Earth Defiant (The Ember War Saga Book 4) Read online

  “Go.”

  “My brother and I, we still don’t understand why you call us Manfred and Lothar. These words aren’t in the Dotok-English dictionary,” Manfred said.

  “I told you, it’s part tradition and part necessity. Not every pilot has a name that short and easy to say over the radio. Plus, it kept the enemy from learning true names if they listened to radio chatter. So…call signs,” Durand said.

  “Yes…quaint,” Lothar said. “But why am I ‘Lothar’?”

  Glue joined the conversation, her voice clipped and angry “I told you both—it is arbitrary and not at all fair or relevant.”

  “You two are brothers,” Durand said. “The younger one is taller. You’re both…decent pilots. Manfred does better in sims. Your call signs fit you perfectly.”

  “And this connects to pilots from human history?” Manfred asked.

  “Yes. Every human fighter pilot knows Manfred von Richthofen. Isn’t that right, Glue?”

  “I grew up in China, not under a rock,” she said.

  “See,” Durand said.

  “And my namesake was famous for his red plane?” Manfred asked.

  “More for the eighty planes he shot down, but the plane was why they called him the Red Baron,” Gall said.

  “What did they call Lothar? The green arrow? A red blade?” Lothar asked.

  “He was always just the Red Baron’s brother,” Gall admitted.

  A ­kek-kek-kek sound of Dotok laughter from Manfred mixed with Dotok speech from Lothar that Durand couldn’t understand, but was sure were an impressive series of insults directed at his brother.

  “I told you it isn’t fair,” Glue said with a pout.

  “So what’re we supposed to do out here?” Lothar asked.

  “We hurried up to get here,” Durand said, “now we wait.”

  ****

  Hale’s hands balled into fists.

  “Absolutely not,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Perhaps I’ve not made this point clear,” Kren said, the tips of his nerves quivering. “Our survival depends on new and varied sources of sustenance. We must have your proccies—as you call them—and the method of their creation.”

  “The proccies are not cattle, not livestock, for trade. They are human beings in the eyes of many of us.”

  “Many? Not all?” Kren said, his tank bending toward Hale.

  “Humans have many dissimilar beliefs.” Hale’s mouth went dry as he chided himself for making such a foolish error. He’d just given the Toth information it hadn’t needed, or asked for. “You’d be surprised how few of us can agree on something so simple as what to have for dinner.”

  “Curious that the Alliance would aid such a divisive species. Yet you managed to defeat the Xaros and capture one of their star gates. My knowledge of that event is convoluted. Perhaps you could tell me more?”

  Your “knowledge”…you mean when you ripped the memories out of the brains of the humans you killed, Hale thought.

  “We aren’t here to discuss history,” Hale said.

  “No. The Toth offer humanity the following: Human space will be considered Toth territory, and we will provide military protection against the next Xaros incursion. In return you will turn over the means to create the proccies and ten percent of your adult population now, and one percent per Earth year as tithe. Also, you will demilitarize your navy and accept a permanent Toth military presence in orbit.”

  “Did you offer the Karigole the same?” Hale asked.

  “We aren’t here to discuss history,” Kren said. “Several species on the fringe of Toth space have accepted protectorate status. All are thriving. The annual tithe is a convenient opportunity to remove undesirables and criminals from the populace.”

  Hale picked up his helmet and stood up from the table.

  “What are you doing?” the Toth asked.

  “I must take your offer to my superiors and communicate it to Earth,” Hale said.

  The clawed arms of the Toth palanquin squealed as they tore into the concrete floor.

  “You aren’t able to make a deal?” Kren asked.

  “I can finalize whatever agreement we make, but the decisions will be made on Earth. Unfortunately, we’re limited to light-speed communications and it will take at least two hours for me to get an answer to any question I send back. In a rush?”

  A deep ululation came from the tank, just like the Toth battle cry Hale’d heard on Anthalas. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the two warriors joined in the predator’s call.

  “You think my patience has limits?” Kren asked.

