Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  After Arrowwood, the Progenitors seemed more invincible than ever, or as close to invincible that drawing a distinction almost seemed pointless. But that didn’t mean he was going to roll over and die.

  It was exactly like Sera had said: he would do what he could, and he would keep doing that until he won or was killed.

  “We’re going to take these people to join the rest of the IU refugees,” he said. “We’re going to Home.”

  Chapter 43

  Asking Price

  Captain Anthony Flores cracked his knuckles, an action that usually brought a wince from his Nav officer. He monitored the officer’s face, but no wince came this time. Ah, well.

  All this waiting bored him, but he knew it was necessary—indeed, it had been the key to his success so far. Even though he’d managed to grow the Brotherhood to thirty warships, more than double their original number, that paled in comparison to the IGF. And so, any time the Brotherhood struck, they were first forced to wait for a civilian convoy to happen by with a particularly sparse escort.

  We would have more ships if it wasn’t for what Husher did to us in Larkspur. But it didn’t pay to dwell on that. Flores would have his revenge. He just needed to figure out how.

  Currently, they were several systems along Pirate’s Path, stalking prey that fled through the stars. Whenever his intel told him that the civilians on board a given convoy were mostly human, he left them alone. He still expected to be recognized as a hero by his species someday, but that would become less likely if he blundered by slaughtering them in large numbers.

  The galaxy belonged to humans, and it was the Brotherhood’s goal to shape reality until it reflected that fact. To allow other, lesser species to inhabit viable colonies and suck up all the resources…that was a waste. The Progenitors recognized that. Flores could see it too, and so could his fellow Brotherhood loyalists.

  But how to show the Progenitors that the Brotherhood should be given the Milky Way on humanity’s behalf? If we were allowed to stabilize here, and grow, then in time we could help with their conquest of the universe.

  Flores knew the answer, of course: they could prove their worth by making a meaningful contribution to the Progenitor victory over the IU. Except, that was basically impossible with just thirty warships. While the Progenitors might appreciate their efforts to disrupt the exodus to the Kaithian homeworld, it didn’t actually move the needle very much.

  “Sir, a shuttle has transitioned into the system,” his sensor operator said.

  “Just one?”

  “Aye.”

  Flores studied the tactical display through narrowed eyes. His connections in the IU hadn’t told him anything about this shuttle, meaning that either its occupants were nobodies, or the craft’s flight was so classified that even Flores’s moles knew nothing about it.

  “Coms, coordinate with Tactical to figure out how long we should wait before contacting it. I don’t want there to be any chance it might escape us.”

  The Coms officer glanced at Flores. “The shuttle’s already broadcasting a transmission request throughout the system. It’s as though it knows someone’s here.”

  Flores sniffed. The Marblehead was currently positioned behind an outer gas giant’s moon, just as the other Brotherhood ships were concealed throughout the system, forming a wide net that could constrict at a moment’s notice. There was no way the shuttle’s sensors detected them.

  Whoever that is, they already know we’re here. “Accept the request,” he said. “Put the video on the main display, but I want exclusive access to the audio.” He saw no reason to give his crew information they didn’t need.

  Captain Bob Bronson appeared on the large display, rendering Flores momentarily speechless. “Captain Anthony Flores,” Bronson said. “Correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Flores said, surprised Bronson knew his name. He knew Bronson, of course. The man was a legend, and his long track record proved he valued human ascendancy just as much as Flores did.

  “I thought I might find you here. Panicked reports are flying through government channels about marauders attacking convoys on their way through Pirate’s Path, but of course the IU lacks the wherewithal to actually deal with it.”

  Grinning, Flores said, “That’s what we’ve been counting on.”

  “It’s a safe bet. But that doesn’t mean what you’re accomplishing here is having much of an effect on the war, other than tanking public morale.”

  “Tanking morale is something,” Flores said, struggling to restrain his temper with such a great man.

  “It’s barely anything, Captain Flores. The public was already panicking. They are abandoning the galaxy, after all. Making them panic even more doesn’t meaningfully reduce the likelihood of IU victory.”

  Say nothing, Flores told himself, afraid that speaking would reveal the fact that he was seething inside. But he couldn’t help himself: “What would you do differently?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “I would target the IU’s last source of strength. What they call the backbone of the Integrated Galactic Fleet.”

  “The remaining capital starships.”

  “That’s right. Destroy those, and you’ll serve the IU to the Progenitors on a silver platter.”

  “How?”

  “I can show you. Other than the Vesta, every capital starship was recently fitted with a new technology called lucid. For now, all you need to know is that I have in my possession a backdoor for lucid, which can be used to take over those ships’ navigational systems. Do that in the middle of battle, and they’ll be rendered helpless.”

  Flores regarded Bronson for a long time. At last, he said, “What do you want in exchange?”

  “Command of your best ship. My sources tell me that would be the Marblehead—your destroyer. I’m sure you can take over from the captain of your next-best ship. Once we have that out of the way, I’ll share the backdoor with you, and we can begin getting into position. The Progenitors will strike Home soon, and if you want to make your mark, we need to move now.”

