Liberty: Book 6 of the Legacy Fleet Series

by Nick Webb

  Zivic swallowed. “A what?”

  Ballsy turned back to the screen. “A fucking failure, that’s what. I could win battles against an overwhelmingly powerful enemy. But at home? I couldn’t win a damn thing. I couldn’t help her. I was useless. She was broken too, and I didn’t know how to help her. To fix her. The war messed her up good, just like it did me. And we both paid the price.” He glanced at his son for the smallest of moments. “And so did you. Another way I failed: by failing you.” He turned back to the screen and lowered his voice even further. “Don’t get sucked in by the siren call, son. The false glamor of war. Don’t be a hero. Just be a human, who does great things. And then who goes home and does normal things.”

  Zivic was speechless. But he didn’t even have time to think of how he might respond because almost simultaneously on the screen appeared both President Sepulveda and Senator Valeria Shin, who, if Zivic recalled correctly, was president of the senate. It looked like Shin was on a ship too, from the looks of the bridge crew in the background behind her.

  “Volz, you better have a remarkably convincing reason why you’re here and under these circumstances. Where’s Oppenheimer?” said Sepulveda.

  “He’s in the next room. I wanted to talk to you first, alone, and with a witness from congress. Thank you for joining us here, Senator Shin.”

  Zivic glanced over at Qwerty, who’d made the call to get Shin, and wanted to buy the man a beer. The speaker of the house was from the president’s party, but Senator Shin was in the opposition, and very well respected. That he’d had the presence of mind to contact the right politician for the job at hand was, well, remarkable for someone who was usually so socially clueless.

  Shin nodded. “What’s going on, captain? Am I to understand that you have the commander of the IDF fleet in custody? As Mr. Sepulveda says, I hope your reasons are very, very good.”

  “They are, ma’am.” He looked over to Sepulveda. “Mr. President, I have evidence that Admiral Oppenheimer, on your orders, was planning on deploying an artificial singularity device, which you know full well are banned under UE law.”

  Shin’s jaw dropped an inch. Sepulveda merely scoffed. “Oh, please. Spare me the whining about laws. This is a war, Volz. And you know who loses wars? The ones who fret and tear their hair out over silly laws that should never have been passed. Not all laws are good, and in this case, not all laws are smart. This law is deadly to us, right here. Right now. And under my executive authority granted by the emergency powers passed last week, I get special dispensation to sidestep particular troubling laws that only get in the way of the war effort.”

  Senator Shin frowned. “Mr. President, you may have emergency war powers, but that does not extend to an offense as grave as this. Only murder, rape, and high treason have higher sentences. Are you prepared to defend yourself to the entire senate? To the people of the UE? The senate has referendum powers and if we find this accusation to be true, you’re risking a snap election as soon as next week. Are you prepared for that?”

  “I’m prepared to save civilization as we know it, Valeria,” sneered Sepulveda. “Law and decorum and civil niceties all sound great, except when you’re in the mud where the enemy is not just kicking you in the balls and throwing dirt in your eyes, but also is basically bullet proof and can kill you with a single punch. You want an election? Fine. Because if we don’t beat the Swarm now, this week, there might not be any UE worlds left to vote.”

  Whitehorse caught Volz’s attention. “Captain, the Earth defense fleet just showed up. They’re moving to flank us.”

  Volz sighed. “So that’s how it’s going to be.”

  Sepulveda lifted a finger, using it as punctuation as he talked. “Game over, Volz. Release the admiral now, and turn yourself in for high treason.”

  “Like hell,” guffawed Volz. “You clearly haven’t met me. Remember thirty years ago? Oh, that’s right, you were an entitled frat boy passed out in the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and covered in vomit. I was on the front lines kicking the Swarm’s ass and saving Earth three times over. I’ll hand him over when hell swallows us all, because frankly, I’ve faced worse twice already this week.”

