by Richard Fox
“I didn’t ask that. I asked about you.”
There was a pause lasting several heartbeats.
“I thought I found him. Jared. But…can I talk to you about it later, Uncle Isaac? It’s a mess in here.”
“It’s a mess out here too, son. I’ll see you soon.”
“Hale, out.”
Valdar’s eyes went to Earth as it swept out of view. The day had been long, the victory bought with blood, but it wasn’t all for nothing. Not by a longshot.
****
The flash of distant ship-to-ship combat faded away as the final few Naroosha ships died beneath the guns of the Breitenfeld and the Mars fleet. Standish zoomed in on a gray armored strike cruiser and saw Gott Mit Uns emblazoned in gold letters along her side.
“There she is,” Standish said, grabbing Bailey and shaking her. “There’s my girl. Told you she’d make it.”
“Valdar’s a good skipper,” she said. “No way some bunch of cu—”
“Bailey?” Standish tried to look at her, but his head wouldn’t turn. He struggled against his armor, which had frozen in place. Dead noise filled his ears and his visor UI vanished with a click, replaced by Marc Ibarra’s hologram.
“Standish,” Ibarra said, crossing his arms across his chest. “We need to have a talk.”
“Mr. Ibarra! Real honor to meet you. Big fan of your work.” Standish chuckled nervously and flexed his arms and legs in an attempt to regain control of his armor. His face went red with effort, then he smiled at Ibarra.
“Done? You’ve come across some rather sensitive information during our time on the Crucible. Information I need you to promise to keep confidential,” Ibarra said.
“You mean the clones you’re making of Shannon?”
“They are not clones—they are re-creations. But the general public won’t see it that way and that’s why you need to keep your flapping gums shut about everything you saw in the crèche. We have an understanding?”
“No understanding, but we might reach an agreement.” Standish jostled his eyebrows.
“Good. I’ll release you—wait…what did you say?”
“You want my silence? I’m willing to give it. But first you need to accept my terms.”
“You know I have complete control over your suit? I can use your boots to send you flying toward Earth and have you burn up on reentry. You’re aware?”
“You’ve got that option, sure. But I don’t think you’re that kind of person. I have a business proposal for you. You give me what I want and you’ll get what you want. Win-win.”
“Son, I am Marc Ibarra. The richest man that ever lived. My corporation stretched from Mercury to Neptune. I used to overthrow governments on a whim and now you, a junior Marine with a spotty service record, want to make a deal?”
“Yes.”
Ibarra’s face grew larger on the visor until he was nearly eye to eye with Standish.
“I’m listening,” Ibarra said.
CHAPTER 18
Hale half carried, half supported Yarrow out of the Crucible’s control room. Yarrow hopped on his good foot, keeping his injured appendage out of Lilith’s sight and an arm over the captain’s shoulders.
“Jason, are you sure you’re alright?” Lilith asked. She had her helmet off, and her nose crinkled at the smell of his singed toes.
“It’s just a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about,” Yarrow said.
Hale gave the corpsman a sideways glance, which Yarrow answered with a small shrug. Elias sat in the intersection where Yarrow had been hit, his shoulder-mounted rotary cannon sweeping from side to side over Ruhaald soldiers kneeling against the wall, weaponless and with their hands laced over their heads.
Cortaro stepped around Elias, followed by three more Marines.
“They gave up not long after you went inside,” the first sergeant said. “One tried asking if they could keep their weapons, then Elias grabbed it by the bubble helmet and asked me if he could crush the negotiator’s head.”
“I’m still willing to do it,” Elias rumbled.
“Damn, new guy,” Standish said over Cortaro’s shoulder. “You shoot yourself in the foot to get some more time with your baby ma—oh crap—is that her?”
“Standish?” Hale stopped in his tracks. “Where the hell have you been? No, I don’t want you to answer that. Egan, where the hell have you all been?”
