Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2

by Scott Bartlett

Bob Bronson paced his cell, humming an old military tune—the soft part in the middle, his favorite part, just before the wind instruments returned in a hurricane of sound.

  Then he started in on the loud, frenetic part, and a guard shouted past the rows of cells: “Pipe down in there.”

  Bronson grinned. I suppose there are worse last words you could have spoken.

  The thunder of gunfire rolled through the brig, bringing all of the prisoners to their feet and then to the edges of their cages. Not Bronson. He ceased his pacing, reclining on his bunk instead to await the visitor.

  Private Ryerson strode past the cells, holding a keycard in one hand and a semiautomatic in the other.

  “Too bad the on-shift guards weren’t some of ours,” Bronson said as the private drew near. “Luck of the draw, I guess.”

  The marine didn’t respond, clutching his side instead and wincing.

  “Don’t give out on me now,” Bronson said with a chuckle. “We’re almost there. Did Laudano send the signal?”

  “Obviously,” Ryerson said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. The UHF ships have already arrived. The trap’s been sprung.”

  “Good. That’s good. Now let me out.”

  Ryerson did, and they set about freeing Moreno, along with all of the others that had aided in their first mutiny attempt. Their failed attempt.

  This one will be different. Keyes will have no chance to play his rotten tricks.

  Chapter 36

  Win or Die

  Keyes kept the Providence constantly in motion, refusing to give the six enemy warships a stationary target.

  “Captain, the five corvettes have abandoned their trajectory toward the darkgate into Petrichor and are headed back to join the engagement.”

  Nodding at Werner, Keyes returned to scrutinizing the tactical display. “They know there’s no longer any need to head us off. We can’t extract ourselves from an engagement with two destroyers and four missile cruisers without suffering heavy damage. Right now, our choice looks a lot like win or die.”

  “Surrender is also an option, Captain,” Laudano said. The XO had been quiet for most of the engagement, which was unusual, given his habit of constant sniping.

  Keyes returned Laudano’s gaze for a moment, fighting to keep his anger from showing on his face. “When surrender means humanity’s extinction, it is not an option, Laudano.”

  He turned back to the tactical display and saw that the battle had assumed the configuration he’d been striving for. The supercarrier’s superior engines had brought her once more to the periphery of the battle, denying the enemy the opportunity to surround her. The closest warship was the missile cruiser Fesky and the other pilots were having trouble with.

  “Helm, bring us about, and Tactical, prepare to open fire on that cruiser with our main rail gun. Warn Fesky of our intentions, Coms.”

  “Yes, sir,” all three officers said at once.

  Within minutes, the shot was lined up, even as the other UHF ships struggled to catch up to the Providence and defend her target.

  Too late. “Fire.”

  Occupied as she was with the swarm of Condors, there remained little the opposing missile cruiser could do about the stream of kinetic impactors. Her captain did attempt to flee toward the other UHF ships, angling the cruiser in a blatant attempt to put some Condors between her and the Providence. But Fesky was too sharp a commander for that, and the firing lane remained clear.

  Well before the other ships drew near enough to back up the cruiser, it exploded.

  Keyes clenched his fists in victory, but the celebration inside the CIC was limited to that. The tension remained too high to give birth to cheering, and they had too many enemy ships left to contend with. But that was meaningful. The cruiser was becoming a huge pain.

  Lieutenant Laudano leapt to his feet, pulling out a pistol and rushing the Tactical station. Before anyone could react, his gun rested firmly on the back of Arsenyev’s head.

  “No one move, or I swear to God I’ll unload this clip into her brain.”

  Keyes’s innards felt cold. “What’s this about, Laudano?” The rest of his CIC crew had gone rigid in their seats, scarcely breathing, from the looks of it.

  “This is about the end of your little misadventure, Keyes. Contact the admiral and tell her you surrender. Then I want you to order your crew to prepare to be boarded, and following that you can step away from your console.”

  “Why didn’t you point the gun at my head?”