  Sepulveda, his finger still up, pointed at the screen and nodded triumphantly. “See that? By law you must obey your commander-in-chief. Not much of a law boy now, are you? Spare me your idealism and let’s get on with the damn war.”

  Senator Shin leaned forward until her face filled her half of the screen. “Gentlemen, please. We’re at an impasse, clearly. We can’t afford to be fighting amongst ourselves right now. Captain Volz, will you allow the admiral to leave, in exchange for assurances that no action will be taken against you? If the fleet backs down?”

  A long pause. Ballsy finally nodded an ok. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Mr. President.”

  Sepulveda flashed his toothy smile again. “No. Indeed it is not, Mr. Volz.”

  The captain turned to the marine at the rear of the bridge and gestured with his thumb. “Get him on his shuttle immediately and tell the pilot to take him to the flagship.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” The marine saluted, and left.

  “Captain?” said Whitehorse, pointing at her screen.

  “Now what?”

  “Another ship is hailing us. They say it’s Patriarch Huntsman.”

  Volz grumbled. “Religious nuts poking their noses into everything. Tell him to go bugger off. We’re busy.”

  Sepulveda started talking to someone off screen, but they still caught his words. “Huntsman? What the hell are you doing here?”

  They could just barely make out the response. “Fulfilling prophecy, Mr. President. The anti-Granger needs to be stopped in order for our salvation to appear.”

  At hearing the words, a cold feeling crept over Zivic. His stomach clenched slightly, as if he was performing a high-g maneuver.

  “And thank you, very much, for the delivery of your payment earlier. It’s what will enable the fulfillment of prophecy.” Some unintelligible words as Sepulveda shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “You are about to see the unthinkable. But fear not. The tool you’ve given me will enable us to crush it beneath our heels.”

  “Huntsman? Huntsman? Where did you go? Dammit.” Sepulveda turned back to the screen, and his countenance had changed. There was a note of worry in his eyes, and now they squinted slightly at the edges a little more than usual. “This conversation is over.”

  “Delivery? What did you give him, Mr. President? Was the payment authorized by the senate?” said Senator Shin.

  But Sepulveda had ended the transmission.

  “Captain!” For a third time, Whitehorse was flagging him down.

  Ballsy sighed. “There’s more?”

  “Right as the transmission to Interstellar One started, I detected a massive meta-space spike, coming from the general vicinity of Huntsman’s ship. I think he just tried to summon the Swarm, sir.”

  He looked up at the screen just in time. Out of nowhere, as if an invisibility cloak had been ripped away from it, a gargantuan Swarm ship snapped into existence, just a few thousand kilometers from Titan.

  Volz sat back down—collapsing, really—and when he spoke, his voice sounded like he’d aged ten years. “Time for round two.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Inside Titan

  Near Britannia

  “What do we do?” Proctor said. Case and Davenport both looked at her, probably wondering if she was still talking to the voice in her head or them.

  “I … I’m not done adjusting Britannia’s orbit.”

  “You … what?”

  “This whole time I’ve been maneuvering Titan into a position from which I could pull Britannia back into its proper orbit and avoid permanently disrupting its climate. Your friend, Batshit, asked me.”

  “Ethan Zivic asked you to move Britannia?”

  “Yes. Tight beam low intensity laser fired just before he left the system on the Independence. I was almost done,
but.…” His voice trailed off.

  “Tim?”

  When his voice returned, he was almost yelling. “Run, Shelby. Grab the box, and run.”

  “Why?”

  “Huntsman is here. I don’t have time to go into detail, but you must run.”

  “Why?” She was yelling by now, but starting to pry the black box out.

  “I’m ninety eight percent certain that he has an artificial singularity device, and that he means to use it against Titan to destroy me.”

  “What? We got rid of all of those!” The box was coming loose. Any moment now….

  “Not all of them, apparently. I can detect them half a galaxy away when they’re activated. I’m telling you, Shelby. Run.”

