Ashes Fall (The Ibarra Crusade Book 1)

by Richard Fox

  “I can turn into a tank?” Ely looked down at his legs.

  “What did you call us?” the Irish Templar asked as she and the other two of Roland’s lance went down on their treads.

  +Even I’m offended.+

  Ely’s quadriceps muscles cramped up as treads popped out of his suit and he pitched forward. He looked down at his new form and tapped one of the treads. He felt the sensation in his left shin then tried to walk forward. He turned in to the wall then rumbled back until Roland stopped him with a hand to Ely’s shoulder.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Roland asked.

  Ely paused for a moment. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “Have your ghost slave to mine and I’ll get you moving. The longer we’re out here, the longer the Geist have to move against us. Straight-line shot back to my base. We’ve got to keep ahead of the Gary driller or we’ll become a permanent part of this planet. We break the tunnels behind us on the way back in,” Roland said.

  +Fine.+

  Ely heard a “pop” in his ears and he began rolling forward, keeping pace with Roland. Ely’s legs went numb, but he could still move his suit’s arms and look around. Infrared optics engaged and Ely could see the walls and the rest of the lance. A crunching noise followed behind them.

  “We detected the Crucible activation and thought it was an error,” Roland said. “That gate’s too damaged to let in much more than something the size of a shuttle. It isn’t like the Geist to interrupt the self-repair sequence. Then the recon I sent to investigate saw you out there…care to explain?”

  Ely shared his story as they rumbled through the tunnel, answering the occasional question from Roland.

  “There goes our ace in the hole for retaking the Ceres gate,” Roland grumbled, “but that plan was shelved years ago. We’re almost back. Follow Morrigan and she’ll get you to a cemetery to dismount, then we’ll get a better look at you.”

  A block of light appeared ahead of them and they drove into an opening just wide enough for Roland. Thick metal walls buttressed Ely as he went through. On the other side were more Armor, all with rifles the size of a man. All looked ready to fight. They were still underground, metal spars all around, like they were at the bottom of a dome flipped upside down and sunk into the planet.

  Roland slapped a hand to the floor and flipped over, his treads reverting back to legs, and he hit the ground at a slow pace. Crusade officers in fatigues, some in power armor, fell in behind him, one rattling off numbers and terms Ely didn’t understand. Roland disappeared through a set of blast doors without even looking back.

  Ely veered to one side and sensation returned to his legs as a charley horse knotted his muscles. His treads receded back into their housings and Ely was on his feet, unsteady for a few seconds.

  With the pommel of her sword in one hand, Morrigan pointed him down an empty stretch of the metal wall.

  Ely followed her instructions. “Story of my life lately.” Ely shrugged his shoulders with a whirr of servos. “Just go where I’m told. It’s like I’m in boarding school. Or the army. Jail, even?”

  “Army sounds about right.” Morrigan stepped past him when they reached an Armor-sized doorway and kept her optics on him, one thumb on the activation controls of her sword. An antenna on her helm pulsed with light and the doors opened.

  People were inside—women, children, the elderly. They were dirty, with extra layers of clothes and bags around them. Four of the side-only coffins were there, the service catwalk now home to clumps of refugees. Some cried in fear when Morrigan stepped into the cemetery.

  “Ahh…damn it,” she said. “This bay was supposed to be clear.”

  “And we told them that!” A woman in mechanic’s overalls and hair in a tight bun whacked the catwalk’s railing with a heavy wrench. She had welder goggles on her forehead, which held hair down over her left eye. A pudgy man in similar dress and two robots with shovel-shaped heads and dirty frames were a few yards behind her.

  “It’s warm in here!” a refugee called out.

  “The Crusade needs this space,” Morrigan said, holding up a hand. “There’s food and cots at the Saint Carius Center on level three. I speak for the Lady in this.”

  “Cover that name,” Morrigan said through an IR link to Ely. He brought a fist to his chest in an unfinished salute he’d seen the Crusaders giving.

  The refugees started moving, filing out of the cemetery and passing Ely’s and Morrigan’s legs. Everyone that came within arm’s reach of Ely knocked on his legs, then kissed their knuckles. Ely got a few double-takes.

