Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  They passed a man whose overlay made him look a bit like a mime, to Gamble’s eyes. He was lying face-down, a few feet from a residence door that had been left open.

  Gamble knelt, placing a hand on the man. “Sir, are you—?” His hand encountered something soft and slick, with too much give to it. When he recoiled, and his hand exited the man’s overlay, it came back wet with scarlet.

  “Guy’s shredded,” Gamble said hoarsely. “Something got him with a lot of sharp edges. Let’s keep on moving.”

  They found action well before they met the rest of Hammerhead Company at the Epicenter. Gamble’s rightmost drone glimpsed robots rushing down an alley just before they spilled onto the street his squad was on.

  “Contact!” he yelled, raising his R-57 assault rifle and putting three rounds into the nearest robot while shuffling backward. “Fall back to the other side of the street, use the alleys!”

  Gamble glanced back and spotted the tiny space between residences that he planned to retreat down. The robots were coming at them fast, and he heard the horrified scream as one of his marines went down without firing a single shot. There was nothing to be done for him beyond what Gamble already had—given him the orders that, if he’d followed them fast enough, might have saved his life.

  It’s do or die time. This is how we get combat experience. Ideally, that happened without loss of life, but loss of life was also an inescapable part of combat.

  Gamble’s job was to make it happen mostly on the enemy side. If these robots can be said to have lives.

  A couple of them pursued him down the narrow gap between the residences, and Gamble scrambled back, continuing to slam fresh clips into his R-57 and emptying them into the things’ metallic hides.

  At last, both his attackers were down, and he leapt over their metal corpses, using the residence walls to propel himself upward to avoid getting cut up on their sharp parts, some of which were jagged, now that he’d finished with them.

  Checking down the next alley, he saw one of his marines had almost made it to the next street over, with one of the metal devils in close pursuit. The marine had dropped his gun halfway there, and the robot had simply charged over it, apparently ignoring it.

  Gamble raised his gun, took careful aim, and put a round into the thing, center-mass. It went down instantly. Is that where their brains are…? It would be good news, if so, since their thin, curved heads presented such small targets, especially when they were facing you.

  “Thanks, Major,” the marine called as he picked up his gun from where he’d dropped it.

  “You owe me a beer,” Gamble said, then got on the company-wide channel. “All squads currently in or en route to Cybele, report to me.”

  They needed to consolidate their position inside the city, and fast. This was already a disaster, and if any more of those things got inside before Gamble could lock down the area, it would quickly become a catastrophe.

  Chapter 53

  Ripped to Pieces

  Husher watched on the tactical display as his Pythons advanced on the enemy ship’s missile barrage in waves, using kinetic impactors and the latest generation of Sidewinders to neutralize dozens of the robots at a time. The Vesta’s point defense turrets were also working overtime, supplemented by lasers whose energy supplies were rapidly depleting.

  Then, his breathing caught as he saw an entire squadron of Pythons go down almost simultaneously.

  Seconds later, Commander Ayam’s voice squawked through his ear piece: “Captain, the robots are changing their behavior!”

  “How? What the hell is going on out there, Commander?”

  “A group of them just changed course suddenly and latched onto a formation of my birds,” the Winger said. “They ripped them to pieces in seconds.”

  “They’re no longer prioritizing the Vesta as the target,” Husher muttered as he considered the unsettling development, racking his brain for what to do. “Commander, I want you to use looser formations, or even abandon squadron formations altogether. Judging from the fact we just lost sixteen fighters in the space of seconds, our movements are far too regimented and predictable. Have half of your pilots work together in preassigned pairs, and have the other half fly in finger-fours.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Ayam, I also need you to assign some of your pilots to target the enemy ship. That thing doesn’t look to be running out of missiles, and if we can’t do something about her soon, we’re going to have a perforated hull and a ship full of robots.”

  “I’m on it, sir. Ayam out.”

  Husher turned toward Tremaine. “Tactical, I want you to arm four Hydras and load them with firing solutions similar to those we used against the Gok. I also want you to arm four Gorgons and distribute them randomly throughout the barrage those Hydras will turn into. I’m sending in some Pythons to attack the enemy vessel—between those and the Hydras, not to mention the mess of robots and fighters already clogging up the battlespace, we should get a Gorgon or two through.”

  “Understood, sir,” Tremaine said. “I’m on it.”

  While he was waiting for his next gambit to take shape, Husher reviewed some of the data coming in from Damage Control. They’d already called their second watch on-duty, and they were about to get third watch out of their bunks, if the turmoil hadn’t already done that.

  According to the estimations Husher reviewed, using his Oculenses to flick through updates and absorbing them as fast as he could, thirty-nine of the robots had successfully infiltrated his ship’s hull.

  Another transmission request came in, from Major Gamble, and Husher accepted. “Go ahead, Major.”

  “We’ve finished securing Cybele, but sir…there have been some civilian casualties.”

  Mentally bracing himself, Husher said, “How many?”

  “At last count, there are twenty-nine dead and one hundred and forty-three injured. Most of those have been hospitalized. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “I’m…I’m sure you did what you could.”

