“As promised,” Husher said, “you’re slowly disintegrating. All of it you’ve brought on yourself. Talk, and you can halt the process. Where on the Vesta does Ochrim perform his research?”
Fesky said nothing, and Husher laughed. “You are quite a Winger, you know that? Not that it’s saying much. The Wingers were exterminated from this universe, and for good reason. We thoroughly dominated them, and then they died out, as they deserved to. Weak, pitiful creatures with transparent motives. Insanely obedient to their superiors, well past the point it makes any sense to be. Irrationally attached to the Fins…though I suppose there are only seven of those left in the multiverse, as far as I know. All of them aboard the Vesta. They’ll be killed too, soon enough.”
“Where are my crew?” Fesky asked, as she had many times before.
Today, Husher’s answer surprised her. “Funny you should ask that, actually.” He walked away from the chair, and the darkness of the Cavern enveloped him, till she could only hear his echoing footsteps receding.
Soon, the footsteps began to return, and Fesky began trembling.
He reentered the light gripping a young man by the upper arm. Fesky recognized him as Petty Officer Milton, who’d worked in the Spire’s missile loading bay. His arms were bound behind him.
Husher shoved Milton forward, so that he stumbled and fell over Fesky. He didn’t get up. He just lay on top of her, shaking, meeting her gaze with eyes full of fear.
Husher drew his pistol and placed it against the back of Milton’s head.
“Tell me how close the IU is to true interdimensional travel.”
Fesky said nothing, her beak clacking rapidly.
The gun fired, the report deafening at this range. The bullet exited through Milton’s face, ruining it and barely missing Fesky. Brain and blood and flesh spattered her face.
“He died because of you,” Husher said mildly. “You killed him, just as you’ll kill the next crewmember. One every day, bird, until you start telling me all about the Vesta, her capabilities, and your captain’s intentions.”
Husher was back—her captain was back, standing at her feet, leveling a stern gaze at her. Captain Keyes stood beside him, wearing an expression that mirrored his protégé’s.
“Burn in hell,” Fesky gasped.
Chapter 25
A Form of Robbery
Wanda Carlisle stood when the receptionist called her name, and she smiled at the man as she passed toward the heavy oak doors of the governor’s office. The receptionist returned her gaze with a blank one of his own.
Everyone’s under a lot of stress, she reflected. And no wonder. With the galaxy falling down around their ears, who could blame them?
Wanda tended to keep her cool in trying times—that came with the territory of running a fast-growing interstellar shipping company. Even so, over the last few days, a lot of people had remarked on how baffled they were to see how upbeat she remained, despite the accelerating Progenitor invasion.
She couldn’t help it. She’d always believed that the galaxy benefited from times like these: times when goodwill was allowed to shine through the drudgery of everyday life. The galaxy had been troubled even before this war began, and in her opinion, they needed this, if only to rediscover what was truly important.
Pausing before the closed door of the Office of the Governor of Pandosia, she smoothed her chic midnight blazer then reached for the door.
“Close it behind you,” Governor Kessler said, without looking up from his desktop.
She was going to do that anyway, but she tamped down the flash of annoyance his words caused her and pushed the door closed.
At last, his gaze rose to meet hers. “Sorry for the wait,” he said, his tone bland. “Have a seat.”
“I understand completely,” Wanda said as she approached the chair in front of his desk. “With the evacuation of the colony to coordinate, I’m surprised you were able to see me so soon.”
Of course, Wanda wasn’t too surprised. She was, after all, a prominent member of Pandosia’s business community.
“What can I do for you?” he said.
“Actually, I was wondering what I could do for Pandosia.”
Kessler titled his head to one side. “Hmm?”
“The galaxy’s been through so much, Governor. Interspecies tensions have been getting out of hand, and it doesn’t help when certain prominent fleet captains cling to old-fashioned ways of doing things. And now, with the Brotherhood on the rise…I want you to know that I’ve been fully on board with what the IU has been doing about all this. Our close alliance with the Quatro is going to be so good for society, I think, and I also stand by the arrests the IU has made of suspected Brotherhood supporters. I know a lot of people don’t, but at a time like this, you have to do what you can to keep society from falling apart.”
A brisk nod from the governor. “Yes, good. Sorry to cut you short, Ms. Carlisle, but there are countless matters for me to attend to. What is it you came here to discuss?”
Wanda’s smile widened. “I came to offer to help with the evacuation. Every freighter I own is already being prepped to house and feed hundreds of civilians each. I want to use the wealth I’ve been lucky enough to build to help the less fortunate.”
To her surprise, the governor didn’t react—at least, not positively. Instead, he frowned, while nodding gravely. “Yes. Well, that’s very gracious of you to offer, Ms. Carlisle, very gracious indeed. Unfortunately, many of your wealthy peers have failed to make similar offers of help.”
“I…I’m sorry to hear that,” Wanda said, unsure where this was going.
“So am I. As I’m sure you can appreciate, a migration on the scale we’re looking at will require massive resources—resources the government simply doesn’t have. Not without resorting to measures that some may call drastic.”
“What measures?”