  “You are guests in our solar system,” Hale said. “Behave yourselves or you’ll see just what our allies have waiting just beyond the Crucible,” Hale said. “The Dotok battleship is the tip of the spear.”

  A trickle of sweat ran down Hale’s back. He slid his helmet over his head before the Toth could notice a flaw in his poker face. So long as the Toth stayed far enough from the Canticle of Reason, the bluff might hold.

  “I will return in eighteen hours,” Hale said. “Don’t be late.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Stacey stepped up to a large arched doorway and waited for it to open. She stepped back and forth from the door, then waved a hand up at the sensor at the top of the arch.

  “Are you kidding me? Chuck, where is Ambassador Wexil?”

  “Ambassador Wexil is in his quarters,” Bastion’s AI said.

  “Does he know I’m standing out here waiting for him?”

  “He is aware but has declined to allow your entry.”

  Stacey banged her fist against the door until it slid aside. Bars lined a long oval room. The dark metal segments were of uneven lengths, attached to each other without a discernable pattern or regard for symmetry, like a web spun by an insane spider.

  Wexil floated near the ceiling on the far end, his human illusion incapable of mimicking whatever position his true form used to perch on the wire frame. Some alliance species were not humanoid. She’d seen their human illusions floating through hallways while others had a buffer space around their immense forms.

  Wexil waved his hand across a holo projection in front of his face, not paying any attention to Stacey.

  “You want to explain your game, Wexil?” Stacey asked.

  “Whatever do you mean, Ambassador Ibarra?” Wexil cast the projection aside with a flick of his hand and floated to the ground.

  “I’ve been to the Gann, Aelnolli and Enuur ambassadors—all the species that could send reinforcements to Earth without risking a quantum tear,” Stacey said. “They all said they can’t help me.”

  “All are in the path of the Xaros tendril maniple that scoured Earth several decades ago. They’re wise to conserve their forces,” Wexil said.

  “The leading edge of that maniple won’t reach Enuur space for ten years. Ten years! I need a couple ships to come through the Crucible to convince the Toth that Earth isn’t worth the price they’d pay to take the proccie technology.” Stacey’s fists pressed against her thighs. “You know what every one of those ambassadors also told me? They said you’d come to see them first. Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence.”

  “No, certainly not. Little Miss Ibarra, you’re new here. I’ve been an ambassador for seven hundred years. I have built relationships with the others that you can’t fathom. Not since the Toth betrayal has a single species been as decisive as humanity.” Wexil shook his head. “You would have been just another fringe group of barbarians erased by the Xaros, but we had the chance to get our hands on a Xaros jump gate. Pa’lon, your Dotok friend, convinced the rest of us to take a chance on you all, and despite my opposition and mathematical probability, it worked.

  “We have a nearly complete Xaros gate, and we can complete its construction with the omnium reactor from Anthalas. We truly live in exciting times.”

  “The gate, the reactor, all bought with human blood,” Stacey said. “My people are on the verge of extinct
ion because of this plan, yet we fight your battles and are a part of this Alliance. Why are you so determined to let the Toth finish the job the Xaros started?”

  Wexil reached out to the cage and seemed to swim up the wall.

  “You can’t be trusted—that’s why. That Valdar character ran off to help the Dotok against the Congress’ decision,” he said.

  “The Qa’Resh overrode that decision!”

  “That was not their right. The Qa’Resh are many things, but they are not our masters. I hoped the rescue mission would have failed, showing the wisdom of the Congress to those who’d let foolish notions threaten the survival of all, but, the Breitenfeld prevailed.” He scowled at her and swung across the other side of the room.

  Unease crept into Stacey’s limbs. She had no idea what his true form was, but she suspected it would make quick work of her if he chose.

  “The Toth were our greatest mistake. We brought them back from the brink of extinction and gave them the tools to thrive, ignoring their…eccentricities. We almost repeated that mistake with you. Humanity will be brought to heel. The Toth will have their treats and we will remold your people as proper soldiers and servants to the Alliance,” he said.

