“Brother,” Teth said once he stood just outside the invisible wall created by the towers. A wall for Ochrim—not for Teth. Or for Gok. “You’ve done well.”
Ochrim didn’t answer.
“Your part is done, now. You can rest. Father says you can rest.”
“I have no father,” Ochrim said, surprised to hear himself echoing Vin Husher from the war council mere days ago.
“He would be sad to hear you say that.”
“My father is dead.”
“He’s very much alive. And he will look after you. You can even rule with us, if you ever get around to feeling like it. But this war is won. With Spire’s destruction, it’s won. The Prophecies are undeniable. Without the Fins, the humans will never see clearly enough to subvert their destiny.”
“Am I to be a prisoner again?”
“You were always a prisoner, but never a prisoner of the Ixa. You are your own personal jailor.” Teth stepped through the invisible wall, producing a gun and pointing it at Ochrim’s foot. When Teth pulled the trigger, the ankle bracelet popped off, making Ochrim’s pants stick out from his leg. He shook it, and the bracelet tumbled out onto the grass.
Teth turned and walked away, in the direction he’d arrived from. “Come,” he said.
Ochrim followed.
As they left the planet, his brother used his ship’s main screen to show Ochrim a view of Spire, and of the Gok warships holding position in orbit. Teth raised his wrist to his mouth and, in an audible whisper, said, “Now.”
The Gok carpeted the planet’s surface with nukes, in a barrage that did not end for as long as Ochrim stared. Meditation. Your meditation practice. He tried to focus on the emotions the vision produced in him. The physical sensation the emotions caused.
But there were no emotions any longer. He felt nothing.
“The humans will intercept us before we leave this system,” he said, as he was meant to say, his voice utterly flat.
“Incorrect,” Teth said. “We are leaving the Gok to their own devices. They will spread through this sector, killing everything in their path. That should cover our exodus.”
Chapter 19
No Less Remarkable
The volley of kinetic impactors ruptured the second frigate’s hull and caused it to explode seconds later, but the first frigate didn’t behave as expected. Instead of slowing like the first, it shot past the Providence. Though Arsenyev’s calculations were good, the primary laser only had a few seconds to play across the frigate’s hull as it zoomed by, inflicting minimal damage.
“Launch Condors,” Keyes barked. “Tell Lieutenant Fesky to chase down that frigate and kill it.”
His Coms officer relayed the order to Fesky, and within a minute Keyes saw the tactical display blossom with green dots: the Providence’s Air Group, bolstered by the new addition of seventy-five Winger pilots from Spire.
That left Captain Yamat’s corvette for Keyes to deal with. The UHF warship was squaring off with the Providence.
David and Goliath. But I don’t think this is David’s lucky day.
For slowing his progress toward Spire, Keyes wanted to burn the opposing ship to cinders. But he’d learned to separate his desires from his actions a long time ago. “Coms, send Yamat another transmission request.”
“Done, sir. He’s accepted.”
“Put him on-screen.” Yamat appeared moments later. “Yield,” Keyes said.
“I won’t.”
“This is insanity. You can’t win this engagement.”
“I believe you’re right. But I also believe your victory will martyr my crew and I, hardening the other captains against you.”
Keyes blinked. Incredible. “You have my respect, Captain Yamat. Your sacrifice serves the wrong cause, but that makes it no less remarkable.”
“You have none of mine, Keyes.”
“Very well.” He gestured at his Coms officer, and she terminated the transmission. For his part, Keyes turned his attention to how he could end this engagement as quickly as possible. In addition to being a much more powerful ship, the Providence had the advantage of never having relied on wormholes generated using dark tech. Her engines were more powerful than modern ships, which had relied heavily on the wormholes for mobility, and so corners had been cut with their engines. Now that dark tech had failed…
“Captain?”
Werner’s voice sounded small, which gave Keyes a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He turned toward his sensor operator. “Yes?”
“Sensor data tells me…it…”
“What is it, Ensign?” Keyes asked gently.