“Long story short,” Egan said, “we were outside the omnium reactor dome when the Ruhaald surrendered, then Ibarra sent a Mule from the Breitenfeld to pick us up. Before that—”
“A tank ate me. All of me, not just the face. Then I killed it,” Standish said.
“We saw where Egan was—” Standish jabbed an elbow into Bailey’s shoulder “—we almost got put on trial for some squid tall poppy that carked it, but no worries.”
“The Mule that brought you still here?” Hale asked.
“Parked next to one that’s seen better days,” Egan said.
“Evac Yarrow to the Breitenfeld for treatment,” Hale said, transferring Yarrow’s weight to Standish. Then he looked over the many Ruhaald prisoners lining the walls. This was not a problem he’d anticipated.
“Mister Hale?” Lilith looked at him with big eyes. “Do you need me anymore? Because I could…” She waved her hand at Yarrow as he limped away. “I mean, you don’t want me to—”
“Yes, go with him. Thank you for your service, miss. I’ll get you back to Phoenix as soon as I can,” Hale said.
She clapped rapidly and hurried after Yarrow.
Hale went to Elias and removed a glove. He ran his palm over his face, wiping away dried salt and grime left over from sweat.
“Elias.”
“Hale.”
“Hell of a day.”
“It’s not over. It will never be over,” Elias said.
“Do you ever just…want a god damn shower?”
Elias, who’d been confined to his armor since the Crucible first fell into human hands, leaned his helm over a shoulder to give Hale a quick look.
“Sorry,” Hale said.
****
Sunlight flooded the Mule as its ramp lowered. The snap of dry air stung Hale’s nose. Yarrow and Lilith were out of their belts and halfway down the ramp before the captain could even get out of his seat. Hale stopped at the top of the ramp.
Yarrow, moving quite fast even with the aid of a cane, shuffled toward a little girl running across the tarmac to him and Lilith, who scooped Mary up and buried her head against the girl’s neck. Yarrow reached them a few heartbeats later and wrapped both of them in his arms.
“There’s something we might not see again,” Cortaro said. “Family reunited.”
“At least I brought someone home.”
“Some promises aren’t ours to keep. Glad we got Yarrow and her back in one piece, mostly. Would have hated to explain the other outcome to that little girl,” Cortaro said.
“Think they’ll get married?” Hale asked.
“I will beat him within an inch of his life if he pulls that ‘I’m not ready for family’ crap. Yarrow’s the responsible type, good kid. He’ll do the right thing.”
“Or else.”
“Or else,” Cortaro grunted.
Hale’s gauntlet dinged with a priority message. The captain looked at his arm but made no effort to answer the call.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Hale said.
“I don’t hear anything.” Cortaro rubbed a finger against an ear. “Chinese grenade hit awful close a couple years back. Kept me from hearing my old lady’s honey-do’s for years.”
“Balls,” Hale said and looked at his screen. He rolled his eyes. “I just want to take a god damn shower.”
“What is it?” Cortaro held up a hand and stopped Orozco from walking down the ramp.
“Valdar wants me on the Breit. Something about an anomaly on Jupiter. He only wants me and Steuben. Get our Marines quartered and fed. Keep them close. I don’t know what the next move will be.”
“Oh, and put Yarrow on a twenty-four-hour local pass after he gets his foot treated.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hale turned around and saw Steuben still in his seat, staring at the mechanical hand. He went to his XO and said, “You up for the next bit?”
“I am always ready.” Steuben looked up, the skin around his cyborg eye twitching.
CHAPTER 19
Hale looked out from the Breitenfeld’s hangar deck over the surface of Jupiter. The last time he’d seen the giant of the solar system was when he’d stood on the surface of Europa, dodging Toth fighters.
Steuben shifted from side to side. “I don’t like this.”
“What, the view?”
“No, waiting with the gate wide open for whatever brought us out here. Valdar brought a significant portion of the fleet here to investigate the anomaly, leaving the Ruhaald practically unguarded,” Steuben said. “Also, the great red eye of this planet bothers me. There was a similar world in my home system. Its atmospheric patterns changed quickly. Whenever Ulundialli formed an eye, the gethaar took it as an ill omen.”