  “What’re they doing? With the tapping?” he asked.

  “Armor are the avatar of Saint Kallen. We are icons to the faithful,” Morrigan said. “It’s a hefty burden, not one we take lightly. Get in bay 1 and then dismount.” She pointed the hilt to where the mechanic woman and a robot waited. The catwalk in front of a coffin lifted up.

  “Finally.” Ely backed into the bay and spinning rods from the coffin fastened onto his suit.

  +Whatever they do, don’t let me sleep for so long again. Find me some Geist to kill,+ Ghost said.

  Ely lost all sensation from the suit and the pod emptied. Ely coughed up the thick fluid, choking as he transitioned from that substance to breathing air again.

  The pod opened and lights blinded him. The collar on his neck finally snapped off and he slid to the bottom of the pod.

  “Saint’s bones, he’s just a kid,” the mechanic woman said.

  Mechanical hands helped him out of the pod and Ely collapsed onto the catwalk, covered in the liquid. Ely had no memory of his birth, but he gathered that what he was feeling now wasn’t too far off.

  “At least I’m not naked and screaming,” he said and then hocked up one last glob of fluid from his stomach.

  Green fog enveloped him and the liquid went rigid, then flaked off like old skin. The mechanic woman stood over him, and he looked up at her rather impressive bosoms and one smiling eye.

  “Is this his first time?” she asked the robot with her. The robot’s optics twisted from side to side.

  “What is that stuff?” Ely shook flakes off his clothes then shook out his hair.

  “Amniosis.” The mechanic frowned at him. “Takes the place of respiration and is a shock absorber. Also makes a hell of a shot when you heat it up and add vodka. I’m Sugimoto. Who’s in there with you?”

  “Roland thinks his name is Aignar, but he answers to Ghost,” Ely said. His boots were still squishy, and there was a slickness against his skin that wouldn’t go away.

  “Never heard of him. Ma’am?” She turned around.

  Morrigan was taller than Ely. She was in a simple skin suit and had on clunky boots with the same straps he’d seen Ghost wearing. Morrigan snapped on a gun belt and tipped the holster forward to check the charge reading on the pistol.

  “Get this suit up to combat specs,” Morrigan said, glancing at the Elias Armor. “Gauss cannons, rotary. See if you can scrounge up a Mauser and a MEWS while you’re at it.”

  “I’m getting a gun?” Ely perked up. “And why would I need a meus?”

  “Melee Enhancement Weapons System. Are you Armor?” Morrigan asked evenly.

  “No, I’m—”

  “Then no. It’s not your concern. This older model will go to Armor who’ve lost their suits to battle damage. The Ghost shouldn’t mind. They can be reset easily enough. Follow me.” Morrigan motioned with her chin to the end of the catwalk. One hand rested on the holster.

  “Am I a prisoner here too?” he asked.

  “You pop out of the Crucible alone and without warning. You’re in a holy relic and you’re asking for the Lady. You know what a Trojan horse is?”

  “Yes, but I’m not a—”

  “Which is what a Greek bearing gifts would say.”

  A half-dozen Crusaders in power armor and carrying gauss carbines with power and ammo lines feeding into their backs came through the doors.

  “What happens
now?” Ely asked.

  “You get in the cart parked outside,” Morrigan said, “then you get checked out by medical to verify some of your claims and make sure you don’t have a…anything else.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, because this—” he tapped the scars on the back of his head, “—is a problem.”

  Morrigan turned and motioned for him to follow.

  Ely took a half step and stopped. Morrigan had the plugs at the base of her skull, the way he’d known Armor soldiers to connect to their suits.

  “Do you have a Ghost too?” Ely asked. “Do you even need one?”

  Morrigan turned and unsnapped the cover on the holster, then put one finger to her lips.

  Ely didn’t ask any more questions.

  Chapter 23

  The hallway outside a command center was cold enough that Ely could see his breath. He rubbed his arms and looked up at a vent that had refused to dispense any heat since he’d been brought there almost half an hour ago. At least they’d taken the hood off him.

