Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  Husher could feel how wide his eyes had grown at Norberg’s words. A creeping coldness spread across his stomach as he realized that the Union was only doing what he had been doing for much longer: whatever they thought would increase their chances of winning the war.

  Chapter 31

  Crowd Control

  Ochrim didn’t respond to Husher’s messages as he walked through Cybele toward the Ixan’s residence, and when he called, he didn’t answer. It took ten minutes of standing on the step and ringing the bell to finally summon the scientist, who opened the door and blinked lethargically at him.

  “You were asleep,” Husher said, a note of surprise creeping into his voice. He knew Ochrim ran himself ragged, but it wasn’t like him to sleep in.

  “Yes.”

  Husher nodded. He hated to pull Ochrim out of a slumber the Ixan so obviously needed. On top of devising an exoskeleton for Ek and her children as well as trying to figure out the Progenitors’ method of interdimensional travel, inventing a tracker with which to fit modified Hydras had taken an outsized toll on Ochrim.

  Unfortunately, none of that mattered. Only defeating the Progenitors truly mattered, now.

  Ochrim stepped back, making room for Husher to enter before closing the door behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, which made Husher do a double take. Sarcasm was highly uncharacteristic from Ochrim.

  This war is taking from everyone. “When it comes time to chase down Progenitor ships, I need to know how big a vessel you think we’ll be able to send through the dimensions.”

  “Right,” Ochrim said, blinking some more as he apparently tried to work out how to answer. At last, he did: “That will be exceedingly difficult without knowing how the Progenitors are transitioning through the dimensions in the first place.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, Ochrim. But if we’re going to implement the tech we’re hoping to develop within a meaningful timeframe, we’re going to need some idea of—”

  Someone hammered on the door behind Husher, causing him to exchange glances with Ochrim. “Who’s that?” Husher asked.

  The Ixan’s gaze went distant—no doubt he was checking the exterior camera via Oculens.

  “It appears to be the young commander of Oneiri Team.”

  Lips tightening, Husher turned toward the door. “He must have followed me here. I’ll deal with him.” He paused. “I know I’m asking the impossible, Ochrim. But what else is new? Get some more rest, if you like. After that, I need you to make a start on what I’ve asked.”

  “Very well,” Ochrim said as Husher palmed open the door.

  “Back off, Price,” he said before the seaman could speak. “We’re not doing this on a civilian’s doorstep.” Price stepped aside to let him through. “Do yourself a favor and tread lightly,” he added as he walked by, and Price fell in beside him, almost vibrating with tension.

  “Sir, how can you stand by while the IU turns into a mirror image of the Assembly of Elders?”

  Cybele was the last place he wanted to have a confrontation with a seaman, but he also wanted to get it over with. If it wasn’t for the IGF’s policy of encouraging every subordinate to speak their mind, I wouldn’t have to deal with this in the first place. Staring straight ahead, he said, “For one thing, I still have no evidence that the Elders are what you say they are.”

  “Okay,” Price said. “Forget the Elders. Are you going to tell me you agree with these arrests the Union is making now?”

  Husher paused to gather his thoughts. “What would you have me do, Seaman?”

  “Oppose them!”

  “I’m busy opposing the Progenitors.”

  “And while you are, the Union’s turning galactic society into something unrecognizable.”

  “I’m not a politician.” No matter what Captain Norberg says about me.

  “No, but you’re a soldier. And the galaxy’s about to go to war with itself.”

  Husher peeled his eyes from the streets ahead and stared at Price. “What are you talking about?”

  “You haven’t heard? It’s all over the narrow net. The Sapient Brotherhood responded to the arrests by calling for every human to recognize the IU as their true enemy and to turn against them. Just before they put out their call, they liberated a large IGF battle group from the Lilac System—those ships are under Brotherhood control, now. They kicked off all the nonhumans at gunpoint. Packed them into escape pods and jettisoned them.”

  Husher came to a stop. “What are you saying my line of action should be, exactly?”

  “I already told you. The galaxy’s going to war with itself. It’s time to pick a side.”

  “And you’re saying I should side with the Brotherhood?”

  “The Union created the Brotherhood. The more radical they got, the better the Brotherhood started to look, for more and more people. And so they became more powerful. I know I don’t have to tell you that. You’ve been experiencing it here on the Vesta.”

  Husher had nothing to say to that. He just stood there in the street and stared into Price’s fiery gaze.

  “Pinochet just shot up in the polls,” Price went on. “The election’s still two years away, but he’s skyrocketing now that the Union’s doing what they are. Though with the way things are going, I have my doubts they’ll even allow any more free elections.”

  Pinochet was the only nominee in the long-running race to become galactic president who’d openly expressed support for the Brotherhood. On a few occasions, he’d also dropped what many interpreted as subtle praise for certain Ixan policies.

  “I’m going to ask you again,” Husher said. “Are you saying I should side with the Brotherhood?”

  “I’m saying you should do what needs to be done. Surely you understand that, Captain?” Price stormed down the street before Husher could answer, unless he wanted to chase after him, shouting.

  When he returned to his office, Major Gamble was waiting in the corridor to see him.

