Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2

by Scott Bartlett

  “Excuse me, but how in Sol do we do that?” As expressive as ever, Bernard raised her hands as she spoke. “With all due respect, Flockhead, you can’t even stop them from attacking your colonies.”

  Keyes cleared his throat. “I’m hoping it can be done without bloodshed.”

  The Winger and the senator turned to face him. “We’re all ears,” Bernard said.

  “Human militaries haven’t clashed for centuries, and I’m reluctant to change that. Sure, we’ve fought radicals, but an actual intra-species war…”

  “Careful human,” Bytan said. “Our alliance was conditional on your help with stopping the UHF onslaught. We could have destroyed you.”

  “You almost did,” Keyes snapped, and then took a deep breath. Keep it together, he told himself. “We promised to help you, and we will keep that promise. But if I can checkmate Command without fighting them, I will. The first step is to seize as many derelict UHF ships as we can. Some of the ships whose crews Ochrim killed have been destroyed in collisions, but most of them are still out there, empty.”

  “I do like the sound of that,” Bytan said.

  “I thought you might. In the meantime, we leak the footage recorded by the Providence’s sensors while we fought the Ixan warship down Pirate’s Path. That will show the people of the Commonwealth that their military is fighting the wrong enemy. We can distribute the footage via the micronet, while we still have access. And in the same video, we can tell the public what we believe to be the true cause of the supernovas.”

  Bytan furled her wings. “What if Ochrim’s words at the war council were lies?”

  That drew a sharp glance from Bernard. “Do you really think that’s a possibility anymore? He had no access to outside information, and yet he knew about Epsilon Leonis before we did. And he pointed us to the verse from the Ixan Prophecies that predicted all this. As crazy as it seems, I think it’s time we start taking the Prophecies seriously.”

  It certainly seemed crazy to Keyes. He’d resisted for a long time, but after what he’d seen, it seemed undeniable. There was something to the verses the Ixa had been broadcasting throughout the galaxy for years.

  They’d seemed to predict the destruction of the Providence above Spire, and when they’d pulled through despite the odds, he’d thought that was the end of it. But the verses Ochrim had pointed them to referenced a phoenix, a mythical bird known for coming back from the dead.

  Was the Providence the phoenix?

  By now, he’d memorized the verses:

  Behold, a phoenix springs from ash atop the tower of birds.

  Fly, phoenix. Fly! Remain, and the tower crumbles.

  Your people need you, phoenix, even as they fall to the scythe.

  Fly, phoenix. Fly! Else, they’ll all die.

  The disruptor speaks of starbursts in the sky.

  Fly, phoenix. Fly! Let us hear you rage and cry.

  If his ship truly was the phoenix, and the “tower of birds” was Spire, the Winger homeworld, then he took those verses to foretell Spire’s doom if the Providence remained here. All the more reason to go capture those ships. Now.

  “I’ve been on this planet long enough,” Keyes said, rising from his seat. “My crew and I leave today.”

  “What about the damage your ship took from the collision with the Gok carrier?” Bytan said. “We have the means to restore your damaged flight deck.”

  “That would take months. I doubt we have days. Are your Wingers prepared to leave?” The flockhead had agreed to draw heavily from her reserves, as well as from surviving crews of neutralized Roostships, in order to bolster the Providence’s crew as well as to fly the derelict ships they would commandeer.

  Bytan nodded. “They’re standing by.”

  “I’d like to come with you, Captain,” Bernard said, sweeping her light-gray hair from her eyes as she joined him in standing.

  Keyes raised his eyebrows. “You’d be safer here.”

  “I’d also be useless.”

  “What do you expect to accomplish aboard the Providence?”

  “We’ll figure that out. Together, I hope.” She paused. “I expect Corporal Simpson will want to come, too.”

  He gave a brief nod. “All right, then. Let’s go get those ships.”