  “Because I know you’d be stupid enough to try something, even then. But you won’t gamble with Arsenyev’s life. Not your precious XO-in-training. Don’t think I missed how you were grooming her to replace me.” Laudano’s com beeped, and he slapped it with one hand, never taking his eyes off of Keyes.

  Laudano must have had his com on speaker mode, because a voice Keyes recognized as Private Ryerson’s came through it: “We’re here.”

  At that, Laudano seized Arsenyev by the arm and dragged her roughly from her station, forcing her to accompany him to Keyes’s console, where he tapped the screen to open the CIC’s hatch.

  Ryerson, Bronson, and Moreno strolled in, surrounded by almost a squad’s worth of marines, who pointed their guns at Keyes’s CIC crew. “Hands up and toss your firearms on the floor, nice and easy,” one of the marines barked.

  “Has he surrendered to the admiral yet?” Ryerson asked.

  Laudano shook his head, pulling Arsenyev away from Keyes. “Not yet.”

  Moreno marched over, his eyes gleaming with cold hatred. “Stand up.”

  Glaring at the mutineer, Keyes slowly complied, his shoulders back.

  The traitor backhanded him, causing Keyes’s head to snap sideways. Otherwise, he didn’t move, though he felt a trickle of blood crawling down his chin.

  Apparently dissatisfied, Moreno struck him again. Pain flared through Keyes’s jaw and neck, but he still maintained his stance, calmly returning his gaze to lock onto Moreno’s.

  “Come on,” Werner yelled. “Have some humanity.”

  Moreno ignored him, backhanding Keyes a third time, putting his full weight into it. Keyes staggered backward a foot.

  “Cut it out,” Bronson said, though he strode up to Keyes until he stood inches away. “I bet you don’t feel like such a brilliant strategist now. All you ever had were tactics, Keyes. You can win battles, but you’ll lose the war.”

  Keyes didn’t bother pointing out that his actions had directly led to humanity winning the First Galactic War. There wasn’t much point.

  “Surrender to the admiral, Keyes, before she kills us all. Tell her you’ll be recalling your Condors immediately. Come, now. The only reason you have to continue endangering your crew is pride.”

  Keyes sat down at his console, though it took an incredible effort of will to do so—to stop fighting. He ordered his Coms officer to patch him through to the admiral. And he did as Bronson said.

  When it was done, Bronson told him to recall his Condors next. “And do not let on to them about what’s happening here. If you give the slightest hint about it, I promise you we will end Arsenyev’s life.”

  Chapter 37

  Unravel

  “Condors, return to base. We have surrendered to Admiral Jacobs. I repeat, return to base.”

  Keyes sounded dejected over the wide channel, as well he might. For his part, Husher felt numb. “Holy shit,” he muttered, his hands leaving his fighter’s controls. “I can’t believe it. It’s over.”

  He watched his tactical display as the other Condor pilots guided their birds back to their designated landing bays aboard the Providence.

  Everything we’ve fought for…

  Sighing heavily, he engaged his fighter’s gyros until he was angled toward Flight Deck B. He was about to engage engines when Fesky’s voice cut in over a two-way channel: “This isn’t right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This battle wasn’t over.”

  Husher sniffed. “It
looks pretty over to me, Madcap.”

  “I’ve known the captain for a long time. Fought with him, and then served under him. He would not have surrendered this battle. He would have found a way to pull through. I mean, we just took out that cruiser…”

  “There are three more cruisers.” And two destroyers, with several more ships on the way. But Fesky was right. He’d seen Keyes beat odds at least as harsh as these.

  Husher sent Sergeant Caine a request to open a two-way channel, and she accepted. “Husher.”

  “Sergeant. Have you heard yet that Keyes is surrendering?”

  “No, but someone just came to me from Engineering to tell me a group of marines took over two of their key control rooms.”

  Husher took a moment to fit that information into Keyes’s order for the Condors to stand down. “So there’s been a mutiny, and this time, it was successful.” He stared at his HUD, which currently showed a view of space. “The captain gave us the stand-down order under duress.”

