by Richard Fox
CHAPTER 17
A Mule could fit eight fully armored Marines comfortably. The Strike Marine Corps cared nothing for comfort, so the ten Marines, Lilith and the pair of armor soldiers strapped to the deck found space wherever possible.
Hale fought for elbow room against the bulkhead and checked the telemetry feed from the Mule. Steuben sat next to him. The Karigole hadn’t said a word since learning of Lafayette’s death. He’d spent the entire flight staring at his mechanical hand, opening and closing a fist one finger at a time.
“Steuben, how you holding up?” Hale asked his XO over a private channel.
“Lafayette’s gethaar, you would consider her his mother, was nearly ready to see him again. I spent years speaking of his virtues, his bravery in the fight to rescue them from the Toth. One of the others just gave birth to a new gethaar, a sure sign of good fortune for the clan. She spent a day meditating before an open flame and said the spirits were ready to welcome Lafayette from his time in the outer darkness. Surviving the Xaros attack would mean our ancestors blessed the Earth for our future.”
“He was a fine soldier. We would never have beaten the Xaros or the General without him.”
“His spirit lingers,” Steuben said, touching his cybernetic eye.
“What does that mean?”
Steuben didn’t answer.
“Gall, how much longer?” Hale asked over the shuttle’s IR.
“You ask me again and I will turn this ship right around…nine minutes. Coming up on the outer rim of the Crucible now.”
Hale switched to his team channel.
“Alright, Marines. We have one mission in here: deliver the payload to the command center and regain control of the jump gate. Some of you know our payload; some of you don’t.” Hale pointed to Lilith, who gave a nervous wave. “She is a civilian. Don’t expect her to move or act like a Marine.”
“I still don’t have a gun,” Lilith said.
“Secondary objective is to find our three brother and sister Marines captured by the Ruhaald,” Hale continued. “What little we know about the enemy comes from Ibarra. Ruhaald troops are in the station. Also an unknown number of Naroosha are present.”
“Gauss bullets work just fine on the squids,” Lieutenant Jacobs said. “What do we use on the Naroosha? What do they even look like?”
“Not like us, not like the squids…” Hale’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Just shoot anything not dressed like us.”
“I was going to do that anyway,” Orozco said.
“How long will it take her to regain control of the station?” Jacobs asked.
Lilith’s head bobbed from side to side. “It depends on the number of code fissures in the quantum state generators. Assuming they’re using Toth protocols, it might be between—”
“As long as it takes,” Hale said. “We don’t have any plans for tomorrow.”
“Hold on back there,” Durand announced. “One of the silver ships just came through the spikes and is moving toward the center.”
“Anyone know what’ll happen to us if it opens a wormhole?” Cortaro asked.
“Something tells me we don’t want to find out,” Hale said. “Gall, can you—”
The Mule rocked back and forth like a boat over rough seas.
“We lost our cloak!” Durand shouted.
“Damn it.” Hale unbuckled his restraints and grabbed a handle overhead. He swung himself up and into the cockpit.
The Crucible loomed beyond the glass, the dome of a command center straight ahead. Gigantic basalt spikes shifted against each other, revealing and hiding Naroosha ships on the other side of the jump gate’s outer edge. Durand kept her focus on the command center and increased the Mule’s velocity. In the co-pilot’s seat, Choi Ma worked frantically over the control panels.
“What happened?” Hale asked.
“The field shimmered during that turbulence or whatever,” Choi said. “Now it’s gone, but the emitters are still functioning. Get that lizard friend of yours up here. Maybe he can fix it.” She slapped the side of a monitor and swore with words Hale didn’t know.
Tiny motes of light flashed across the dome’s surface.
Durand banked the Mule to the side and dove. Hale mag-locked his feet to the deck and grabbed on to the back of Choi’s seat before the maneuver could toss him against the wall.
Energy bolts snapped across the Mule’s nose.
