by Richard Fox
“A human? Where did you find that? The Xaros should have overran them by now,” Chairman Ranik asked.
“It was on Anthalas, along with a Karigole that slipped through my fingers. It seems the Qa’Resh and the Alliance got to the humans before the Xaros. The humans have an incomplete Xaros gate, which is interesting,” Kren said.
“Kren, you went to Anthalas with our shipyard’s newest cruiser, the warriors from our finest gene line and more menials than I can consume in a month,” the Chairman said. “You think this tidbit of information is worth more than Doctor Mentiq’s menagerie of meat species?”
“No, certainly not. But this human is different from the ones we knew of. Its mind had enormous taste, but the body was far too young to hold such a feast. The humans found a way to mass produce themselves, quickly and without replication to dull the taste,” Kren said. His nerves waved back in forth against his tank, too excited to keep his emotions in check. For far too long, Toth overseers had made do with bland clones to keep their minds alive. The human corpse represented a revenue stream that would make Kren wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, even if he had to assign a decent percentage to the corporation.
“Do you have this method?” the Chairman asked.
“No … no. None of the humans I encountered were aware of the flash-grown bodies with false minds amongst them. But they are on Earth, a location known to us. From what I gleaned off their minds, the planet’s total population is paltry and their military is weak. An easy victory for us, yes?”
The audio from the Board cut off as the five discussed Kren’s proposal.
“It is agreed. We will sponsor a trade expedition to Earth. Vice President Stix will head up the project as—”
“No!” Kren shouted. His nerves coiled around his spinal cord as the color within the Chairman’s tank changed from red to deep purple. One did not interrupt her without consequence. “I invoke right of first refusal, as in our corporate charter, to exploit any new resources. Must I cite chapter and verse?”
“Kren,” the Chairman purred at him, a dangerous tone that caused him to float against the back of his tank in fear, “Stix has led several raids, including the profitable expedition against the Karigole. Let him take care of the humans. You’ll get your percentage.”
Common sense dictated Kren cease his protest, but the thought of an unlimited supply of fresh, unique minds to sate his hunger was too much. As happened often in Toth history, avarice proved stronger than logic.
“I restate my claim,” Kren said.
“As you wish,” the Chairman said. “But even your wealth isn’t enough to absorb the loss from two expeditions. Fail, and we will auction off the right to feast on your mind to cover your debts. And Stix will accompany you as a technical advisor. Liquidate your crew once your life pod has been recovered. No need to risk losing this secret to corporate espionage, now is there?”
“The terms are acceptable,” Kren said. The warriors and menials crammed into his shuttle looked around at each other, their eyes widening as the implication became clear. The transmission ended.
“I’m sorry, everyone.” Kren saw a space cutter through the windows, his rescue. His tank arms overrode the environmental controls on the pod. Being a nervous system suspended in fluid, he had no need for air.
“Your services are no longer required.” Kren vented the pod’s atmosphere into space. The death of every Toth around him was quick, but painful.
CHAPTER 17
The desk in Captain Valdar’s ready room had a new decoration: a Toth claw pried from Elias’ armor. The soldier, who had little use for possessions, gave it to the Breitenfeld’s master in appreciation for disabling the Toth ship and leaving it to Xaros mercy.
Valdar tossed an Ubi slate onto the desk and pressed fingertips into his temples. Speech writing wasn’t his forte, nor was explaining to Admiral Garret why he’d take his ship into the jaws of the Xaros invasion of Takeni.
A chime sounded—someone at the door.
“Come in,” Valdar said.
The door slid aside and Stacey’s hologram entered, her projection around the floating ball. Commander Ericsson stuck her head into the ready room and cocked an eyebrow at the captain. Valdar waved his XO away and the door shut behind her.
“Thing about being a hologram,” Stacey said, “you have the damnedest time opening doors. You asked to see me?”
“How soon can you get back to Earth? There’s a lot they need to know,” Valdar said.
“Days, at least. The Crucible is set to keep the gate open for Breitenfeld’s return, not an unscheduled visit by me. It’ll take time for the gate on Bastion to charge up enough energy to get me through,” Stacey said.
“It will have to do. You’ll take my after-action review of what happened on Anthalas and my … reasoning for going to Takeni with you?” Valdar tapped the Ubi on his desk.
“Certainly. You don’t need to see me ‘in person’ for that, though.”
“No. The Toth, they kept going on about ‘weed bodies’ and ‘false minds.’ Do you know what they could be talking about?” Stacey shook her head. “I went over this with Hale, and the only other human contact they had was with Lieutenant Bartlett and the rest of his Rangers. The only thing that could be the ‘weed bodies’ and ‘false minds’ is them. I went through their records, but there’s nothing unusual. None of the armor soldiers ever heard of Bartlett and the rest of his men and women.”
“The army was a big place before the invasion. Don’t tell me you knew everyone in the navy,” Stacey said.
“No, certainly not. Stacey, I’m not in your chain of command anymore, but when you get back to Earth, would you look into this? Alert Admiral Garret that there’s something wrong, something unnatural. And I’m certain Marc Ibarra is behind it.”