“It was decided just a couple hours ago by Galactic Congress that every private ship owner in the galaxy is to have their ships commandeered by local authorities, for use in the evacuation. So you see, your offer, while very generous, isn’t quite relevant. Your freighters are likely being boarded as we speak.”
For a long moment, Wanda found she had nothing to say. Then, at last, she found some words: “Will I be left a ship for my own use? And what about my employees—how will they escape?”
“You will all be entered into a lottery in order to determine who will receive the first spots on the departing ships. Everyone will be treated equally.”
“But they’re my ships.” Part of her felt ashamed to point that out—but it was true!
“Not anymore,” Governor Kessler said. “Not until after the war, at least. There’s something else: everyone in your tax bracket will have fifty percent of their wealth appropriated by the end of the day, to help fund the evacuation.”
Wanda’s mouth was hanging open, she realized, and she snapped it shut. “This is not fair. I offered to help you. This is robbery!”
“Ms. Carlisle, please. You are human, and you come from a wealthy family. Many would say that the wealth you’ve extracted from the economy is a form of robbery.”
Wanda squeezed her eyes shut, as though doing so might end the nightmare she’d walked into. “That’s absurd.”
“You should feel grateful you’re being left with fifty percent,” Kessler said. “If you ask me, fifty percent is probably a very conservative estimate of how much of your wealth you’ve accumulated inequitably. The government is finally taking steps to even out society, but they’ve actually been quite generous toward your class so far.”
A wave of vertigo washed over Wanda, so that she feared to stand. It was hard for her to process how rapidly the ground below her feet had shifted, and how quickly her mind had been changed about the Interstellar Union.
“I’ll have to ask you to leave, Ms. Carlisle,” the governor said. “As I mentioned, I’m very busy. You will be contacted by those administrating the lottery once your name i
s drawn.”
Chapter 26
You'll Pursue It Now
Ochrim was standing on his front step again as Husher approached, his scaled hands in his pockets.
“Captain,” he said in greeting, nodding his ridged head, whose scales had faded to white in several places.
“Hello, Ochrim,” Husher said. He’d given the Ixan advance notice of his visit, but he wondered whether that was why he stood out here. Maybe he would have been standing there anyway.
Husher climbed the step and turned to join the alien in gazing out at the illusion that was Cybele. From here, he had a pretty good view of the neighborhood, and of Cybele’s taller structures. There was Cybele University, its ivory structures much higher in the Oculens overlay than in reality. The tip of the Epicenter poked over the city as well.
“The hydroponics facilities enable the Vesta to embark on longer voyages, when it’s expedient,” Ochrim said.
“So they do.” Husher glanced at the Ixan, wondering where he was going with this.
“Having Cybele cuts down on your crew’s need for planetside leave, as well. It gives them an environment with less structure, where they can blow off steam, even pretend they’re truly outside as they walk through the elaborate overlay.”
“What’s your point, Ochrim? Are you making an argument for starship cities?”
“I’m making observations. Without Cybele, I wouldn’t have been able to come and live aboard this ship. I wouldn’t have been here to develop subspace tech, or the exoskeletons for Ek and her young. Where do you think you’d be without those two things?”
“Dead, probably.” Husher sniffed. “Thank you for the extra perspective, Ochrim.”
“According to narrownet talk, you’ve secured an alliance with the Gok.”
“We have their word, yes. Now we get to find out how good it is. We’re on our way back to IU space.”
“And you’ve come to me about developing another technology.”
“Well, expanding on one you’ve already developed. Shall we?” Husher said, gesturing toward the front door.
Ochrim nodded, turning to admit them.
“The living room will do,” Husher said.
“Very well. Would you like a beverage?”
“Just water. The time for alcohol is long past, I think. At least until we’ve won.”
Ochrim brought him a sweating glass of water, which Husher took a long sip from and then continued: “We can’t win this war with the technology we have. Fesky still hasn’t returned with the Spire, so clearly it isn’t enough to send a ship that size to the Progenitors’ home. We need to send a capital starship. We need to take the Vesta.”
For a while, Ochrim was silent, sitting across the room from Husher with no drink of his own. “I don’t think it’s possible,” he said at last. “Not to develop the necessary tech in time to defeat the Progenitors before they wipe us out.”
“How can you say that without at least trying, Ochrim?”
“Oh, I’ll try. If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it. But I don’t think it’s what we should focus on. The galaxy is in grave peril, Captain Husher. The probability that the Progenitors will allow us to evacuate everyone to the Kaithian home system without a fight is extremely low. I believe we’re better off helping with that effort. Then, under the protection of the Kaithian Preserver, perhaps we will have enough time.”
Husher shook his head. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Something that would speed up the development of the tech but take us away from helping with the evacuation. But you think the greater good will be best served by the evacuation, so you don’t want the Vesta haring off somewhere else, all for a mere chance of gaining this tech.”
Ochrim looked at him with wide eyes, then his features relaxed. “I suppose by now I shouldn’t be surprised at your ability to read me.”
“I’ve certainly exercised it enough. Now that we’ve sorted that out, as captain of this ship, I order you to tell me what you’ve been holding back.”
Ochrim sighed. “There is one way to achieve what you want, though the probability of it succeeding is quite low, I think.”
