I’m done with this. Husher gestured at his Coms officer to terminate the transmission. As he did, two of the derelict destroyers began moving toward Carrow’s flagship. Husher hadn’t had enough crew to properly operate them, but if they could make it to the opposing battle group they’d do considerable damage.
“Tactical, I want six Banshees fired at each opposing ship, with the exception of the Excalibur. Take care not to hit the friendly ships moving toward their targets, and alert all Talon pilots that missiles will fly soon.”
His idea involved keeping the rest of the enemy battle group busy, giving the Wingers in the derelict ships an opportunity to disable or even destroy the flagship. Husher wanted that outcome badly, but he doubted he’d get it. Either way, he’d given Carrow a lot to deal with.
Having already set his Nav officer to calculating a retreat vector, he now got on the fleetwide to order it executed. “Captains of the Stevenson and the Active, I’ve transmitted a course to your Nav officers, which I—”
He broke off as something on the tactical display caught his eye. The Active, the corvette, had broken formation and was heading toward the enemy under full power.
“Active, report! What are you doing?”
“It’s as I said.” The Tactical officer’s voice was tinged with sadness. “The Wingers are blinded by vengeance. We have lost our way.”
Husher felt something in his chest clench. What am I doing, here? What’s the point of any of this?
“Captain?” his Nav officer said.
“Maintain course,” he said, barely able to grunt the words out. On the tactical display, Carrow’s battle group had already begun the process of obliterating the Active.
Husher stood, clawing at the collar of his uniform. His UHF uniform, which he had no right to wear. Not anymore.
I need to get out. Who do I give the command to? Who…
He didn’t have it in him to remain long enough to figure it out. The knowledge that the war was lost, that humanity was truly doomed, bore down on him like a collapsing wall.
“Figure out who ranks highest,” he rasped. “Whoever that is, they have the command.”
Husher staggered out of the CIC.
Chapter 52
Fin Candor
“Captain, Zakros is under attack by Gok,” Vaghn’s sensor operator said the moment they transitioned into the Yclept System.
“Bring up a tactical display on the main screen,” Vaghn said, unable to keep her fatigue out of her voice. Is there no end to this parade of disasters? She’d had no idea Gok had progressed this far into the Bastion Sector.
Then again, the crew of the Firedrake hadn’t had much time for intelligence gathering. It had taken everything they had just to stay ahead of Admiral Carrow.
At least that danger had been lifted, for now anyway. Carrow had broken away from the chase for some reason, leaving Vaghn with little option but to flee into Yclept in the hopes of finding refuge.
She squinted at the vicious conflict over Zakros, between two Gok carriers and a swarm of Falcons. That’s probably all the refuge you’re going to get, she told herself.
“Set a course for Zakros and bring engines to full. Those Falcons are done for if they don’t get some backup soon, and it looks like we’re it.”
Thankfully, Zakros and the Yclept-Larkspur darkgate were almost as close to each other as their orbits ever brought them, and it took less than two hours for the Firedrake to get close enough to engage.
“Let’s target the carriers themselves first,” Vaghn said. “The Falcons don’t have a hope of taking them on, not with all those Gok fighters dogging them. I want to focus our primary laser on the closest one, and follow up with a healthy helping of Banshees, if necessary.”
As she’d expected, the Gok warship didn’t seem much interested in anything resembling an evasive maneuver. Its only response to the Firedrake’s laser was to point its main guns at her, one of which had been melted down by laser fire. The carrier managed one volley of kinetic impactors before Vaghn’s Banshees arrived and turned it into space junk.
With the first carrier gone, and the remaining one distracted by the beating being administered by the Firedrake, the pressure on the Falcons lessened, allowing them to redouble their efforts against the enemy fighters. Nine Gok pilots lost their lives in the span of four minutes, and after that the Falcons had enough leeway to devote some of their number to helping Vaghn destroy the second enemy warship.
It would have been a rout, except for the Gok’s refusal to retreat. Their willingness to fight to the death every time meant defeating them took a heavy toll on any force.
So it was with the Falcons and the Firedrake. The colony’s defenders lost nearly a third of their remaining force, and Vaghn’s corvette sustained heavy damage all along its port side. She ordered damage control teams to the affected areas and assigned a search party to look for the trio of crewmembers unaccounted for following the battle.
Other than that, she waited. Ever since the First Galactic War, the media had cast anyone piloting a Falcon as a radical. Whether that was accurate or not, Vaghn wanted her position at the negotiating table to be as strong as possible. That meant waiting for them to contact her.
“A transmission request is coming through from the planet’s surface,” her Coms officer said.
Vaghn gave a satisfied nod. “Accept and put it on-screen.”
The tactical display disappeared from Firedrake’s viewscreen, replaced by a view of a massive conference table surrounded by a motley assortment of characters. But Vaghn’s gaze was riveted by the figure sitting at the head of that table.
It was a Fin. A living Fin, with no water to be seen, a situation apparently enabled by the black, skintight bodysuit she wore.
And then it spoke. “Hello, Captain Vaghn.”
