The Siege of Earth (The Ember War Saga Book 7) (18 page)

“Well, I doubt anyone’s ever threatened to take their ball and go home before. Look at me, Grandpa. I’m a trailblazer,” Stacey said.

“The Dotok council instructed me to stay in the Alliance even if you leave. I trust we’ll still be welcome on Earth.”

“Your people are on Hawaii, some of the best real estate on the planet. If we leave, you’ll have to move someplace worse—like Antarctica or Siberia.”

“What? The place with that vile substance…snow, is it?”

“I’m just kidding,” Stacey said. The dark shell over the dome opened. The Congress was at peace, the ambassadors touching their screens to vote. Two choices popped up on the screen before Stacey, one for her proposal to send forces to Earth, the other for Wexil’s.

Stacey touched her bill, and Pa’lon did the same from the other side of the pod. The choices vanished from the screen.

“Where’s the tally?” Stacey asked. “Every other vote has had the count live as votes come in.”

“The circumstances are unusual. Voting against you is essentially a vote to have humanity out of the Alliance,” he said.

The two proposals reappeared on the screen, hers in blue, Wexil’s in red. Bar graphs formed beneath the two, and the blue column was decidedly larger.

“We did it?” Stacey asked. “We did it!”

She went to give Pa’lon a hug and was rebuffed by a force field.

“Contact not authorized,” Chuck said.

“Where’s Wexil? I want to rub his nose in this,” she said.

“Magnanimous, Stacey. Be the bigger person. The war is far from over and we’ll need the Vishrakath in the future,” Pa’lon said.

Stacey caught sight of Wexil as his pod lifted over the rest and sped toward an exit. The alien inside gave Stacey a hard look, but betrayed no other emotion.

Two vid screens popped up on the inside of the dome: Darcy, the Ruhaald ambassador, and a man with sandy blond hair and freckles, the Naroosha representative.

“Darcy, good to see you, and…” She’d never dealt with the Naroosha before. As best she knew, no one on Bastion had much contact with the reclusive species.

“My approved designation is Tamir,” the Naroosha said.

“The word is given,” Darcy said. “Our fleet will begin shuttling to Earth as soon as I return to Ruhaald Prime. We’ve only one functioning jump engine, but it can get a sizeable force through the Crucible in one go. Just remember to come lend us a hand when the Xaros hit our system in twenty years.”

“If there’s a blood debt between Earth and Ruhaald Prime, it will be honored,” Stacey said. “The same for the Naroosha, though your people will be in danger sooner than the Ruhaald, I believe.”

“5,299 Earth rotations until expected encounter with the Xaros,” Tamir said. Stacey couldn’t help but notice that his mouth didn’t move when he spoke. Some of the species represented on Bastion were a good deal more exotic than their forced human appearance. Stacey knew the Ruhaald’s true form. Anyone on Earth expecting aid from a race similar to the Dotok or Karigole were in for a shock.

“I will return to Earth right away with the gate codes for your arrival,” Stacey said. “Come as fast as you can.”

Their screens snapped away.

Stacey crossed her arms over her chest and tugged at the bottom of her lip.

“Pa’lon…what do you think?”

“When obstacles suddenly vanish from my path, I believe a trap lies ahead,” the Dotok said.

“The Ruhaald I trust because of their ambassador. She’s always been for us. The Naroosha…but what are we supposed to do? We’re beggars right now, can’t afford to be choosey with who comes to save the day,” she said.

Worry nagged at the back of her mind and would dog her thoughts until she went back to Earth.

Torni’s stalks plied over a thin sheet of clear crystal, then froze suddenly. Her stalks quivered and smashed together, breaking the crystal into shards that flew across the workshop. Her body shifted to her human form and she fell onto her hands and knees.

Torni’s mouth opened to scream, but there was no sound. She pounded against the deck, denting the metal plates. Steam rose off her back and shoulders as embers burned across her surface.

“Torni, what’s wrong?” Lafayette asked. He edged toward the door, his eyes locked on her.

Discordant noise came out of Torni’s mouth then she inhaled deeply.

“It was him.” The words were tinny, disjointed. The embers faded away, leaving Torni’s body looking like a fire-ravaged tree trunk. “The General, he…he’s here. Angry. Felt him through the gestalt.”

Torni slapped a palm against the omnium cube and her body restored itself.

Lafayette’s arm beeped. He twisted his hand over and Ibarra’s hologram appeared.

“What happened?” Ibarra asked.

“The General. His presence is…affecting me,” Torni said. “I can finish the device—don’t worry. Just give me a minute.”

“If he is here, we can kill him,” Lafayette said.

“Do you know how to kill a photonic being, Mr. Karigole? According to Torni, that thing’s been around since the Xaros first hit the galaxy thousands of years ago and survived the passage from their home galaxy,” Ibarra said.

Torni tapped the base of her palm against the side of her head.

