The moment she and Husher had left Zakros, he’d instructed Skids to send out an encrypted message summoning all shuttles and fighters to this location. It had taken hours for everyone to assemble, but here they finally were, all accounted for.
They chose his and Fesky’s shuttle to hold the meeting where they would decide their next move. Piper had his own Tumbran-sized pressure suit, but Husher didn’t like the idea of transporting the diminutive alien across the asteroid, envisioning him flying off into space at the slightest mishap. And despite the initial tension between him and the Tumbran, Piper was proving incredibly useful. Husher wouldn’t feel right excluding him from the meeting.
So Husher was currently escorting Doctor Brusse across the asteroid, as she had no experience with EVAs. The marines had all crossed without incident.
Other than a minor stumble, Husher and Brusse reached the shuttle safely. Once inside and past the airlock, they both removed their helmets.
“Thank you,” Brusse said with a smile.
“Don’t mention it.”
The others were already seated in crash seats inside the troop compartment. Taking a seat in one himself, Husher decided not to waste any time. “Would anyone like to submit their idea for what we should do next?”
Looking around the shuttle, Husher saw that the faces he’d come to know well now rested in various states of dejection. Caine furrowed her brow slightly as his eyes fell on her. Fesky sat stiffly, feathers flared. Wahlburg stared into space, and Piper…well, actually, Piper looked bored.
“All right, then,” Husher said. “Here’s what I think. I say we take our little fleet and head back to the Bastion Sector, with Piper’s help. If we can convince the Wingers on Pinnacle to give us back the UHF warships Keyes ordered hauled there, we’ll be back on our feet. We can assess the situation and figure out how best to strike back at the Fleet. Any objections?”
“What about Captain Keyes?” Fesky said.
Wahlburg looked up at that, and Caine’s eyes were locked on Husher’s, too.
“I think…I think the captain would want us to continue fighting the UHF, not use up our resources trying to free him. He’ll be taken to Hades, there’s no doubt about that. The defenses there are impenetrable, provided decades of jailbreak attempts are any indication. If we’re going to have a shot at beating the Ixa, we need to stop the UHF as soon as we can.”
“But it’s Captain Keyes,” the Winger said.
“I know, Fesky. I respect Keyes more than I respect anyone. Honestly. I know this is hard, but I also know it’s the right thing. We have to do the right thing.” He glanced at Caine, who looked away the moment his eyes fell on her. It is the right thing.
“Technically, as a lieutenant colonel, I outrank you,” Fesky said. “And if I give the order, then we’re going to go try a rescue.”
“You’d be sentencing us all to death. I think you know that.”
Fesky clacked her beak. “I know how to fly a Condor. I know how to whip pilots into shape, get them flying in formation, and get them to actualize a strategy I’ve devised. But I know I still have a lot to learn about leadership. You’ve been a captain before, Husher. So you’re in command. I’ll defer to you.”
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I think the next topic should be figuring out how the mutiny against Keyes came about, and exactly who participated in it. I have my guesses, but I won’t point the finger without actual evidence.”
Caine leaned forward. “One of my people saw Ryerson with Bronson and a squad of marines, in the corridor outside the CIC. She told me the hatch opened for them, and they strolled right in.”
“They must have had someone on the inside, then.” Laudano. Husher would have bet his life on it. “Wasn’t Ryerson supposed to be confined to quarters?”
“He was gone,” Doctor Brusse said, the first time she’d spoken since sitting. “I went to check his wound for infection and found his chambers empty.”
“I thought it was his pain meds,” Caine said.
“Pardon?”
“Werner messaged me to ask if I’d seen Ryerson. He told me Keyes said you’d gone to give him pain meds and found him missing.”
“I went for both. To administer more pain medication and to check his wound.”
“Let’s move to another topic for a moment,” Husher said, and he noticed a flicker of relief pass across Brusse’s face. “How is Tort doing, Doctor?”
