Ferrum Corde

by Richard Fox

  “Incoming fire from the fort!” his XO announced, and Lettow braced himself against the table. He looked to the Crucible and considered ordering a hasty, humiliating retreat.

  “Forward!” he shouted. “Bring all firepower to bear on the fort. We’ll show them what Union guns can do.”

  ****

  The grand hall aboard Bale’s star fort was segmented into two halves, one with seats for the Ixio and the other bore padded couches for the four-legged Sanheel to rest upon. Despite many long years of integrating Sanheel and Ixio into an entity as simple and pure as the Kesaht, physiology still proved a marked difference between the two senior races of the Hegemony.

  Bale stood on a stage behind a massive data globe as Tomenakai, one of his favorite Ixio, droned on.

  “Assaults on the demons’ colony New Rome have taken heavy casualties, but several outlying settlements were seized—”

  “How many viable prisoners?” Bale asked.

  Text scrolled past a semi-transparent patch covering one of the Ixio’s eyes.

  “Seven hundred and nine, though there was a reported revolt. Decimation of non-combatants is the normal protocol,” Tomenakai said.

  “Cease that measure.” Bale’s tendrils twisted against each other. “Return of prisoners is the highest priority for all deployed forces. I want them back here and delivered to me as soon as possible.”

  “Fighting for prisoners is…less than the strategic ideal,” a massive Sanheel general said. “Once we dominate the system, the devils surrender easily enough. We grasp for the civilians first and they might—”

  “So you understand my instructions, good. See to it.” Bale looked at the data crystals protruding from his skull, the mark of the Risen Kesaht. All Risen were cybernetically enhanced to broadcast their psyches in the event of death. The recorded message would later be installed into a clone body, affording the Risen a form of immortality. Just how the alteration affected the taste of a Risen’s mind was still a mystery to Bale.

  How he obtained sustenance was still a mystery to the Kesaht. His reserves of sentient beings was kept hidden deep inside the last Toth dreadnought, the Last Light. He’d sent Kesaht raids to several different alien worlds before launching the assault on human space, each time to obtain subjects to test them for eventual Risen integration. The Kesaht never asked what happened to the failed attempts…not that Bale had bothered to even try and modify other species.

  Running a star system and a war was hungry work.

  “Kricks?” Bale turned his tank to and fro. “Where is Kricks?”

  “Here.” A Vishrakath came up the stairs, the gray flesh stretched tight over its ant-like

  shell looked ghastly in the light from the data globe.

  “How much longer will your people play around the Solar System?” Bale asked. “It’s time to bring Earth to its knees.”

  Kricks touched a claw to a badge on a royal purple sash, the only clothing he wore, and the data globe changed to the Solar System.

  “We’ve maintained a steady bombardment of high-speed mass drivers,” Kricks said. “Taking the Crucible at Barnard’s Star has allowed us better target engagement. The main city on the moon Iapetus was destroyed nine hours ago. We still hold Barnard’s Star, despite a projected Terran Union counter attack that has yet to happen.”

  “The devils aren’t fighting for Barnard’s Star?” Bale asked. “Curious…”

  “A number of their Pathfinder and Strike Marine teams have been captured attempting to destroy that Crucible,” Kricks said. “Vishrakath fleet losses were heavy.”

  “You have prisoners? What are you planning to do with them?” Bale asked.

  “The Vishrakath don’t bother with menials, but Bastion insisted we preserve some of them for negotiation—”

  “Bring them to me, yes?” The tips of Bale’s tendrils quivered with hunger. “Just…bring them to me. How much else is there? Don’t you all need a break for a meal?”

  “We’ve just begun, Lord Bale,” Tomenakai said. “Still thirty-seven more discussion points remain.”

  Bale wanted to scream in frustration, but he had no lungs or mouth.

  “A hive fleet is set to assault Mars,” Kricks said. “And we’ve detected a shadow in the system’s macro cannon coverage.”

  The globe switched to the Earth and its two natural satellites, Luna and Ceres. Just how

  the Xaros had moved the dwarf planet into Earth orbit was a discussion Ixio scientists would not stop bothering Bale with.