  “Wait. Keyes called the Condors back to base?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. This is real.”

  He nodded, though of course Caine couldn’t see that. “Sergeant, our mission is now to get Senator Bernard off the ship and onto Zakros at all costs. If you can get her to a shuttle, I’ll work on getting together some pilots to escort her to the planet.”

  “Escort her past past two destroyers and three missile cruisers?”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy.” His mind was racing, and another idea struck him. “Get as many shuttles into the air as you can. Launch them all, if possible. That’ll decrease the odds that the senator’s shuttle will get shot down. In the meantime, if you can manage it, try to evacuate other key personnel.” Husher racked his brain, striving to think of who might prove important, for overthrowing Hurst, and for the war ahead. “Get Tort, the Gok. The Tumbran, Piper. Doctor Brusse—she’s been working on some research the captain considers important. Other than that, help whoever you can to escape. And I want you and as many of your marines as possible to get out of there, too.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like with that? Maybe I could decipher the Ixan Prophecies while I’m at it.”

  Husher grinned, more glad to hear some of Caine’s spunk returning than he was irritated at the jab. “You have your orders, Sergeant. Let’s roll the dice.”

  “Yes, sir.” The response was clipped, and Husher expected her to sign off after it, which made him feel suddenly heavy in a way that had nothing to do with his Condor. But she spoke again, and when she did, his spirits lifted a little. “Hey, Husher, take care of yourself. Okay? Be careful.”

  “You too, Caine. We’re gonna figure this thing out. We’ll regroup, and then we’ll figure out how we can win.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, sounding about as convinced as he felt. With that, she was gone.

  He switched over to a two-way with Fesky. “Madcap, there’s been a mutiny. I’ve set things in motion for Sergeant Caine to get the senator off the ship. But we’ll need an escort.”

  As she sometimes did when talking to him, the CAG sounded surprised. “All right, then, Spank. I’ll see who I can round up.”

  “Only pilots you’re sure we can trust.”

  “Obviously, human. I wasn’t hatched yesterday.”

  Chapter 38

  Wait and See

  Markov double checked the clip he’d slammed inside his pistol moments ago, then he held it at the ready, between his legs, while he peeked around the corner just enough to keep one eye on the hatch into the CIC.

  Many marines would have wanted an assault rifle or perhaps a shotgun for such a situation, but Markov loved his pistol. Too many soldiers fell under the spell of more powerful guns, and they sacrificed accuracy because of it, in his view.

  Half of his squad waited in the cramped crew corridor behind him, with the other half waiting across the intersection. With any luck, when Bronson and his bastards left the CIC, they wouldn’t check the cameras first. I doubt they expect anyone’s on to them this soon. But everything depended on how cautious the mutineers were being.

  Then again, Markov had orders to strike within ten minutes, whether anyone exited the CIC or not. If no one came out, he carried a breaching charge, and so did two other squad members. Markov didn’t feel eager to use explosives inside the Providence, and he knew Keyes would make him pay for it if the captain ever got the chance, even if Markov somehow managed to take the ship back from the mutineers. But Caine said their mission was too important to place even the integrity of the ship above it.

  The CIC hatch opened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Good old-fashioned combat. He drew back from the corner, allowing time for enough of the enemy to emerge so that they couldn’t easily disengage. Then he leaned out, lined up his shot, and popped off a round. His bullet found his target’s neck, just above the body armor. Across the intersection, one of his marines fired a spray of ammunition from an assault rifle, hitting nothing.

  Typical assault rifle user. “Let’s move!” he shouted over a squad-wide channel, and then he performed a tactical roll, quickly finding his feet and squeezing off two more shots as he advanced toward the CIC. His marines moved up to join him, putting heavy pressure on the mutineers.

  At last, the enemy managed to withdraw to safety, shutting the hatch. A hissing sound reached Markov’s ears, and he turned around in time to see the corridor sealing off, blocking them from retreating through the ship.

  His com beeped, and Markov took it out. An irrational spark of hope flared when he saw Captain Keyes’s name on the screen.