“I’ll soon be out of the only sedative I’ve found to be effective on him, but for now the Gok is staying relatively calm, other than some restlessness.”
“Any progress with curing the virophage?”
“None. Gok biology is like nothing I’ve ever encountered. My training has no intersection with the type of knowledge I need, here.”
Husher nodded. “Which sedative are you using?”
A beat of silence passed before Brusse said, “Secobarbital.” She was staring at Husher, totally unblinking.
“And exactly how much of that remains?”
“A few days’ worth.”
“How many days?”
“Four.”
“Private Ryerson was clearly pretty xenophobic, considering he tried to kill Tort, even as the Gok was chained to a steel pallet. That must have been hard for you, to have that happen in your sick bay. On your watch.”
The corner of Brusse’s eye twitched. “Yes.”
“And then you found Ryerson missing from his chambers. Also quite distressing for you, I’m sure.”
Brusse didn’t answer.
“You just unlocked the hatch to his chambers, opened it, and…poof. He was gone.”
“He was gone when I opened the hatch, yes.”
“Where do you keep the sedative you’ve been using on Tort?”
It took several moments for the doctor to answer Husher’s question. “In my case,” she said at last.
Husher took out his com and radioed the pilot of Brusse’s shuttle. “Ozone, can you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, Spank. What’s up?”
“I want you to open up Doctor Brusse’s case and read the labels. Tell me how much secobarbital you find.”
With that, Brusse leapt from her crash seat and ran toward the airlock. “Stop her,” Husher said, without lowering the com from his ear.
Brusse managed to hit the airlock control, but before the inner hatch could open, Caine crossed the shuttle in a few strides and slammed the doctor against the bulkhead. Within seconds, she had Brusse in an armlock from which she had little hope of escape.
“Nothing called secobarbital in here, sir,” Ozone said. “Plenty of starch syrup, though.”
Husher blinked. “Starch syrup?” He looked at Brusse, who didn’t look very comfortable at the moment. “What were you doing with starch syrup?”
“Gok don’t get their energy from glucose,” Piper said. “It’s one of the things that makes their physiology so unusual. In fact, glucose actually clogs up the nested membranes they have in place of a circulatory system. Over time, a Gok will die from ingesting glucose.”
A ringing started up in Husher’s ears. He glared at Brusse. “Seems like you knew a lot more about Gok physiology than you were letting on.”
“That thing is a monster,” Brusse said, her voice ragged. “The UHF doesn’t let them on their ships for a reason.”
“And so you took part in a mutiny?”
The doctor didn’t answer.
“Captain Keyes has so much respect for you. Do you know that?”
Still, she said nothing.
Husher shook his head, trying to stuff down his anger before it overwhelmed him. “I want her put in restraints until we have a brig to throw her in. Hey Ozone, I’d like you to dock with our shuttle. We don’t need to deal with dragging a struggling mutineer across this dust speck of an asteroid. Today’s been eventful enough for my taste.”
“No problem, Spank. You know, I thought the doc was acting kind of weird. She kept asking to use the shu
ttle’s transmitter.”
“Tell me you didn’t let her.”
“Nah. Obviously we want to stay radio silent as much as we can.”
“Yeah.” He briefly considered telling Ozone to let him know the next time someone acted weird, but he discarded the idea. Everyone from the Providence was weird.
“Lieutenant,” Piper said, and Husher looked at him.
“Yes?”
“I don’t see why it’s necessary to transport the doctor back to her original shuttle. Why not simply hold her on this one?”
“I want her to witness as we bring Tort back to health. Which brings me to my next order. You’re going over to the shuttle, too. You’ll start work on a cure for the virophage right away.”
“What? Why me?”
Husher shrugged. “You’re the closest thing we have to a doctor, now.”
“Because I’m a Tumbran?”