  A red wedge appeared behind Luna, extending back for thousands of kilometers.

  “An offset jump from a nearby Crucible could get a sizeable force close to the humans’ home world,” Kricks said. “But the data is fragmentary. Enough of a disruption field could displace the attacking force in full view of macro cannons on Earth or in its orbit. We’ll have this back door, so to speak, fully identified in a few more days.”

  “And our fleet massing over Fairland will be prepared,” an Ixio admiral said.

  “Almost, yes?” Bale asked. “Almost have the humans on their knees…we’ll need troops. So many troops to control the population. Rakka. Kroar. Vishrakath. All will take their share of Earth and its colonies…”

  “Once we control the orbit over Earth and can bombard at will,” Kricks said, “the war will be won. We can harvest the population at our leisure.”

  “And on that note, let’s take a break.” Bale’s mind had gone cloudy with hunger. Nearly feeding on the girl had accelerated his addiction to mental energy, and if he didn’t eat soon, he would grow…unstable.

  Lights went red, and a low siren emanated from speakers in the ceiling.

  “What is that?” Bale asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Quantum gate formation.” Tomenakai went to the base of the data globe and worked the controls. The holo snapped to Kesaht’ka and several pulsing icons over the northern pole. The holo zoomed in on the icon closest to Bale’s star fort orbiting the planet’s single moon.

  Terran Union ships emerged through the jump gates; dozens of ships bristling with rail cannons and launching fighters as soon as they cleared the white disks.

  “No…no, how. How did they find us?” Bale nearly screeched. “I can’t…I can’t be here for this. One of you Risen needs to—”

  “This is the safest place for you, my Lord,” Tomenakai said. “You’ll be vulnerable if you move to the Last Light. This fort can withstand any assault and our orbital platforms are already firing on them.”

  The auditorium doors opened and Toth warriors entered, all in crystalline armor. Risen admirals and generals tried to push past the Toth but were shoved back.

  “Let…let the military leave!” Bale scratched at deck. “The planners and engineers stay here…I suppose.”

  Toth hissed and let Sanheel and Ixio squeeze past.

  “And activate the…the thing that stops Crucible gates!” Bale ordered.

  “The quantum wave inhibiter?” Tomenakai asked. “But then we can’t bring our fleets back to bolster our defenses—”

  “And it keeps more humans out! Why are you questioning me?”

  “Inhibitor activating.” Tomenakai touched his forehead in submission and went to a control panel.

  Fear nagged at Bale’s mind, the only emotion that could overpower his hunger. He moved closer to the data globe and watched as the battle unfolded.

  His feeder arm emerged from beneath his tank and crept toward the back of Tomenakai’s head. The Ixio turned around and his big black eyes narrowed at the tip of the feeder arm. Bale retracted the appendage with a snap.

  “Just another sensor,” Bale said quickly. “What’s happening? Why are there so many Terrans in this system defiling our perfection?”

  “A task force is moving to attack this fort, my Lord,” the Ixio said, “but they’re in for a surprise.”

  Bale sent a signal to his Toth bodyguard to prepare his escape pod.

  ****

  Lett
ow bit his lip as another of his cruisers exploded. There’d been no sign of the Last Light, which had been his only bit of good news since the assault began. The dreadnought had been damaged in combat against the Ouranos, and his best guess was that it might have been moored on the far side of the belt around the moon.

  “Normandy reports troops assault underway,” his XO said. “Significant resistance around the dome cities and from Kesaht fighters. Many landers lost to kamikaze runs.”

  “Fanatics.” Lettow tapped on the rail of the holo tank. “How much longer until the artillery ships have another volley ready for the fort? We’re taking too much damage.”

  “Another sixty seconds,” his gunnery officer said.

  Fire from the star fort had proven infrequent but devastating to anything it hit. Just why something that size had only a few dozen weapon emplacements, which fired one at a time seemingly at random, was gnawing at him.

  “Status on the Crucible assault?” he asked.

  The Strike Marine liaison had her eyes on a screen in front of her.