  Chapter 7

  Cowards

  Sonya Hurst’s fingers curled into tight balls atop the marble windowsill of her office as she glared at the protesters amassed before the gates of the presidential residence, blocking her from attending an important meeting with the CEO of Darkstream. Her security detail said leaving was too dangerous, but why should she fear a bunch of troublemaking lowlifes? She was president of the Commonwealth!

  Yanking her com out of her pocket, she took the demonstrators’ photo with it and then whipped up a post to let her social followers know how she felt about the situation: “Lowlifes outside the president’s house on Mars. Don’t they have jobs to go to? Just how badly do they want to tank the economy?”

  She couldn’t hear their chants through the bulletproof glass, but if she squinted she could make out some of their signs. “STOP FIGHTING OUR ALLY!” one said. “WE’RE GOING TO NEED A UNIVERSE TO LIVE IN,” said another. And a third: “DOWN WITH DARKSTREAM!”

  From next to the gates, armed guards monitored the protest closely, accompanied by a sizable contingent from the capital’s police force. The police bore riot shields and batons, and they’d already proved they weren’t shy about using them to force the protesters back. Nearby, an armored personnel carrier loomed over the whole scene, with another officer perched atop it, manning a twenty-millimeter rotary autocannon.

  “How are we going to spin this, Fink?” she said, turning to Horace Finkel, her pet reporter since before the election.

  “I don’t know,” he said, turning nervously toward the cluster of her advisors sitting in the corner of the office, which was where she liked to keep them—as far away from her as possible.

  “Well, I’m going to need an angle.” It was bad enough that her mass deportations of aliens from human worlds had met with such outrage during her first week, with a wave of protests across the galaxy, followed by legal challenges from courts at every level. But now she had to deal with this. She’d had no idea becoming president would turn out so…messy. They’d elected her president, and so now the public needed to step aside and allow her to rule the Commonwealth, no questions asked. That’s how she thought it should be, anyway.

  Hurst returned her gaze to the outside, where some of the protesters were gathering in a hokey prayer-circle type thing. A speck of dirt on the glass distracted her, tearing her focus away from the human obstructions outside her new home. “I should have stayed in Hurst Estates,” she muttered. “I hate living here.”

  “I’ve been working on finding an angle,” Finkel said. “But it’s tough. The public doesn’t like the look of that Ixan warship. It’s caused a bit of a firestorm on the micronet. Understandably, I guess…I mean, the Ixa aren’t supposed to have any military, right?”

  “Our monitors watch them so closely they could probably figure out how regular their bowel movements are,” Hurst said. “And those same monitors say everything’s fine.”

  “Even so, the footage from the Providence…”

  “What about the dark tech? Have we gotten any reports back from the scientists? We’re paying them good money, the most money, so they’d better have something for me soon.”

  One of her advisors cleared her throat from the corner of the spacious office.

  Hurst hated how they listened in on every conversation. “What?” she spat.

  “Madam President, the first reports from our dark matter experts are already in.”

  “And?”

  “They confirm Ochrim’s explanation for the supernovas. The consensus so far is that if we continue using dark tech for ten more years, the universe’s destruction will become irreversible. That said, the collapse isn’t likely to affect many human colonies until thirty y
ears’ time. We were unlucky with the Campion System. Sol won’t be in danger for another forty years.”

  I’ll be dead by then anyway. Or near enough.

  “Darkstream is too big to just shut down,” Hurst said. “The economy rides on that company. And anyway, the Wingers would run over us if we gave up dark tech.” She sniffed. “Does the traitor Keyes still have micronet access?”

  The advisor who’d spoken before nodded. “An oversight. But one that—”

  “Cut it off. I have the power to order that, right?”

  “Yes, Madam President. Through an executive order, you can mandate the UHF—”

  “Just do it.” Looking out the window again made Hurst grimace. “The Commonwealth can’t afford for important meetings like today’s to be delayed. Why do the guards and police have guns if they aren’t going to use them?”

  “Mm,” Finkel said. He’d moved to the next window over and was peering out.