“Tell me.”
“If we could succeed in somehow disabling and capturing a Progenitor ship, I could probably reverse engineer their quantum engine, or whatever it is that allows them to shift ships that size through the dimensions.”
“How do we disable one of their ships?”
“I don’t know yet, because I haven’t pursued this line of thought very far.”
“You’ll pursue it now. I want a report on the matter as soon as you have some ideas.”
“Very well.”
Husher’s com buzzed with an incoming call. He checked it and saw that it was Ensign Fry, contacting him from the CIC. He answered. “Go ahead.”
“Captain, we’ve just transitioned back into the Larkspur System. There’s a Brotherhood force attacking a convoy of civilian ships headed toward Pirate’s Path—presumably, they’re evacuating to the Kaithe’s home system.”
Bounding to his feet, Husher said, “How many Brotherhood ships?”
“Twenty-three, sir. Over double what they had before.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Chapter 27
Breaking Point
“Winterton, what defenses do the civilian vessels have?” Husher said, wasting no time as he crossed the CIC to the command seat.
“Very few, sir,” the sensor operator said. “Some have hull-mounted turrets, most have nothing. Two ships went down while you made your way from Cybele, leaving thirty-nine still intact.”
“The Brotherhood will pay for that. Are any other IGF ships responding?”
“A battle group has emerged from the Larkspur-Roundleaf darkgate. They have the Artemis with them. But we’ll arrive first, by a wide margin.”
The Artemis was one of the IGF’s six remaining capital starships. Why wasn’t the civilian convoy under military escort in the first place? He didn’t bother giving voice to the question, since he already knew the answer. Between continuing to defend the Union’s populated colonies and securing Pirate’s Path so that civilians could flee down it, there simply weren’t enough warships to go around.
A brief study of the tactical display told him that the Brotherhood’s position put them between the civilian ships they were attacking and the Vesta. Meanwhile, the approaching warships out of Roundleaf were on a vector parallel to the battlefront.
“Nav, set a course that takes us around the Brotherhood formation, so that we’re on their ships’ starboard sides as we approach. Once you have it, forward the course to our battle group ships.”
“Aye, Captain,” Chief Ortega said, who’d replaced Noni as primary Nav officer for now. The Tumbran was still recovering from the seizure she’d suffered during the lucid field test.
“Coms, send Commander Ayam the order to standby to scramble Pythons on my mark. When I send the command, I want his Air Group to cut between the Brotherhood and civilian ships, running missile defense and taking shots when they can. Tactical,” Husher said, turning toward Tremaine.
“Captain?”
“This will be our first opportunity to engage the Brotherhood directly, so let’s make it memorable for them. Prepare a broadside that’s predominantly Banshees, with enough Hydras mixed in to make it look like that’s our main ploy. It won’t be—I want even more Gorgons in the mix. Unlike the Progenitors, the Brotherhood probably won’t be expecting such a move.”
“A port-side barrage, then? It won’t be as big as it could be with the damage we took in the battle for Thessaly.”
“I’m aware of that, but this is what the positioning demands right now.”
“Acknowledged. I’m on it, sir,” Tremaine said, backing up his words by bending over his console.
“Be very careful with your firing solutions, Tremaine, and double check them in the moments before firing to adjust for any changes in our targets’ position. A n
arrow miss might endanger our fighters as they fly between the two groups of ships, and a wide miss could hit civilian ships.”
“Aye.”
Husher hadn’t had the opportunity to work with Ortega very much, and he wasn’t sure how well the man handled multitasking. So as not to distract him, Husher performed some rudimentary calculations himself, to find that the Roundleaf ships would reach the engagement approximately a half hour after the Vesta did.
That confirmed for him that he’d made the right move in ordering Ortega to take them around to the Brotherhood’s starboard side.
With any luck, we’ll sandwich the bastards and rid the galaxy of them.
Eleven more civilian ships went down in the time it took the Vesta to cross the intervening distance, leaving just twenty-eight. Husher knew those ships had to be packed to the brim, meaning the Brotherhood had just murdered tens of thousands of defenseless beings.
If he were to check this convoy’s passenger manifests, Husher felt certain he would discover they were from colonies with mostly nonhuman populations. The Brotherhood had gone from calling for the ouster of aliens from human colonies to simply exterminating them outright.
“Missiles prepped and firing solutions double checked, sir,” Tremaine said. “Ready to fire on your mark.”
“Mark,” Husher said at once. He had complete faith in Tremaine’s diligence.
The barrage burst from the supercarrier’s port-side tubes, crossing the intervening space at speed. In response, the nearest Brotherhood ships diverted their attention from the civilian ships to the incoming rockets.
They failed to take out even half of the Banshees, and when the Hydras split into eight warheads each, the enemy ships seemed to panic. They turned, as though to flee toward the protection of their fellows, but the first missiles overtook them, converting four ships into short-lived explosions.
Tremaine had lined up his shot so that any misses would have a chance of taking out more Brotherhood ships down the line. The next ships also began to focus on defense, and they had better success than their downed comrades. Still, the size of the Vesta’s barrage was such that two more warships exploded.
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 58