defensively.

  "Surely you don't believe her little story, Lieutenant?" Lucklaw's look turned from suspicious to contemptuous. "She's mad like the rest of the locals. It's about time we kick her off base and get on with the mission."

  "We'll get on with the mission as soon as you pull your thumb out and get us something useful off the array, Corporal," Hopewell retorted.

  "The array is no longer our primary concern," Cassimer said, skimming the data Rhys had collected from Joy. Due diligence, nothing more. She'd told the truth, and final
ly the puzzle that was Joy made sense. "Courtesy of Miss Somerset, we have a new target. This is the Ever Onward."

  The monitors behind him changed from neutral blue to display a promotional shot once used in brochures and adverts, and judging by Joy's tearful reaction, one she knew well.

  The Ever Onward floated on the monitors like a humpbacked whale, its white hull coated with glittering solar panels. Not as ornate as the early arc ships, nor as utilitarian as her boxy grey descendants. She was function and form in wedded bliss; a fine example of her kind.

  The picture had come straight from Cassimer's personal primer database, from a subfolder labelled MISSING. The fourteen ships listed inside had become fifteen with the addition of the Atlantic Star a few years back, but perhaps soon, he'd be moving the Ever Onward's data to the ARC SHIPS mother folder.

  "An arc ship crashed on Cato." Rhys frowned. "You think there's a connection to our objective, Commander?"

  "How could there be? The Ever Onward crashed over a hundred years ago." Lucklaw wouldn't let go of his scepticism, chewing on it like a dog with a bone.

  "Correct, Corporal, but well over a decade before the Epoch War, and long before the colony on Cato was officially abandoned. The arrival of an arc ship wouldn't have gone by unnoticed. Why wasn't it reported?" Cassimer could feel Joy's eyes on him, could feel her golden waves of curiosity.

  "Maintaining a civilised society on a world as inhospitable as Cato is a huge drain on resources. Maybe they were looking for a way to boost their economy," Florey suggested.

  "Piracy?" Hopewell shook her head and swallowed the last piece of her ration bar before continuing. "An arc ship is too risky a prize. It'd be like stealing a whole world. Too big, too expensive, far too eye-catching. They'd have been caught and summarily executed."

  "Besides," Rhys said, "you'd think that if the locals had taken an arc ship, Cato would be in a better state. They could've terraformed this barren rock, or repaired the Cascade. There'd be no need for the locals to sit starving in the dust."

  "Any connection to our objective is only theory at this juncture," Cassimer said, even though instinct told him otherwise. "Even so, the Ever Onward's systems are still active."

  "And an arc ship would definitely have registered the arrival of another." Lucklaw finally shed his sullen attitude. "Extracting the data would be simple enough."

  "Nice." Hopewell smiled. "Might make it back to Scathach in time to watch the championships after all."

  "The crash site is located roughly 2300 kilometres to the east." As Cassimer spoke, the monitors changed to show topographical data. "Lucklaw, deploy one of the drones to investigate. Joy, you're familiar with the terrain - any advice?"

  "Don't go?" She gave him a nervous smile. "Duncan, Voirrey and I were lucky to survive the journey. There's dust, of course, so deep and fine it'll drown you. Jagged glass everywhere, and nights so cold and dark you'll think you're floating in space. There's an underground train station about a hundred kilometres from the Ever Onward. You could get there by catching the train from Natham's farm, but that still leaves a lot of ground to cover on foot. Ball lightning fried our hovercraft's systems less than five kilometres from the station, but it might as well have been a thousand. The easiest path is along the mountain range, where there are old mining facilities to shelter in, but the terrain there is riddled with mine shafts and boreholes. One step in the wrong direction, or one night without protection from the storms - the tiniest mistake is a death sentence."

  She paused, looking directly at Cassimer, no longer smiling. "Don't go."

  He nodded a curt thanks and turned to his team. "We leave at dawn."

  "Commander, maybe we should wait for more intel," Florey said. "A hundred klick trek across Cato's surface is a perilous prospect without all the facts."

  "The drone can support us with updates and feedback on the go." As dangerous as the storms were, a greater darkness loomed on the horizon. "We've spent too much time here as it is. The attack this morning was only the opening shot. Can't you taste the hatred in the air? This world is turning on us."

  ◆◆◆

  Suit on and gear packed, Cassimer slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and exited the habitat. One of the Eponas idled outside the bank, and as he approached, Hopewell rolled down the side window and grinned.

  "Pony's good to go, Commander."

  Later than he'd hoped - sunrise had come and gone - but the two terrain vehicles had taken the brunt of the landmine blasts. That Hopewell had managed to get even one of them running again was commendable.

  "Very good. We'll go as soon as Lucklaw's finished instructing Florey."

