The Crucible (The Ember War Saga Book 8) Page 14

  “What did I tell you about listening to him?

  “Conversations with him are most informative. Bailey attempts to teach me unique Australian insults and Orozco shares his favorite…what is the term? ‘Put out lines’?”

  Hale felt his cheeks flush with frustration.

  “First Sergeant.”

  “I will engage in some wall-to-wall counseling the next time I have them in reach,” Cortaro said.

  Hale removed his helmet and locked it onto his hip. The smell of smoke lingered in the air.

  Ten feet from the Ruhaald, he stopped. The Marine kept his stance wide, his weight shifted forward. The six prisoners on the sled didn’t react to Hale’s arrival. Their eyes were shut, pain writ across their faces.

  “I am Tuk, Third of the Ruhaald Expeditionary force. I render appropriate greetings,” the Ruhaald said. Its tentacles were balled into fists that banged against its armored legs and the front of the sled. It kept pacing, never taking its bulbous eyes off Hale.

  Hale pointed to the prisoners. “They’re in pain. You release them right now or I will rip your helmet off and let you choke on Earth air.”

  Tuk held up a hand and waved its many fingers in the air. There was a pop of air and the reek of ozone. The prisoners let out groans and opened their eyes. Some struggled against the silver cords, but they remained bound.

  “The Ruhaald do not allow prisoners the means to escape or resist. We do not inflict pain without reason.”

  “But you’ll murder prisoners in cold blood.”

  “The blood debt is not murder. Your slaves took our scion from the brood. There will be another!” Tuk slammed a fist against the sled and dented the hood.

  “I wasn’t there when your scion died. The one man that witnessed what happened said it was an accident. This blood debt is a misunderstanding, one I’d rather settle with words than bullets.”

  “The scion is dead. There is no misunderstanding. The brood mother demands I offer you kitithrak, a mercy for only the weakest of foes. Turn over your slaves, all those in the same brood as the ones that killed our scion, and we will spare your kind and return the ones I brought as a gesture of good faith.” Tuk tapped tentacle tips against the top of its helmet and motioned to the Ruhaald knife on Hale’s belt.

  “You mean all the doughboys inside the firebase?”

  A snarl came through the voice box on Tuk’s armor. “All of them! Does this device not speak your words properly?”

  Hale had no doubt what would happen to the doughboys if he did turn them over.

  “I will pass on your offer to my commander,” Hale said, pointing to the prisoners, “but I will take all of them back with me. Now.”

  “I will not return to my brood with nothing. You will commit to paying the blood debt now or the kitithrak is void.”

  Hale stepped to the side and pointed to a redheaded captive.

  “You see those spots up and down his face and shoulders? He’s on the verge of dying from an allergic reaction to xeno-germs. We saw this sort of thing with the Toth—call it Kirk Syndrome. The rest won’t last much longer but I have a doctor that can save them—but only if he can treat them right away.” Hale put his hands on his hips.

  “We will allow your doctor to render aid within our encampment.” Tuk’s shoulders hunched over, its eyes darting from Hale to the prisoners.

  “They need long term treatment and I’m not going to send a doctor away for days. You leave these sick men and women with me or they’ll all die because you were too pigheaded to listen. Then there will be another blood debt to pay. I don’t know about you, but I want the killing to stop sooner rather than later,” Hale said.

  “I will not return carrying promises.” Tuk straightened up.

  “How about a prisoner exchange? I will give you Shu’ul, one of your…other kind. No legs.”

  “You may have the sick one.”

  “All of them, and I will take your demands to my higher headquarters. I’m a lowly captain, not allowed to make the big decisions.”

  Tuk’s tentacles stretched out and wiped dust from its legs.

  “Agreed. I give you ten percent of a rotation to surrender your slaves. After that we will take them by force and your kind will not be spared,” Tuk said.

  Hale touched his throat mic.

  “Bring out the Ruhaald prisoner.”

  His earbud clicked twice.

  “Are you a decision maker? A locus?” Hale asked.

  “I have limited autonomy.”