  “We will never be slaves!”

  “I find your presence tiresome. Save your strength for the next Congress when we decide your fate.” He looked to the ceiling. “Bastion, remove her.”

  Stacey rose an inch off the ground and an invisible force swept her out of the Vishrakath quarters. She stumbled into the hallway as the doors snapped shut behind her.

  Stacey stayed in the middle of the hallway, heedless of the stares and whispered comments of ambassadors filing past her.

  I’m failing, she thought. What little we have left is being swept away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  ****

  Hale sat with Valdar in the captain’s ready room. Hale still wore his armor, which wasn’t designed to take advantage of comfort. Hale scooted to the edge of the chair, trying to shift the spare magazines and equipment on his belt from sticking into his lower back.

  “They’re crazy,” Valdar said. “What makes them think we’d ever throw open the gates and welcome occupiers?”

  “Greed. Maybe they think they’re a lot stronger than us,” Hale said.

  “I’ll send this back to Titan Station,” Valdar said. “They’ll send back not ‘no,’ but ‘hell no.’ Any observations I should include for the big brains back on Earth?” Valdar winced at his comment. If Hale thought it was a joke about the Toth elite’s appearance, he didn’t bother to laugh.

  “The Toth…they’re here for the proccies first and foremost. Anything else they can wring out of us seems like a bonus. Kren never mentioned the omnium reactor, the entity that possessed Yarrow. No interest in the Crucible or how we beat the Xaros.”

  Valdar leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “We’ve got some more time to play with. Just need to keep them talking.”

  “And if they figure out we’re stalling?” Hale asked. “I still don’t understand the point to this rope-a-dope.”

  “It’s not if, but when, Ken,” Valdar swallowed hard. “Things have to stay need-to-know with you…given the Toth capabilities. You’re under a unique threat.”

  “No matter how you put it, it doesn’t make me feel any better about having to sit within arm’s distance of something that wants to eat…” Hale tapped his temple.

  “Go. Get some chow. Sleep. I’ll have instructions from Earth before you’re due back with the Toth.”

  Hale got up and left.

  Valdar waited until the door shut behind his godson and pulled out the small box from Fournier. He pressed his thumb against the sensor and waited until a sleepy-looking Fournier appeared in the holo field.

  “Captain,” Fournier rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, bit early in Phoenix.”

  Valdar passed on everything Hale shared.

  “Bold bunch of lizards, aren’t they?” Fournier asked.

  “It’s the first round of talks,” Valdar said.

  “We want the Toth to get rid of the proccies. That’s all. We need Hale to get an agreement signed in the next four days. My spies in Garret’s office tell me they’re making proccies as fast as they can to crew another fleet, one that’s nearly twice the size of what we’ve got in space now. If Ibarra and Garret have that, they’ll never agree to a settlement with the Toth.”

  “With that many ships we could probably win a stand-up fight,” Valdar said. His eyes glanced at a data slate that showed projected travel time and routes for the Toth fleet to Earth. Delaying the negotiations for four days seemed possible but doubt about working with Fournier scratched at the back of his mind.

  “That’s why we need an agreement soon. Don’t let those two think they could win if it comes to a fight,” Fournier said. “Do you have any leads on a manifest?”

  “I do.” Valdar took a scrap of paper from his pocket. “In the boneyard, the warehouse where equipment recovered from ships destroyed in the battle above Ceres is kept, there’s a lot with the personal effects from the London’s captain. There should be a manifest in his safe. Every captain had a copy prior to the invasion…but we had to hand them in during the fleet’s reorganization.” Valdar read off the lot number.

  “That’s Ibarra’s doing, keeping the truth hidden from the true born,” Fournier said. “The manifest would be in a data rod, gene-locked to the London’s captain. I thought she died in the battle.”

  “She did,” Valdar said, “but Lawrence, the civilian head of the colony mission, could override the lock with his gene code.”

  “Yes.” A smile spread across Fournier’s face. “Yes, that would work. We could know exactly who the proccies are before the Toth get to our doorstep. I’ll let you know once we have the manifest.”

