Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

“Explain.”

  “Where I come from, you’re known as Darkstream’s faithful hound, always eager to lap up the scraps of glory they let fall from the table of power. You’ve never opposed them—not once. You even killed your beloved Captain Keyes for them, though the Husher I knew never loved Keyes.”

  Husher felt his eyes widen, and he tried to clamp down on the reaction he knew was showing on his face. It was the same way he’d reacted to the first interrogation: utter disbelief.

  I killed Keyes? The words didn’t seem to belong together—the idea was completely alien, and he wanted to reject it outright. But the idea of serving Darkstream felt just as wrong. Somehow, he believed Sato’s claim about Darkstream. So why not the one about Keyes?

  “You should be grateful there’s a version of you who isn’t a coward,” Sato said, clearly enjoying this. “Our Captain Husher helped create the society that will dominate the multiverse. The most perfect society evolution is capable of producing. You should be proud of that, but you’re not, because you’re weak.”

  He had nothing to say. To any of it.

  “You’re weak in specific ways,” Sato continued. “And we know them all. If I were a betting woman, and I am, I’d say that the next attack will be custom-designed to exploit those very weaknesses. I’d warn you to prepare yourself, but it wouldn’t make any difference. You’re already going to act exactly as we’ve predicted, no matter what I say to you.”

  At that moment, his com vibrated in its holster, beeping stridently. He removed it, read the message it displayed, then froze. Slowly, his eyes drifted from the device to Sato.

  She raised her eyebrows. “It’s the attack I just predicted, isn’t it? Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me I’m good. I already know it.”

  Chapter 16

  Something to Think About

  Husher took the command seat from Ek and studied the tactical display, wishing for the thousandth time that they had the Spire back. The Progenitors were hitting Abdera from four locations dispersed around the globe, and the former lifeboat’s flanking ability would have proved invaluable.

  “Coms, order Captain Norberg and her battle group to engage the enemy ships just north of the equator. Tell the Quatro to target the battle group hitting the defense platform near the planet’s south pole. Until we take out one of the other groups, Abdera’s fighter group will have to take on the ships halfway up the northern hemisphere while we confront the ones at the north pole.” Each of the Progenitor attack forces numbered ten, and given their ships’ advanced capabilities, taking out forty of them dispersed around the planet was going to be a difficult fight.

  “Aye, sir,” Ensign Fry said, bending closer to her console as she queued up the transmissions.

  With Fry occupied, Husher got in touch with Commander Ayam himself.

  “Yes, Captain?” the Winger said.

  “I want the Air Group to scramble as we approach, adopting formations designed for maximum versatility.”

  “What about my subspace squadron?”

  “I was just about to get to that. Deploy with the rest of the Pythons headed for the north pole, and enter subspace right away. But the moment you transition, I want you to whip around and head toward the Progenitor ships further down the northern hemisphere. Help the Abdera defense pilots take them out as fast as you can, then come help us at the north pole.”

  “Can do,” Ayam said, though his brevity didn’t conceal his evident enthusiasm for Husher’s plan. “Ayam out.”

  “The orders have been sent, sir,” Fry said. “Captain Norberg’s battle group is already underway toward the targets you designated.”

  “Very good. I’ve ordered Ayam to have his pilots use formations optimized to attack, so that’s what the Progenitors will expect. We’re doing the opposite. Coms, just as we’re about to close, order the Air Group to go on missile defense, and tell our battle group captains to do the same.” He intentionally hadn’t told Ayam about his intended deception, since it would be much easier for the Python pilots to conceal something they didn’t even know they were concealing. Husher’s gaze settled on Tremaine. “Tactical, prep Banshees for loading into forward tubes, but mix in equal helpings of Hydras and Gorgons—they should account for half of the total missiles loaded. Everything we do in the next ten minutes will be aimed at getting Gorgons through as fast as possible.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Tremaine said with a brisk nod before turning to his work.

  As expected, Ravagers streamed forth from the Progenitor ships, and Fry sent the Pythons the order to engage them. Particle beams lanced out as well, but the battle group captains already knew to introduce lateral movement into their courses. Other than some superficial damage, they escaped unscathed.

  The Ravager barrage met with a wave of Banshees, and then a wall of Pythons. Hundreds of them exploded within seconds, and Husher watched as the icons representing the Hydras and Gorgons crept across the tactical display.

  “The first Hydras are splitting,” Winterton said. “Enemy ships are turning their attention to dealing with the new threat, and they’re getting some of our Gorgons too, but I think the sheer number of them is going to prevail.”

  The tactical display soon proved the sensor operator right: three of the enemy ships exploded, bringing a grim smile to Husher’s face. Now the real work begins. “Tactical—”

  “Sir, we’ve received a priority alert from a com drone that just entered from the Feverfew System,” Fry said.

  “What’s the message?” Husher asked, though he dreaded the answer.

  “Feverfew system is under attack from eight Progenitor destroyers and five of their carriers. There are Quatro ships stationed around Zakros, but with most local forces concentrated in the Caprice System, they don’t think they can hold.”

