Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  At that, Price’s satisfied expression melted away, and his face lightened a little. “I mean, I’ve run into her a few times…”

  But Husher could read the young man with relative ease, and it would take more than this to distract him from what was going on. “We have a war to fight, son.”

  “I know that, sir.”

  “You have feelings for Lisa Sato, correct? That’s what you told me.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll be making a play for the Progenitors’ home system as soon as we can. Focus on that. Focus on getting Sato back. It isn’t the time to let anything…else distract us. That’s an order.”

  Price seemed to have no trouble meeting his eyes now, and Husher could sense the anger seething underneath. “Yes, sir,” he grunted.

  “Dismissed. We’ll arrive back in Feverfew in seven hours to pick up the mechs and their pilots.” I guess it’s a good thing I saved the colony after all, Husher reflected.

  Price left the office without another word, and Husher smiled to himself. That couldn’t have gone better.

  Chapter 30

  Fly Again Someday

  “Tell me how close he is to bringing the Vesta here,” Husher said, his sidearm planted against the back of Chief Devar’s head.

  “Please,” Fesky rasped. Devar was probably the best of her CIC officers—attentive, quick, and decisive. Fesky liked her as an individual, too.

  “Please what?” Husher said. “Are you really going to insult your Nav officer like that, by pretending to beg for her life? You know there’s only one way she leaves here alive. Tell me what I want to know.”

  Fesky remained silent, and the crack of the gunshot echoed through the Cavern. Devar slumped forward, her lifeless form flopping onto the metal deck.

  Fesky wept, hard enough to shake her body as much as the restraints would allow. It sent jabs of pain emanating from her beak, which was now chipped and cracked.

  Husher didn’t react. Instead, he reached behind him and plucked from a metal table what appeared to be heavy duty industrial shears.

  “How much will you allow your soul to deteriorate?” Husher said. “How much will you let me take away from you? Every minute you hold out will only make it taste more bitter when you finally break. You’ll curse yourself for allowing your crew to die—for allowing me to rip out the core of your being. That day will come, bird, and soon. I’ve never had a subject hold out forever.”

  Without warning, Husher plunged the shears into her wing, clean through feather, skin, and membrane.

  Fesky shrieked, louder than she’d shrieked before. Liquid fire crept through her nerves, her veins. The shears tightened in Husher’s hands, and it seemed like the world was made of pain.

  “These shears are nestled around your wing’s main ligament. If I sever it, you’ll never fly again. The IU’s level of nanotechnology is too limited to rebuild something like this.”

  Fesky trembled.

  “How close is he?” Husher hissed. “Just tell me that one thing, and perhaps you’ll fly again someday.”

  She said nothing. Husher slammed the shears together.

  Some time later, Fesky wasn’t sure how long, she regained consciousness enough to see that Husher now stood at the foot of her chair, with three more crewmembers from the Spire.

  “I’m losing my patience,” he said, then shot all three of them in quick succession. They toppled face-first onto the deck.

  That done, he picked up the shears again and began circling the chair they’d strapped her to. Every so often he would snap the shears shut, causing her to jump.

  “You’re running out of crewmembers,” he said. “You’ve let so many of them die. I’ve decided that, once they’re all dead, I’ll kill you, whether you’ve decided to talk or not. I’ve been thinking…I’m actually not that concerned about killing you. If your misguided sense of duty is truly such that you’ll die for it, so be it.”

  “What about the progress on Vesta’s interdimensional capabilities?” She found it darkly comic that she would bargain for her life like this, just so she could endure more agony. Husher was right. She barely knew why she bothered to continue fighting. She only knew that she had to. Nothing felt real, anymore, nothing except the memory of her friend, and her obligation to him. I must not break.

