Luckily, the shipyard had two dry docks of this size, and the Progenitor carrier had already been guided into the other. Once they removed the quantum engine, it would be a simple matter of transporting it across the shipyard, as long as the Vesta was ready to receive it in time.
Husher felt thankful that the logistics of modifying his ship were working out as well as he could have hoped, since they would surely need every advantage they could get. He suspected that defending the Vesta during the mods would be nowhere near as straightforward.
However necessary, raising the shipyard to an orbit nearly as high as the nearby defense platforms probably wasn’t going to help with defense. It would force those platforms to work twice as hard just to protect the shipyard from Progenitor missiles. And the platforms themselves remained just as vulnerable to any destroyer that appeared below them.
Worst of all, Husher would remain aboard the Vesta if and when the Progenitors attacked. He had to: in case any problems arose, he planned to stay in position to attend to them immediately. And if Ochrim succeeded in making the modifications on time, they’d likely need to join the fight right away.
Or flee. But he didn’t like to think of that.
Husher drummed his fingers on the command seat’s armrest and stared at the tactical display. Four hours passed without any sign of an attack. More time than he’d expected.
It proved long enough for them to cut through dozens of decks with a hole sized for the carrier’s quantum engine to be lowered into a central cargo bay, which Ochrim had identified as the ideal location, given its proximity to the more traditional main engine room.
While laborers cut through the supercarrier, another crew cleared out the supplies stored in the cargo bay, which had been stocked full because of its central location. That done, engineers swooped in, working feverishly to install a Majorana fermion matrix into the bulkheads and ceiling, so that the quantum engine could be kept suspended in midair. Then they started laying down the necessary wiring.
Station workers were also working overtime to restock the Vesta’s arsenal with Banshees, Hydras, and Gorgons. They’d already exhausted this facility’s missile stores, and more were being brought over from other orbital shipyards. Extra shipwrights had already been transported from the other shipyards, and they were hard at work repairing the supercarrier’s port-side main capacitor, after which they’d patch up the hull there as best they could.
Moments after the quantum engine was lowered into place, Winterton twisted to face the command seat. But Husher’s eyes hadn’t left his own console, and he already knew what Winterton was going to say.
“The attack has begun, sir. One hundred Progenitor ships: the computer has tallied sixty destroyers and forty carriers. Half of the destroyers have appeared in positions beneath orbital platforms, all over the planet, and the rest of the enemy ships are bombarding them from above.”
Husher nodded grimly. Both the Vesta’s battle group and the system’s original defenders were dispersed evenly around the planet, though he suspected everyone already knew what he’d realized hours ago: there was no way they’d stop this attack from piercing Summit’s defenses. Which meant that anyone remaining on the planet was doomed.
That meant the optimal configuration—for his battle group and for the system and fighter defense groups—would have been to cluster around the three defense platforms surrounding the shipyard where the Vesta was undergoing repairs. That was where the most vital thing in this system was happening…a cold calculus, but no less true for that.
Except, he hadn’t had the heart to make that argument to Captain Syms, or to the planetary governor. Like him, Husher knew their consciences would require them to try their best to protect the civilian populace before being forced to draw the same harsh conclusion.
Winterton’s face hardened. “Relayed visual feeds show that a defense platform just went down near the planet’s southern pole, sir.” Then, the sensor operator’s expression grew even more austere. “Another has been destroyed, near the equator.”
“We’re getting a transmission request from Captain Syms, sir,” Ensign Fry said.
“Put it on the main display,” Husher said, feeling suddenly weary.
The Winger’s face appeared, looking just as grim. “Captain Husher, as you’ve no doubt just seen, Summit’s planetary defenses have been permanently compromised. This colony is lost. I’m giving the order for all craft to execute a tactical withdrawal to your location.”
“Acknowledged, Captain Syms. And thank you.”
“Syms out.” The Winger disappeared.
The Winger officer had made exactly the right move, which didn’t surprise Husher at all. Still, the situation made him want to curse. Had they been as cold and unfeeling as their enemies, they would have simply arrayed all their forces around the Vesta from the outset. But now, they would take extensive losses as every ship in the system attempted to make the maneuver.
Unnecessary losses. He squeezed his hands so hard that even his neatly trimmed nails bit into his palms. Everything depends on Ochrim, now.
The quantum engine was in place, and workers had already started resealing the Vesta’s hull. If Husher was right that the fate of the galaxy depended on the supercarrier leaving this universe for the Progenitor’s, then that fate now rested in the Ixan’s clawed hands.
Chapter 41
Blast Backward
After the first two defense platforms went down, the rest began to follow in rapid succession. So did the IGF vessels that attempted to effect an orderly retreat around the planet, toward the Vesta: the Progenitors destroyed them at an alarming rate.
Unlike with other attacks Husher had seen the Progenitors launch against colonies, this time they didn’t seem interested in deploying Amblers and Ravagers to the planet’s surface.
They’ll have plenty of time to do that once they’ve destroyed the Vesta. Right now, the enemy seemed desperate to reach his supercarrier.