“What’re we talking about, clones? He was adamantly against the technology when he was alive. Sponsored all kinds of legislation against the practice.”
“He’s been playing a game with the rest of the human race for six decades. Do you think he’s stopped?”
Stacey crossed her arms and looked away. “No, I suppose he hasn’t,” she said softly. “I don’t even know if he’s him anymore. Exactly how that probe preserved his consciousness is ‘need to know’ information.”
“We’re pawns, Stacey. I saw that at the assembly. All the races there will throw humanity to the Xaros if it suits them. Why clones? Do they think we’ll be some kind of a slave army for them?”
“No, sir. Maybe you’re reading too much into what the Toth said. If we really were pawns, would the Qa’Resh override the vote to send you to Takeni?”
Valdar pushed his chair away from his desk and frowned.
“They’ve played us, Stacey. Sacrificed billions to get a Crucible gate within reach. Don’t tell me they won’t let the rest of us go to save themselves. I have no misconceptions about how important my ship—my one ship—will be when the Xaros return to Earth. If we die on Takeni, it won’t make much of a difference.” Valdar stood up and looked over his uniform in a mirror.
“You should learn to trust, sir. It makes life easier,” Stacey said.
Valdar tapped a photo stuck against the mirror of him with his wife and children around a Christmas tree.
“They’re dead, Stacey. My family is dead because of the Qa’Resh and their plans. Don’t talk to me about trust. Now, I have to go tell my crew what I just volunteered them for,” Valdar said. He tried to sidestep around Stacey’s hologram, but his shoulder passed through her image and distorted it with a tug.
Valdar found Ericsson waiting for him outside the door. He left Stacey alone in his ready room as the door closed behind him.
Stacey shook her head slowly. She waved a hand over the Ubi and drew out the final report Valdar wrote for Garret and transferred it to her holo sphere. She took out the earlier drafts and sworn statements from Hale too.
She hated lying to Valdar. The man was a brave and talented officer that cared
for his crew. He deserved better than canned answers and denial. Ibarra’s plan for procedurally generated fighting men and women had to go forward. Without them, extinction was inevitable. Valdar would never know that Stacey brought the final neurologic programming code needed to create the proccies to Ibarra. No one could know that. Ibarra would absorb the backlash for their creation, not the Qa’Resh. Not Bastion.
Stacey walked to the door, which didn’t open for her. She tried to push a key to open the door, but her hand slid through the wall. She looked up at the sensor atop the doorframe, which wouldn’t read her presence.
“Ahh, seriously?”
****
Breitenfeld’s flight deck was empty of planes, but full of sailors and Marines. Mustering the entire crew was rare, even in peace time. Thousands stood in formation, each individual section drawn up into a separate square of neat rows, facing a stage set up at the fore side of the deck, staring into the gray abyss Bastion kept around the ship. Low murmurs from those assembled rumbled like a crowd just before a performance.
“I don’t like this,” Standish said. “Anyone else not like this?” Bailey and Orozco, standing on either side of him, shrugged their shoulders. Torni, on the far right of the rank as she was the acting head NCO, rolled her eyes.
“What’re you so worried about? You’re the gossip center of this ship. Don’t you know what the captain’s going to tell us?” Bailey asked.
“I will neither confirm nor deny the existence of a junior enlisted information network. That being said … I don’t know a damn thing. That’s why I’m so nervous,” Standish said.
“Settle down,” Orozco said. “It’s not like he donated all our organs to alien science.”
“What? Where did you hear that?” Standish twisted around and repeated Orozco’s supposition to the Marine standing behind him.
“Standish!” Torni’s loud whisper snapped Standish back around. “I swear to God, I will jam my boot so far up your ass you’ll choke on the steel-tipped toes. Will that stop you from yammering like a damn one-man knitting circle?”
Standish nodded furiously.
“Anyone been to see Gunney Cortaro yet?” Bailey asked.
“The lieutenant did, said he’s in rough shape but he’s stable,” Orozco said. “I asked about Yarrow and was told he’s in quarantine and ‘don’t ask anymore.’”
“Sarge,” Bailey said to Torni, “you went with Yarrow. What happened down there?”
“Well,” Torni said slowly, “this giant alien … thing …,” Torni sniffed and wiped away blood seeping from her nose. “I’m sorry, what was I saying?”
“You were talking about what happened with Yarrow,” Bailey said.
“What? Why would I do that?” Torni asked.
“You were down there with the LT, that’s why,” Orozco said.
“I was?” Torni winced and pressed a palm against the side of her head.
“Sweet Jesus, maybe the captain really did sell our organs to aliens,” Bailey said.
A chief petty officer climbed a small set of stairs to the stage. The ship’s crew fell silent as their attention turned to the stage.
“Crew! Attention!” the petty officer announced, his words amplified by speakers above the flight deck.
Thousands of heels clicked together and the flight deck went silent but for the thrum of air circulators.