  “We weren’t fast enough. It’s as simple as that.”

  “There are a lot of people at fault for those deaths, Major Gamble, but you aren’t one of them. You aren’t to try taking that blame for yourself. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep me apprised of any further developments. By text, if you please. Husher out.” He turned toward the Tactical station. “What’s the status of those missiles, Tremaine?”

  “Just uploading the finalized telemetry now, Captain. They’re already waiting in the tubes.”

  “Fire at will.”

  “Firing four Hydras and four Gorgons.”

  Husher watched on the display as the rockets crossed the cluttered battlespace that stretched between the two warships. Before the Hydras had a chance to split, one of the robot-missiles changed course to target it, but the advanced weapons were programmed to separate in response to a threat, and the robot only ended up latching itself onto one of the eight smaller missiles. It shredded it, destroying both it and itself, but the other seven continued on.

  A flash of inspiration made Husher stare hard at the tactical display, and he realized he had enough time to execute. “Send me the missiles’ targeting data at once, Tremaine.”

  “Here it is,” the Tactical officer said with a flicking gesture atop his console.

  “Commander Ayam,” Husher said over a two-way channel with his CAG, “instruct the two finger-fours currently keeping pace with our missile barrage to concentrate fire just below the closest pole of the oblong spheroid. I’m sending you the area I mean now over Oculens. That’s where our missiles are headed.”

  “It will be done, Captain.”

  Husher watched with his heart in his throat as the enemy ship’s point defense turrets pounded away frantically at the incoming missiles and Pythons. Most of the fighters were soon forced to peel away, in order to avoid getting hit, and then the turrets started work on efficiently mowing down the cloud of rockets
formed by the fully separated Hydras.

  In the end, only one of the smaller missiles made it to the enemy hull. But all four Gorgons did.

  Fire blossomed from the opposing vessel, and as soon as the void quenched that, another explosion ruptured her hull dozens of meters down. Two more followed.

  If he’d had access to his primary laser, Husher might have finished off the ship then and there. He briefly considered sending kinetic impactors into the breach, but the ship was already moving away, thrusting toward the protection offered by the nearby asteroid.

  “Good job, everyone,” Husher said over a wide channel, addressing the comment to Ayam and the Air Group as well as his CIC officers. “But this is far from over. Stay frosty and get the job done. Pythons, return to base for now.”

  Closing the channel, he looked around his CIC, meeting each officer’s eyes for a few seconds each. “If we’re going to continue, we need to get out of this asteroid belt, so we can see threats coming. In an even match, that…carrier, for want of a better term, would have been obliterated. But because it was able to maneuver so close to us undetected, it almost finished us. I’m not letting that happen again. That said, leaving the asteroid belt for the inner system is probably exactly what Teth wants us to do.”

  Grim faces and set jaws met his eyes as he continued to shift his gaze from officer to officer. Even Kaboh looked determined.

  “Major Gamble just informed me we lost twenty-nine civilians during the attack on Cybele,” Husher said. That brought winces from his officers. “One hundred and forty-three have been injured. Our marines were able to secure the city, but we have no guarantee more civilians won’t die.” Husher pointed to the main display. “On the other hand, victory today could mean the difference between saving the hundreds of billions of civilians that live in the Interstellar Union or allowing them to burn. I need to know something. Are you with me in this?”

  “Aye, Captain,” Fry said right away, and Tremaine immediately echoed her. One by one, the officers sounded off.

  All except Kaboh. Husher turned toward the Kaithian. “Lieutenant?”

  “Aye, sir. I’m with you.”

  “Time to ante up,” Fesky said.

  Husher nodded. “Let’s ante up.”

  Chapter 54

  Teth's Gambits

  “Exiting the asteroid field now, Captain,” Winterton said. “No sign of any warships moving to stop us. Wherever those ships are, they’re well-hidden. The only hostile showing on radar right now is Teth’s destroyer, which is halfway to the Ixan homeworld.”

  “Maybe the enemy’s bunched up behind the planet,” Fesky said.

  Husher had considered that possibility, too. Making a stealthy entrance into a system was next to impossible, especially if the system was equipped with modern sensor webs. Employing stealth on defense, though…

  That was a completely different story. All you needed were sensors updating you on the approach of enemy ships—a function Teth’s destroyer could easily be serving—and the patience to wait behind a planet, moon, or asteroid until the right moment.

  It would take a little over forty minutes for the Vesta to join Teth’s ship near Klaxon. Husher had endured some excruciating waits during his military career, but he expected this would prove to be one of the worst. The supercarrier’s battle group had been obliterated, and she was alone, deep in enemy territory and surrounded by an unknown number of hostile ships.

  Husher saw the tension he felt reflected in the postures of his CIC officers as they monitored their respective stations in silence. Seven minutes after they’d begun their descent into the system, Winterton spoke again: “A Gok destroyer just emerged from the asteroid belt, at almost exactly the same place we exited.” The sensor operator paused, then added, “A missile cruiser and a frigate are close behind it.”