  “Don’t breathe on the glass,” Hurst snapped at him. She turned back to her advisors, pointing out the window at the demonstration. “Give the order. I want them dealt with.”

  The advisor swallowed audibly. “Madam President, dragging away the protesters may prove dangerous.”

  “I didn’t say drag them. I’m designating those protesters economic terrorists. They’re endangering galactic security. I want them gunned down.”

  “Madam—”

  “Give the order. Now!”

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  Sonya Hurst turned back to watch. It only took a few minutes for her order to be acted upon. Apparently, the officers and the guards were just as eager as her to teach a lesson to anyone who thought they could obstruct the governance of the Commonwealth and get away with it.

  The first spray of bullets caught the protesters totally off-guard, and the targets went down in a heap. The others reacted immediately, turning to flee toward the streets of the capital, tripping over each other. Cowards.

  Another volley took the next row in their backs, making them pitch forward in comical fashion.

  “Prepare my convoy,” she told her advisors without taking her eyes off of the carnage.

  Chapter 8

  Derelict Ships

  As expected, the Providence’s micronet access was cut off shortly after they leaked the footage of the Ixan warship to the public, but not before Keyes saw civilian footage of police and armed guards killing protesters in front of the presidential residence.

  They’d almost reached the derelict UHF warships floating in stellar orbit. But before they proceeded with anything, his crew needed to see that video.

  He marched from his office toward the CIC, barely registering his crew snapping to attention and saluting as he progressed through the ship.

  When he entered the CIC, he barked, “Coms, check your inbox and prepare to play the footage you find there on every screen aboard this ship.” He settled into the Captain’s chair, which was as hard and unyielding as ever. “Patch me through to shipwide.”

  “You’re on now, Captain.”

  Leaning forward slightly, he spoke into the air. “Women and men of the UHS Providence, this is your captain. Go to the nearest viewscreen. I am about to play you a video that will inform our approach to this conflict. It’s likely you haven’t seen it, since as far as I’m aware it hasn’t been mentioned by the news shows available to you in the crew mess. Civilians have been sharing it around the micronet. Know that it will likely shock you.” With a glance at his Coms officer, he said, “Play the clip.”

  No one spoke as the scene played out on the CIC’s main viewscreen—as the police and security personnel opened fire on civilians exercising their constitutional rights. As those civilians fell and died, and as the survivors panicked, fleeing into the capital’s streets.

  When the video ended, no one spoke, or even moved. Except for Keyes. He leaned forward once more.

  “Clearly, the Commonwealth cannot be reasoned with. Clearly, they cannot be persuaded. I’d hoped I could pressure them by alerting the public to the dangers faced by our species, but they refuse to heed them. The reason for their suicidal indifference doesn’t matter, because we know what we must do. Our government has used up every ounce of legitimacy, and therefore it isn’t our government anymore. It is the enemy. To stop them from destroying humanity, it will be necessary to fight them with everything we have. It will be necessary to overthrow them. I am hereby committing the Providence to doing that.”

  After pausing a moment to let his words sink in, Keyes continued. “To the Winger pilots, soldiers, and other personnel newly aboard our ship, I would like to extend to you an official welcome. You bring us closer to a full complement of personnel—closer to our full potential. You are crewmembers of the Providence, now. Crewmembers of the Providence learn from each other, and they support each other to reach their highest level of effectiveness. Any crew, human or Winger, found violating those principles will be disciplined appropriately. That is all.”

  He settled against his chair’s stonelike back. “How soon will we reach the derelict ships, Werner?”

  “Minutes, sir,” his sensor operator said. “And our three traveling companions are close behind us.” He meant the trio of Roostships, which were packed full of the Wingers who would crew what ships they commandeered.

  Wingleader Korbyn captained the lead ship, and he’d assembled a team of Winger navigation adjutants who’d been given a crash course back on Spire in a feature that the UHF had started including in its warships after the advent of dark tech. Barring a critical malfunction in another system, every modern human ship could be steered by a single knowledgeable navigator using a simple override command, provided they had access to that ship’s CIC.