  “Major,” Husher said, opening the hatch and gesturing toward the office’s interior. “Please, after you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Have a seat,” Husher said, circling the desk. “What can I do for you?”

  The major sat. “I think we may have a problem.”

  Husher studied Gamble’s face as he lowered himself into his desk chair. “What sort of problem?”

  “A Cybele problem.”

  That’s my least favorite kind of problem. It was true—he could blow Progenitors clean off a battlespace, but Cybele problems twisted his brain into knots. “Out with it.”

  Gamble sighed. “Members of the Sapient Brotherhood are planning a rally in front of the Skyward Mall. There’s a counterprotest already brewing. This…could get ugly. The sheriff’s requested our help making sure it doesn’t.”

  Resisting the urge to lower his face into his palm, Husher opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He didn’t like the idea of involving the military in civil matters, but then, if the protest turned to riots, and the rioters managed to damage the ship herself, that could prove catastrophic to everyone.

  At last, he said, “You’ve kept up your crowd control drills, I trust?”

  “Of course, sir. We’re ready.”

  “Do nothing to impede protest or free expression of ideas, on either side. But if things turn violent, you’ll need to contain the unrest.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Chapter 32

  Lucid

  Jake called a meeting with Oneiri Team inside lucid—all except for Rug, their latest addition. Either an implant or a headset was required for going lucid, and neither of those had been invented for Quatro, yet. Rug didn’t use the mech dream to pilot her mech. Instead, her suit amplified the innate superconducting ability wielded by every Quatro, which normally was very weak at regular temperatures. Inside the suit, though, her magnetic nudges were translated into powerful movements.<
br />
  Jake didn’t like excluding Rug, but the dream was the only place they could be sure no one with either the IGF or the IU would overhear them. As far as he knew, neither had any knowledge of the tech, making it perfect for talking in secrecy.

  “What are we going to do?” Ash said. “The protests are sure to turn ugly.”

  “I’m not convinced we should do anything,” Marco said, drawing a sharp look from Jake. “What? I’m sure the protests will turn ugly too, but what are we going to do about it? Mechs are great for pummeling an enemy into oblivion, but I don’t think they’re very well suited to crowd control.”

  “Do you think the demonstrators could get out of control?” Ash said, turning to Jake. “Like, really out of control—breaking into the crew section, taking over the ship?”

  He hesitated before answering, chewing his lip. “No,” he admitted at last. “I think Husher has a better grip on his ship than that.” I’ll give him that much.

  “Still,” Ash said, shaking her head. “This galaxy’s falling apart. It’s nothing like I expected. I just hope it’s not too far gone.”

  “Husher needs to do something,” Jake growled. “He needs to make tough decisions, ones that’ll taste bitter. I’m not sure he has it in him.”

  “This is exactly what happened in the Steele System,” Ash said. “Everyone turning on everyone else, and it all ends up serving the Progenitors.”

  “Maybe we should just leave,” Lisa put in, and everyone turned to look at her.

  “Leave?” Jake said.

  “Yeah. As in, leave the Milky Way again, or at least find some corner of it where we can entrench ourselves. We’re Oneiri Team—I’m sure we could commandeer a starship if we really wanted to.”

  “That’s not how we do things,” Jake answered slowly. “And it’s never been how you’ve done them, either. What about our families? And what about what the Progenitors did to us in Steele? Are we going to leave the people here to suffer the same fate?”

  “Seems like they deserve it, to me. As for our families, if we can find out where they went, we can take them with us. They may have even already found somewhere safe.”

  Jake shook his head. “I won’t sign off on abandoning people to fight the Progenitors on their own, Lisa.”

  She shrugged and fell silent, but Jake noticed Andy looking thoughtful.

  Chapter 33

  Lines of Attack

  “I can’t believe they’re carrying those flags,” Gamble muttered, to no one in particular.

  Lance Corporal Roux was standing beside him, and she nodded. “It’s ridiculous, Major.” She wore full riot gear, as he did.

  The flags Gamble meant featured the triple stripe—black, white, and red—of the Ixa. Or rather, the faction that had taken power a few years before the First Galactic War; the faction that had agitated for the extermination of every Ixan who was the result of inter-species breeding. They’d nearly succeeded with their genocide during the first war, and before the second even began, they’d completed it.

  That was what the Sapient Brotherhood members and sympathizers were supporting today. Right in front of his eyes, on an IGF starship. In an IU city.

  But as revolting as he found the imagery, it wasn’t Gamble’s job to take sides. It was his job to make sure two groups of demonstrators, currently on a collision course, didn’t devolve into violent chaos.

  It hadn’t been hard to figure out what the Brotherhood was planning, and the same went for the counterprotesters. Neither had made any effort to conceal their strategizing, and a cursory narrow net search had told Gamble and Cybele’s sheriff everything they needed to know.

  The Brotherhood, who’d gathered in front of the Skyward Mall to organize themselves into ranks and pump themselves up with anti-nonhuman chants, were now marching through the entire city, intending to end with a final rally on the Starboard Concourse. The counterprotesters had positioned themselves one-third of the way along that route, and they didn’t intend to let the Brotherhood pass. Unlike the Brotherhood members and sympathizers, the group of counterprotesters included beings from all four Union species.

