The Siege of Earth (The Ember War Saga Book 7) (28 page)

An arrowhead fighter wobbled through the air, trailing smoke and steam. Standish winced as the craft skipped against the desert floor and bounced twice before grinding to a halt not far from one of the linked bunkers.

“There’s no body in that one,” Egan said. “It was abandoned the last time we pulled the lines back.”

Standish zoomed his helmet’s optics on the fallen alien ship. There was movement just beneath the canopy, but he couldn’t make out what was in it.

“We need to go help,” Bailey said.

“Now wait just a second.” Standish held up a hand. “Are we sure it’s even friendly?”

“Bloody things have been beating the piss out of the Xaros for half an hour and haven’t tried to shoot us. They’re mates.” Bailey shoved a metal hatch out of the way and ducked into the tunnel. “Come on, you ratbag deros. It’s the only decent thing we can do.”

“Oro,” Egan said, “stay with the doughboys. We’ll call you over if we need help.”

Egan stared at Standish until the Marine grumbled and followed Bailey into the tunnel.

He jogged to the empty bunker and found Bailey standing outside, her eyes to the sky. Columns of smoke rose from Phoenix. The sound of roaring engines and firing weapons that had filled the air for hours had fallen away to almost nothing.

“Maybe we won.” She slung her carbine onto her back and walked toward the downed fighter. “Cover me.”

Standish shouldered his weapon and sidestepped toward the front of the fighter, keeping Bailey out of the line of fire in case something horrible jumped out. Egan stood a few feet from him, his weapon ready.

The fighter was a bit smaller than an Eagle, with vectored engines and weapon pods built into the wings. The canopy was an angular dome, frosted over. Shadows moved within. Writing made of different-sized triangles flowed over the wings.

“I don’t have the best track record when it comes to first encounters.” Standish’s toes ground into the dirt, ready for fight or flight.

“I’m pretty sure whatever’s in there has no intention of eating you,” Egan said.

“So sure? Why don’t you go over and rub your face all over it and see what happens.”

Egan didn’t move.

“Thought so,” Standish said.

Bailey touched the fighter, running her hands along the canopy seem.

“You’d think there’d be an emergency release like our fighters,” Bailey said. She shrugged and knocked on the canopy.

The canopy popped open on her side and green water poured out, splashing against Bailey’s hips. She jumped back and drew her carbine in a hail of rapid-fire cursing. The canopy flipped over on a set of hinges and more water came splashing out.

The pilot wore a copper-colored, blocky space suit. Each hand bore a half-dozen tendrils twice as long as a human finger. Its helmet was a dome set against wide, thick shoulders. The alien had wide, squid-like eyes on either side of its head and a mass of feeder tentacles for its mouth.

“Nope. Nope!” Standish tried backing away but Egan grabbed him by the arm.

The pilot turned to Bailey, raised one hand and made a rough approximation of a wave.

“I extend culturally appropriate greetings,” came from a voice box on the alien’s armor.

Bailey lowered her carbine slowly. “You can speak English?”

“Bastion technology.” The pilot’s tentacles wafted over the voice box. The pilot pushed against the side of his cockpit, then fell back inside, splashing more water over the edges. “Assistance.”

Bailey slung her rifle over her shoulder and approached slowly. The alien held out its arms and Bailey gingerly reached out to touch it. The tentacles wrapped around her upper arms several times.

“They’ve got stickers on them,” Bailey said, her voice several octaves higher than usual, “like a damn octopus.” She stepped back, pulling the pilot free from the cockpit. The pilot’s lower body was a tail, covered in flexing scales that were part of its flight suit. 

Bailey set it against the fighter’s side. Brackish water spurted up from a crack over the pilot’s tail.

“Leak. Leak.” The pilot released Bailey and raised its hand next to its head, tentacles writhing. “Get the repair kit out of my tool chest.”

Bailey put both hands over the crack. Water spurted through her fingers and hit her visor.

“What’re you doing over there? Waiting for an engraved invitation? Move your asses,” Bailey snapped at the other two Marines.

Standish ran over to the cockpit, which was full of gray water he couldn’t see through.

“What am I looking for?” Standish asked.

“Left. Front. Cylinder the size of my—” A burbling noise came from voice box. “Translation unavailable,” chimed from a pleasant voice.

Standish turned his head to the side and plunged his arm into the murky water. He grouped around.

“Is it…is it supposed to be moving?” the Marine asked. He pulled out an object that looked like a piece of candy wrapped in seaweed.

“Give. Give!” The pilot reached tentacles to Standish. They stretched out and snatched the device away. The pilot pressed one end against the crack and thick red caulk came out with a bubbling noise. The pilot smeared the substance over the crack and the outflow of water ceased. It turned the tool over and jabbed the other end against a small ring inset against the suit.

The pilot sat back as its arms fell to the ground.