“I heard some of the crew say the jump gate signature formed right over the Great Red Spot,” Hale said.
Steuben growled. “I will not share this with the gethaar.”
Captain Valdar and Captain Gor’al stepped onto the flight deck.
Hale tapped Steuben on the arm. “Here we go.” Hale was about to turn around when he saw a glint of light just beyond Jupiter’s edge. The glint became a crystalline ship within seconds, heading straight for the Breitenfeld. Hale reached for a rifle that should have been on his back, but it was locked away in the armory to prevent another unfortunate incident like Standish and the others had gone through with the Ruhaald.
The crystal ship slipped through the force field separating the flight deck from the void, causing an uproar from the crew. Hale felt a sense of calm, and a memory of his grandfather came to him. He and Steuben went to the two captains, not taking their eyes off the strange craft.
Sections of the ship opened, spilling glowing tentacles the size of thick ropes toward the deck. The crystal plates glowed faintly.
+Greetings.+
The word stung Hale’s mind, but it was a feather’s touch compared to the General’s voice.
Two people dropped from the Qa’Resh’s tentacles, Stacey and Pa’lon.
Stacey shivered, and her eyes opened wide when she saw Hale.
“Ken!” She ran over and stopped short when she saw Steuben, her gaze on his cyborg eye and hand. She composed herself, her right hand almost saluting Valdar.
“Ms. Ibarra,” Valdar said, “I take it you can tell us why the Crucible won’t connect to Bastion…and why there’s a giant crystal jellyfish on my ship.”
“The Xaros are…they’re using wormholes. They came to Bastion and…it’s all gone, sir. The Alliance is finished. I already sent instructions to the Crucible to stop them from jumping in right on top of Earth, but they’ll come for us. In numbers we can’t even imagine,” she said.
“I take it you’re here with more than just bad news,” Valdar said.
+We must strike,+ came from the Qa’Resh. +The Crucible must be made whole. The pathway to the Xaros’ heart—the Apex—is our only chance at victory. We must strike before the enemy turns their gaze to Earth.+
The words echoed through Hale’s mind.
“Our fleets are damaged,” Valdar said. “The crews are exhausted. Ibarra says this Apex is a construct unlike any ever seen in the galaxy. How can we win?”
+You had one…once-Torni. She lives?+
“Torni lives,” Hale said.
A ball of omnium metal descended from the tentacles and morphed into Malal’s faceless form.
“Bring her to me,” Malal said. “We have much work to do.”
****
Torni looked at a message on her forearm, then to the numbered door in front of her. She raised a hand to knock…then hesitated. She lowered her fist and half turned away.
“You’re in the right place.” Marc Ibarra popped onto a small screen on the door controls.
“It’s not the right place if I’m not welcome,” she said.
“I don’t understand the Karigole that well, but this rite is for everyone that knew the deceased. It’s important for you to participate. Don’t want to anger the dead, now do we?” Ibarra asked.
“You don’t strike me as the religious type, definitely not the kind that believes in alien religions.”
“Darling, in the spiritual sense, I am a ghost. Growing up, I would never have thought such a thing was possible. Then an alien probe drops in the desert and tells me I have to save the whole human race. Who knows what’s next? Have you seen the thing on Jupiter?”
“If you’re a ghost…then what am I?”
Ibarra closed an eye and winced.
“Tough one, but let’s save that for later. Time to force the issue.”
The screen blinked off and the door slid open. Inside, a tool chest sat against the wall and a single candle burned on top of it. A mechanical four-fingered hand, a small doll made from twisted grass and a multi-tool sat on the chest.
“Torni,” Steuben said as he came to the door. He motioned her inside with the stump of his right arm. “Lafayette would be honored for you to join him.”
“I don’t…don’t understand,” she said, staring at her feet.