“If only we knew someone who was an expert in immortality,” she deadpanned.

Ibarra and Lafayette glanced at each other. Ibarra pointed to an empty bench and waved his hand. A hologram of Malal appeared. The ancient being sat with his head lolled to the side, like he’d been turned off.

“Malal,” Ibarra said, “when you spoke with Stacey, you mentioned you rejected the photonic form used by the General. Why?”

Malal’s head cranked upright and locked in place.

“Irrelevant to my purpose here,” Malal said.

“If the Xaros manage to overrun Earth, you’ll be the General’s problem, not ours,” Ibarra said, “so you tell us how to kill it and maybe we’ll survive long enough to get to your bigger picture.”

One side of Malal’s mouth pulled aside, distending and revealing sharp teeth of an impossibly wide jawline.

“The conversion to photonic existence is simple,” Malal said. “A consciousness can be maintained for eons with minimal degradation, so long as the containment vessel is stable. I rejected that path. The possibility of death means the certainty of death. My peers were jealous of my work and accomplishments. They would have found a way to destroy me. I opted for godhood, not immortality.”

“That’s not helping us,” Torni said.

“You can disrupt his photonic matrix, dissolve his consciousness,” Malal said. “It won’t be so simple as broadcasting an interference pattern. You’ll have to break through his armor and broadcast a discordant—”

“How!” Ibarra shouted.

“With this.” Malal’s chest morphed into a diagram of a blade with inlaid circuitry. Torni looked over the schematics. She could fabricate the weapon from omnium easily enough.

“Or…you can release me,” Malal said. “I’m weak now, but with enough strength I—”

Ibarra drew a hand across his throat and Malal’s hologram vanished.

“Not no, but hell no,” Ibarra said.

“And why not?” Lafayette asked. “When the Karigole plan operations, all viable options must be discussed and decided on. Not rejected out of hand. I am aware of the impact Malal had against the Xaros when Stacey released him during the operation to his vault. He has the potential to turn the tide of this battle.”

“Let me tell you a children’s story,” Ibarra said. “Once upon a time there was a scorpion sitting on a riverbank that wanted to cross the river. He went to a frog and asked to stand on the frog’s back while it swam to the other end.

“The frog said, ‘No, scorpions sting frogs. I can’t trust you.’

“‘But Mr. Frog,’ the scorpion said, ‘if I sting you, then I’ll drown. I’d never do that.’

“So the frog agrees and takes the scorpion onto his back. Halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog.

“‘Why?’ asked the frog. ‘I am poisoned and you will surely drown. We’re both dead.’

“‘Because I am a scorpion. Scorpions sting frogs. It is our nature.’

“Right now,” Ibarra’s tone changed as the story ended, “Malal is weak, still running off the fumes from the Shanishol he consumed I don’t even know how long ago. He needs to be stronger to fight the General and the entire armada of drones. He thrives on sentient life. Where do you think he’s going to get that strength?”

“Earth,” Torni said, “all the people we’ve got down there.”

“And what do you think he’ll do once he’s back to his godlike strength after draining the life out of hundreds of millions of people? Even if he does beat the Xaros for us, he won’t stop there,” Ibarra said. “He’ll keep the proccie tubes on full production until he’s ready to go after the ‘peers’ that left him behind. Malal is a tiger, and we’ve got him by the tail. We cannot let go.”

“What is a tiger?” Lafayette asked. “I assume a frog is some manner of—”

“We are not going to let him loose,” Ibarra said. “We didn’t take the Toth’s offer of handing over our people in exchange for some of us surviving. I sure as hell am not going to trust Malal more than the Toth. I sacrificed billions for a chance at survival once before. The Xaros were inevitable, already on the way to Earth. What I did was the only path forward. Now…we can still win this fight without having to put our trust in some alien savior.”

Lafayette frowned.

“Not you, Lafayette,” Ibarra said. “I mean, yes, you’re an alien that we’re trusting. But the whole kit and caboodle doesn’t depend on you alone. We trust Malal and we might as well leave the fox in charge of the hen house.”

“I agree with you,” Lafayette said. “I was on the vessel that brought the Shanishol to Anthalas. I did not see the carnage on the surface, but I saw the results of Malal’s plans.”

“Then why did you even suggest letting him loose?” Torni asked.

“Discussing a plan does not mean I endorse it. Allow me some Karigole foibles. I can’t help who I am,” Lafayette said.

“The weapons? How long until you can make them?” Ibarra asked.

Torni scooped omnium up from the cube with both hands and spread her arms wide. The omnium stretched from her fingertips and spun slowly, forming the shape of a blade.

“A few minutes,” she said, “but it will be long, and heavy. I don’t know who can wield this with any amount of skill or effectiveness.”