Arrowwood’s remaining defenders closed in around the shipyard, joining the Vesta’s battle group in a desperate attempt to protect her. Husher had ordered the Air Group fully deployed as well, and they were giving a good showing, as always: enemy ship after enemy ship fell to their incisive strikes. But for every Progenitor ship that fell, two more broke through to replace it.
“We’re getting a transmission request from the Melvin, sir,” his Coms officer said.
“Put it on the display.”
Vanessa Harding’s gaunt face appeared. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you, Captain Husher,” she said.
He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. At last, he said, “What are you talking about?”
“This situation. Only one ship has a hope of leaving Arrowwood intact, and that’s the Vesta. I hope your strategy incorporates that fact.”
His shoulders rose and fell with a long breath. My entire battle group, gone. Arrowwood, gone. It was too much loss to process, let alone accept. He forced the words out: “It’s been an honor to serve with you, Captain. If we do escape this system, then it will be the second time you saved us. If there’s anything you’d like to ask of me, ask it, and I’ll see it done.”
“Kill these bastards,” she said, her voice admirably steady in the face of her own impending death. “Don’t let them do what they’re trying to do.”
“I’ll try my best,” he said.
“That’s not good enough, Captain Husher. I want your word.”
He hesitated, for a drawn-out moment. Then: “I promise you, Captain Harding. I will win this war.”
She nodded, said, “Harding out,” and then disappeared from the main viewscreen.
“Coms, get me Summit’s governor at once.”
“Aye, sir.”
Soon, the CIC’s main display showed Governor Tyson’s gray-feathered face. “Captain Husher, if the Vesta is able to depart, the time is now. I’m not sure how much longer the Progenitors can be kept from that shipyard.”
“I haven’t heard from Ochrim yet, Governor. He’s going to contact me the moment his work is complete. In the meantime, I’d like you to use as many of your fighter squadrons as you need to start escorting shuttles full of civilians to the Vesta. If we’re to escape today, I’d like to do it with as many beings on board as possible.”
Slowly, Tyson nodded. “A noble sentiment. I’ll give the order now.”
“Very good. Farewell, Governor.”
“Farewell, Honored Captain.”
Husher blinked. He’d never been called that by a Winger before, and he’d never heard any other captain called it, either. It sounded a little like “Honored One,” which was what the Wingers had once called each Fin. Whatever the case, the form of address was clearly a profound compliment, and he felt humbled by it, not to mention undeserving.
On the tactical display, the defense was crumbling. The system defense group was cut down to nearly half its numbers from the end of the previous engagement, and what fighters remained of the Vesta’s Air Group and the planetary fighter group struggled desperately to keep the flood of Ravagers at bay.
Twenty minutes after his conversation with the governor, a great fleet of shuttles launched from the planet. Clearly, the governor believed he would only get one shot to evacuate civilians, and he’d put everything he could muster into it.
He’s probably right. Four squadrons of fighters escorted the shuttles, and the Progenitors paid them little mind, instead remaining focused on their ultimate target: the Vesta.
The shuttles had reached the halfway point when the system’s defense gasped its last breath. Husher watched his battle group’s sole Quatro ship go down, followed seconds later by Captain Harding’s destroyer.
It was as though a chain reaction had been ignited, and defending ships began to explode in quick succession. There were twenty ships left guarding the Vesta, then seventeen, then twelve.
His com gave the shrill beep of a priority transmission, then, and Husher ripped it from its holster.
“Yes?” he said.
Ochrim’s weary voice filled his ear: “I’ve done it. Provided I’ve performed the calibrations correctly, the Vesta is ready to transition out of this dimension.”
“Thank you, Ochrim.” Husher turned to his Nav officer, whose console had already been installed with a modified version of the software interface Ochrim had designed to allow the Spire to travel the multiverse.
But he couldn’t bring himself to order the Vesta to leave. Doing so would mean abandoning over one hundred civilian shuttles that might otherwise have been saved.
Instead, he said, “Helm, full reverse thrust. We don’t have time to ease the Vesta out of dry dock, and if we take some superficial damage, then so be it.” We certainly needn’t concern ourselves about damaging the shipyard. “As soon as we’re out, bring us about as fast as possible. Nav, set an intercept course for those shuttles.”
“Yes, sir,” Ortega said, followed by Vy’s “Aye, Captain.”
“Coms, broadcast orders for every Python to make for a flight deck on the Vesta—Air Group and system fighters alike. We’re not stopping, so combat landings will be necessary.”
Before Fry could acknowledge his order, he’d already started on the next: “Tactical, put secondary lasers in point defense mode, and have Banshees loaded into every launch tube.” Using secondaries like that normally wasn’t done, since it drained capacitors so quickly. But Husher wasn’t planning to stick around for long. We should have enough charge left to transition out when we need it, with the main port-side capacitor restored. We should.
The Vesta blasted backward out of dry dock, swung around as fast as it was possible for a ship her size to do so, and began accelerating toward the approaching shuttles.
As she did, the last defending IGF ships were destroyed, and the Progenitor forces constricted, like a pack of wolves incensed by the smell of blood.