“It’s Spire, sir. The Gok have covered it with nukes.”
Keyes felt his shoulders rock forward, and he caught himself by jerking his hands to his kneecaps. The deck seemed to sway as he stared at it. Acid crept up his throat, and a single tear fell to splash on the metal below.
“Captain?”
He managed to raise his gaze enough to see that Arsenyev had gotten to her feet. Werner stood, too, his concerned expression mirroring the Tactical officer’s.
“I’m sorry,” Keyes said, and he truly was. Nothing should break a captain’s resolve, and certainly not in the middle of an engagement. Except…
He placed a hand over his eyes, breathing deeply. “Werner,” he said, concentrating on not vomiting.
“Sir?”
“How is Lieutenant Fesky faring against the frigate?”
“She has two squadrons picking off its point defense turrets. A third squadron is performing the first alpha strike now.”
Keyes straightened in his seat. “Tell her to devote a squadron to running missile defense near the Providence, and then every EW fighter she has to scrambling Yamat’s systems. Ready our point defense turrets. Once Fesky’s neutralized the frigate, order her to engage the corvette’s missile turrets, to allow our Banshees to get through. Helm, perform a retro burn at fifty percent.”
There was no longer any need for haste, and so he aimed to end this engagement without any damage to his ship.
They had the time.
Chapter 20
Drunk
An hour after the Condors returned to base—an hour after they played a central role in the destruction of their first UHF targets—most of the pilots sat around the crew’s mess, trying to distract themselves after Fesky’s halfhearted debriefing.
Husher had barely slept since leaving Spire, but he didn’t want to sleep, and neither did anyone else, it seemed. Maybe they expected sleep to bring nightmares, like he did. His would certainly have lots of material to work with, not the least of which were the fresh memories of his entire squad being brutally murdered by Gok.
He’d tried to catch Fesky on the way out of Flight Deck B’s ready room, but she’d brushed past him to disappear into her quarters. She needs time. Probably a lot more time than she was likely to get.
He was playing Poker with some of the other pilots, mostly from his Haymakers squadron. His hand sucked. Glancing across the mess, he spotted Wahlburg sitting on his own, clutching a mug of something and peering into it.
Dark days. For everyone. Remembering how the Wingers had reacted when the Buchanan had crashed into their planet made Husher wonder how they’d behave now. Back then, after a handful of Fin deaths, they’d attacked the UHF with no real hope of winning. What would they try to do to the Gok, who’d wiped out the Fins completely? And would it actually help to win the war?
He tried to envision a future for the Winger species where they didn’t completely self-destruct, but he couldn’t do it.
Voodoo revealed a royal flush, scooping up the pot, and Husher stood, tossing down his cards. “Congrats, Voodoo. I’m out.”
“Don’t blame you. See ya, Spank.”
“Bye, Spank,” a couple of the others chimed in. No one sounded very engaged in the game. They didn’t even seem to mind Voodoo taking all of their money.
Husher walked over to stand at Wahlburg’s table. After a coup
le of seconds, the sniper looked up. “Lieutenant.”
“Private. What’s that you’re drinking?”
“Disgusting swill. Something they distilled down in Engineering.”
“You know that’s against Fleet regs, right?”
He expected some crack about what did Fleet regs have to do with them, now that they’d left the UHF. Instead, Wahlburg just nodded. “Yeah.”
Frowning, Husher decided to prod him further. See if I can’t stir up the old Wahlburg. “Technically, it’s my job to discipline you now. Think I should?”
Wahlburg shrugged. “Probably.”
Husher took a seat next to the sniper instead.
“You want some?” the private asked, pushing the mug toward him an inch.
“No.”
“All right.” Wahlburg took a long pull from the mug and set it back on the table with a clunk. “You probably think I’m pathetic. Depressed over a dead girl who never loved me back.”
“Davies was a fine marine and a good person.” Husher sniffed, never sure whether he was saying the right things in situations like these. “Anyway. If the human heart made sense, there would never have been so much ink spilled about it. I doubt there’s anything that’s been written about more than that.”