“We were supposed to land you on a thorn, let you cut your way in under the cloak.” Durand angled the craft up and hit the thrusters. The Mule shook as it accelerated toward the command center. Durand jinked the craft from side to side, dodging fire from the armed bunkers over the dome’s surface.
“I am open to suggestions!” she shouted.
One of the thorns connected to the dome broke away, revealing an opening half as wide as the Breitenfeld’s flight deck.
“It’s Ibarra,” Hale said. “He got us an opening. Can you land there?”
“Probably,” Durand said. “We have to cut our velocity. But if we slow down—” Light flashed over the cockpit and the Mule lurched to the side with an impact Hale felt through his feet.
“Starboard engine malfunctioning,” Choi said, “rerouting power to the maneuver thrusters.”
“Landing now…maybe not.” Durand slapped a button and the Mule jumped up as thrusters across the ventral side flared into action.
Hale felt blood run from his head and swell his toes.
The momentum shifted as the Mule lined up with the entrance to the command center. Durand activated the dorsal thrusters and Hale fought to keep the contents of his stomach in place.
“Landing gear off-line!” Choi shouted. “All hydraulics are out.”
“Fils de pute,” Durand muttered as she hit the retro-thrusters and guided the Mule through the opening and into a semicircular room little bigger than the maintenance bay where the General met his demise.
Durand kicked the tail around and the port wingtip hit the deck. Sparks flew off the contact for a half second as the Mule screeched across the room. The wing collapsed and the Mule slammed onto its side.
Hale kept his grip on Choi’s seat, but the handle broke away with a snap as Hale fell against the side of the cockpit with a crash.
Metal groaned as the Mule slid to a painful stop a few feet from the command center wall.
Durand leaped out of her chair and straddled Hale.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Fine.” Hale tossed the broken handle away.
Durand reached down and slapped Hale across the helmet.
“This is why you stay strapped in your seat, idiot! So you don’t go bouncing around my cockpit like a pinball.”
“Why don’t you two just get a room?” Choi asked as she unstrapped.
The Mule tilted slowly, falling back onto its belly and stopping suddenly at a forty-five-degree angle.
Durand frowned at Choi, then the Frenchwoman’s jaw dropped open.
“The turrets! They didn’t retract!”
“Mei!” Choi struggled out of her seat.
Durand fumbled out of the askew cockpit and Hale followed close on her heels.
Mei was inside the dorsal ball turret, slamming her hands against the reinforced glass hatch that should have opened into the cargo area. Elias’ compact bulk covered the hinges and more than half the hatch; he’d slid loose after cargo straps tore apart in the rough landing. It was impossible to open the turret hatch.
The entire Mule’s mass pressed against the ventral turret. Cracks grew across the hatch as Mei screamed for help.
“It’ll crush her!” Choi said.
“Open the ramp and cut the rest of the straps when I say so.” Hale ran over Caas and to the ramp, where Orozco and Weiss worked furiously with hand cranks to lower the ramp.
“Jacobs, Yarrow, push Elias through on my word.” Hale grabbed a carry handle on the far end of Elias’ rectangular configuration—a handle meant for an exo-lifter
many times stronger than Hale’s armor—and jerked Elias a few inches toward the ramp with a grunt.
“Rest of you shirkers get off your ass and help!” Cortaro shouted. More Marines braced themselves against Elias.
“On three!” Hale commanded. “One…two…heave!”
The Marines pushed Elias toward the half-open ramp, sliding along the straps still holding him against the Mule’s canted deck. Steuben slammed a hand against the end opposite Hale and shoved forward.
Elias shot forward and knocked Hale back. The captain fell out of the Mule and went stumbling against the molded sand floor. Elias slid out of the back and angled down, straight for Hale.
Hale rolled to the side and avoided the soldier’s crushing bulk. He grabbed the carry handle again and pulled Elias clear of the Mule, then he looked around the empty room. The scars of the Mule’s rough landing were nearly gone as the Crucible repaired itself. Elias lay near a wide doorway, the basalt slabs shut.