  Korbyn had only a handful of navigation adjutants qualified to take advantage of the feature, but it would be enough to relocate a reserve battle group to Pinnacle, a nearby Winger colony—their most populous world, after Spire. Following the mission to recover as many derelict ships as they could, Korbyn and the other Winger captains planned to join the fight to defend their colonies under attack by the UHF, backed up by as many derelict ships as they had the crew to fully operate.

  “Very good, Werner,” Keyes said. “Coms, tell Lieutenant Fesky to prepare to launch Condors at a moment’s notice. And instruct Sergeant Caine to ready the ship’s full contingent of marines for deployment. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “Sir…”

  “Yes? What?”

  “One of the UHF ships is moving. It’s the Tucker, a missile cruiser.”

  “Moving where?”

  “Toward us.”

  Chapter 9

  Everyone Has a Hobby

  “I want two squadrons of Condors in the air, one led by Lieutenant Fesky and the other by Airman Gaston. Tell them to move it.” Launching Condors was mostly for extra missile defense, since the chances of encountering enemy fighters here were quite low. Other than the Providence, no UHF ship had carrier-strike capabilities.

  Of course, I should probably know better than to assume that. He remembered a certain battle during the First Galactic War, when Captain Warren Husher had taken down five Ixan warships by hitting them with fighters launched from ships that had no business carrying them.

  And that reminded Keyes of his most recent encounter with the Ixa. I let Teth get too close. Just like this missile cruiser’s attempting to do. And I paid for it.

  “Helm, reverse thrust at once. We’re going to keep our distance until we have a better handle on exactly what’s happening, here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send the Tucker a transmission request, Coms.”

  “I’m on it, sir.” After a handful of moments passed, his Coms officer spoke again: “They aren’t accepting.”

  “They’re accelerating, Captain,” Werner said.

  “Increase reverse thrust to seventy percent. Coms, try again.”

  As the supercarrier accelerated backward, her m
omentum caused Keyes’s body to press forward against the straps for the brief moment it took the Ocharium nanites distributed throughout his uniform and body to compensate, tweaking their interactions with the Majorana matrix in the ship’s deck.

  “Still nothing,” Coms said.

  “Sir, the missile cruiser is now coming at us under full power.”

  “Increase to eighty-five percent, Helm.” Keyes’s body tilted forward once more as his order was carried out. “Coms, tell them they have ten seconds to respond before we blast them to Hell.”

  “Done. They’ve accepted our request, sir.”

  “Put it on the screen.”

  The viewscreen came on, showing a Gok stuffed into the Captain’s chair of the Tucker, making it look like a child’s toy. “Sorry for rudeness,” it said. “Was busy preparing this.”

  Before Keyes could reply, the alien winked out of view again, and Werner went rigid at his console. “They’ve launched missiles, sir—thirty of them!”

  Keyes winced. The Providence’s main capacitor was fully charged, meaning if a single missile hit them they’d all die, likely taking out several more UHF ships in the process, not to mention the accompanying Roostships. “Full reverse thrust, Helm, and hard to starboard! Are those Condors ready yet?”

  His coms officer pressed a hand against her headset. “Fesky says they’re still preparing to scramble, sir.”

  “Tell her I needed them in the air five minutes ago! Send a message to Wingleader Korbyn asking him and the other Winger captains to target as many of the missiles as they can. Alert Fesky that we’ve done that, so her pilots know to watch out for friendly fire.” He turned to his Tactical officer, hands curled into tight fists atop his chair’s armrests. “Arsenyev, I need you to whip up a firing solution on that cruiser, pronto, and keep it updated in real-time.”

  Arsenyev nodded, bending over her console, not wasting any time on words. I can’t make her my XO soon enough.

  “How long till the first missiles reach us, Werner?”