  “Why did you betray us? You came as allies and helped win the greatest victory in the history of the war against the Xaros. We destroyed their leader, the General, and now you’ve got a knife to our throat. Why?”

  “The scion knew, but then you murdered him.”

  “It was an…never mind.” Hale looked back and watched a pair of unarmed Marines carry Shu’ul toward them.

  “Put the navigator on the ground,” Tuk said. Hale gave the Marines a slight nod and they tossed it forward.

  Shu’ul rose up like a snake and slithered behind the larger Ruhaald.

  The silver cords fell away from the human prisoners. They ripped their restraints away and scrambled off the sled, never taking their eyes off the Ruhaald as they put space between themselves and their former captor.

  “Ten percent of a rotation.” Tuk pointed a few tentacles at Hale. “Choose quickly. Choose wisely.” It lifted Shu’ul onto the sled then jumped behind the controls. The aliens left in a cloud of dust.

  One of the armor-less Marines, the one with a shock of wild red hair, rubbed at his face and neck.

  “Sir? You serious about that Kirk Syndrome? I do feel a bit woozy, but I think that’s just from the pain cords they were using,” he said.

  “Relax, soldier.” Hale turned him toward the firebase and walked him forward at a quick pace. “Your freckles aren’t Kirk Syndrome. In fact, there’s no such thing as Kirk Syndrome.”

  “You were just bullshitting him?”

  “Yes, now hurry and get behind those armored walls before it realizes I pulled a fast one.”

  ****

  Hale looked at the timer on his gauntlet. Two hours until the Ruhaald deadline.

  “Think I’ve got it,” said Devins, his company’s last commo Marine. “There’s a relay on Luna still up and running. All the ones on the dark side of the moon are off-line. Guess that giant flare we saw had something to do with that. You heard what that was, boss?” she asked from within an open closet full of dangling fiber-optic cables. Raw sunlight filtered through floating dust, glinting off the specks like they were made of gold.

  “No, I was busy fighting for my life against Xaros drones and then the big one in red armor. Time is of the essence, Devins.”

  “Check…check.” She took a grease pencil off her ear and made an X against a panel. “Not that one but the telemetry data’s coming from one of these…” She unsnapped a data wire running to the hole in the ceiling and plugged it into a panel on the other side of the closet.

  A green icon lit up on Hale’s gauntlet.

  “I’ve got a connection. Good work, Devins.”

  “Am I better than Egan?”

  “Yes, but if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.” Hale cycled through channels and opened a line to Phoenix high command. He waited a full minute before General Robbins’ face came up on his gauntlet.

  “Captain Hale, I was getting worried.”

  Hale gave a rundown on everything he’d encountered since leaving Phoenix as well as the Ruhaald ultimatum.

  “That’s quite the offer,” Robbins said. “The situation hasn’t improved in Phoenix, and there’s still no contact with the surviving ships around the moon or with Mars command. I don’t need you to make a tense situation any worse.”

  Hale felt a wash of fear spread through his chest.

  “Sir, you can’t mean…”

  “Listen, son, the doughboys are an expendable asset. They are mass-produced like bullets. If
the Ruhaald want them, let them have them. The entire garrison can be replaced within a day once we have the tubes up and running again.”

  Hale opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “You copy my last? Are we losing this connection already?”

  Devins waved a hand to get Hale’s attention. She jiggled the connection to the transmitter above and static washed across Hale’s gauntlet. Once Hale had his eyes on her, she twisted a thumb up and down at him.

  Hale looked at the general, then thought of the last words Bolin said to him. The Marine tapped a thumbs-down against his thigh, beyond where the video feed to Robbins could see it.

  Robbins’ image switched off.

  “How long will this interference last, sir?” Devins asked. “Because I sure didn’t hear anything about handing the doughboys over to be murdered. Nope. Not one word about that.”

  “Hold tight.” Hale checked the timer on his gauntlet. There wasn’t much time before the fate of the doughboys was decided for him.