  The box came loose, and with it, Granger’s voice disappeared. She pointed towards the exit. “Let’s go. Fast.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Bridge

  Stealth ship The Prophet’s Revenge

  Near Britannia

  Patriarch Tobey Orrin Huntsman knew the time was ripe. The fulness of times was upon them.

  Finally.

  As soon as the gentile president’s face disappeared from the screen, he turned to look at his assistant manning the comm station on their freighter. The Most Holy Place, he’d named it. A grand title befitting such a lowly, humble ship. Just as holiness ever was. Lowly. Humble. A babe in a stable. A voice crying in the wilderness wearing burlap and eating locusts. A prophet ushering in the fulness of times in a Missouri swamp. An avenging angel on a decommissioned, leaky merchant freighter.

  “Brother Lindsey, send word to the destroying angel. The time has arrived.”

  The assistant, blank-faced, unfeeling, simply placed a hand on the flat surface of the console. No buttons were pushed. No commands entered in. Such was the way with the Valarisi, Heavenly Father’s mortal conduit for the Holy Ghost. It infused his assistant, quickened him, and celestialized him, all while still in the flesh.

  It was glorious.

  A moment later, the assistant shifted his head, ever so slightly. “It is done, Brother Huntsman. And it is well.”

  The prophet leaned back in his chair. “Amen. And Amen.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Bridge

  ISS Resolute

  Near Britannia

  Admiral Christian Danforth Oppenheimer stormed onto the bridge of the Resolute, his flagship and most advanced vessel in the fleet. And he was boiling with rage.

  “Is it doing anything? Assemble the fleet. Send a distress call to the San Martin defense fleet and tell them to get their asses here yesterday. I want all torpedo tubes loaded and ready to go. And tell the deck hands to transfer the contents of my shuttle’s cargo into one of the tubes. I have a feeling it may come in handy against that monstrosity,” he said, pointing up at the screen which was showing the Swarm ship slowly turn to bring one of its main guns to bear on Titan.

  A minute of focused pandemonium on the bridge passed as every station transitioned into battle mode and the department heads marshaled the flagship’s crew and systems to bear.

  “Damage teams in place, sir.”

  “Torpedo tubes all loaded except one, sir. Waiting for the package.”

  “All mag-rails primed and ready, sir.”

  “Sickbay reports ready, sir.”

  One by one the department heads reported in. Until finally, the report he was waiting for arrived. From the deck crew he’d assigned to transfer the package. The artificial singularity tipped torpedo that would win them this battle and make him and his crew heroes.

  “Captain?” said he deck chief over the comm.

  “Yes, chief? Is it ready?”

  “Sir, it’s … ah … it’s gone, sir.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The destroying angel. That is what the prophet had called him.

  Years ago, they would have used the title, Friend. When individuals were brought into the Concordat of Seven, they were made to be friends.

  Times change. Terms change. Meaning does not.

  The voice called out in his head, as if it were a voice, but a noiseless voice. And yet not a voice, for it came from him. That was what the Concordat was like. The family. They spoke with one voice. One will. One goal.

  It is time. Act now, said the voice.

  The destroying angel left his post in the middle of the command center, and approached the weapons station. The people there were busy, and after a curt nod, they ignored him.

  Good.

  He reached down to the console. Everything was in place. He’d seen to that earlier, waiting for the command. Acting his part. Acting it very, very well.

  The launch button was right there. One press away from victory.

  He pressed it.

  And then he returned to the center, and waited.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Inside Titan

  Near Britannia

  Proctor ran as fast as she could, thanking fate the whole time that gravity was only at one half g. They retraced their steps from Engineering, back up the stairs, down more hallways, past the rooms with strange equipment. Some of those rooms now rang with seemingly uncontrolled energy. Whatever Granger had been doing to keep the place under control was quickly becoming noticeable in its absence.

  “Ma’am, this way,” Case waved his hand and lifted her over a section of ceiling that had fallen. She just now noticed that the walls were shaking uncontrollably.

  Her comm buzzed. “Admiral? You coming yet? Carson to Admiral Proctor, do you read?”