  Going to the Ever Onward was doubtlessly the correct choice, but keeping the team alive was his first priority. He'd spent the hours counting down to sunrise going over the available intel (scant), poring over the route (difficult) and going over their resources (pitiful). With so few pieces in play, it was hard to form a sensible picture.

  As their comms specialist, Lucklaw had to be part of the Ever Onward team, so Cassimer had sent Florey to the roof for a crash course in how to work the array. Lucklaw had taken some offense at the notion that he was replaceable - how quickly the young corporal had forgotten that he himself was the replacement for a far more qualified officer - but flexibility was survivability. No soldier was irreplaceable - but neither were they expendable - and for that reason, Rhys would also be part of the small team that Cassimer meant to take to the Ever Onward.

  His leading the team was prudent. If hard calls had to be made along the way, they'd need their commander, and if they faced resistance, they'd need someone who knew what it was to be both shield and sword. A rational decision - and yet doubt ate at him, a nagging suspicion that he was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons.

  Joy stood outside the bank, deep in conversation with Rhys. In the morning light, her hair glowed gold. Rhys laughed at something she said, and jealousy snaked around Cassimer's heart. The other soldiers spoke to her like it was nothing, asking her the questions he so desperately wanted to, connecting effortlessly.

  She turned and smiled at him, a hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun. Albany's clothes fit her well enough to flatter, but a non-citizen in Primaterre fatigues was a disconcerting sight. He supposed it would've amused Albany - particularly that he of all people had been the one to give her clothes to Joy.

  "May I have a moment, Commander?"

  He nodded, and Rhys - finally showing some evidence of his self-proclaimed ability to take a hint - stepped away.

  "I wanted to wish you luck," she said. "And to ask you to please remember that my brother's life is at stake."

  Cassimer had intended to let her stay on base, safe and sound behind a kilometre-wide band of mines, and the habitat's walls where the five on her medical bracelet could remain just that.

  And then she'd gone ahead and made that impossible.

  "No need. You'll be there to remind me."

  "Sorry?" She blinked, then looked down at her new clothes and boots, as though realising too late that nothing came without a price.

  "The partial access granted by your h-chip makes you mission-essential."

  "But the Ever Onward is so old. I'm sure its systems won't be a problem for your tech officer."

  "Comms specialist," he corrected. "Perhaps not, but perhaps isn't good enough. You have enough riding on this mission to know that."

  "Please, Cassimer. It's not that I'm a coward - I am, but I've been afraid for seven months straight." She tapped her med-bracelet, but he didn't need to look. The sharp angles of the single digit were etched into his mind. "I'm used to fear. But if we go there - if we disturb the ship and the systems fail, it would be my fault for letting the secret slip, and I would have to walk through that dead husk of a ship knowing that my brother is slowly suffocating in the darkness. Please don't make me do that."

  "If you think staying here will be easier, you're mistaken. I have a thousand regrets, Joy, but non
e so bitter as the things I didn't do." And as he spoke, a dozen such things pulled at him. "Come with us to the Ever Onward, and we will slip through her as shadows. No harm will come to her sleepers."

  ◆◆◆

  The Epona stopped on a ridge about a kilometre out from Natham's farm, the same vantage point from which Cassimer had first observed the village. The people had been strangers to him then and now...

  Now they were stranger still.

  The tents were gone, the buildings dismantled. Glass fragments gleamed where the greenhouse had once stood. All that remained was the well, encircled by strewn lichen, and above it, an X-shaped scaffolding had been erected. There, lashed to corroded iron by fraying network cables, hung Rivka.

  Shrapnel had lacerated her torso and shredded her face. But for her distinct braids, she would've been unrecognisable. Lichen had been stuffed into the grievous wounds, grey bristles soaked dark and fat with blood, and garlands of the withered stuff wrapped around her body.

  Hopewell made a noise of disgust, spitting in the dust as she shook her head. "Nasty."

  "The red." Joy said quietly, lowering a set of binoculars Rhys had passed her. "They must've meant the lichen."

  "Looks greyish-pink to me," Hopewell said.

  "It is, out here. It doesn't thrive on the plains, but Nexus is covered in it, and there it's as red as blood."

  Cassimer remembered Rivka's red-stained smile; the wiry strands caught between her teeth, and thought that perhaps the streaks running down her slack chin now weren't blood. A vague sense of nausea settled in the pit of his stomach. Not the work of demons, this, but impure, all the same.

  "You're suggesting the locals have formed some sort of lichen-worshipping cult?" Rhys sounded incredulous. "Not very impressive, as deities go."

  "Actually, lichen is very impressive. It's not a plant, you know, but an organism composed of algae or cyanobacteria living in symbiosis with fungus. It grows very slowly, but has an incredible lifespan to make up for it, and as evidenced by its presence on Cato, it grows in even the harshest of environments." Joy shrugged, smiling wryly. "Besides, what else is there to worship here? Dust?"