“Uh…hi. How do you know…?” She cleared her throat.
“My associates have extensive intelligence on UHF warships and the officers that captain them. That is how I know your identity.”
“I see.”
“Making my acquaintance is normally an experience that inspires no end of curiosity. And while my species was known for encouraging intelligent inquiry, my associates and I consider time to be of the essence. The men and women you see around this table form a coalition of Bastion Sector warlords who have set aside their differences and disputes to unite and oppose the UHF. I am given to understand that you have also fallen into disfavor with your Fleet.”
For a bunch of warlords, those around the table were certainly well-behaved. If she didn’t know better, Vaghn would have said the Fin intimidated them. “And how do you know that?”
“I have surmised it. Anyone can plainly see that fighting Gok is far from current UHF policy. Since you have just aided us in defeating two Gok warships, it is exceedingly likely that you have gone rogue. In light of that fact, I would like to invite you to join our effort. You would be a great asset to it, given your evident battle prowess, your long military experience, and your knowledge of the UHF. A human leader would also prove much more palatable to my associates here, who have already begun to chafe under the weight of my influence.”
A few of the men and women sitting near the Fin stirred in their seats, accompanied by a flurry of coughing and throat-clearing. Two of them exchanged glances, both blushing scarlet.
Obviously they still haven’t grown accustomed to Fin candor.
“Despite their growing resentment, they still tend to yield to my logic. I will recommend to my associate Thresh, who you see to my right, that he make you his battle commander. I can assure you that once I take the time to impress upon him the significance of your pedigree and skill, along with the probable outcome of ignoring my advice, he will offer you the position. And for that reason, I feel I can safely breach the usual protocol and simply offer it to you myself.”
Vaghn felt pretty sure that no one was as surprised as she was to find her head bobbing up and down in acquiescence. “Yeah.
Okay. Sure.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and then returned to squinting at the viewscreen. “I guess fighting the UHF with you lot is better than getting hunted down by them on our own.”
“I am inclined to agree,” the Fin said.
Chapter 53
Automaton
Husher’s com beeped, and he raised his head from the wardroom’s table just enough to read the report displayed there, from his sensor operator.
Admiral Carrow’s battle group has destroyed the warships piloted by Wingers. Only one succeeded in colliding with an enemy ship. The target was the Meade, a destroyer, which took heavy damage but remains operational. The enemy ships are now attacking Pinnacle, and all other UHF warships in the Larkspur System appear to be heading toward that colony.
Husher replaced his head on the table. If he had to guess, Carrow had ordered the UHF to regroup at Pinnacle for a final sweep of the Bastion Sector. Once the Wingers were put down, they’d no doubt choose to go after the Gok. The more war the better, right? They’d strayed so far from the Fleet’s founding principle of only fighting in self-defense that preparing to fight the Ixa didn’t even seem to factor into their calculus.
Ever since losing the Firedrake, Husher had yearned for another command. Now he finally had one, and he’d failed utterly. Carrow had succeeded in showing him exactly how meaningless his efforts truly were.
It surprised him to find he felt more displaced now than he had when Command ordered him to leave the Firedrake, consigning him to the Providence. He’d come to consider the latter ship a true home. And it had been taken from him.
But what did it matter? I’m bellyaching about having my feelings hurt while my entire species teeters on the brink of oblivion.
Husher could not see the path forward for humanity. How could he possibly turn the tide against the UHF? He didn’t have access to the micronet, and so he had no way of knowing whether Bernard’s movement against Hurst was succeeding, but he had to assume it wasn’t. The UHF was clearly still under the sway of Darkstream.
The wardroom door opened, and Husher experienced a burst of shame at his dejected posture. That made him sit up straight, and when he did, he saw that the visitor was his father.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Husher said. He hadn’t meant it to sound friendly, but even he was surprised at the complete lack of warmth in his voice.
Warren Husher ignored him, choosing instead to take the seat directly opposite his son. His creased face hardened. “What the hell are you planning to do?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked what your next move is. Because if it’s sit in here and mope, then I guess our species really does deserve to die. Considering you’re the best person it could find to lead the resistance.”
Husher shook his head. “I don’t lead the resistance.”
“Who does, then?”
“I don’t know.”
Warren leaned closer. “I’ll tell you who. It’s whoever has the balls to stand up and get the job done. I’m going to ask again: what’s your next move?”
“Continue fighting the UHF, I guess. Keep fighting them, and likely die in the process.”
“Why in Sol would you want to do that?”
“Because the Wingers are in danger of extinction. And because stopping the UHF would give humanity the best chance of facing the Ixa.”
“I asked why you want to do it. You. Vin Husher.”
“I don’t want to do it. But that doesn’t matter. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Is it? Tell me, then—what do you actually want to do?”
Husher met his father’s eyes for a long time. At last, he said, “I want to get the Providence back. And I want to bust Captain Keyes out of that hellhole.”
Warren nodded. “Indeed.”
“But being a good soldier isn’t about what I want. It’s about having principles that serve humanity and abiding by those principles.”