  But of course, it wasn’t really him. The voice that spoke belonged to Bob Bronson.

  “Corporal Markov. How unfortunate for you, to have highlighted your disloyalty in such a way. For the rest of the crew, there remains the chance of receiving pardons, but not for you. I’ll be using a trick I learned from Captain Keyes to quell your little uprising.”

  A whooshing noise began overhead. He’s pumping out the oxygen. And apparently we don’t get a chance to surrender.

  “Everyone lie down on the deck,” Markov told his squad. “It looks like we’ll all be passing out, and there’s no need for unnecessary injuries.”

  They did as he said, and Markov followed suit, hoping that Bronson intended to restore oxygen in time for them to continue living. And that he restored it in time.

  The world diminished until it was a pinprick at the end of a tunnel of blackness. Then, the darkness overtook him.

  When he came to, he’d been stripped of his pistol and explosives and was being dragged through the ship’s corridors.

  Moreno marched nearby, and he sneered when he noticed Markov regaining consciousness. “That was the most pathetic rescue mission I’ve ever heard of, Markov. What did you think was going to happen?”

  “Actually, our plan worked perfectly.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Markov grinned. “Wait and see.”

  Chapter 39

  One Inch Closer

  Airman Gaston climbed down from his Condor and headed toward the pilot locker room, his eyes on the floor. I can’t believe we surrendered. A feeling of dread had settled in the pit of his stomach, showing no signs of dissipating anytime soon.

  What would happen to him and the other Condor pilots now? The entire crew had to worry about the consequences of joining Keyes in his rebellion against the UHF, but Gaston and the rest of the Air Group had extra reason to be concerned. The Providence was the last carrier in operation. Would they keep her in the air? Gaston seriously doubted it. Keyes had been the only thing between the supercarrier and getting decommissioned.

  When he entered the locker room, the only other Haymaker there so far was Sergeant Wicks. Gaston headed over to that corner, where most of his squadron had their lockers.

  “Hey, Noodle,” he said as he drew near, removing his helmet as he walked. “Noodle” was Wicks’s somewhat unfortunate callsign
.

  “Hey, Voodoo. You seen Spank?”

  Gaston shook his head. “I’m sure he’ll be in here soon.”

  “He didn’t even land.”

  Pausing with his hands on one of his flight suit’s zippers, Gaston scrutinized Wicks’s face. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Madcap’s still out there, too.”

  “Something’s up, then.” Releasing the zipper, Gaston pointed at Wicks’s flight suit, which he’d half removed. “Put that back on. I’m gonna go do some snooping.” He picked up his helmet and left the room.

  He didn’t have far to go. As soon as he exited the locker room, he spotted Sergeant Caine with five other Providence marines, escorting the senator as well as the corporal who’d come aboard with her. They were headed toward Hangar Bay B.

  “Sergeant,” he called, and she turned to face him, raising her gun a little.

  “Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “I just wanna know what’s going on.”

  The sergeant only hesitated a moment. “There’s been a mutiny. That’s why Keyes surrendered. They have him, and if we don’t get Senator Bernard to that planet then they’ll have everything, and we can kiss any chance of saving humanity goodbye.” She was studying his face closely, and Gaston realized she was gauging his reaction to the news. Trying to figure out whether he was a friend or foe.

  I’ll help you out with that. He had no idea why getting this lady to Zakros was so important, but he trusted Sergeant Caine. “I’ll rally the Haymakers. We’ll take on the enemy while you escape with the politician.”

  “You do realize ‘the enemy’ consists of two destroyers and three missile cruisers?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The sergeant lowered her gun and saluted. Gaston saluted back. There was nothing else to be said.

  “I’d better get going, ma’am.”

  “God speed, Airman.”

  Gaston replaced his helmet and switched to a squadron-wide channel. “Haymakers, we’re scrambling again. Don’t ask questions, just know that this is important.” Realizing that many of them had likely removed their helmets, he sent a message to their coms as well.