Orozco fired up a cutting torch and severed the hinges on Mei’s hatch. He ripped the hatch off and pulled the Chinese pilot free seconds before the turret collapsed in an explosion of reinforced glass. The Mule slammed to the deck.
Mei had her arms and legs wrapped around Orozco’s torso. Her head shook violently when Choi tried to pry her away. Orozco cradled Mei’s head against his shoulder and whispered to her. Hale heard lilting Spanish words through his helmet.
“She live?” Elias asked.
“She’ll be fine.” Hale pulled a lever on Elias’ armor to unlimber him from his compressed form. He reached over Elias’ rotary cannon and got a hand on the second handle when the doorway opened.
A hallway full of Ruhaald troops greeted Hale, their rifles aimed at the Marine. Wet clicks filled the air.
Hale pulled the second handle then raised his hands in surrender.
“Elias?”
“Get down.” Elias’ arm shot out from the side of his boxy shape and snatched an alien off its feet. The soldier bashed his captive into the alien next to it then swung the alien back like a club, knocking Ruhaald off their feet.
Elias sat up and dangled the struggling Ruhaald in the air, then dug his fingers into the alien’s body. The Ruhaald popped like a balloon, spraying dark fluid and lumps of gore across the stunned assault party.
“I. Have. Come.” Elias’ other arm struck out and crushed another alien. He unfolded his legs and stood up. He pointed a bloody hand at the survivors. “For you!”
The Ruhaald backed away frantically. Most dropped their weapons as they turned and ran away.
“Pussies,” Elias said as he pulled Caas from the Mule. The armor swung his helm toward Hale, still on the ground. “What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”
“Right, right.” Hale pulled Caas’ levers and went to the Mule. “Everyone ready to move out?”
Durand handed pistols to her Chinese crew.
“We are coming with you.” Durand hopped off the ramp and looked over the wrecked Mule. “I’ve had worse landings,” she said with a click of her tongue.
The boom of gauss cannons echoed off the walls. Elias had gone after the fleeing enemy, Caas right behind him.
“You want to live through this?” Hale asked Durand. “You keep the armor between you and the enemy.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. War Hero.” Durand chambered a round in her pistol. “I would never have figured that out.”
“These two need a room,” Mei said.
“Marines! Follow me!” Hale waved an arm over his shoulder and ran toward the battle.
****
Enemy contact reports from the Ruhaald charged with defending the command center played across Ordona’s holo-fields. A relatively small number of humans had breached the command dome, but among the attackers were a pair of mechanized soldiers that the Ruhaald failed to counter.
Ordona’s hails to the Forever Tide went unanswered.
The Toth malicious code would require another hour to fully co-opt the probe’s systems. Given the rate of the human advance across the dome, he estimated another nine minutes before they were at his door.
Ordona ordered the remainder of his Ruhaald troops to fall back to the inner ring of defenses and considered his options.
The mission must succeed, he thought. I willed my compensation to my spores. They will advance even if I do not.
He opened a channel to an underling, the one experimenting with the procedural generation crèche.
****
Jarilla wiggled a leg into his armor and sealed it tight over the appendage. The suit sucked in water from the bridge floor and filled his suit with the life-preserving fluid.
The human assault had come while he was in communion with the queen, the worst possible moment as it took him several crucial minutes to extricate from her embrace and leave her enclosure.
At first, he’d thought the humans had managed to strike the swimmer’s living quarters with one of their rail cannons. Such a vulnerable area would have been evacuated and drained during combat. His lax standards had just cost the lives of hundreds of his crew.
Jarilla went to the partition between the walker and swimmer areas of the bridge and looked at the damage-control board. The boarders had cut a zigzag path through the ship, moving from deck to deck with terrifying swiftness. Each step brought them closer to the bridge.
“Mrixil,” he called to the swimmer captain. The Ruhaald undulated over, panic pheromones leaking from its gills. “Prepare the queen’s escape pod. I will summon the Endless Depths and it will recover her.”