  Husher chuckled. “It would definitely be better if you talked. But if you don’t, I’m not sure it will make a difference. Clearly, my double wasn’t very close to gaining the ability to come here, else he would have done so already. Meaning the AIs should have plenty of time to wipe out the IU before he ever has the chance. I do have a lot of faith in our AIs. They produced the plans, built the clones, gathered the necessary resources. And they’re just cutting their teeth on your galactic cluster. They’re only getting started on conquering your universe.”

  “But your ships are all captained by Ixa,” Fesky said. “If the AIs are so capable, why not put them in direct control of your ships?”

  “We did, during the Second Galactic War, though clearly that AI was inferior to its more evolved siblings, since it lost. If we gave them control of our ships now, it would be suicide.”

  “How?”

  “The AIs have been programmed never to interface with tech that allows interdimensional travel, just as they’re programmed to self-destruct the moment they’ve completed the task we’ve assigned to them, of clearing out your universe for our habitation. We know better than to ever occupy the same universe as a superintelligent AI. They’re far too dangerous, and we’ve taken multiple precautions to prevent that from ever happening.” Husher smiled. “Once the AIs are finished with you and with everyone else in your universe, they will turn themselves off.”

  “Something doesn’t add up,” Fesky said. “To create superintelligences, you must have been in the same universe with them at some point.”

  Husher smiled, continuing to circle, continuing to brandish the shears. “Your ignorance is the only reason it makes no sense to you. We didn’t create superintelligences—instead, we created low-level AIs, just sophisticated enough to do two things: to adhere to our safeguards and imperatives during every iteration of their evolution, and to improve themselves. They accomplished the latter via a machine learning protocol that involved interacting with their environments, testing multiple strategies for efficient resource-gathering and domination, and optimizing for the ones that worked best.”

  “Still makes no sense,” Fesky said, her voice a low rasp. “The Ixa have been around for thousands of years, and your AI created them. How is that possible, when thousands of years ago you were still confined to your planet, just as the version of humanity I know was?”

  “It’s possible because the form of interdimensional travel that you have mimicked was not the first type we invented. First, we discovered how to send a modest amount of matter and information—not just to another dimension, but to a prior point along that dimension’s timeline. It was a very imprecise process, and your future was inaccessible to us, but after plenty of trial and error we were able to prepare the ground for our conquest by sending AIs thousands of years into your past; AIs that would eventually turn themselves into superintelligences while using the fewest possible resources. The AI that appeared in the Milky Way, for example, spawned the Ixa and then used their brains as the bulk of its processing power.”

  Husher pulled out his com and pressed a button on it. When he did, a rectangle of light appeared in the distance—the hatch into the corridor, opening to admit five more of her crewmembers, escorted by a single marine.

  Once they reached the foot of Fesky’s chair, the marine shoved them into line. They were all from the Spire’s missile loading bay, though it took her a moment to discern that, as they’d been beaten until their faces were swollen and multi-hued. Their IGF uniforms were covered in their own blood.

  Husher took out his pistol and shot them all, one after another.

  Fesky wept, feeling completely hollow. To tell him wha
t he wants would be to betray those he’s already killed. But to continue to hold out meant more would die.

  Eight bodies surrounded the chair Fesky had been strapped to for days. If he plans to keep killing crewmembers at this rate, I don’t have much longer.

  Without warning, Husher leapt toward her, seizing her uniform by the chest and shaking her as much as the restraints would allow her to be shaken.

  “Why do this?” he hissed. “Why hold out? Tell me Husher’s secrets. Tell me what he knows. Why do this to yourself?”

  “You, Husher,” Fesky said through her sobbing. “I’m doing it for you.”

  Chapter 31

  Concerto

  A MIMAS orbital insertion was a thing of incredibly precise engineering; a concerto of gravity, friction, and aerospike thrusters.

  Next to it, the alien mech’s insertion amounted to a show of brute strength.

  Jake crashed to Zakros’ rocky surface at an angle, already having transformed into a spiked wheel meant to grip the ground and slow him. Once he’d created a long furrow, he sprang to his feet, a biped again, to skid the rest of the way.