  “Same message,” she said. “Significant resistance, but they’re regrouping to…Sir, let me check something with the commo techs.”

  “That’s not good enough, Marine!”

  “Artillery salvo away,” the gunnery officer said with a smile.

  Lettow contained his anger with the liaison officer and watched as rounds converged on the star fort. The rounds stopped, blinking just shy of the hull.

  “Admiral…the fort engaged shields,” the gunnery officer said, his face gone white. “No effect. No effect on the fort.”

  As one, every energy cannon on the star fort opened fire, sending a deluge of bolts at the Ardennes and Lettow’s assault element.

  “They suckered me in,” the admiral said, his jaw going slack. “They…”

  “Admiral!” The Marine grabbed him by the arm. “The reports from the Crucible assault element, they’re fake. The teams must have been killed or captured soon after they landed. We tried to authenticate, but we-we…we don’t have the jump gate, sir. We don’t have a way out of here.”

  A blast hit the ship and tossed Lettow against the holo tank.

  Chapter 9

  Santos felt the Ardennes shake through the torpedo he was loaded into, through his Armor and through his womb. He switched his HUD feed to the ship’s battle tracker, and a mountain of data came rushing across his vision.

  “Ah…this isn’t the plan, is it?” he asked through the lance’s IR channel.

  “Assault on the Last Light is cancelled,” Gideon said. “The ship’s in space dock and hasn’t joined in the battle.”

  Santos squirmed, feeling the amniotic fluid slosh against his skin as all of the ship’s engines kicked on. The top of his head bumped against the womb and the inner padding closed in around him, cushioning him.

  “Why are we accelerating?” Santos asked. “Our torp hasn’t even launched yet.”

  “Stand by.” Gideon’s status symbol flashed on Santos’ HUD as the captain connected to a higher priority channel.

  The ship bucked against the torpedo, jostling Santos. The ship’s data feed cut out.

  “Ugh…Dragoons? What do we do now?” he asked.

  “We’re locked into a hypersonic torpedo loaded into a launch tube,” Cha’ril said. “We don’t have many options.”

  “This is a stupid way to die.” Santos touched the inner wall of his womb. “Cracked like an egg in a carton. Won’t even get to see the alien bastard that—”

  “Stow it, kid,” Aignar snapped. “Keep yourself together. How long did you last in the long dark back at Knox?”

  Santos calmed down, remembering the tests where the cadre loaded him into a sensory deprivation chamber and didn’t bother to tell him how long he’d be in there. If he panicked and demanded to be let out, he’d have been dropped from the program.

  “I don’t know how long it was,” Santos said.

  “This situation will get resolved pretty quick,” Aignar said. “Either we’re shot out to kill aliens and break things, or we won’t have much of anything to worry about. Stay sharp.”

  As if on cue, Gideon returned to the lance network.

  “Hold one,” the captain said.

  The torpedo blasted out of the Ardennes and external camera feeds fed into his HUD. His fleet was in ruins. Blasted hulls drifted in space, moving through wisps of flame from air bleeding out of ships. Bodies of sailors thrown out of disintegrating vessels speckled the void over Kesaht’ka.

  The camera feed twisted as the torpedo maneuvered drunkenly, slaloming from side to side as if trying to find its own bearing. Santos got a brief glance at the Ardennes. The carrier advanced on a collision course with the massive star fort orbiting over the planet’s moon. The light from afterburners of other landing torpedoes flared on and off.

  “Where,” Santos grit his teeth as acceleration sapped blood from his head even within his Armor, “where are we going?”

  “Don’t have the orbitals,” Aignar said. “We…seem to be heading right for that giant planet that’s coming right for us.”

  “Who’s flying this thing?” Cha’ril asked.

  “I am!” Gideon shouted.

  Santos considered shutting off the camera feeds just as the torp angled toward a wrecked Kesaht ship. His eyes widened as the torpedo hit the hull and broke through. The dorsal half of the ship had been blown away, causing only minor damage to the impromptu escape pod.

  The craft began undulating up and down, bouncing Santos against either side of his womb.

  “Not the plan,” he said between thumps. “Not the plan!”