  ****

  Torni kept a grip on Bodel as she rode atop the armored skirt over his treads. As she looked up at the Ruhaald cruiser hanging over the city, she felt a surge of anger. Bodel had given her the rundown during the drive from Harrison’s crash site: the aliens’ aid during the Xaros attack, their subsequent betrayal and demands. The Ruhaald and Naroosha had rammed a knife into humanity’s back, and now everyone beneath the occupation waited for the twist that would rain down death and destruction.

  “Bastards,” Torni muttered.

  Bodel rolled toward Camelback Mountain, the massive doors already open.

  Torni felt a strange vibration through her shell as they neared. They passed a work detail of construction equipment removing tons of rock from the road leading to the main entrance. The blasted remains of a rail cannon emplacement directly over the big doors filled her with dread. There had been one hell of a fight here.

  Bodel rolled into the open bay and slowed to a stop. Torni jumped off, the vibration growing stronger. Soldiers and technicians repaired the interior, which looked like a hurricane had hit it.

  “What’s wrong?” Bodel asked.

  “There’s something…some kind of energy. I can’t explain it,” she said.

  Bodel pointed to a blackened patch on the floor.

  “The General died right there. His armor survived. It’s all under that tarp, white garbage truck.”

  Torni took a step toward the truck and ripples broke out over her shell.

  A mechanic with a toolbox in hand froze mid-step when he saw the display over Torni.

  “You didn’t see anything. Keep moving,” Bodel said.

  The mechanic nodded and walked off with a renewed purpose to his steps.

  “The armor is…I don’t know…messing with me,” she said. “I don’t exactly have all the ins and outs of this drone thing down. What happened in orbit damaged something. Not sure if I can ever fix it. Did you kill him? The General?”

  The Xaros master was one of the last things she saw before her biological death. The memory of the being’s touch made her want to crawl beneath a bed and hide.

  “Elias got the killing blow. I helped,” Bodel said.

  “Elias. Is he still angry with me for pulling Malal out of his hands? I ask because he’s big and might rip my limbs off for fun.”

  “Probably, but I’ll see that he leaves you alone. You’re on the side of the angels now. Stay there.”

  “Where is he? And Hale? Kallen?”

  Bodel’s hands balled into fists. He transformed back into his walker configuration and stomped off.

  “Something I said?” Torni’s shoulders drooped. What am I supposed to do now? Lafayette was gone. The Crucible occupied. She was legally dead and no longer a Marine. If her shell malfunctioned again, she’d end up eating a gauss bullet before she could explain that she was a Xaros drone, but a friendly one.

  Torni bowed her head and folded her hands in prayer. “Fader vår som är i himmelen helgat varde ditt namn—”

  Wind rushed into the bay, blowing a cloud of dust into the air that cut visibility down to mere feet. Torni heard the thump of landing struts against metal. Light rippled within the cloud and a Mule took shape next to Torni as its cloak fell away, the words Gott Mit Uns emblazoned on the hull.

  Those in the bay watched in stunned silence as the ramp lowered. Durand came down, removing her helmet and gloves. She stopped when she recognized Torni.

  “I heard you were dead. You look good,” the pilot said.

  “What’re you doing down here? Does Valdar have a plan to deal with the Ruhaald?”

  “Of course he does. It’s Valdar. The man always has a plan. In fact, I’m down here to find Hale and his bunch of killers. I’m going to take them up to the Crucible, ruin some squids’ day. Maybe make a pit stop along the way, cause some trouble. You interested?” Durand asked.

  “I’m up for that. Mind if I hang out in the back until we’re ready to leave?”

  “Suit yourself.” Durand pulled a pack of cigarettes from a pocket and lit one.

  “Aren’t you going to go find Hale?”

  “I just landed a Mule in the middle of a garage. I figure all the very important people who might know where Hale is are on their way down here to scream at me.” She took a deep drag and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “I will wait.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Steuben jumped off the firing step and landed into a roll. He used his forward momentum to bring him to his feet and strode across the bay. Three suits of armor sat in their travel configuration, their breastplates open, exposing the fortified wombs within. The Karigole sniffed at the air, detecting an unusual chemical.

