Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  “Loud and clear, Captain.”

  “I need you to pressure those vessels now, or they’re going to start knocking down the rest of our warships. Are your subspace pilots ready?”

  “They are. We can start savaging the nearest destroyer within five minutes.”

  Husher hiked an eyebrow at the Winger’s colorful description, but decided now wasn’t the time to remark on it. “Deploy the rest of your pilots as you see fit, then transition to subspace at once, Commander.”

  “Will do, Captain.”

  The tactical display Husher had ordered his Oculenses to project onto the main display showed that the enemy formation had almost finished appearing. By opting not to surround the Vesta as they had yesterday, they’d once again anticipated Husher’s tactics. The enemy’s formation meant the Hydra broadsides he’d prepared were next to useless.

  But maybe not completely useless. “Helm, I want you to increase power to engines by twenty-five percent. In the meantime, Tactical, I want you to reprogram the starboard-side Hydras. Once we’ve outstripped our allied ships, I want them to launch from their tubes and follow a dispersed arc that blankets the left side of the enemy formation with warheads. That should keep them busy as our Pythons get into position.”

  “I’m on it, sir,” Tremaine said, tapping his console furiously as he updated the telemetry.

  The sensor operator turned toward Husher. “Progenitor ships are still appearing, Captain. More than were originally attacking Abdera.”

  Husher resisted an urge to put a hand to his forehead and massage his taut brow. “They see an opportunity to take us down,” he said. “If they manage that, they’ll return to Abdera and finish penetrating her defenses.” He shifted his gaze to Chief Noni. “Nav, set a course for the Larkspur-Caprice darkgate under reverse thrust. Tell the other captains to do the same, Coms. After that, I want you to launch a drone with a message requesting aid from Captain Norberg and her remaining battle group ships. They should still be in orbit over Thessaly.”

  “Aye, sir,” both officers answered.

  Ek shifted in the XO’s seat, peering at him through the water-filled helmet of her exoskeleton. As she spoke, her suit’s AI translated the sound waves traveling through the fluid and projected her words clearly through a speaker: “Something seems amiss here, Captain Husher. The Vesta may not, in fact, be the Progenitor’s primary target this day.”

  “Right. But whether their true aim is the galactic capital or my ship doesn’t really matter. Either way, we can’t let a Progenitor force of that size remain at large in one of the core systems.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Fin said, turning to face the main display once more.

  Husher narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you’re withholding, Commander?”

  “I have given you my analysis based on the data available to me at this time. If I reach further conclusions, I will let you know at once.”

  “Very good.”

  “Enemy ships are launching Ravagers in enormous numbers, sir,” Winterton said. “Thousands are in play already, leaving very little room for our Pythons to maneuver.”

  A sigh escaped Husher’s lips. “Coms, tell our fighters to abandon the attack on the enemy vessels and focus instead on cutting down that Ravager barrage. Squadrons that manage to cut a swath big enough, however, should follow through on my original orders and try to get in an alpha strike.”

  On the tactical display, Husher saw defensive missiles already streaming forth from the old UHF ships, without him having to request them. That’s nice. The Vesta’s only remaining battle group ship—the Knight, a destroyer—did the same, and the sole Quatro ship added its own missiles to the barrage as well. The Quatro missiles were more or less conventional, except for the salvage function, which Husher doubted they’d have an opportunity to use today.

  That didn’t bother him, so long as they lost no further ships, and he was willing to risk overcommitting to defense if it meant preventing that. The UHF-model ships were all twenty years outdated at least, but along with the Knight and the Quatro ship, they were the only battle group the Vesta had now, and he doubted he’d get another.

  His force danced backward, using missiles and Pythons as a shield against the unending onslaught of Ravagers while keeping up lateral propulsion to ensure hulls weren’t exposed to particle beams for too long.

  At last, as they neared the darkgate, the Eos burst out of it. Four warships trailed her, which were all that remained of the combined battle groups of two capital starships: the Eos and the felled Promedon.

  They moved to bolster Husher’s ranks, lasers lancing out, all tightly focused on the same Progenitor destroyer. Under normal circumstances, Husher would have called that overkill, but given the Progenitors’ tendency of vanishing whenever pressured, it made sense to destroy targets as rapidly as possible.

  Indeed, the moment the destroyer went down, the Progenitor force disappeared as one, leaving only a tide of missile-robots for the allied ships to clean up.

  “Thank you, Captain Norberg,” Husher said once he had her on the main display. On the tactical display, he watched the assembled warships continue to inch backward toward the darkgate, using mostly kinetic impactors to mow down the incoming Ravagers. “I owe you one.”

  Norberg nodded briskly. “Think you can handle the rest of these Ravagers? I need to get back to Thessaly. The colony’s undefended right now, other than the orbital defense platforms, and it’s missing one of those after yesterday.”

  Husher glanced again at the tactical display. “We can handle things here, Captain.”

  “Very good.” Norberg terminated the conversation, not bothering with formalities. Things were still a little prickly between them—they had been fighting each other right before the battle over Thessaly, after all.