  The two legionnaires (not Marines—he’d been corrected on that during his medical evaluation) on either side of him didn’t seem bothered by the cold.

  The discussion within the command center was muffled, but Ely’d heard it grow heated more than once. Now there was the sound of a door opening and feet shuffling out. A few seconds later, the door behind Ely buzzed.

  A legionnaire opened it for Ely and a breeze grew around him as the cold air flowed into the much warmer room.

  A lone man stood at a holo table, his arms out wide and his palms against it. He wore simple dark utilities with a lanyard of gold and red cords at his right shoulder. His head was low as Aachen spun in the holo before him.

  “Marshal, sir?” Ely asked from the door.

  Roland raised his head, and Ely saw an ugly knot of scar tissue where Armor plugs should have been.

  “Come on over.” Roland rubbed his face. He was in his mid-forties, with tired eyes and a decent stubble. “Doc’s report confirms that you do indeed have Qa’Resh tech in your brain. They’re synthesizing more of that compound for you. So that’s good news and bad news.”

  “Bad news? Maybe you could share the memo with the bruisers following me everywhere. I say boo, they’ll knock my teeth out. Everyone’s so on edge around here.” Ely went to the holo and squinted at the text boxes. He could read the alphabet easily enough, but the words weren’t English.

  “We’ve had issues with infiltrators.” Roland took a sip of coffee and made a face. “Out of sugar. Figured that would happen eventually. No, son, the good news is that you’re telling the truth and now we’ve got plans for a faster-than-light engine.” He tapped a screen and the schematics came up.

  “Except that there’s no fuel.” Ely rubbed the back of his head. “The foundry code that would make it is embedded deeper in the Qa’Resh probe, which you can’t read, I take it.”

  “Correct. Lady Ibarra could, most likely,” Roland said.

  “But?” Ely asked.

  “He won’t let you leave Aachen.” The holo changed to a woman on a ship’s bridge, Navy personnel behind her. She was in a black and red void combat uniform, and a blue lanyard made of blue stones was worked into the plates on her chest and shoulder. Her long dark hair fell over one shoulder in a braid, run through with strands of gray.

  “Don’t do this.” Roland shook his head.

  “I will do this because you’re being a stubborn, pig-headed fool.” The woman in the holo kept her voice level, but her anger was palatable.

  “Ely Hale, Fleet Admiral Makarov the Younger.” Roland raised his coffee in a brief salute. “She’s in command of the system’s void forces. I’m very much in command of the ground fight, which gives me seniority in this combat theater.”

  “I will fix Davoust’s wagon about this when we get back to Navarre,” Makarov said. “And I’m no slave to an appendix at the back of a Crusade deployment operation’s order. You know that, dearest husband.”

  The view behind Makarov shifted as her ship changed course. Passing behind her was a light-gray star gate, the spars longer than the thorns of a Crucible, like a compass star made of scrap metal.

  “I’m well aware, darling, as you bring it up every time we have comms.” Roland pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “What the good Marshal is tiptoeing around,” Makarov said, “is that we can evacuate some of the Crusade off Aachen. So we can get young Mr. Hale to Bayonne. Though that window is closing.”

  Roland swiped a hand over a reader and the planet returned to the holo. Red threat icons appeared in orbit, but not near the single city ringed in blue on the surface.

  “The Geist dreadnoughts—the pyramid ships—won’t get within line of sight of Memel,” Roland said, touching the city. “I’ve got enough Armor and Phalanx artillery to keep them away, but they’re still landing troops outside my direct-fire envelope. I can’t evacuate, as I lack the lift capacity, and if we try to make a break for the Keystone…”

  The holo pulled back to a diagram of the same gate Ely’d seen behind Makarov beyond the orbit of the planet’s single moon. Blue icons of an Ibarran fleet surrounded the gate. Ships rose from the planet and were immediately destroyed by the Geist dreadnoughts.

  “Which is why I would launch a spoiling attack on the Geist and clear a corridor to the Keystone,” Makarov said. “Does the VIP know what the Keystone is?”

  Roland raised an eyebrow at Ely.