  Three men in skintight bodysuits sat in a semicircle. Each held the tip of an oversized lance, the other end gripped by the armor. One of the men squeezed a bit of clear oil onto a cloth and rubbed it along the tapered point of the lance.

  “What is that?” Steuben asked.

  “Do you ask about the kopia?” a dark-haired man asked. “Our lances?”

  “Perhaps the obcy wonders why we dismount and lose our synch to do this?” a blond asked.

  “Maybe he’s never seen a Hussar outside the armor,” a bald man said, winking at Steuben.

  “The enemy could attack at any moment, and you are engaged in some manner of ritual?”

  “In times past,” said Vladislav, according to the name stenciled on his shoulder, “the kopia was a gift from the Polish king to his Hussars. Colonel Carius gave these to us when we earned our spurs after the Battle of Aurukun.”

  “Told us of the Hussars that saved Western civilization at the Battle of Vienna in 1683,” Adamczyk said as he stood up and ran a cloth down the length of his lance.

  “As if three polski wouldn’t know about that day,” Ferenz snorted.

  “The Marines keep to their own history,” Steuben said. “Your kind are more…fragmented. I saw the Smoking Snakes fight on Takeni. I’ve fought beside the Iron Hearts. None of you are the same.”

  “Bonding with the suits is…different. We aren’t mere crunchies that throw on power armor and flail around the battlefield. We are armor.” Vladislav hit a fist against his chest. “We choose our lineage. Forge our names in battle.”

  “Do you think Carius will let us add wings to our armor? After that charge he’ll have to,” Ferenz said.

  “He might, but where will we find the ostrich feathers?”

  Steuben felt a low thrum through his boots. He removed a glove and pressed the bare flesh against the floor. The thrum picked up, teasing the outer limits of his hearing.

  “Something wrong, obcy?” Adamczyk asked.

  “You don’t hear that?” Steuben pressed the side of his head to the floor.

  The Hussars cocked their ears to the side, then shrugged.

  “You may be death itself on the battlefield,” Steuben stood up, “but I’ve met rocks with better senses. Suit up…something is awry.”

  ****
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  Cortaro, fully armored and leading a team of Marines, stopped at the top of a short metal staircase leading to a long tunnel.

  “There’s nothing here, Steuben,” the gunnery sergeant said.

  Steuben pushed past a Marine and snarled.

  “There,” the Karigole said, pointing to a set of armored doors mounted on rollers at the end of the hallway, “how can you not hear it? Like the whine of those tiny insects that suck your blood.”

  “The only thing down here is the supply tunnel leading to bunker Alpha Two,” Corporal Montes said in a loud whisper. “It blew after the squids overran the bunker.”

  “Wait…” Cortaro looked at a map of the tunnels running to and from the firebase, “did the men in that bunker collapse the tunnels, or was it done here, at X-Ray?”

  “Uh…Major Paul was in the command center when that happened. She died when the squid fighters hit,” Montes said.

  “If you don’t know, just say you don’t know.” Cortaro went down the stairs, his rifle trained on the sealed doors. “The last situation report in the logbook we recovered from the command center listed this tunnel as impassable.”

  “There’s something beyond those doors.” Steuben strode past Cortaro and went to the metal slabs. Steuben touched his hands to the door, then pressed his ear to it and slammed a fist against the door.

  “Madre de Dios! You trying to tell them we’re over here?” Cortaro backed up.

  “There is at least ten feet of broken rock on the other side of this door. Many voids. That sound…I’ve heard it before.” Steuben tapped his gauntlet. “Caas, is this familiar to you?”

  “That’s a vibro-cutter. My father worked the mines on Takeni. I used to help, know that sound anywhere,” the Dotok woman said over the IR.

  “I still don’t hear anything,” Cortaro shrugged.

  “It’s stopped.” Steuben put his ear against the wall again. “Thumping, they’re clearing by hand now.”

  “Fine, I believe. It’s got to be the squids, right? How long until they break through?” Cortaro asked.