  Minutes after Norberg’s departure through the Caprice-Larkspur darkgate, a com drone emerged from it. The Coms officer tapped her console, no doubt accessing the message, and a few seconds later her face turned white.

  “What is it, Ensign?” Husher asked.

  “It’s a message from Captain Norberg, sir. The Eos returned to Larkspur and found the Progenitors already laying waste to Thessaly.”

  Chapter 4

  Spread Too Thin

  Husher sat on his bunk with head in hands.

  There’s nothing to be done.

  By the time Norberg and her ships reached Thessaly, the Progenitors had finished their work and vanished again. As soon as the government on Abdera got the news, they ordered the Vesta and her battle group to maintain orbit around the capital, along with Norberg and her remaining battle group ships.

  Quatro vessels had been called from elsewhere to protect what was left of the IU’s presence in Larkspur, and more had come to bolster the defenses around Abdera. President Chiba had decided that losing the galactic capital would prove crippling to the war effort.

  I’m sure that’s true. But Husher also wagered Chiba’s presence on Abdera might have had something to do with the decision.

  Husher had given the necessary orders to array the Vesta and the other ships around Abdera in proper defensive formation, and then he completed his watch. After, he’d retreated to his chamber, to mourn the people of Thessaly, and to berate himself for letting the Progenitors bait him enough to leave the colony exposed.

  Thessaly was a major colony—a mainly human colony. Why hadn’t the admiralty allocated more defenders to it?

  He swept aside such conspiratorial thoughts. The IU is just too big, and our forces are spread too thinly. The Progenitors were exploiting that situation viciously.

  Where are you, Fesky? He’d expected her back by now. Surely, the recon mission he’d given her wouldn’t have had her lingering in the Progenitor’s home dimension for this long. Something went wrong. He told himself he was leaping to that conclusion too quickly, but it felt true in his gut.

  The com buzzed on the bunk beside him, and he snatched it up. Major Gamble was contacting
him.

  “Go ahead, Major.”

  “Sir, the sheriff in Cybele just informed me we have a new round of unrest brewing over there. Said he wanted to let me know, in case you wanted to put some soldiers on standby.”

  “What level of unrest?”

  “Loud but peaceful demonstrating, so far. But some Sapient Brotherhood members have been spotted gathering nearby, and they’re staying strangely quiet. I know you threw out all the people caught rioting, but…”

  “We can’t be too careful,” Husher said. “I’m heading over there myself to check it out.”

  “Sir, if you’re doing that, I have to insist on sending an escort to meet you.”

  “Fine. I’ll take two marines with me, Major. Two. Beyond that, I can handle myself. Have them meet me just inside the hatch into Cybele.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gamble said, sounding resigned. If Husher knew the man, he’d have at least two platoons waiting somewhere nearby, ready to deploy until Husher reentered the ship’s crew section safe and sound.

  The pair of marines he’d authorized to accompany him saluted when he approached, and together, they ventured out of the crew section, into the great hold that held the city. They found the protesters outside the Epicenter, which was a domed building that always reminded Husher of half a golf ball. It was meant to serve as a social hub for the community, but mostly people used it as a place to house their bodies as they entered digital spaces.

  He estimated there were a couple hundred demonstrators, whose chants became more distinct as they approached. Just before Husher and his marines reached the group, the chanting trailed off as a woman got up to speak.

  Penelope Snyder.

  “There haven’t been very many times in my life when…” she began, but then stopped. Her eyes were locked on Husher. “I see we have a visitor.”

  The sea of faces turned toward him, a great tide following Snyder’s gaze.

  “Captain Husher,” Snyder went on. “Do you know what we’re protesting here today?”

  He shook his head.

  “I might have guessed. Well, let me fill you in. We’re protesting the way Thessaly’s evacuation was handled.”

  Husher pressed his lips together. That anyone managed to escape the colony at all is a near-miracle. From the vids he’d seen, the Progenitors had done a pretty thorough job of scouring the planet’s towns and cities. A few loners living out in the wilderness had survived, but that was about it.

  “The colony’s wealthy elite were grossly overrepresented among the evacuees,” Snyder said. “The Progenitor attack was tragic enough, but the fact that the underprivileged were left to burn makes yesterday a grotesque travesty. Do you have anything you’d care to comment about that, Captain?”

  He cleared his throat, preparing to project his voice across the crowd. “I agree that yesterday was a tragedy and a travesty,” he said. “But I would point out to you that the colony’s wealthy were also the ones who owned the ships capable of going off-world. And many of those shipowners packed their vessels with their fellow citizens before departing. True, some didn’t—some of them had no time, and others let fear override their nobler impulses. But most did.”

  Snyder was shaking her head. “You said it yourself, Captain: some didn’t. You’re minimizing that point. This is what happens when beings are allowed to lord their privileges over others, racking up riches and influence. Monsters are created.”

  “There are monsters among every segment of society,” Husher said.

  “This monstrosity is without equal,” Snyder shot back. “The fact remains, the poor died yesterday in droves, while the rich largely survived. Frankly, I find your defense of the situation disgusting.”

  With that, the crowd broke into angry jeering. Husher waited for them to finish, but soon realized they didn’t intend to—not until he left.