“Make me one and get back to fabricating the second device. I’ll replicate more blades through the omnium reactor. As for who’s going to kill the General, I have the right people in mind,” Ibarra said

Elias stabbed his fingers into a crack on a drone’s surface and ripped it in half. He sprayed fire from his rotary cannon at a dozen drones attempting to combine into a walker. The drones burst apart as black smoke from their decaying mass joined the red wind sweeping through the battle.

“Elias, this is Carius. What’s your status?”
came over the radio.

“Busy.” Elias smashed a heel against a drone attempting to fly past him and crushed it against a boulder.

“I’m sending an extraction for you and your armor. It’ll get to the
Breitenfeld
, and she’ll take you back to Earth,”
Carius said.

“Plenty of fight here. Don’t think Valdar wants me on his ship.” Elias fired at moving shadows through the sand storm.

“Not a request, son. Now clear an LZ. Got a big horse coming for you in one minute.”

Elias backed up until he made contact with Bodel. Caas and Ar’ri found their way over and the four formed a circle, weapons facing outward. The Xaros they’d been fighting were nothing but burning fragments.

“What’s going on?” Caas asked.

“Extraction incoming,” Elias said. “
Breit
’s taking us to Earth. Didn’t get anything more than that.”

Running lights on a Destrier transport filled the sky overhead, diffusing through the fine sand blowing around them into a wide glow.

“Any word from White platoon?” Bodel asked.

“Nothing.” Elias looked up and saw the Destrier’s rear ramp lowering.

****

Valdar squeezed his eyes shut as the blinding light of wormhole transit assaulted his senses. His head felt like a vice was tightening against his temples and the scars of old war wounds burned like hot wires.

He hated his ship’s jump engines. Hated them with the passion of a burning sun but he could never share this with his crew. He’d earned his sea legs in the blue water navy; he’d never had the desire to become a spacer until the navy forced him into it.

The pain faded away as the blinding light lessened.

Valdar shook his head to regain focus and looked out the front screens on his bridge. The
Breitenfeld
was in orbit over Mars, and tiny flashes of distant explosions sparkled through the atmosphere. Gossamer-thin clouds stretched out around the ship.

“We’re in the upper edge of the atmosphere,” Ensign Geller said. “Not as bad as Takeni but I’ll get us clear.”

Columns of black smoke rose from mountain ranges like they were smoldering volcanoes.

“Comms,” Valdar said, pulling up a data slate from his armrest, “get me contact with Admiral—”

The bridge trembled as a shadow swept over them. A carrier larger than the
Breitenfeld
flew past the prow, smoke and fire burning from dozens of tears in the hull. The dying ship rolled to its side and corkscrewed into a final descent.

“Valdar!” Admiral Garret’s face appeared on the data slate. The man looked ten years older than the last time they’d seen each other face-to-face. Sweat ran down his face and blood stained the left side of his head. Garret wore an emergency void helmet, not the armored combat helmet he should have donned before a battle.

“
Breitenfeld
here as ordered. Where do you want my guns?”

“Earth. You’re to rendezvous with our remaining
Manticore
frigates over Mount Olympus, take on whatever armor can reach you and jump back to Earth as soon as your engines have the charge.”

Valdar glanced at Levin, his chief engineer.

“Twenty-two minutes to open a wormhole to the Crucible. Longer if we’ve got to take more ships with us,” Levin said.

“I monitored.” Garret’s face jerked from side to side, the reflection of a chaotic holo screen against his faceplate. “Looks like you’ll have fifteen—fourteen now—frigates with you. We’ll hold the Xaros off until you’re away. I’m taking the rest of your task force away from you to hold the line here.”

Valdar felt his ship shift as Geller set the
Breitenfeld
toward Olympus.

“Aye aye, sir, but if the
Breitenfeld
can make a difference to this fight why are—”

“Earth is on the brink, Isaac,” Garret said. “Luna has fallen. Xaros are pressing on the Crucible and if we lose that station, they’ll bring in reinforcements and it’ll all be over but the screaming.”

A flash of yellow light hit the right side of Garret’s face.

“Believe it or not, we’re holding our own up here,” the admiral said. “Get your ass to Earth and win that fight. I’m counting on you for another miracle, Valdar. You haven’t disappointed me yet. Garret out.”

“The rest of our flotilla is moving to join with Mars fleet,” Ericcson said. “The
Chimera
and
Argus
are waiting for us at the rendezvous point the admiral sent us…rest of the frigates are no more than fifteen minutes away. Also tracking several transports coming up from Mars.”

“Tell the flight deck to prep for pass-through traffic.” Valdar swiped across his data slate and looked over the battle. More than half the Mars fleet was lost, locked in a knife fight with Xaros constructs. Valdar had a hard time believing the admiral’s assessment of the battle.

Valdar swiped to the next data feed from Earth. The information wasn’t real-time, and whatever battle he planned to fight wouldn’t be there when he arrived.

Valdar looked over the Xaros forces assaulting the Crucible…and picked up a stylus.