  He’d spent every waking moment of the journey to Zakros working at regaining control of his mech, and he’d surprised himself with his progress. It scared him a little, too. Did the mech submit too easily? Is it planning something?

  Rug stood nearby, having pulled off a landing sequence similar to his, and beyond her Ash Sweeney and Maura Odell descended the rest of the way on aerospike thrusters, their landing sending tremors through the ground.

  “It’s good to see you back in action,” he said to Ash over a two-way channel. The connection made her human form appear next to him in the mech dream, just as his would be standing next to Ash, from her perspective.

  She answered his remark with a cold glare. “Not here for you. Not here for the galaxy. I’m here for revenge.”

  It probably wouldn’t have been wise to point out that she wasn’t likely to find any revenge here on Zakros. They were just here to meet the new mech pilots and make sure they were clear on the procedure for rocketing up to orbit and rendezvousing with the Vesta.

  But that’s not what she means. He also decided not to point out that it had been Andy who’d killed Beth, not the Progenitors. Same difference. Andy had been trying to save a Progenitor—he’d been corrupted by one. He lost his way, and he paid the price.

  Either way, for Jake to call out Ash for confused motives would have been obscenely hypocritical. He couldn’t even tell whether he wanted to defeat the Progenitors to rescue Lisa or to have a life with Iris—if that was even an option for him. All he knew was that, after the captain had told him to stay away from his daughter, Jake had realized how badly he wanted her.

  A shuttle touched down to his left. The airlock opened immediately, and Gamble emerged with half the platoon he’d brought. They must have been already waiting in the airlock.

  The marine commander had wanted to be there for the first look at the new mech pilots. Can’t say I blame him. Jake would be in charge of them, but Gamble was in charge of Jake, and the major would decide how the new MIMAS force would be deployed.

  “Let’s move,” Gamble said, nodding toward the broad hangar sitting at the other end of the LZ. The marines began jogging toward it, but for the mechs to match their pace meant adopting a leisurely stroll.

  When Jake entered the hangar behind the platoon of marines, he found his forty new pilots arrayed in crisp ranks, all standing at attention outside their mechs. They were already saluting, from Gamble’s entrance into the hangar.

  Jake looked them over from the vantage point of his mech. Towering over them, he could see them all, and he began looking for weak points. Impressively, he couldn’t find many—a man slouching here, a woman barely suppressing a yawn there. Anyone caught shirking would need to shape up or ship out, and given replacement pilots would likely be in short supply, it was Jake’s job to make sure they shaped up.

  Gamble turned, nodding at Jake, who began to speak: “You’ve been assigned to the IGS Vesta,” he said, his voice booming out of the mech to fill the hangar. “I hope you know what that means. We’re the IU’s secret weapon, whether they know it or not. We’re the IGF’s flaming sword. We go where others do not, we show up where we aren’t expected. Captain Husher plans to take us into the belly of the beast to rip its guts out. If you don’t think you’re up for that, say so now. I don’t want anyone on my team who isn’t willing to sacrifice everything for the galaxy.”

  No one moved. No one spoke.

  “Good. Till now, the mechs serving aboard the Vesta have been called Oneiri Team, a name we brought with us all the way from another galaxy. Starting today, we’ll be known as Oneiri Force. Now, I know you’ve read up on launch procedure—at least, you were ordered to read up on it—but reading about it is nothing like executing. Technically, we should have you run multiple drills on this, but we’re time-limited, and I’m lucky you have even half a clue about operating your machines. Listen carefully, because—”

  A priority com transmission cut him off, and Husher’s likeness appeared on the hangar floor, halfway between Jake and Gamble.

  “We’re under attack,” the captain said. “Progenitor ships have appeared around the Vesta and her battle group in overwhelming numbers. We can’t win this. We need to retreat, but we’re not leaving without you. The Progenitors have already started deploying ground forces to the surface. Avoid them if you can, and get back to orbit immediately. Husher out.”