  And what could he do about that? No one was turning violent. They were following the laws he so firmly stood by. The fact that Snyder was taking advantage of a crisis to push her agenda of leveling out society was nauseating, but not illegal.

  Not for the first time, he turned and walked out of Cybele, having accomplished nothing.

  He’d spent the last twenty years fighting to make galactic society formidable enough to take on the Progenitors when they came. Never had it been so clear how thoroughly he’d failed.

  Does society even deserve to survive?

  But he quickly swept aside that thought, shocked at how much it made him sound like Teth.

  Chapter 5

  Iris

  As he reentered the Vesta’s crew section, his com buzzed with a text transmission from Ensign Amy Fry: “Just a head’s up, sir: your ex-wife has arrived on a shuttle from Feverfew. She’s on Flight Deck Omicron right now, and she’s looking to speak with you.”

  Husher sighed, though at the same time he felt a measure of gratitude toward Fry. My crew has my back. No matter what happened next in this war, he knew that wouldn’t change, and that held a lot of value for him.

  He messaged back: “Have her shown to my office, and please contact my daughter to join us there as well. I’ll need another chair.”

  Other than Maeve, Husher couldn’t think of anything else Sera would want to discuss with him. And if they were going to talk about their daughter’s situation, then he wanted her to be present. She deserved to be.

  Ten minutes later, he sat in the chair behind his desk, contemplating the awkward silence that had descended when Sera entered to find Maeve already present.

  “I asked to speak to you, Vin,” Sera said at last. “You alone.”

  “What can you possibly have to say to me that our daughter can’t hear? Or that she shouldn’t hear?”

  Sera grimaced.

  “Is there anything other than Maeve’s situation you care to discuss with me?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I see. Well, if you wanted to talk about Maeve without her present, I can only conclude one thing. Since you don’t want her to remain aboard the Vesta, you must have been hoping to convince me to talk her into leaving.”

  Sera’s tightening lips told him everything he needed to know about whether he was right. For her part, Maeve looked at her mother with an unreadable expression.

  “Please, sweetheart,” Sera said. “I’ve been torn apart with worry ever since you left Zakros. This ship has almost been destroyed so many times since then. Why do you need to do this to your mother?”

  For reasons that weren’t clear to him, Sera’s words sent Husher back to his childhood, when he’d been nine. His own mother had come across him on the playground having a conflict with another boy he often spent time with—a conflict that was quickly escalating to a fight.

  He hadn’t realized it at the time, but her reaction that day was one of the things that made her so extraordinary. She didn’t separate him from the other boy. She didn’t even say anything. Instead, his mother walked on as if she hadn’t noticed, and Husher and the other boy had had their tussle. After that, their differences sorted out, they’d become even better friends.

  “Are you going to make me beg?” Sera went on, gaze locked on her daughter’s face.

  Husher cleared his throat. “I hate to say it, but the Vesta may be the safest place for Maeve, now.” He wasn’t sure he believed that, but his ex-wife had to be placated somehow, and besides, it might even be true. “The rest of the galaxy is in turmoil, Sera. Colonies with full complements of orbital defense platforms are getting destroyed. Who’s to say she’d be any more secure on one of them than on a capital starship?”

  Sera glared, which told him exactly how well that gambit had paid off. Softening her gaze, she returned it to their daughter. “Maeve, please—”

  “I’ve decided not to go by Maeve anymore,” she said.

  Husher’s eyes widened, and Sera recoiled as if slapped. “What?” she said.

  “I’m going back to my birth name. The name you both gave me. I want to be Iris again.” She
stood and embraced her mother. “I love you, Mom. I really do. But you should go back to Zakros. I’ve made up my mind. I’m staying on the Vesta.”

  With that, Iris left Husher’s office.

  Chapter 6

  Cast Low

  Sera didn’t have much to say after Iris left, and Husher didn’t want to lord their daughter’s decision over her, so he let her return to her shuttle without further comment.

  He left his office soon after her, heading for sick bay. It was the first chance he’d had to visit Jake Price since he’d been shot.

  When he drew back the curtain surrounding Price’s bed, he was surprised to find Maeve—Iris—already sitting beside it. She must have come straight here from my office.

  “Iris,” he said, glad he hadn’t used the wrong name out loud.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  He took the seat next to her. “Did Bancroft mention how he’s doing?” he asked, nodding at Price. Despite that Doctor Bancroft had helped Kaboh have Husher temporarily stripped of command, Husher hadn’t made any move to get her off his ship. She was a good doctor, and he didn’t want to lose her. He had her number, now, and that would have to be enough.

  “She’s worried about damage to his prefrontal cortex,” Iris said. “Iatric nanobots repaired his skull, but the bullet caused his meninges to swell, which put a lot of pressure on the brain. Still, there’s a good chance he’ll make a full recovery.”

  “That wouldn’t be true, if you hadn’t done what you did.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it. I saw what Sato was doing, and I just acted.”

  “Others would have let shock hold them back. Or fear. If you’d hesitated for even a fraction of a second, Price would be dead.”

  Iris shrugged again.

  They both fell silent, watching the rise and fall of Price’s chest, listening to the beeping machines all around them.