  The Union had always prided itself on providing the broadest protections possible for free speech and expression while keeping the limits on that expression as slim as possible. Incitement to violence and libel weren’t allowed, though where the line lay on that had been the subject of years and years of case law.

  Of course, all that was before the IU had started arresting people, apparently for having views that matched those of the Brotherhood—or, less generously, for having views the IU said matched the Brotherhood’s.

  None of that mattered to Gamble. The captain had made it clear that he intended to follow the law as it had been interpreted and implemented before the arrival of the Quatro Assembly of Elders. And while hearing some of the Brotherhood chants and reading their signs made Gamble’s stomach roil, his main task remained preventing and containing violent conflict. He knew that if the protesters directed slurs at individuals, then that was legally problematic. But it fell to the target whether to press charges or not, not to Gamble to sort through decades of case law in his head in order to make the call of whether to arrest someone or not.

  As he scanned the crowd of marchers, his eyes fell on the whip-straight Lance Corporal Toby Yung. Yung stared back at him, a wide smile sprouting on his face. Gamble held the man’s gaze until the ex-marine looked away.

  He raised his com to his lips. “Sergeant Williams, what’s the situation on your end?”

  “As expected so far, Major,” Williams answered. “The counterprotesters are chanting, interspersed with the occasional speech. Seems like every second speech is being given by the woman who used to be university president.”

  “I’m not interested in who’s speaking,” Gamble said. “I’m interested in making sure the situation’s contained.”

  “It is so far, Major,” Williams said, with no hint that the admonishment had affected him. The mark of a good soldier, in Gamble’s eyes. “We’re still in the process of erecting the barrier between the Brotherhood marchers and the counterprotesters, but it should be completed well in advance of their arrival. They can shout at each other from a safe distance.”

  “What about the alleys that permit access to and from the counterprotesters’ flanks?”

  Williams paused. “We talking lines of attack, here, Major? You really believe they’re thinking on that level?”

  “Emotions are running high. And the Brotherhood did just steal a battle group of warships. So yeah, at least someone is thinking on that level.”

  “All right. I’ll post marines in every alley that could be used that way. Two marines per?”

  “Should do it. I have four platoons leapfrogging from side street to side street all along the marchers’ route, making sure they don’t veer off to anywhere we don’t expect.”

  “Everything seems textbook to me, Major.”

  “If it is, I’ll buy you a beer at the lounge tonight.”

  “Deal.”

  “Gamble out.” The marines around him were already preparing to depart this side street and double-time down a road parallel to the marchers’ route. The next side street they blocked off would also be the last—it was right next to where the counterprotesters had situated themselves.

  As soon as he arrived, Gamble threw a pair of microdrones into the air: one to monitor the marchers from above, and one to watch the counterprotesters. Immediately, the drones’ feeds popped into his Oculens overlay.

  As he observed the crowds from vantage points just underneath Cybele’s artificial sky, it occurred to him that the Vesta marines would likely get accused of favoring the counterprotesters, since they were effectively helping them stop the Brotherhood from advancing. But that was happenstance. Their aim was to prevent violence between the two groups, and if it had been the counterprotesters marching, Gamble still would have had his people take these actions.

  If the Brotherhood som
ehow managed to persuade the counterprotesters to move out of the way, then Gamble would order his marines to move, too. Somehow, he didn’t see that happening.

  At last, the Brotherhood marchers reached the blockade, and it was like someone turned up the volume. Both sides chanted and screamed at each other, and after a few minutes of that, something arced through the air from the Brotherhood marchers to the counterprotesters, drawing Gamble’s eye. Flame blossomed amidst the tightly packed demonstrators as he realized what the projectile had been: a Molotov cocktail.

  Chapter 34

  Flying Wedge

  Screams filled the air as the crowd of counterprotesters bulged, surging in every direction—into the marines’ barricade and against the buildings bordering the street, but mostly back, away from their attacker.

  Even so, there was nothing orderly about the retreat, and Gamble saw several protesters go down under the stampede.

  He wrenched his focus away from the drones’ overhead view and back to the situation on the ground, where he stood with a platoon of marines blocking a side street facing the Brotherhood protesters, at least one of whom had just become a rioter. He brought his com to his mouth again. “Viper, Chimera, Dragon, and Roundhouse,” he said, naming the platoons who’d leapfrogged from side street to side street to keep the marchers corralled. “Surround the Brotherhood group and look for anyone holding a Molotov or showing any other signs of becoming violent. As soon as you’ve located them, start using flying wedges to break through the crowd and snatch out the troublemakers. The sheriff has mobile cells on hand—get them locked up and on their way as fast as you can.”

  Gamble sent a quick message to the Cybele fire chief, then he donned his riot helmet, intent on leading one of the wedges himself. “Form up behind me,” he barked to four marines nearby. Someone handed him a riot shield, and using the drones, it wasn’t long before he spotted one of the Brotherhood lighting a Molotov nearby. He lit the guy up using his Oculenses, sent the designation to the four marines with him, and shouted, “Go!”