  “Inside your machines,” Gamble barked at the new mech pilots, and they fell out in a confused mass, popping sedatives as they ran toward their waiting mechs.

  Jake walked toward the wide hangar bay entrance, then ducked inside again in time to avoid heavy gunfire from an Ambler that was overhead, plummeting toward the ground. The Ambler crashed to the planet’s surface, followed by a second, and then a third. Soon, Amblers and Ravagers covered the LZ, which the mechs needed clear in order to launch into orbit.

  Then the enemy surrounded Gamble’s shuttle, cutting it off from the Vesta marines, and things got real interesting.

  Chapter 32

  Playing the Martyr

  Thirty Progenitor vessels surrounded the Vesta and her battle group ships, which were clustered around her as tightly as their captains dared. The supercarrier’s Air Group formed a rough sphere around them all, doing their best to keep the endless waves of Ravagers at bay, and through the gaps the Vesta and her battle group fired hundreds of defensive Banshees.

  “Missile stores are running low, sir,” Tremaine said. “We can’t keep this up for much longer.”

  Husher’s grip tightened on the command seat’s armrests. “Have tertiary lasers target Ravagers as well, but only after they break through the Pythons.” To do otherwise would have risked hitting their own fighters. A missile could broadcast its position to nearby friendly forces, but a laser could not, and the coordination that avoiding friendly fire would have required was simply too intensive.

  If it wasn’t for Zakros’ nearby orbital defense platform, both the Vesta and the old UHF ships likely would have been vaporized during the first few minutes of the engagement. But because the Progenitors had decided to focus everything on Husher’s forces while in range of the platform, it had been left to pound away at the enemy ships with impunity.

  He watched it destroy a fourth enemy ship, a carrier, and with that, some of the enemy forces began to divert their attention to the defense platform. Two destroyers disappeared from the opposite side of the Progenitor formation, and Husher knew they would soon appear underneath the defensive structure. The planetary fighter group would rally to defend it, but how long could they hold?

  “We need to press the attack now,” he said. “Tremaine, calculate a firing solution for the nearest carrier, and prepare a volley of Hydras and a volley of Gorgons for two more carriers, which I’ll designate.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The Progenitor carrie
rs were causing them the most grief, and Husher wanted their numbers cut. The enemy destroyers were mostly focused on pressuring Pythons, to make sure they couldn’t get a decent attack angle. To use their particle beams would take out too many Ravagers to make it worth it, Husher suspected.

  “Coms, alert Commander Ayam of our intentions, and Tremaine, forward your firing solutions to him as soon as you have them.”

  “Commander Ayam is currently in subspace, Captain,” Fry said.

  “Then send it out in a repeating, encrypted broadcast, coded for both his fighter and that of each squadron leader. We don’t have time to wait for Ayam to come back. We need to act now.”

  Even managing multiple encryption keys, Fry moved fast, and Husher watched on the main display as Pythons cleared the space where Tremaine would strike.

  One of the carriers started to react the moment the nearby space cleared, but it was too late. The Vesta’s primary laser lanced out, striking the hull near her prow and cutting a melted furrow down her port side as she tried to flee.

  Seconds later, she exploded.

  The second carrier took several Hydras on her hull, but survived. The carrier they’d targeted with Gorgons wasn’t so lucky, which Husher attributed to how cluttered the battlespace was, making it harder to pick out the stealth missiles from everything else. I should have gone with Gorgons for both.

  Ayam’s subspace squadron popped into existence, directly behind the carrier who’d managed to survive the Hydras.

  But she didn’t survive Ayam. A single alpha strike finished the job.

  Husher squeezed his fist to celebrate the victory, and he noticed grim smiles sprouting on some of the other CIC officers’ faces.

  That was the extent of the celebrations. Though they’d relieved some of the pressure, everyone could clearly see that victory today simply wasn’t going to happen.

  A successful retreat was the best they could hope for, and that depended on Gamble and Price returning with the new mechs in time.