There was no peace to be had with Ixa. That was just as true now as it had been then. But orders were orders.
Before he passed on those orders, however, he decided to take care of some other business first. That business involved receiving a small transport craft inside Flight Deck Zeta and accepting an unauthorized shipment consisting of one thing: more Ocharium than Ochrim could possibly want or need.
Chapter 36
What Toxic Actually Looks Like
The voyage to the Baxa System, now the Concord System, would involve another week-long warp transition followed by several darkgate transitions and a final journey under warp, since the Corydalis-Baxa darkgate had been destroyed during the final battle of the Second Galactic War.
On the second day under warp drive, Husher found himself sitting in the Cybele City Council chamber, getting stared down by Maeve Aldaine, who’d been invited to attend the meeting as a representative of the students of Cybele U.
“You are called here, Captain Husher,” Penelope Snyder said in the ringing tones she reserved for this round, inward-turned room, “to account for the actions of your three marines—Corporal Toby Yung, Private First Class Dion Mews, and Private Jordan Zimmerman—and to give a comprehensive overview of the steps you intend to take to ensure such an incident can never occur again.”
Drawing a long breath, Husher spoke. “I can’t account for the actions of my marines. They were reprehensible, and in direct contradiction to my urging crew to remain within the Vesta’s crew section during Human Nonattendance Day. In the same note, I made clear that any humans who chose to go to Cybele anyway and engage in violent—”
“This is such bullshit,” Maeve Aldaine interrupted. “Did you actually believe a love letter to your violent crew was going to accomplish anything? You should have forced them to stay out of Cybele!”
Staring at Aldaine, Husher realized that her words had succeeded in raising his usual disbelief to new levels. Clearing his throat, he said, “I was asked to discuss the actions of my marines and the steps I’ve taken to address them.”
“Go ahead,” Chancey said, his tone kindly.
“As I was saying, I made clear to the crew that anyone found engaging in violence would face disciplinary action. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. The three marines already named are currently in the brig.”
“Have you scheduled any workshops to educate the rest of your crew on the situation?” Aldaine demanded, her sapphire eyes aflame.
“Workshops…?” Husher said.
Tossing her head in exasperation, Aldaine spat, “Yeah, you know, hands-on sessions designed to educate through participation. Topics like the historical oppression Wingers have faced at the hands of humans would be appropriate, in a situation like this.”
“Everyone’s well aware of what humans, particularly human governments, have done to Winger populations,” Husher said. “Tell me, is it so radical to suggest that it could be more unifying, more peaceful, to not continually bring up our species’ past animosity and fling it in everyone’s faces?”
“I think we’ve heard quite enough,” Snyder said, her illusory wings waving as she shifted in her seat and stared at Husher, apparently attempting to pierce his soul with her gaze. “Before we discuss policy, there’s one more matter I’ll bring to your attention, Captain. Are you aware of the horrific sentiments cropping up across the battle group’s narrownet?”
Husher’s mouth quirked, but he stayed silent. Horrific sentiments crop up on the narrownet all the time.
“I take your silence to signify you have not. Allow me to enlighten you. There are growing voices on there who are openly praising Teth and the Ixa. The title ‘Immaculate One’ has been floating around for Teth—I have no idea where that charming phrase originated—and several have referred to him as their ‘personal Command Leader.’ Specifically, they praise the genocide of Ixan interspecies offspring, the subtext being that perhaps humans would do well to ‘purify’ galactic society of beings who do not match human ‘prowess.’ The same groups spreading these hateful messages also name you as a figure of admiration, because you stand up for humans to the ‘powers that be.’ What do you have to say to that?”
Husher blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it. “It’s awful,” he managed at last. “The Ixa’s genocide was one of the reasons I fought them during the Second Galactic War. I felt we needed to take a stand against that as a society.” The Ixa were the only known species with the ability for females to reproduce with non-Ixan males, a practice reviled by the Ixa who’d taken power during the lead-up to the First Galactic War.
“Whether or not you’re telling the truth about your motivations,” Aldaine said, “can’t you see your actions as commander of this ship have led directly to the toxicity we’re seeing on the narrownet?”
Husher shook his head. “If I haven’t already made it clear, I strongly condemn those ideas.”
“What about the people responsible for the talk? Do you condemn them?”
“Yes!”
“Good,” Aldaine said, and she seemed about to speak again, but didn’t. Maybe she hadn’t been expecting that answer from Husher.
“I think it’s time we arrive at some legislative proposals for addressing these problems,” Snyder said. “since Captain Husher has demonstrated that he’s either unwilling or incapable of doing so.” She folded her hands across her exposed, digitally flat stomach as she continued. “I’ve already discussed such proposals with several council members individually, but now we’ll put them to a vote, as Mayor Chancey suggested just prior to today’s meeting.
Snyder lifted her hands, parting them while clearing her throat. Then, apparently satisfied with the level of ceremony, she spoke, her eyes clouded with the fog of someone reading from an Oculens overlay: “I am motioning my fellow councilors to adopt a proposal for the creation of legally enforced spaces within Cybele where only nonhumans and their human allies are permitted—places where they can go with the guarantee they’ll be free of oppression, including some of the toxic ideas Captain Husher has propounded here today.” Husher assumed she’d ad-libbed the part about him, but it was difficult to be sure.