Pythons converged on the supercarrier, taking heavy losses as they did, though that still left hundreds. The surviving pilots fought desperately to stay alive, using every guns-D maneuver in the book, even as they continued to protect the Vesta.
For her part, Husher’s ship laid about all around her with the might capital starships had become known for. Banshees screamed from their launch tubes, slamming into Ravager and warship alike, and the supercarrier sailed through the void too fast for the enemy destroyers to affect her with particle beams.
At last, they reached the shuttles, which poured into the flight decks, every one of which was open. The Pythons followed behind them, under the covering fire of Banshees and secondary lasers.
“Capacitor charge is getting dangerously low, Captain,” Ortega said. “A few more seconds and we won’t have enough to use the quantum engine.”
“Transition out,” Husher barked. “Now!”
The Milky Way disappeared, and a starless void took its place.
Chapter 42
To Home
Refugees lined the streets of Cybele, some of them napping right on the asphalt as they waited for the city council to find them better accommodations.
“Captain Husher!” a young man called out as he passed. A pair of young boys clung to his legs. “Thank you!”
Husher raised a hand and smiled. A few called out to him like that, but not many. They’re downtrodden. Broken by war. Displaced, like the rest of the galaxy, many of them separated from families who they could be certain were dead by now.
“A grim scene,” Ochrim said from beside him.
Husher nodded. “I’m glad we were able to save some.” Not nearly enough. The seven-thousand or so that had made it to Vesta from Summit were a mere sliver of the colony’s population, but to the colonists who’d survived, it certainly made a big difference. At least, it would, once the shock wore off.
“It’s all thanks to you, Ochrim,” Husher said as they continued down the street. “Everyone on this ship owes you their life. You performed a miracle, today.”
The Ixan avoided Husher’s gaze, instead staring ahead, at the endless sea of refugees. “It doesn’t feel like a miracle. It feels like the end.”
“No matter what it is, I thank you. You deserve to be rewarded, and if your efforts lead to us winning this war, then I plan to see to it that you get what you deserve.”
“I require nothing. I’ve never done anything for payment.”
Payment of a different sort, perhaps. Husher was about to say as much, but decided against it. “Then you’re a rare individual indeed, Ochrim.”
A woman stepped forward from amidst the masses of new arrivals, and her composure provided a stark contrast with those around her. She stood with excellent posture, and her gaze never left Husher’s.
“Hello, Sera,” he said, coming to a halt.
“Hi, Vin. Can we talk?”
Husher glanced at Ochrim, who nodded, and continued down the concourse.
“Whatever it is you want to discuss, I doubt it’s suitable for the street,” he said. “Shall we go to my office?”
She gestured over her shoulder. “The Secured Zone is right there,” she said. “We could rent an enclosure.”
“All right.”
But once they were inside the bar, they found it packed with more refugees, in and out of the enclosures. Apparently the owner had opened up their establishment to the newcomers, to offer them rest while cutting down on congestion in the streets. That impressed Husher.
“Let’s just discuss it here,” he said, turning and leaning back against one of the clamshells. “It’s fine.”
She nodded toward the exhausted people filling the bar. “You’ve done good work here, Vin. Taking on all these people, helping them escape—it’s admirable.”
“It isn’t nearly enough.”
“Of course, not,” she said. “No one can ever do enough to reduce suffering, even in the normal course of life. In a war as drenched in pain as this one…” She shook her head. “It’s not possible. But you did what you co
uld, and that has to be enough. So in case no one’s said it yet, thank you.”
He raised his eyebrows, feeling somewhat off-balance after receiving the first compliment from his ex-wife in seventeen years. “What did you want to discuss with me?”
She sighed. “I wanted to…apologize.” The last word came out sounding a little strangled. Sera had never had an easy time with apologies. “I’ve been treating things with us, and with Maeve, like we’re on opposite sides of a war. I never gave a thought to the idea you might be right about some things. But watching the way the IU has used this crisis as an opportunity to shove through a political agenda, it gave me a lot to think about. And I realized I’ve been acting sort of similar when it comes to Maeve.”
Husher hesitated for a few seconds, wanting to tread lightly, especially given the unexpected progress they were suddenly making. “Thank you for acknowledging that,” he said at last.
Sera nodded. “I’m still not anywhere near comfortable with my daughter living on a warship during the worst war the galaxy’s ever known. But I am starting to accept that I can’t stop her. So I’ll do the next best thing: I’ll be here with her.”
“She’s tougher than you might think,” Husher said. “She is the daughter of the Providence’s former marine commander, you know.”
That got a smile. “I guess that’s true.” The smile faded. “Have you decided what you’ll do next? You’re not taking us straight to the Progenitors’ home dimension, are you?”
Husher shook his head. Currently, they were sitting in the first dimension they’d entered, and the Nav officer on duty was ready to flit out of it at the first sign of danger.
The Vesta’s capacitors were recharging, and he’d wanted to take a moment to breathe, to give everyone a chance to collect their thoughts, and to decide what his next move would be. Somehow, his conversation with Sera had clarified that.
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 64