His father let out a long sigh. “Principles are fine things, son. Fine things. But I think you’re getting mixed up in your thinking. It sounds to me like a long time ago, you tried to program yourself to be a good person, and now you force yourself to live by that programming, without ever checking over the code. Like some sort of automaton.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re a human being, Vin. You’re not a robot. Principles are great, but it’s compassion, true compassion, that will lead humanity forward. And that doesn’t have to mean abandoning your principles. It just means you don’t sacrifice the people you care about to them.” His father pointed at him. “In fact, the principle of banding together as people, of looking after each other, is a principle superior to every other.”
Warren Husher stood from the table and headed for the wardroom’s exit. He opened the hatch, and Husher listened for it to close again. But it didn’t, just yet.
“I know you’ve programmed yourself to hate me, too,” Warren said. “I understand it. You’ve had a rough life, and so has your mother. But I had no control over that. All I’m asking is that you have another glance at that code, too.”
The hatch slammed shut, almost making Husher start. He hadn’t expected it to be so loud.
He gave himself ten more minutes to sit at the wardroom table and stare at its gleaming metal surface. Then he rose slowly to his feet.
He entered the CIC three minutes later and forced himself to sit in the Captain’s chair. His body didn’t want to obey the orders he was giving it, but that was okay. Orders didn’t need to be liked. So long as they were obeyed.
“Set a course for the Larkspur-Caprice darkgate,” Husher said, and a sudden silence fell. The two other humans in the CIC looked at him wearing expressions of hope. Tightly restrained hope, but hope nonetheless.
“We’re going to the Vermillion shipyards,” he said. “We’re getting the Providence back.”
Chapter 54
In the Way that She Cried
Ek left Zakros in an old combat shuttle, surrounded by a flock of Falcons, feeling confident that Thresh would follow her advice to continue recruiting warlords throughout the Bastion Sector. He had already put Captain Vaghn in charge of their forces, as Ek had recommended.
However, though her logic was undeniable, the warlords’ compliance with it had grown more and more grudging. And that made it most logical for her to leave.
Without her, the warlords’ path forward would cease to be the optimal one. They would make mistakes. A lot of mistakes.
But it would be a path forward, and for Ek to remain and continue trying to influence it would almost certainly result in them reversing course out of pride and stubbornness. That was the problem with even the best-intentioned leaders. They never knew when to leave well enough alone.
Ek did know. Besides, she had other work to do.
During the journey, she vomited twice into the shuttle’s waste disposal unit, and the second time, she tripped on her return to the cockpit, stumbling into the bulkhead, head spinning. Though her suit kept her firmly anchored to the Majorana-laced deck, her body lacked Ocharium nanites, and it remained in constant freefall whenever she was in space. The harmful effects of that were finally catching up to her, it seemed.
The warning words of the Speakers for the Enclave echoed through her head, but she willed them away. There is no time for that. She forced herself back to her feet and marched into the cockpit.
The Bastion Sector insurgents had no access to carriers, or to support ships of any kind. For each mission, they had to carry with them whatever fuel and supplies they needed.
She knew the people with her were loyal, because she had asked them to embark on a mission that would take them past the point of no return. Past the point where they would have enough fuel to return to Zakros. She had asked, and they had agreed. So there was that.
The Fins had always refused to play the imperialist games that dominated galactic politics, and they had always counseled the Wingers against war, exc
ept when it was strictly necessary for their survival, as with the First Galactic War.
If the Fins could see what Ek was about to do, they would condemn her. They would probably disown her.
But the others were dead, and Ek was alive. If the Fins were anything, anymore, it was whatever she had become.
The Falcons took her to the center of the Larkspur System, as close to its sun as they could safely get. And when they arrived, Ek began her broadcast to every Winger in the system. To ensure every Winger heard her, she did not encrypt the message.
Nor did she record it. She knew what she wanted to say, and so there was no need for a redo. Ek spoke, and her words transmitted as soon as they were spoken.
“My beloved Wingers. You think the Fins are gone, and you rage against the void. You think the Fins are gone, but you are wrong. One of your sisters still lives, and her name is Ek.”
She stared at the dark eye that recorded her image and words, flinging them out into space for those she loved to hear. For a long moment, she paused, and for her, at least, the silence was pregnant with meaning and emotion.
When Ek spoke again, she did something she rarely ever did. She spoke without thinking, instead letting feeling give birth to her speech. “Our species grew up together under the stars. The Fins lived because you allowed us to, and in return we used our talents to elevate you until you became one of the galaxy’s most noble peoples. I see that war and terror has cast you low, and you see it, too. It is obvious to us both. But I believe you are missing one important point. Your nobility never left you. It remains inside, waiting for you to acknowledge it. I await that, too.”
Ek spread her arms, calling to the Wingers with her eyes. With her soul. “If our shared childhood means anything to you, if our species’ closeness ever meant anything at all, you will abandon this folly. And you will come to me. Join me at this system’s heart. Join me, and together we will form the largest united force of Wingers the galaxy has ever known.
Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2 Page 17