“The question of which humans are to be considered allies and therefore permitted to enter these spaces,” Snyder continued, “is to be determined on an ad hoc basis by the nonhuman beings occupying a given space at a given time. The only step necessary to legally require a human to leave the space will be a request by a nonhuman occupying it. Any Tumbra desiring entry to these spaces will also be subject to the occupants’ estimation of whether they are allies, and if they are not, then they will be required to leave. All in favor of this legislation, say aye.”
“Wait a second,” Husher said. “As captain of this vessel, I have a right to speak before the councilors vote.”
Snyder’s eyes widened in apparent outrage, but Chancey gave a brisk nod. “Go ahead.”
“What spaces are you proposing to prevent humans from occupying?” he asked.
“Only humans who aren’t allies will be prevented,” Snyder said primly. “As for the specific spaces, those were meant to be worked out should the policy be approved.”
“I’d like to hear what spaces we’re talking about. If we’re talking about private residences, that’s one thing. But if we’re—”
“The aftward half of Cybele University Green, the area between Skyward Mall and the Epicenter, the Starboard Concourse, and one acre inside Santana Park,” Snyder said.
“Those are all public spaces.”
“Yes. Out of respect for underprivileged groups and the hardship they’ve faced, I personally think it’s the least we—”
“Well,” Husher interrupted, “you’ll no doubt be allowed to enter the spaces, so it probably makes no actual difference to you, except to help you feel even more self-righteous whenever you enter them.”
“Excuse me?” Snyder said, her eyes widening so much it was almost comical.
“You alw
ays say your aims with policies like these are integration and unity, but this will accomplish exactly the opposite. By excluding people from places they once could go, based on their species, you’ll be damaging society in a way that might be irreversible. You’re shrinking the world for certain individuals based on their species or on beliefs they hold that you don’t like. You’re emulating the sort of people you claim to oppose. If Cybele really is the Womb of Civilization, if the rest of the galaxy truly takes cues from what happens here, then I’m begging you—do not vote to approve this legislation. You can’t answer discrimination with more discrimination. This is what toxic actually looks like.”
Snyder opened her mouth, but Husher wasn’t done. “And why in Sol do you keep lumping in the Tumbra? I still haven’t figured that out.”
With an exasperated sigh, Snyder said, “Because anyone without the sort of blinders you wear can see how steeped in privilege the Tumbra are, mostly because of how willing they’ve always been to get in bed with humanity. The Tumbra are part of the problem, Captain. They remind nonhuman beings of their past and present oppression, and if they are asked to leave, then they will be required to leave.”
Husher shook his head, once again speechless.
“Now, then,” Snyder said, her voice tight, though it carried a hint of premature triumph. “All in favor of the proposed legislation, say aye.”
They went around the room, and one by one, the councilors gave their votes.
“Aye,” said Snyder.
“Aye,” said Chancey.
Next, it was the only Tumbran’s turn, who hesitated, his gaze flitting from Husher, to Chancey, and then to Snyder.
At last, he opened his mouth, and a quiet syllable emerged: “Aye.”
The vote was almost unanimous—all except a Winger councilor, whose name escaped Husher. Faces darkened when she said “Nay,” but the vote moved briskly forward, and the law was enacted with an overwhelming majority.
At the final “Aye,” Husher stood.
“History won’t be kind to you for this,” he said, and marched out of the room.
Chapter 37
Both Killers
In keeping with the orders he’d been given, Husher had the Vesta and her battle group exit their respective warp bubbles well outside the Concord System, so that the resulting shockwaves dissipated harmlessly into the void without damaging anything.
We wouldn’t want to hurt our oldest enemies. In saner times, he might have chastised himself for the sarcastic thought, but he didn’t bother now. His mood had gotten progressively darker since his last encounter with the Cybele City Council, and he recognized that he was becoming bitter.
What does it matter? This is over. I’ve failed, and all that’s left is to watch the catastrophe unfold.
Another, smaller voice spoke to him, then, from deeper inside him: You don’t really believe that. You fought to keep the command seat because you know you can make a difference.
Husher quashed the voice and turned to Winterton. “Are you picking up anything?”
“Nothing, sir—not even anything to corroborate the intel we received, about the system bristling with warships.”
That didn’t mean much. The Concord System was ringed by a massive asteroid belt, with plenty of rocks big enough to conceal three supercarriers the size of the Vesta, let alone anything Teth or the Gok were known to field.
The only thing the apparent emptiness of the system told Husher was that Teth had been expecting this visit, and that wasn’t surprising, either. It was characteristic of all his past encounters with the Ixa that they possessed intel vastly superior to that which Husher had access to.
“Coms,” he said.
“Captain?”
“Broadcast a blanket transmission throughout the entire system. Text is fine. Tell Teth we came to talk, and that we have his brother Ochrim with us.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, Husher leaned back as far as the command seat allowed—which wasn’t very much, since it didn’t recline—and studied the tactical display he’d willed his Oculenses to show. He felt exhausted.