  Flores made a show of taking time to consider Bronson’s proposition, but he already knew what his answer would be. Bob Bronson would be a valuable ally in his own right, especially since he appeared to have inside knowledge of both the IU’s and the Progenitor’s intentions. If he could provide what he claimed, then this could easily become a historic moment.

  Giving up the Marblehead was annoying, but in the end, it was just a lump of metal with engines and weaponry attached. A means to an end. Truly, Bronson’s asking price was quite low.

  “Very well,” Flores said. “You have a deal.”

  Chapter 44

  Becoming Something Else

  Despite how crowded the rest of Cybele was, Santana Park was almost deserted as Jake and Iris strolled through it, with artificial evening descending all around them.

  Iris’s fingers slipped through his, and he allowed it. He should have pulled away, given how conflicted he felt. But no part of him wanted to.

  Where is everyone? Santana Park would have been the perfect place for the Summit refugees to gather and relax. Even at “night,” the park was kept at a comfortable temperature, and the fake grass was always soft. Anyone who hadn’t been given temporary accommodations could simply come here.

  They’re too restless, he realized. They all wanted to remain in the city center, where news would disseminate the quickest, and where they could have their say in case of unfair treatment. True, their Oculenses would have performed both those functions, but there was still something about being in person that carried more weight.

  “Why haven’t we arrived at Home yet?” Iris asked. Apparently, she was thinking along the same lines as him.

  That’s not overly surprising. Probably, everyone in Cybele is asking themselves the same question. “I heard they’re having trouble with the new quantum engine. Something about the Vesta’s size throwing off the calculations.”

  “That poor Ixan,” Iris
said. “He probably thought he’d finally get a break.”

  “I would say Ochrim’s smarter than that. Besides, if you ask me, that Ixan is far from repaying humanity for what he did to us. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to repay us.”

  Iris pulled her hand away from his. “You’re always saying I shouldn’t be so wrapped up in identity, and yet here you are doing it.”

  “This is different. He killed hundreds of thousands of people, Iris.”

  Part of him felt relieved that she’d pulled away. He’d been trying to get Oneiri Force ready for the mission he knew was coming: to travel to the Progenitor home system and save anyone held captive there, if they could. That included Lisa. The real Lisa; the one he’d grown up with.

  In the weeks before evacuating the Steele System, he’d felt a strong connection forming between them. Something that went beyond just friendship. And now that he knew the Lisa who’d abandoned him for Andy was really a Progenitor, he felt even more certain that what he’d felt with the Lisa he’d always known was real.

  But so were his growing feelings for Iris. He knew he shouldn’t act on them till they could extract Lisa and he could figure himself out. But Iris was often by his side, now, her piercing, ice-blue eyes muddling his thoughts.

  In his most honest moments, he knew he was spending time with Iris in part because Husher had told him not to. Jake had always had that rebellious streak. But in the end, Husher was right. War is no time to let myself get distracted like this.

  They were coming up on a thick copse of trees, which looked just as abandoned as the rest of the park did.

  “Millions of people have died in this war,” Iris said. “And millions more may die.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll be getting back inside that thing soon, won’t you? You’ll climb back inside and you’ll risk becoming something else.” He’d told her about his increasing struggles with the alien mech. “As if going to war isn’t bad enough…you’re at risk of losing what makes you Jake.”

  He shrugged.

  She took his hand again and tugged him gently toward the thicket of trees—toward a path that led to its center. He trailed behind her, silently cursing himself all the while.

  They found a fountain at the center, quietly burbling to itself. Iris sat on the lip, pulling him down beside her.

  Their lips met, and for a while, Jake forgot everything else.

  Chapter 45

  Nothing's More Destabilizing

  Husher stared at Ochrim, who stood bent over the Nav station, working with Noni to figure out how the hell they were going to make it back to their native dimension. They were at least moving, now, but getting a warship of the Vesta’s size to their desired dimension was proving more complicated than expected.

  The Tumbran was recovered at last from her traumatic episode in the Gok home system, which gave Husher a measure of relief. Ortega was good, but he came nowhere near Noni’s precision and thoroughness. He knew the war would end soon, one way or another, and he wanted his best officers in the CIC for that.

  “We’re getting close, I think,” Ochrim said, perhaps sensing Husher’s impatience.

  Normally, Husher would have required everyone in his CIC to be seated and strapped in while his ship was in transit, but interdimensional travel didn’t require any movement. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. The ship remained basically stationary during the entire process, meaning Ochrim was fine to simply hover over Noni’s station as they flitted from universe to universe.

  “With every dimension we enter, I’m able to refine our trajectory to a smaller region of the path integral, often by an order of magnitude,” Ochrim said. “Of course, with infinity possible directions, it still takes time.”

  “Less chatting, more getting us to Home,” Husher barked.

  Ochrim’s scaled face tightened momentarily, and he returned his attention to Noni’s console.

  As they worked to find a path through the multiverse that led back to the Milky Way, Ochrim was also reprogramming the Nav station on the fly, to incorporate what he was learning about moving a ship the Vesta’s size through the dimensions.