  Sera is on Zakros. Despite their differences where their daughter was concerned—despite that Sera had let him believe their daughter was dead for nearly twenty years—he couldn’t bear the thought of remaining in Caprice while her life was in danger.

  “Noni, set a course that skirts the enemy formation and takes us to the Caprice-Feverfew darkgate. Coms, order the other battle group ships to follow suit. Recall the Air Group once we’re clear of the enemy, and then broadcast a repeating transmission encoded to Commander Ayam’s fighter: I want him to follow us in subspace until he catches up.”

  “Yes, sir,” both officers answered, though he heard the notes of uncertainty in their voices. That they were unquestioningly following his orders to leave the battle around Abdera was a testament to how much they trusted him, and part of Husher couldn’t help but feel like he was abusing that trust.

  He sensed Ek studying him from the XO’s seat, but she didn’t speak, and he didn’t invite her to. How am I making this decision so easily? It wasn’t easy, truthfully—he felt on the brink of nausea. Still, he’d given the orders with barely a moment’s hesitation. How?

  He knew the answer, though it killed him to admit it, even to himself. Husher was losing hope in the galaxy’s chances of survival. Abdera was almost certainly doomed, just as the rest of the galaxy was doomed. Faced with that, he would at least try to save those dear to him.

  “Tactical, prep a starboard Hydra broadside and fire it as we pass the Progenitor formation.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  That will give them something to think about, at least.

  The Hydras didn’t take out any more of the enemy ships, but it did force them to expend more Ravagers in defense, and it let the Vesta and her battle group pass unharmed, with the help of the Air Group.

  Husher instructed the Helm to adopt an acceleration profile equal to the slowest ship’s maximum output, so that his supercarrier would remain in formation with her battle group. After that, the journey across the Caprice System passed in tense silence—except when Fry informed him of the panicked messages being sent by officials on Abdera’s surface. He told her to ignore them.

  After that, the silence inside the CI
C grew tenser.

  At last, they transitioned through the darkgate, and Winterton began to report on what he saw. “The Progenitor ships aren’t attacking the colony, sir.”

  Husher stared at the sensor operator. “Then what are they doing?”

  “They’re hitting the shipyards.”

  Just as Winterton said it, the icons representing the Feverfew Shipyards winked out, signaling their destruction. At once, the Progenitor formation winked out of this dimension.

  “Make for the colony with all possible speed,” Husher said. “They’ll strike there next.”

  Chapter 17

  Missile Damage

  The Quatro warships defending Zakros were mostly concentrated along the southern hemisphere, and so of course the Progenitors appeared over the north, above and below one of the orbital defense platforms there. They began bombarding it with Ravagers.

  “Tell the Quatro ships to stay where they are,” Husher ordered Ensign Fry. “We’ll take on the thirteen attacking vessels—if the Quatro move to join us, the Progenitors will only reappear in a less defended location.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  With twenty minutes left before the Vesta closed with the attackers, the Progenitors succeeded in destroying the defense platform they’d been targeting. That done, they started dropping Amblers and Ravagers on the planet’s surface.

  A coldness washed through Husher as he watched that, but even so, he didn’t give the order for Helm to accelerate beyond what the older UHF ships were capable of. They were already outnumbered and outgunned. If the Vesta arrived alone, the odds would be even worse.

  Winterton looked up from his console at Husher. “Sir, analysis of one of the destroyer’s hulls puts it at a high probability that it belongs to Teth. Repairs have been made to areas where his destroyer took missile damage in Hellebore.”

  “Then that’s our target. Coms, order Ayam to scramble the Air Group, using the same formations we used in Caprice. We can reuse those same tactics here, since there’s no way the two attack forces have had time to communicate with each other. Tell Ayam to use subspace to pressure Teth’s destroyer as best we can. Tactical, prep a barrage identical to the one that took out three ships over Abdera, and center it on that destroyer.”

  His officers carried out his orders with the same efficiency they’d shown in Abdera; maybe more, since they were the same orders, which they’d executed just a few hours before.

  But the attackers in Feverfew didn’t behave like the ones in Caprice. They failed to launch Ravagers at the Vesta and her battle group, and when Tremaine loosed his missile barrage, the Progenitor ships vanished before it could reach them.

  Damn it. What’s their angle? “Coms, tell Major Gamble to take ten battalions to help Zakros’ ground forces clean up the mess on the planet’s surface.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “The enemy ships have appeared away from the colony, sir,” Winterton said. “Just out of firing range.”

  “We’re getting a transmission request from the destroyer likely to be Teth’s,” Fry said.

  “Accept,” Husher said, steeling himself. “Put it on the main display and give everyone access.”

  Teth’s broad, leering face appeared, and his forked tongue flickered between his teeth as his eyes fell on Husher. “Hello, Captain. Your bird friend sends her regards. Or at least, I’m sure she would, if she wasn’t otherwise occupied.”

  “What have you done to her?”

  “I did nothing. You’re the one who sent her to us so woefully unprepared. And now she suffers the consequences of your folly. Just like your galactic capital.”

  Husher fell silent, though his breathing had quickened.