  “Wait, I’m the—it’s a mobile Crucible gate. My father told me one was being built right before we left for Terra Nova. Grandpa Valdar was going to use it to save the Dotari. Something about finding some with old immunities to cure a disease they’d contracted after they went back to their homeworld.”

  “They’re a strategic asset,” Roland said. “The Keystones are why we haven’t lost this war yet. We can connect to the gates under the Crusade’s control, which helps us shift forces faster than the Geist can. Which makes them more valuable than any planet, or Army, or commander.” Roland beat the meat of his fist against a panel and Makarov returned to the holo.

  “An FTL engine would be even more valuable,” she said. “It could turn the tide of the whole war. If I had one aboard the Warsaw—and just the Warsaw—I could take out the flotilla over the southern hemisphere and—”

  “But we don’t have that, do we?” Roland snapped. “Nine parts out of ten to a solution is no solution at all.”

  “Which means I’m pretty much worthless,” Ely said quietly.

  “I don’t doubt Lady Ibarra,” Makarov said. “Marshal Shaw seems to, despite how many times he’s risked his life for her, and all that she’s done for him.”

  Roland rubbed the scars in place of his absent plugs.

  “You’re not worthless,” Roland said. “You’ve got potential, but we would lose over half of Makarov’s fleet to get that potential back to Navarre. To evacuate you. Only you, Ely. I’m not leaving. Neither will any under my command.”

  Makarov put the back of her hand to her mouth and looked away.

  “Why only me?” Ely asked.

  “Because there are civilians in Memel. Over eighteen thousand souls and Lady Ibarra charged me to protect them,” Roland said. “I will not abandon them to the Geist. I can’t. The Geist know this, and they’ve been bleeding my Crusade dry through attrition. The longer the siege goes on, the more they think me or Admiral Makarov will get desperate.”

  “They want my Keystone,” Makarov said. “Which is our only way out of this system.”

  “What about the rest of the Crusade?” Ely asked. “Get reinforcements from somewhere else through the Keystone.”

  “There is nowhere else.” Roland brought up a star chart. A silver ring spun around Aachen, and Crucible gates popped up around nearby stars. “Geist took Larnaca. There isn’t another Crucible in range of the Keystone. If we could evacuate, we’d have to jump to Gliese 999.37, then jump again to Crusade space. So we wait for the Lady.”

>   “Roland, she’s not coming.” Makarov swept a hand through the map and returned to view. “She won’t do it.”

  “Then I remain here,” Roland snarled.

  “You can.” Makarov’s face fell. “I’ll get Ely off world and once I can get word back to Navarre, then the Lady…” She raised her chin. “You can’t hold out that long.”

  “Navarre knows our situation. Navarre knows we’re losing on every front, but the Lady will not act.”

  “You know the price,” Makarov said. “Don’t make me choose between you and—”

  “You told me to have faith in her.” Roland shook his head. “So my faith holds that she will come for Aachen and save us.”

  “Don’t do it,” Ely said. “Don’t have anyone else die for me, please. This plan for the Navy to get me off world? Thousands would die, right? And if Stacey Ibarra can’t get the fuel matrix out of me? All for nothing. Too many good people have already given their lives. I don’t want any more.”

  “Ely, billions will die if we lose this war,” Makarov said. “Combat math is harsh, but how the equation balances is clear.”

  “Hoffman…it wasn’t fair…” Ely wiped a hand across one eye to conceal a tear.

  “A life lost in faithful service is never wasted,” Makarov said. “Roland’s faith has been tested more than others and has left him a bit…doubtful.”

  “For the Lady, for us all.” Roland crossed his arms and Makarov rolled her eyes. “We still have an option. If the counteroffensive at Ibelin succeeds and they retake that gate, Keeper can force a break through here and that may be our ticket out of here.”

  “They won’t,” Makarov said. “Fleet Admiral Blackburn will relieve Jaffa before Aachen. More lives at stake.”

  “Then we’re victims of our own success.” Roland looked at Ely. “We evacced most of the civilians off this colony in record time. Marshal Kellerman was a bit slow at Jaffa.”

  “But there’s a chance?” Ely asked. “We hold out and the rest of the Crusade could come and help?”