  “I’ll contact you once I know more,” Valdar said.

  “Same. Well done, Isaac. You are a hero to all true-born humans.”

  ****

  Stacey lay on her bed, curled into a fetal position. Her fingernails dug into her scalp as she tried and failed to process everything that had just happened in Congress. The Vishrakath plan. The passionate speech from Pa’lon decrying the vote. His praise of humanity for saving the Dotok population on Takeni. Everything else fell into a blur until the final vote, Wexil would have his way.

  She hated herself for failing Earth like this. She was only twenty-two and trained in celestial mechanics and physics, not xeno-diplomacy. None of the rationalizations she’d come up with made her feel any better.

  “Ambassador Pa’lon is here to see you,” the station chimed.

  “Send him away,” she mumbled into her pillow. This was his third attempt to see her; she wasn’t sure if the Dotok was stubborn or didn’t know how to take a hint.

  Stacey sobbed as she imagined breaking the news to her grandfather and the rest of the people on Earth. The tears grew stronger and she didn’t stop them; it wasn’t like anyone could see her.

  “Stacey Ibarra,” a woman’s voice boomed through her quarters.

  Stacey sat bolt upright. Her room had become a starless abyss, her bed the only piece of remaining furniture. The giant head and shoulders of the Qa’Resh that ran the Congress meetings hung in the air beyond the foot of her bed.

  Stacey shrieked.

  “Our apologies,” the Qa’Resh said.

  “For scaring the hell out of me or throwing my people under a bus?” Stacey asked. She ran a sleeve across her eyes. “You even know what a bus is?”

  “We do. Humanity is in a difficult position, one we regret.”

  “Then why didn’t you do something to stop it?” Stacey peered over the edge of her bed and into darkness.

  “We are ancient. We are wise compared to many species, but we are few. We exist only on Qa’Resh’Ta,” she said. Stacey nodded, having seen the great floating city within the clouds of the gas giant that Bastion orbited. “We cannot defeat the Xaros on our own. This All
iance is our galaxy’s only chance at survival.”

  “So what if you have to sacrifice a few pawns along the way, right?”

  “All intelligent life is precious to us,” she said as sadness swept across her face. “We saw your true nature when the Dotok were in danger. You are not monsters like the Toth, but your history of civil wars worries many in our Alliance. The parallels between you and the Toth are too many to ignore.”

  “What? Last time I checked humans don’t have a habit of eating each other for fun and profit…not for a long time, anyway.”

  “You are fractious—violent toward each other up until the very moment we saved you from the Xaros, but you are not the Toth. Wexil’s plan would destroy your spirit, the core of what drove you to save another species,” the Qa’Resh said.

  “If you came here to give me a pep talk, this isn’t working. The Alliance wants me to go back to Earth and push the reset button on humanity,” Stacey said.

  “Only if you lose,” the Qa’Resh said.

  Stacey raised a finger, then an eyebrow.

  “What’re you getting at?”

  “You will return to Earth with instructions for the probe that controls the Crucible, instructions from the Congress,” the Qa’Resh said. “We will…amend those instructions. Give you time to defeat the Toth, but you must keep this a secret between you and the Qa’Resh, if you can, then we will give you another gift.”

  “I’m listening,” Stacey said.

  The Qa’Resh laid out their plan.

  ****

  Hale watched the ship’s flight deck from his vantage point in a duct flush with the ceiling. Flight crews tended to Eagles and Condor bombers on ready alert. The pilots lounged nearby, dressed in their flight suits, ready to be wheels up in less than two minutes of any alert.

  The sound of footsteps carried through the air vents. The ducts were designed to rid the flight deck of smoke from a crash or battle damage and were all large enough for a crouching adult to move through them easily.

  Hale listened, sure the faint steps belonged to who he was waiting for, not Steuben, the only other person who know about his hideout, but, he reasoned, he wouldn’t hear Steuben creeping up on him unless the Karigole warrior wanted to be heard.