  At last, he looked up. “I believe we’ve done it.”

  Husher remained skeptical. “Winterton, can you confirm?”

  The sensor operator eyed his console as he waited for it to populate with data. “Location confirmed, Captain,” he said with a nod. “We’re in the Kaithian home system. I’ve identified their superweapon, and visual analysis puts the number of spacecraft present at five thousand, eight hundred and ninety-four. Three thousand and eight of those are warships, including all five remaining capital starships, not counting the Vesta. Would you like to know the breakdown of how many of our warships there are versus how many Quatro and Gok warships?”

  “Not at present, Winterton. Thank you.” He turned to the Ixan. “Good work, Ochrim. Go get some rest, but keep your com close. I don’t know when we’ll be heading for the Progenitor home system, but I mean to make it as soon as possible.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Ochrim said, doing an admirable job of keeping the fatigue out of his voice. With that, he left the CIC.

  “Coms, give Major Gamble the order to begin evacuating every civilian aboard the Vesta.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Husher stared at the tactical display—at the largest number of friendly ships he’d ever seen gathered in one place. So this is where the galaxy makes its last stand.

  “We’re getting a transmission request from Home’s surface, sir,” Ensign Fry said.

  “Put it on the main display and grant everyone Oculens access.”

  President Chiba’s narrow face appeared on the display, head-tail swishing through the air behind him, as though it had a mind of its own. “Captain Husher. That’s quite an entrance you made. It’s causing something of a stir among the fleet.”

  Just another day at the office, then. But Husher didn’t indulge himself by actually making the joke—especially not at a time like this.

  “To be honest, I wasn’t sure we’d see you again,” the Kaithian continued.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Husher said.

  “On the contrary,” the IU president said. “We continue to recognize your value to the galaxy’s defense.”

  Heartwarming. “I have thousands of refugees on board, Mr. President, and I’m only here to drop them off. After that, we’re bound for the Progenitor’s home system.”

  Chiba’s eyes widened. “But you can’t abandon us, Captain Husher. Surely you wouldn’t. Not at an hour of need as dire as this.”

  “That’s precisely why I have to leave. We can’t hold here indefinitely, Mr. President. If we don’t hit the enemy in their home, we’ll crumble here.”

  “We’ll crumble even faster without the Vesta,” Chiba said. “Too fast. You’ll return to find that there’s nothing left to protect.”

  Husher raised his eyebrows. “I’m not used to such flattery from you.”

  “This isn’t flattery. I recognize what you mean to the other Fleet captains, and I recognize your skill. I want you to command our defense, Captain Husher. Without you, I truly don’t know what we’ll do.”

  Mouth quirking, Husher studied the Kaithian’s face. This was a somewhat pathetic display, but he did believe it was authentic. The galactic president was getting desperate. He had to be, if Husher was the straw he’d chosen to grasp at.

  “Sir,” Winterton said, and trepidation filled the syllable. That got Husher’s attention. If his stoic sensor operator sounded worried, then he should probably worry, too.

  “What is it, Ensign?”

  “New contacts appearing in a wide circle centered on Home, roughly twenty light-minutes in diameter.”

  “How many ships?”

  The sensor operator swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “They’re still appearing, but…they appear to be slowing. Visual analysis puts the last count at over twenty-thousand warships.”

  Husher
felt his eyes bulge. Twenty-thousand? His stomach became a chunk of ice.

  “They’re broadcasting a message,” Fry said. “I’m not sure how we’re getting it so quickly, at this distance—it’s possible they’ve transitioned in a com drone closer to us, and it’s getting lost in all the noise.” She shot an inquisitive glance at Winterton, who shook his head, presumably to indicate he didn’t detect such a drone. Fry’s gaze returned to Husher’s face. “Should I play the message, sir?”

  Husher nodded.

  Teth’s face replaced President Chiba’s on the main display. “Beings that remain of the Interstellar Union,” the Ixan hissed, his eyes wide and filled with fervor. “You must be filled with envy for your fallen neighbors. I have slaughtered most of the family members, friends, acquaintances, and strangers who once shared this galaxy with you. And yet, you are unfortunate enough to still exist. But don’t worry. Salvation has come.

  “All your life, each of you has sensed how irredeemable you are. How vile. Deep down inside, you’ve wished for the release of death—the ultimate penance. Well, I am an agent of death, and I come to deliver you to it. Make your peace. Or don’t. Either way, this is the end.”

  Teth vanished from the display, leaving Chiba’s fearful face in his wake. Before the president could speak, Winterton did: “The Progenitor force is closing in, sir. Most of them are moving through space toward us, but hundreds of their ships have vanished.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be seeing them shortly,” Husher said, his jaw tight.

  The president seemed in a state of shock. He’d ceased his pleading, and indeed, he seemed to have ceased most functions. He sat there, shaking.

  “President Chiba,” Husher snapped, and the Kaithian gave a start. “Can the Preserver hit the Progenitors from this range?”

  Chiba seemed to shake himself. “Uh—yes. It has a range-extending function whose existence is little-known. It involves the use of what you would call dark tech, however. And so, potentially, it could destabilize—”