“You did know the thing about the glucose.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Just do it.” Husher switched his com over to a wide channel. “All right, pilots. Take a good look at this pebble we’re on, because we’ll be leaving it forever within the hour. It’s time to see a Winger about a spaceship.”
Chapter 47
Compelled to Obey
Warren Husher woke with these words ringing in his ears: “You will be compelled to obey.”
Obey what? The phrase comprised the only clear memory from a string of muddled nightmares about his time as a prisoner of the Ixa. He didn’t know whether the dreams were taken from the actual past or from his deepest fears. Nor did he know for certain whether anyone had ever actually spoken the words that still clogged his head.
I’m pretty sure they’re real. I just don’t know what they expected me to obey.
He unstrapped himself from the crash seat where he’d been asleep since parting ways with the Falcon who would relay his messages to Juktas. Then he made his way toward the Ixan shuttle’s cockpit.
Am I really in charge of myself? Am I me?
Nothing made sense. He remained convinced that his release had involved a bargain of some kind. But why would the Ixa release him if he was just going to act against them? His mission to Pinnacle involved recruiting more ships for the Ixa’s enemies, and he had no intention of ever helping the Ixa. He never had.
Bringing up the shuttle’s course, he saw that it had almost reached Pinnacle, on the periphery of the Larkspur System. Over nine hours ago, he’d transitioned back into this system and set the ship to follow a course here, with instructions to alert him if anything dangerous-looking came around. Nothing had, clearly—which was lucky, considering Gok still rampaged through the Bastion Sector.
The cockpit washed blue, indicating he had a transmission request. When he accepted, a disheveled officer from the Wingers’ Interplanetary Defense Force appeared on-screen.
“What can I do for you?” Warren said.
“You can explain to me why you’re piloting an Ixan craft, for starters.” The bird clacked its beak. “I must say, I’m relieved to find you’re not an actual Ixan.”
It doesn’t seem to recognize me. That’s good. “So am I,” he said. “I was a prisoner of the Ixa since the First Galactic War. I escaped in this shuttle.” As far as he knew, this version of events was somewhat removed from the truth. But he doubted it would help his mission to start talking about half-remembered bargains.
“Escaped from the Ixa? They aren’t supposed to have any prisoners of war.”
“They told the UHF I’d died, which was a misrepresentation. Evidently.”
“Yes. Well, congratulations on your escape.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s your business on Pinnacle? And what’s your name, for that matter?”
“I don’t actually intend to land on Pinnacle. My business can be conducted in its entirety without ever landing on the planet.”
“That’s for the best. Pinnacle’s our most important world, after the loss of Spire. And officials are a little touchy about alien visitors.”
“Understandably.”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Uh…Harry Wisher.” Warren feared his real name would ring a bell for the Winger.
The Winger stared at him with its enormous, unblinking eyes. Finally, it clacked its beak. “Human names are strange. What is your business, then?”
“I’m here to commandeer the derelict UHF ships you have in orbit over Pinnacle.”
“I see. Are you working for the UHF?”
“No. I plan to use the ships to fight them. I have enough people to crew the entire battle group, and I’ll send them a message to come here once I have your go-ahead.”
“And you expect us to simply hand them over?”
“I do. They’re human ships, and anyway, you don’t appear to be using them for anything. I’m sure even you will admit that your overall strategy kind of sucks, right now. If the ships are left there in orbit, they’ll likely be destroyed before long, or actually seized by the UHF. At least, if you give them to me, I’ll use them to take the fight to the Fleet, clearing the way for you Wingers to continue your suicidal headlong charge into a wall of Gok.”
The Winger paused for several moments, and Warren resisted the urge to start fidgeting. Finally, it said, “I will contact my superiors with your request.”
“Thank you.”
Warren put his feet up on the shuttle’s wide console, careful not to place them in an area with too many controls governing critical systems. He fully expected to wait days while the Wingers deliberated, and the response would likely be a firm negative. That had been his expectation since leaving Juktas, but he’d still wanted to try. Better than sitting around watching Ek make yet another warlord dance to her tune.