  Santos activated a rear camera and watched as a brawl between the Union fleet and Kesaht ships continued. Rail cannons crisscrossed with plasma bolts. Fighters swirled in a dogfight miles across, a melee he couldn’t begin to figure out.

  The star fort fired on the Ardennes, ripping off the prow of the ship but not stopping the carrier’s advance.

  “We’re…we’re losing,” Santos said.

  The torpedo leveled out and heat warnings popped up on Santos’s HUD. They’d hit atmosphere.

  “Marines secured a beachhead,” Gideon said. “Link up with them soon as we hit dirt. I don’t—”

  A shell burst next to the torpedo’s nose, showering it with shrapnel. It rolled to one side and spun out of control. Santos braced himself against his womb, feeling like he was in a barrel rolling downhill.

  He felt warmth growing against his pod and heard armor plating rip off of the torpedo.

  “Ejecting us!” Gideon’s warning came laden with static.

  “Saint Kallen,” Santos swallowed hard, “if you’re listening…”

  The torpedo disintegrated around him and he went tumbling end over end through a cloud orange with the fire of burning debris. He twisted to bring his front flush with the onrushing wind, the distinctly un-aerodynamic properties of his Armor slowing his descent somewhat.

  A flaming hunk of metal shot past him and he activated the jet pack bolted to his back.

  “What’s next? What’s next?” He’d done only a single atmo landing in training and wished he’d paid more attention. “How long until I—that’s right!”

  He activated his laser range finders and a radar pulse found the ground. A distance and a time to impact popped up on his HUD.

  Seven seconds.

  He swung his feet toward the ground and fired his jet pack’s boosters. Flame singed metal plating on the back of his legs as he wobbled with the sudden strain of the pack pulling him up while gravity and momentum pulled him down. His servos howled warnings, as if he were about to be torn apart.

  Santos broke through the cloud layer and over a desolated city. His airspeed slowed and he felt a moment of hope.

  Then his jet pack died.

  Santos’s arms pinwheeled as he fell. He crashed through a shingled roof and through three floors before landing hard in a pile of rusted-out pipes. He sat up, arm cannon char
ging. He rolled to his feet, pipes sliding off his armor and clattering to the ground.

  The building went eerily silent as the last of the pipes came to a stop. Wind whistled through shattered windows. Dust swirled in the corners. He de-activated the mag locks on his smoldering jet pack and it fell with a clank into a pile of rusted metal.

  A radiation hazard blinked on his HUD. No danger to him while he was suited, but an unsuited human would suffer effects after a few hours. Nothing un-shielded could survive out here for too long.

  “Kid,” came from behind.

  Santos spun around, knocking pipes against each other.

  Aignar stood on the other side of a broken wall, his suit covered in dust.

  “I’ve seen a sack of bricks land with more skill,” Aignar said. “Atmo’s frazzled like every planet the Kesaht attack. Can’t tell if it’s from the fallout or if they did it when we showed up.”

  Santos shouldered through a wall that crumbled like dry paper. Some of the outer façades were bleached white. Santos paused, his eyes on dark silhouettes of Sanheel centaurs stretched across the wall.

  “What happened here?” he asked.

  “Nuclear war.” Aignar shot a pigeon drone out of the mortar tube on his back and the small robot popped rotors out and soared upwards. “Not a limited exchange either. Whole planet’s irradiated. Lot worse than the EMP nukes used during World War III.”

  “Then where the hell have all the Kesaht come from?” Santos asked.

  “That matter right now?” Aignar looked up. Long contrails of smoke and fire traced across the sky. “It’s chaos up there. Never seen a mess like this before…got the captain and Cha’ril on IR…and something else. Come on.”

  The two ran down a dead street, blown sand congealed like snowbanks against buildings and rusted-out trucks with oversized cabs.

  An empty temple-looking building exploded as flaming debris crashed through the domed roof.

  “—nar. Santos. Report in,” Gideon’s static-laced voice came over the IR.

  “I’ve got him, sir,” Aignar said. “My pigeon’s got a lock on something strange coming in.”