“He’ll explain,” Ibarra’s voice came from inside the workshop.
Torni entered. Hale and Cortaro sat on a bench across from the small shrine. Ibarra’s holographic projection stood behind them. Torni sat down, the wood groaning beneath the compact weight of her omnium body.
Steuben squatted next to the shrine and stared into the flame.
“A Karigole’s soul lingers after death. Lafayette waits just beyond the veil, a courtesy so those who knew him can give him one last message before he leaves to join our brothers. Before he died, he wanted me to know that I am shol mar cul. It is a blessing and a curse, for it marks me as the last of our centurion to arrive for judgement. If I die well, then it bodes well for the rest. The god of death will look favorably on us all if my death is…worthy. If not, then our souls will be cast into nothing…perhaps returned to the mortal plane if we show promise.
“Lafayette’s death saved three peoples from the Xaros. Mine, the Dotok, and yours. That set a high bar.”
“The next battle will be something special, Steuben,” Ibarra said.
“Indeed.” Steuben reached his stump to his face. He clicked his jaw in annoyance and scratched the skin touching the plate over his eye and head with the other hand.
Hale leaned toward Torni and whispered, “Look into the flame and send your message to Lafayette. That’s how you get a message to the other side. He’ll stay until it goes out.”
Torni nodded quickly. How would Mother Superior Wynn react if she knew Torni was taking part in a religious ritual so far removed from the catechism that “heathen” couldn’t describe it?
I’m the mind of a dead woman stuck in an alien lump of metal. Maybe it’s time to stop trying to make sense of everything.
Torni shifted uneasily, then stared into the flame.
Lafayette. I knew I would die on Takeni. I made my choice to save Hale and all those other Dotok women and children. I made the choice freely, without remorse, without regrets. I hope that you faced your final decision with as much peace and certainty as I did. I hope your end came faster than mine did.
Steuben is a good soldier, a true friend to many of us. I will watch over him, protect him, but I will not let him throw his life away.
The flame flickered.
Steuben turned his head to Torni and gave her a nod.
****
A red wind blew over Mars. Sand bounced over armor lying half-buried beneath the rust-colored accretion as the planet worked to slowly subsume the fallen.
Elias and Bodel approached Kallen’
s resting place. Elias went to her head and took a knee. He brushed sand away from her helm. Bodel knelt at her feet.
Colonel Carius stepped through the sandstorm, a black Crusader’s cross emblazoned across his chest. The armor touched two fingers to his helm just above the optics, to his sternum, to his left shoulder and then to his right.
“Kallen has fallen,” the colonel said. “I see her wounds. I see the scars of battle around us. Who will testify that she died in battle?”
“Witnessed,” Elias said.
“Who will testify to her skill in combat?”
“Witnessed,” Bodel intoned.
“Kallen came to us with no strength in her body, but with a spirit and a mind stronger than any I have ever seen. No one has ever shown more determination to earn their plugs and their spurs. Her heart was…iron. She will be interred with the fallen below Mount Olympus. May she serve at the right hand of God. May we earn the right to fight beside her again.”
Elias grabbed Kallen’s hands and bent her arms over her chest. He slipped his hands beneath her shoulders. Bodel gave him a slight nod and the three rose as one. The sound of frozen blood cracking broke over the howl of the wind.
They followed Carius into the red. Armor from surviving platoons formed a cordon through the storm, and each slammed a fist against their breast in salute as Kallen’s body passed.
****
Shannon woke up with a deep breath. She stretched her arms out and felt silk sheets against her bare legs. Images of her last dream faded from her mind. She didn’t try to catch them; it was a common dream, one she knew by heart: her last day with her husband and son in a Washington, DC, park, just across the Potomac River from the Pentagon. She lost them both on a Tuesday. The moments in her dream were the last time she’d felt joy.
She ran fingernails over her scalp and popped out of bed. Morning sunlight flooded her studio apartment, furnished sparsely and plainly. She looked around for a clock, but there was none to be found.