“I always knew I never had a chance with her. Still, getting rejected never stopped stinging. But you know what the crazy thing is? Right now, I’d give anything just to get shot down by her one more time.”
“Yeah.” For some reason, Wahlburg’s words made him think of Caine. Pushing her out of his mind, he thought of his father, and how Warren Husher hadn’t seen his wife in over twenty years. And that reminded him of their conversation on Spire. I wonder if Warren’s still alive.
“I’d better go,” Husher said, pushing back from the table. “Let me know if you want to talk some more.”
“Right. Thanks.”
He didn’t know what Keyes planned to do now, in the wake of Spire’s destruction. Possibly they’d already embarked on their next mission. If so, Husher hadn’t heard anything about it.
It was one of the darkest days in galactic history, but the Providence’s objectives hadn’t changed. They still needed to get the UHF to stop attacking Winger colonies and start preparing to fight the Ixa. And at some point, they needed to stop humanity’s use of dark tech.
As he strode through the ship towards the captain’s office, he thought about what a galaxy without dark tech would look like. They’d have to go back to the old method of simulating gravity, which had had a lot of negative health effects. And they’d lose instantaneous communications. Not that we have that on this ship anymore. The galaxy would become a very different place.
Thinking of his father had reminded him of one of the last things Warren had said to him, about how the Tumbra had helped humans once. And how they might again.
“Come in,” Keyes yelled when Husher knocked, and he opened the hatch to find the captain gripping a whiskey bottle, with not a glass in sight.
“God,” Husher said, saluting. “Is everyone getting drunk today?”
“At ease. Have a seat.” The captain waved at the wooden chair in front of his desk, his movements a little unsteady. “Who else is drinking?”
“Never mind,” Husher said as he sat. “What are we doing right now, sir? Where is the Providence going?”
“Nowhere. We’re floating in space.”
“In the middle of a war zone?”
“You want a drink?”
“No. I want to talk.”
Keyes sighed. Slowly, he picked up the bottle’s cap and screwed it into place. Then he stowed the whiskey in its customary drawer. “I’m beginning to doubt my fitness for command.” Bloodshot eyes locked onto Husher’s.
Wow. He’s hammered. “With all due respect, Captain, you don’t get to doubt that. You led us into this rebellion, and you’re all we have. So I think you’d better sober up and lead.”
With the measured pace of a drunk, Keyes said, “Behold, a phoenix springs from ash atop the tower of birds. Fly, phoenix. Fly! Remain, and the tower crumbles.”
“What’s that supposed to be?”
“Ixan Prophecies. It predicts the destruction of Spire, and I spotted that, long before it happened. Problem is, I thought we were the phoenix. And if we left, the planet would be fine.”
“Permission to get a glass of water?”
“Go ahead. Glass near the sink.”
Having a private washroom was an incredible luxury aboard a warship, afforded only to the captain. Husher opened the tiny room’s door and found the glass, filling it. He returned to Keyes’s desk and set the water front of him.
“I think you should drink that, sir.”
Keyes did.
“Who do you think the phoenix really is, then?”
The captain set down the glass after swallowing half of its contents. Then he raised it to his lips and downed the other half. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “It doesn’t seem to matter much, anymore.”
“Fair enough. Sir, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, and this is the first chance I’ve gotten. My father said you know something most people don’t about our relationship with the Tumbra.”
Keyes spun the empty glass between his fingers, studying it. “He told you that, did he?”
“He said that if it was right for me to know, you’d fill me in.”
“Your father. I didn’t speak to him, on Spire. I wanted to. And I never believed he was a traitor. But something didn’t feel right about his presence there. Something inside me made me stay away.”
“The past can’t be changed,” Husher said. “And we sell the future short by dwelling on it.” I’m just full of wise words, today. “The Tumbra…”
“I’ve never repeated what your father told me. To anyone. I’ve kept that UHF secret, even after going against the UHF. They were worried about it getting out, Command as much as the Tumbra. Afraid the aliens’ reputation for neutrality would shatter. And it would.”