So when the cockpit washed blue again twenty minutes later, Warren nearly fell out of his seat.
The same Winger appeared on the viewscreen. “They’re all yours,” it said.
“Wait, what?”
“You may have the ships, under the condition that we inspect the humans that come to crew them. We will know if your people are UHF. We maintain quite an extensive database of their personnel, and if your people are in it, we won’t let you access the warships.”
“That’s very reasonable.”
“Yes. Good luck in your fight, Harry Wisher.”
The transmission terminated as suddenly as it had begun. Astounded at his success, he began encrypting a message with the good news. Once he finished, he transmitted it to the messenger ship waiting just outside the Larkspur-Yclept darkgate.
Chapter 48
Demerits
A tense silence prevailed inside the Excalibur’s CIC. Admiral Carrow knew his crew didn’t relish their current task, of chasing down Captain Vaghn in the Firedrake and bringing her to justice for her insubordination.
Vaghn was one of those officers who was hated by Command but loved by those she’d served with. And she’d served with pretty much everyone during her climb through the ranks, given how often she’d been shuffled from ship to ship, with Command taking every excuse available to deny her each promotion for as long as possible.
Giving her the Firedrake had been intended as a warning to follow orders and keep her nose clean, but clearly that had backfired.
In truth, the necessity of arresting or killing Vaghn annoyed Carrow as well. He’d much rather continue the task of wiping out the Winger military and annexing their colonies, mainly because he hated to abandon a job once he’d begun it.
We’ll get back to it soon. Vaghn couldn’t run for long. He’d assigned a battle group to guard the entrance into Pirate’s Path, and beyond that, Vaghn’s options included fleeing deeper into the dead-end Bastion Sector or entering Commonwealth space.
“Admiral,” his Coms officer said, “I’ve just intercepted an encrypted transmission.”
Carrow scratched his stubbled cheek. He hated how lax his personal grooming had become since the s
tart of this campaign. I need to get on top of that. “What are our chances of decrypting it within a meaningful timeframe?”
“They’re excellent. The encryption scheme being used is twenty years old. I should have the cleartext within twenty minutes, if you’d like me to start work on it.”
“I do. And make it fifteen minutes, Ensign.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carrow caught the ghost of a grimace that flitted across the Coms officer’s face. He considered it a sign that his ability to command was as sharp as ever. Always press them. Always demand better than their best. It was a policy that had propelled him to the top of the UHF quicker than almost every other admiral in Fleet history.
“Sir…” the Coms officer said seventeen minutes later. Carrow made a mental note to apply a demerit to his permanent record for his failure to stay within the assigned timeframe.
“Yes? What is it?”
“The sender of this message claims to be Warren Husher.”
Skin tingling, Carrow shook his head. “That isn’t possible. Husher’s dead. What does the message say?”
“It appears to be inviting radicals waiting on Zakros to come and commandeer a derelict UHF battle group in orbit over the Winger colony Pinnacle.”
Carrow turned to his sensor operator. “Examine our sensor data of Pinnacle. The sender of this message can’t be Warren Husher, but whoever it is, we can easily verify the claim.”
A minute later, his sensor operator was nodding. “It’s as the message says. There is a battle group of human ships over Pinnacle, and their profiles match warships from the UHF database. They appear to be basically undefended.”
“Incredible.” They must be left over from the ships whose crews were vaporized by the malfunctioned wormholes. Command had assumed that Keyes had destroyed what ships he didn’t take, but apparently he’d had some of them flown to the Winger colony, as a reserve. “Nav, set a course for Pinnacle that prioritizes speed, and then relay it to the rest of the ships in our battle group. Allowing the enemy a battle group of our ships would be far worse than letting Vaghn escape, and anyway, she has nowhere to go. We can hunt her down after we destroy those ships.”
Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2 Page 15