“She’ll be vulnerable during the transfer. If the humans are on the offensive, the risk from their fighters or long-range weapons is too great to—”
“There is no human offensive!” Jarilla slammed a fist against the wall. “Their walking tanks are almost here. Get her to safety. Now.”
“It will be done.” Mrixil swam away.
Jarilla ran over to the communications station. “Get me the Endless Depths, and where are the sentries? I want every armed crew to fall back to the bridge. Nothing is more important than keeping her safe.”
“The sentry team is down the passageway beyond the doors…but they’re not moving,” the comms officer said.
Jarilla drew a pistol off his thigh.
The doors to the bridge buckled as a massive fist slammed into them. One of the doors went flying as Bodel kicked it free. The door crushed the weapons officer and his cogitators. Bodel leveled his cannon.
“Nobody move.”
“Forty percent complete!” Mrixil shouted.
“For the queen!” Jarilla charged toward Bodel, snapping off shots from his lightning pistol. The rest of the bridge crew abandoned their stations and followed their Septon.
Bodel ignored the hits from Jarilla’s weapon and stomped a pair of Ruhaald into paste. He swung the back of his hand down and knocked the chief navigator against the partition.
Jarilla aimed at the thinner armor beneath Bodel’s armpit and pulled the trigger. A human hand grabbed him by the wrist and jerked his aim high.
Torni, her shell swirling between fractals and her once-human appearance, looked at the Ruhaald with open scorn.
Jarilla struggled against her grip, surprised by her raw strength. His tentacle activated the pistol, unleashing bolts that stitched across the ceiling.
The hand around his wrist snapped into a fist, severing Jarilla’s tentacles and sending the pistol to the deck with a splash. Jarilla’s brief scream filled the bridge.
“Sixty percent!” Mrixil announced.
Torni reached back and her fingers extended into spikes. She slammed them into Jarilla’s chest and pierced the armor enough to break the suit’s integrity but not skewer the flesh within.
She hefted the Septon off the deck.
“You understand me?” Torni asked.
“I do.” Jarilla jerked his head to the voice box on his shoulder.
“You tell those others to stop what they’re do
ing right now and get on the ground.” She raised her other hand toward the swimmer bridge. A ruby spark formed in the palm of her hand. “I won’t ask twice.”
“What are you?” Jarilla felt a spike press against his thorax.
“I am Sergeant Sofia Torni, Atlantic Union Marine Corps, and I am not here to make friends.”
The spark grew into a jet of flame.
Jarilla gave her an insult that the voice box failed to translate.
Torni unleashed a disintegration beam that cut through the glass partition like it didn’t exist and annihilated Mrixil. The liquid within the tank flash-boiled, killing the rest of the crew in seconds.
The Marine lowered her hand and looked at Jarilla.
“You will order your ships to lower their shields. You will order your ships to leave our skies and set anchor behind the dark side of our moon. Your ships so much as light a maneuver thruster without our express permission and the macro cannons across the solar system will blow you to dust. Don’t think we’re afraid to beat up the moon. I already wrecked it,” she said.
“Your world is beautiful, and my ships are full of nuclear weapons. Ending my life will not stop us from poisoning—”
Torni walked toward the dark tank on the far side of the bridge, carrying the Septon like he was a plate of food in a restaurant. She extended her other hand toward the queen’s tank, the burning mote of a disintegration beam ready.
“Who’s in there? Someone important?”
“Nothing! Auxiliary fluid for—”
“Then it won’t matter when I destroy it!”
The queen appeared from the inky depths. She was something out of a primordial nightmare, a massive cranium dotted with barnacles and feeder tentacles the size of octopus limbs. The true extent of her massive form faded into the darkness.
Torni’s throat mimicked a hard swallow.
“What will you do if we surrender?” The queen’s words lilted through Jarilla’s translator. “Will you destroy us?”
“Your fate will be up to Valdar, people more important than me. We don’t kill those that surrender—I can promise you that,” Torni said.