Teth didn’t keep him waiting very long.
“Contact directly off the bow,” Winterton said. “It’s Teth’s ship, sir. It’s…sitting there, just outside the asteroid belt, without momentum along any trajectory.”
“Meaning we’ll collide with it if we continue forward,” Husher muttered after a glance at the relevant telemetric data. “Helm, full reverse thrust until we’re stationary as well.” As much as Husher would have liked to continue until the Vesta’s nose rested mere meters away from Teth’s warship, he knew better than to come anywhere near the Ixan. That would mean death for whoever failed to shoot first, and Husher knew exactly how far he could trust Teth.
“Incoming real-time transmission request,” Ensign Fry said.
“Accept it and put it on the main display.”
Teth’s newly hideous face appeared, with its knobs of bone breaking through a hardened, scaly face. “Did you bring Jake Price?”
“You don’t already know the answer to that question?” Husher said, eyebrows raised.
Teth’s tongue made a brief appearance between his fangs before receding into the dark maw of his mouth. “All language is performative, Captain, and sometimes questions are used to make a point.”
Husher decided not to bother trying to decipher that. “We don’t have Jake Price with us, no.”
“Mm. Now, Captain, I know you’ve always been a great admirer of my work, and I’d be interested in getting your feedback on my efforts in obliterating your munitions facility in Viburnum. Did you appreciate my masterstroke, or did you even grasp it?”
“Cut the shit, Teth. I admire nothing you’ve done. I’ve fought to oppose it for decades.”
The Ixan twisted his bulbous head to the left, donning a perplexed expression. “We’ve made war on each other, certainly, but you’ve always striven so obviously to emulate me. Clearly, successful emulation is well outside your grasp—we agree on that—but the striving is obvious to all, and it’s embarrassing to us both for you to deny it.”
“We’re nothing alike,” Husher ground out.
“We are incredibly alike. We’re both killers, and we’ve both taken on the responsibility of deciding when it’s right for others to die. You’re not nearly as good as I am at making those decisions, but we both make them. As well, we’re both fighting partly out of vengeance. You killed my father, Baxa, and I killed the man you wished was your father, Keyes.”
“Captain Keyes sacrificed himself to help defeat you.”
“Call it whatever you want. Keyes failed, and you’re filled with a bitter thirst for revenge.”
“You’re nothing but an abomination,” Husher shot back, “created and set loose by the masters you call the Progenitors.”
“And you’re a dog, kept kenneled by the Kaithe until it drove you half-mad. We can do this all day, Captain. Humans are just as engineered as Ixa. You’re as much an abomination as I am. You speak to me using a display accessed with your vaunted Oculenses, but you might as well be looking into a mirror. Now that I’ve made that abundantly clear to you, dog, why don’t you follow your masters’ command to speak, just as they’ve told you to speak?”
Husher’s chest heaved with his breathing, and the sudden ringing in his ears made it difficult to think.
To have Teth diagnose his situation with such arrogance, such precision…it made Husher want to order his Tactical officer to let missiles fly.
That’s what he wants you to do. But no matter what Teth says, you have orders to follow.
“We’ve come to negotiate a peace deal,” Husher managed.
“Ah, yes,” Teth said. “Losing the munitions facility rendered the Interstellar Union exactly as pliable as I anticipated. And all it took to make you abandon the facility was to frighten one of your precious interspecies colonies.”
“We don’t gamble with lives,” Husher said, eve
n though, on this point, he basically agreed with what the Ixan was getting at. But what else was there for him to say?
“I’ve always wondered why you don’t gamble with them,” Teth mused. “When losing in war means slavery or death, is it not far better to spend any coin necessary to avoid defeat?”
“It’s not worth sacrificing our principles.” Husher truly did believe that, if not in the way Snyder and her lot did.
Teth raised a massive, clawed hand in a dismissive gesture. “I tire of your sophomoric philosophizing. Surely you’re not the one who’ll conduct the negotiations on behalf of your government. Who am I to speak with?”
Husher nodded at his Coms officer, and she rerouted the transmission to a small chamber situated deep inside the Vesta, where Ochrim, Chancey, Shobi, and Bryson were gathered. Teth vanished from the CIC’s main display, though Husher could hear his voice through his embedded ear piece, as well as those of the four designated negotiators.
Husher did have the ability to interject, though Chancey had made it clear that his contributions weren’t welcome unless they pertained directly to the security of the ship.
“Greetings, brother,” the mutated Ixan said.
“Teth,” Ochrim said.
“Hello,” Chancey chimed in.
“Let’s get right down to it,” Teth said, “shall we, oh defenders of the right and good? What have you come to offer me?”
“What do you want?” Chancey asked.
“What an intriguing question.” Teth let the silence drag on, then.
Someone cleared his throat—likely Chancey, since he spoke again. “We’ve come prepared to offer much in exchange for your cooperation in working together to achieve stability for the region. There are resource rights to several systems we’re prepared to offer, and we’re also ready to hear and consider whatever other requests and requirements you think are—”
Husher muted himself, then turned to his Coms officer. “Shut it off.”
“Sir?” Fry said, eyebrows raised.
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 16