“Why?”
“During the First Galactic War, they gave us information on enemy ship movements. They admired us, then, and I suppose they were right to. I suppose we were admirable, once. Anyway, that’s the secret. The Tumbra helped us win that war.”
Husher felt his heart rate increase. “Sir, if we had access to Tumbran intel today, that would be a huge boon to the war effort. Right now we have no idea what the Gok will do. Where will they strike next? And what about the Ixa, when it comes to that? If we had advance warning of their approach—”
“I don’t know whether the Tumbra can be trusted anymore. I’ve often suspected they resent us as much as the Wingers do. On the other hand, some people believe that most Tumbra have sold out to the UHF.”
“But we need to try something. We can’t hang around here like a sitting duck.”
“There is one Tumbran who may help us. May. It’s a long shot, but we’ve known each other a long time. He’s the only one of them who ever came close to showing signs of affection for humans. Not that it came anywhere near that.”
“Then let’s go find him.”
“Yes.” Keyes rose unsteadily to his feet, frowning. He stabilized himself with both hands on his desk.
“Respectfully, sir, you can’t give orders like you are now. The crew can’t see you like this. I can tell the XO you’re not feeling well. I’ll relay the mission to him myself, as long as you can give me this Tumbran’s location.”
Keyes nodded. “I can. That’s not the problem.”
Husher hesitated. “What is the problem?”
“We’ll need to travel through Commonwealth space to reach him.”
Chapter 21
Soon
Performing pull-ups using the vertical bars of his cell made them more difficult than normal, but the horizontal crossbars weren’t high enough, and in the end, his unusual approach only strengthened him faster.
Bob Bronson spent most of his time exercising, even
when his muscles ached. The pain went well with his anger, which he’d also grown accustomed to.
That anger came nowhere near rage. It remained a low-level background burn, and he actually considered it a useful reminder of what had been done to him. What had been taken from him.
I am the rightful captain of this vessel.
One of Laudano’s people had snuck him a safety razor, and Bronson used it in front of his cell’s minuscule mirror to keep his beard as tidy as possible. He took good care of himself. Along with the regular exercise, he constantly pestered the guards for books, to keep his mind sharp. They didn’t ask him how he managed to maintain his facial hair.
They’re lax, but not for long. I will captain this shipwreck, and I’ll whip everyone on her into shape. Then I’ll destroy her. And them with it.
Some of the guards had good sense. Like the one who approached his cell now. He was one of Laudano’s. One of mine, before long.
“What’s the latest?” Bronson asked.
“Keyes ordered the destruction of most of the derelict UHF warships. And then he went on to destroy three crewed ones.”
“He has to be stopped.” The UHF had ordered Keyes to hand the command over to Bronson. The bastard couldn’t have that, of course. Oh, no. He had to hog all the power for himself. Not for much longer.
The guard tossed a piece of crumpled paper through the bars, and Bronson caught it. “A message,” the man said. “From the XO.”
“Thanks.”
Once he was alone, Bronson smoothed out the paper on his knee. It had one word written on it: Soon.
He considered flushing Laudano’s note down the toilet, but he decided that wouldn’t be secure enough. Instead, he popped the paper into his mouth and chewed, saliva gushing at the pulpy taste.
Soon.
Chapter 22
Rounds Away
“Transmitting now, sir.”
“Very good, Ensign.” Keyes settled his hands on the armrests of the Captain’s chair and watched the tactical display as the Providence progressed toward the Larkspur-Caprice darkgate. He’d just finished recording a message to all of the UHF captains in the system, entreating them to recognize Command’s current course for the madness it was. He’d invited them to join him in rebuilding the UHF as it was intended—a space military dedicated to serving humanity, to be deployed only in its defense. Not to enrich a corporation blinded by greed.
Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2 Page 7