Captain Valdar stepped behind a podium and looked over the men and women assembled before him, his face stoic.
“Breitenfeld,” Valdar said, “our mission to Anthalas was a success. Our allies have everything they need to understand Omnium and that knowledge will go to Earth. But we’re not going home. Not yet.” He paused as crewmen looked to each other in surprise. “We have all lost. The Xaros took our families, everyone we knew. We never had the chance, or the choice, to save any of those we loved.
“A Xaros force threatens a small planet full of civilians. They won’t survive unless we act. The women and children won’t survive unless we save them. They’re not our families. They aren’t even human, but they need us. Our ship, our skill, our strength. They need heroes. They’ve got Breitenfeld.
“The Xaros would exterminate us, all intelligent life, from the galaxy. Let’s rescue life from right under their noses. Let those robot bastards see that humanity endures, our light remains and that our survival defies them. We’ll show them that setting foot on Earth was the worst mistake they’ve ever made.
“Get our ship ready to jump. Get our ship ready to fight. Gott mit uns, dismissed.”
THE END
FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for reading The Ruins of Anthalas. I hope you enjoyed it enough to leave a review and tell two friends about The Ember War books. If you noted any typos or errors in the text, drop me a line at [email protected]. Anyone who helps me kill typos with fire might—just might—see a character named for them die horribly in an upcoming book (with your permission, of course).
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Also By Richard Fox:
The Ember War Saga:
1. The Ember War
2. The Ruins of Anthalas
3. Blood of Heroes (Coming November 2015)
+++
THE RED BARON
At the dawn of the First World War, Manfred von Richthofen seeks renown as a cavalry officer in the German army. His path to glory leads to the fledgling German air force and there he discovers a deadly talent for air-to-air combat.
Richthofen learns that in the air, victory and renown come at the expense of other men’s lives. A heavy burden that grinds against his soul. To the soldiers and people of Germany, he is the pride of an empire. To his foes, the Red Baron. As the wounds to his body and spirit mount, however, Richthofen learns that even heroes have limits. With the war entering its final stages, his greatest battle will be finding the strength to keep fighting.
+++
The Eric Ritter Spy Thriller Series:
THE CALIBAN PROGRAM
Months after 9/11, a covert arm of the CIA summons young Lieutenant Eric Ritter to Pakistan. Al Qaeda holds an American operative, and Ritter’s history with the kidnapper is key to rescuing the operative before it’s too late.
While the CIA need Ritter’s help, they consider him an expendable asset and throw him into a battle he isn’t ready for. Deep inside a hostile city, Ritter will learn what it takes to fight the cloak and dagger war against a merciless enemy, or die trying.
INTO DARKNESS
A deadly ambush leaves two soldiers in terrorist hands, and their only chance at rescue is the connection between Army intelligence officer Eric Ritter and the Al Qaeda mastermind behind the attack.
To find the lost soldiers, Ritter must ally with the Caliban Program, a covert arm of the CIA that gives him remit to use any means necessary in his search; means forbidden by his oaths as an officer.
Surrounded by hostile Iraqis and hounded by the terrorist leader that wants him dead, Ritter maneuvers between the shadow world of the Caliban Program and his cover as another soldier in the War on Terror.
Ritter must decide if he’ll embrace the dark path before him and betray all that he stands for, or risk leaving two men behind.
THE SOCOTRA INCIDENT
When Somali pirates hijack a fishing boat smuggling a nuclear warhead, a frantic race for the weapon ignites. Al Qaeda wants the bomb to strike a devastating blow against the West. The North Koreans want the nuclear weapon back before their role in nuclear terrorism is laid out before the world stage. The CIA wants their operative Eric Ritter to seize the bomb intact for later use...and Ritter doesn't know why.
As the trail runs cold, the CIA thrust the inexperienced and naive Cindy Davis into the spy game. A Russian arms dealer holds the key to finding the nuke, and Dav
is must find the bomb before it slips into terrorists hands.
The Socotra Incident is a globe-hopping military thriller brimming with tension, betrayal, and espionage.
THE BELTWAY ASSASSIN
An assassin murders one of the shadowy Directors of the Caliban Program-a covert arm of the CIA that operates beyond the bounds of law and morality. As the targeted killings of America’s elite continues in Washington DC, the investigation falls to two men.
Eric Ritter:
The CIA operative must infiltrate the highest levels of the US government to find out who set the assassin loose, and how deep the conspiracy against the Caliban Program goes. His partner in the investigation is a man he betrayed on the battlefields of the Iraq War
Greg Shelton:
A rookie FBI Agent forced to assist Ritter by a deep secret-he owes his new career to the Caliban Program, and that career ends the moment he steps out of line. Shelton must play along with the investigation until he can find the right evidence to expose Ritter for the criminal he suspects he is, and free himself the CIA’s clutches.
The race to capture the assassin, a master bomb maker as insane as he is deadly, will take Ritter and Shelton from the seedy underbelly of the nation’s capital city to the gilded halls of power where a far deadlier game plays out on the world stage.