  “I’m here, commander.”

  “Finally. Been trying to raise you for twenty minutes. We’ve got incoming. A few moments ago all the jamming disappeared, and as soon as they did, my sensors detected a torpedo headed our way. It’ll be at the entrance to the shaft in less than five minutes. No idea what it’s tipped with, but I’m damn sure it ain’t cotton candy.”

  She pointed up the long stairway they still had to ascend. “Run.” Dammit, how long had it taken them to climb down here? Five minutes? Ten?

  They ran up the stairs. Her knees ached. Everything ached. But she ran faster, cradling the little black box against her chest, knowing that it, and it alone contained the secret that would save them all.

  If she could only live long enough that it would even matter.

  The stairs seemed endless. They passed the transition from smooth metal to rough asteroid rock. Her legs were screaming out in pain and her lungs were on the verge of exploding, but grabbing the banister with one hand and clutching onto the box with the other she started taking them two at a time. “Thank god for ceramic knees and half g gravity wells,” she wheezed.

  Her side started to ache, then burn with a sharp, acute pain.

  “Almost there, ma’am. Please, we must hurry.” Case had slung the rifle over a shoulder, and without even asking her grabbed the box out of her hand, and offered his other. She took it, and with strength that nearly pulled her sixty-nine year old upper arm out of its socket, he gave her a boost that let her take the stairs three at a time.

  “I … I can’t …” She had to stop. The pain was too intense. She was going to pass out. She started seeing white stars at the edges of her vision and at first thought that they had made it, but it was just her sight failing as her brain struggled to get enough oxygen. “I can’t—”

  “Almost there, admiral. You’re going to make it. Almost there!”

  Even as her vision went nearly white she felt herself bounding up the stairs, somehow, her legs imbued with superhuman strength, which she supposed was just an illusion since Case had let go of her hand and now had a solid grip on her upper arm and was carrying half her weight.

  “You guys have thirty seconds! It’s now or never—”

  And suddenly, they were there. The top came upon them so quickly that Proctor bounded off the last stair and a full meter into the air before collapsing on the bare rock of the asteroid’s surface. She wondered why she couldn’t see—after all,
the giant void in Titan’s mantle was surrounded by glowing magma, before she remembered that her vision was still recovering from her lightheadedness.

  “Holy shit,” said Case. “It’s … dark.”

  Carson’s voice came over their helmet comms. “Yeah, whatever magic force field that was holding that lava back suddenly went completely opaque about ten minutes ago. I’m not sure what’s going to take us out first, the torpedo, or a bajillion tons of hot magma.”

  She felt someone pick her up, and she must have passed out for a few seconds because moments later she startled awake in the captain’s chair on the bridge of the Defiance, which, from what she could tell on the viewscreen, was tearing through the tube extending up to the surface like a bat out of a literal hell.

  A flash on the screen lit up the walls, and then disappeared. “What was that?” she slurred. She was still waking up, and wished the adrenaline would come back.

  “That was the torpedo we just passed. It’s on its way down to that void. And …” Davenport cocked his head at the data coming from the sensors. “That’s a weird reading. Never seen a warhead like that before.”

  “Let me see. Send it to my chair’s monitor,” she said. Moments later, the energy pattern appeared, one that she hadn’t seen in decades. One that meant only one thing. “Oh my god. No!” She jumped out of her seat and yelled at Case. “Lieutenant! Q-jump NOW. ANYWHERE!”

  To his credit, his training had taken over and he didn’t lose his head or his cool. With a calm precision, he entered in some numbers and pressed the initiator button.

  The tunnel disappeared in a flash. Soon, it was replaced by stars.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Terrace Heights playground

  Whitehaven

  Britannia

  Sarah Watkins usually didn’t get to go to the playground two days in a row. Her mother preferred to alternate between the playground and the beach during summer vacation. But with all the confusion from yesterday and the earthquakes, they’d skipped the beach, choosing the short ten minute walk to the park instead.