“Much better,” it said. “I need…medical attention. Help is coming.”

“Is there something we can do now?” Bailey asked.

A port opened on the side of the pilot’s suit and dark red goo spat out.

“I will never complain about Steuben again,” Standish said. “Ever.”

A whine rose through the air. Standish looked up and saw a blocky ship descending toward them.

“I assume that’s for you,” Bailey said. “You got a name?”

Unintelligible babble came from the voice box followed by “—second class, Ruhaald expeditionary fleet. The Xaros are nearly purged from your planet. How did you destroy the leviathan forming over this land mass?”

Bailey and Standish traded a glance. “Thought that was you,” she said.

The Ruhaald ship set down on landing skids a dozen yards away, blowing up a cloud of dirt that turned to mud against Standish’s wet armor.

“Nothing like getting dusted to learn their pilots are just a bunch of dicks like human pilots,” Standish said.

“…are…stop them,”
Orozco said, the disturbance from the Ruhaald ship washing out his transmission.

“What was that, Oro?” Egan asked.

A ramp descended from the front of the shuttle. A force field held back a wall of water inside the craft. Several Ruhaald, all in the same armor as the pilot but walking on two legs, approached. Each held rifles made of tiny blocks stuck together seemingly at random.

A Ruhaald with a golden sunburst on its chest and shoulder armor stepped forward.

“I render culturally appropriate greetings,” it said.

“Hello to you too.” Bailey stepped away from the pilot. “I guess you’re in charge.”

“The doughboys are coming!”
Orozco shouted through the IR.
“Stop them! They think the aliens are hostile! Some got past me!”

“Why would they think that?” Egan turned around and saw three doughboys charging out of the bunker. Egan held his hands up and ran toward them.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Egan stepped between a doughboy and the Ruhaald as the lead soldier leveled its weapon. The doughboy leaned to the side, then slammed his rifle against Egan, sending him flying through the air.

“Enemies!” the doughboy shouted.

The soldier’s rifle fired and the high-ranked Ruhaald’s torso blew apart. Dark slime and salt water splashed over Bailey and Standish.

“Stop! Stop!” Standish threw himself over the pilot.

Electricity crackled through the air as lightning burst from the Ruhaald rifles and struck the doughboys, burning them down to their skeletons within an instant.

Standish looked up from the pilot. The commanding Ruhaald’s legs, topped by broken armor oozing whatever was left of the alien, wobbled for a moment and fell forward.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Standish said.

A shadow cast over him. He looked up and saw tentacles reaching for his face.

****

Orozco ran from the bunker, waving his arms to the Ruhaald craft as their soldiers forced Bailey, Standish and Egan up the ramp and into the watery interior.

“Wait! Wait! They didn’t know!” He ran around the smoldering doughboys and watched as the ramp closed.

The shuttle lifted off the ground and blasted off into orbit.

Orozco slowed to a stop next to the dead Ruhaald and the crashed fighter. He looked back to the dead doughboys and felt his heart sink.

He touched his gauntlet screen and found an open IR channel to Camelback Mountain.

“Area command, this is Staff Sergeant Orozco out at bunker Juliet-90. We’ve got a problem.” He looked down at the lumps of blasted flesh that remained of the alien officer.

“A really…big problem.”

Malal sat in his cell, arms loose at his side, chin resting against his chest. His fingertips twitched with the sound of cracking bone.

The door to the brig opened and a silver box the size of a suitcase floated into the room. It stopped several feet from Malal’s cell. A small cube floated off the box. It stopped in the air, then the rest of the box broke into cubes and formed into a pixelated shape of a hunched-back creature with a wide face.

“Malal, I am Ordona,” the words came off the vibrating cubes.

Malal’s head jerked up. His unblinking eyes stared ahead with a dead man’s gaze.

“Are you?” Malal asked.

“I represent Bastion. Your bargain remains.”

“Does it?”

“Your bargain remains…with some modification.”

Malal rose to his feet and glided to the edge of the electric field of the cell wall.

“Tell me more.” Malal’s face pulled into a wicked smile.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thank you for reading The Battle of the Void. I hope you enjoyed it enough to leave a review and tell two friends about The Ember War Saga.  I always enjoy hearing from readers and you can drop me a line at
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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

4. Earth Defiant

5.
The Gardens of Nibiru

6.
The Battle of the Void

7. The Siege of Earth

8. The Crucible (Coming September 2016!)

IRON HEARTS

Elias, soldier of the Iron Hearts and pilots of a mechanized suit of armor, lies comatose in a hospital. His mind trapped within the prison of his failing body. With no other option but to watch their friend wither away, his fellow Iron Hearts concoct a dangerous plan to save him.
 

VENT RATS

Chief MacDougall hunts a Toth loose aboard the
Breitenfeld
with the aid of Steuben and Lafayette. Can the Karigole set aside their hatred to catch the infiltrator alive?

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