  Nodding, Husher waited for several minutes more. Then, he asked, “Have any more ships emerged, Ensign?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  “Coms, tell Commander Ayam that in twenty minutes, provided no more warships have emerged, I want him to scramble the entire Air Group and take them back to deal with those three ships. He has more than enough firepower to handle them, and we have more than enough to deal with Teth.”

  “Provided Teth has no surprises waiting for us behind Klaxon,” Fesky said. “Which we’re almost certain he does.”

  “I said we have more than enough firepower, Commander. This is a capital starship class supercarrier, and we have the muscle to crash whatever surprise party Teth has planned.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Winger said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

  The silence resumed, and so did the waiting. Watching the tactical display, Husher saw that Teth still seemed in no hurry. His ship had less mass, and so it took less energy to propel, making it nimbler. The destroyer could have easily outstripped the Vesta if her commander wanted. Hell, he could do the disappearing trick, too. This wasn’t an authentic retreat, and both Husher and Teth knew it. Had this been a game of chess, they would both be employing obvious strategies—on the surface, anyway. As for how deep this game actually went, that remained to be seen.

  “The destroyer has reached Klaxon’s moon,” Winterton reported at last. “She appears to be making her way behind it, sir.”

  Fascinating. Teth’s gambits continued to come off as incredibly facile. “Alter our course to give the moon a wide berth, Kaboh,” Husher said. “If Teth has positioned artillery there, I want the option to break away quickly.”

  “Aye, Captain. Calculating course now.”

  The minutes continued to creep past, silent and uneventful. For all they knew, Teth could have slipped behind the moon and vanished. But what would be the point, other than to force the Vesta to use up some of her fuel on a wasted trip down Concord’s gravity well? Hardly a devastating blow.

  It reminded him of their first engagement with the Ixan destroyer, in Wintercress, when she’d materialized on the dark side of Tyros’ moon, striking before the system’s sensor web could warn the Vesta of her presence. But this maneuver was reversed, with Teth slinking behind cover like an injured animal wanting only to lick its wounds.

  “Circling the moon now, Captain,” Winterton said. “The destroyer is coming into view. She’s just sitting there in lunar orbit, oriented toward us.”

  “Let’s see if we can’t liven things up a bit,” Husher said. “Tactical, arm two Hydras and two Gorgons. I’d also like six Banshees loaded in the tubes, either to supplement the more advanced missiles or to help shoot down incoming ordnance if need be.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “The destroyer is maneuvering toward us,” Winterton said. “No shots fired yet, and she’s moving quite slowly.” The sensor operator blinked. “Sir, I’ve continued to conduct regular active scans of the system, and the results from the latest one just came back. I’m picking up something strange on radar.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s unlike anything I’ve encountered or heard about. Whatever it is, it’s invisible to visual sensors, but the radio waves are bouncing off it just as though it were solid. It appears to be spherical in form, and centered on Klaxon’s moon. We’re trapped inside it, sir, with the Air Group trapped outside.”

  A lump took shape in Husher’s throat. It seemed they’d been right about there being a trap, but completely off about its nature.

  “Tactical, fire a Banshee at whatever that is from a port-side tube. Record the missile’s impact on visual sensors and play it for me, Winterton.”

  Both officers got to work, but seconds later, Winterton had something else for him, and it wasn’t welcome.

  “The destroyer has begun firing missiles, Captain. They look to be more robots. Thirty-five in play already.”

  “Point defense should account for those, but standby to use the loaded Banshees if necessary, Tactical, and to replace them in the tubes.”

  “Missile impacting now, sir,” the sensor operator
said. “Should I patch the live feed through to the main display?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Winterton did, just in time to catch the collision. This time, there were visual phenomena—namely, the brief flash of the Banshee exploding, followed by ripples of electric-blue energy that flowed out from the impact site.

  “The destroyer just launched forty more missiles,” Winterton said. “Radar’s showing no effect on the structure’s integrity from our missile’s detonation. It…oh, God.”

  “What, Ensign?”

  “The sphere appears to be shrinking, sir. It’s closing in on us.”

  Chapter 55

  No Pressure

  “Fire Banshees at the incoming missiles and switch out the programming for the Hydras already loaded in the tubes—I want them taking down robots instead.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tremaine said, his jaw rigid as he focused on his work.

  “What’s our capacitor charge?” Husher asked.

  “Down to fifteen percent. Enough to assign tertiary laser projectors to assist with point defense, but not for long—likely only ten minutes or so.”

  “A total of eighty-nine enemy missiles currently headed for us,” Winterton said, his voice as tense as Tremaine’s. “The destroyer is reversing thrust and rotating—it looks like Teth plans to fall back and use the moon for cover.”

  “That’s no retreat,” Husher said. “He’ll come around the other side and hit us with his particle beam from behind.”

  Winterton’s eyes widened at the possibility, but Husher just wanted to curse. He’d known full well that Teth would have something waiting here for him, but he’d assumed he could always pull out if things got too hairy, even if it meant speeding away at full engine power perpendicular to the ecliptic plane.