  Nodding, Teth said, “I see that you fear to ask the question whose answer you already know. Abdera has fallen, Captain. Overrun with our machines, who will take no mercy on the populace. Your precious capital is finished, and it will be far from the first colony to fall. You’ve failed to save your home. But don’t worry. I will be their savior, by granting them the release of annihilation.”

  “How is that saving them?” Husher said.

  “I’m saving them from life itself. This existence is a parade of devils that attack you relentlessly until you die. Surely you can see that. What better mercy can I show than to kill all who live, sparing them from endless suffering?”

  “Will you show the same mercy to your masters?”

  “I think I may. But you first.”

  With that, the Progenitor force vanished again and didn’t return, leaving Husher and his crew in a galaxy changed forever.

  Chapter 18

  You Won't Be the Last

  “Have you gone insane?” Iris stood over his desk, hands planted on her hips, glaring at him.

  Suppressing a sigh, Husher met her gaze from where he sat behind the desk. “Iris, if you’ve come to berate me, get it over with. You won’t be the first one to do that, and you won’t be the last—not even the last one today. I’d bet my life on it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. You’ll be lucky if the admiralty doesn’t strip you of command for this.”

  “They won’t take the Vesta from me,” he said. “They’ve tried, many times, and I won’t let them. I’ll stay in command till the war is over, at least. If they haven’t made their peace with that yet, they’re going to.”

  His daughter shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. “How can you be self-righteous at a time like this? You abandoned the galactic capital, Vin. You let it fall.”

  “I’m Vin, now? Not dad anymore?”

  Iris’s shoulder fell a little. “You’re dad, I guess,” she muttered. “For better or worse.”

  “Indeed,” Husher said, nodding. “And I came to Feverfew for your mother.”

  “You realize that makes you a colossal hypocrite, right?”

  He squinted. “How?”

  “This is exactly what I told you not to do. I told you that if you want to lead people, then you need to do it by example. By living by your principles.”

  “What principle are you talking about?”

  “Dad, whenever you see mom, you’re constantly preaching at her about how overprotective she is. About how she needs to learn to let me face the dangers of the world on my own. But when danger comes to her, you drop everything and run to protect her. You abandoned the defense of the galactic capital, and you came here, just to protect her.”

  Husher’s eyes fell to the desktop, and he took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I know that. But there are certain things you aren’t considering.”

  “Like what?”

  “The Progenitors have too many capabilities we don’t. Particle beams, and the ability to appear in any system without warning. We can’t defend against that. We’re too spread out.”

  “Then maybe we need to start consolidating our people, and our forces.”

  Husher paused. “That could work, if our society would concentrate on something other than tearing itself apart. But it’s not going to. Not for any length of time. We’re working to destroy ourselves almost as fast as the Progenitors are, and it’s difficult to say who’ll win that race.”

  Iris’s eyes were wide, and she looked genuinely shocked. “You’ve given up on the galaxy. Haven’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, but his eyes returned to the desk.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice strengthening again. “It doesn’t make you any less of a hypocrite for what you did. You don’t get a free pass just because you’ve lost faith.”

  He stayed quiet.

  “As for mom, she would have survived the Progenitor attack either way. She can handle herself, and you know it. She used to command the Providence marine battalion, for God’s sake!”

  Husher still had nothing to say, and after a few more seconds of silence, Iris cursed, then turned toward the hatch.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Down to Zakros,” she shot back. �
��I’m going to find mom.”

  Chapter 19

  Long Shots

  Husher trudged through the Vesta toward the supercarrier’s conference room, wishing Fesky was by his side. Dealing with President Chiba still wouldn’t have been easy with his friend there, but maybe it would have been bearable.

  She made everything more bearable. He’d taken that for granted, and now she was gone. One of his many mistakes.

  To top it all off, he’d gotten wind that Sera had agreed to return to the Vesta with Iris. Eventually he’d have to face her again, too.

  He found the president of the Union sitting at the far end of the conference table, flanked by two marines. “Captain Husher,” the Kaithian said. “You weren’t on the flight deck to greet me.”

  “That’s because you didn’t alert me to your presence until your shuttle was at our hull, Mr. President,” Husher ground out, taking a seat at the opposite end of the long table, so that they would have to keep their voices raised to converse. Probably not the most diplomatic move, but I won’t be pushed around on my own ship, either. Chiba had already taken his usual seat, so Husher would take the other end of the table. “For hours, all we saw were eight Quatro warships who refused to answer our transmission requests as they approached from the Feverfew-Caprice darkgate. We were preparing to defend ourselves.”

  “Military preparedness can’t be a bad thing, in the middle of a war. Surely you of all people agree with that, Captain.”

  “I do,” he said slowly.

  “Then why did you abandon Abdera while she was under full-scale attack?” Chiba demanded.

  “That wasn’t full-scale.”

  “The capital is gone, Husher,” the president retorted, his voice like iron, which seemed strange coming from the childlike Kaithian. “It was full-scale enough, don’t you think? If you’d stayed, we might have held.”

  “I had a decision to make.”

  “Between what?”

  “Between saving Abdera and protecting the Feverfew Shipyards. It was a harsh calculation to have to make, but the shipyards were much more important from a military perspective.”