Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  “You’re on, Captain Husher,” Ensign Fry said.

  He stared into the visual sensor below the main display, which would be the one to capture his likeness.

  “As you know, I’ve been given command of the allied fleet,” he began, “and so you may think it’s my job to save you. It isn’t. And yes, I’m talking to you. Whether you’re a starship captain, a marine, a Python pilot, or a civilian—a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter.

  “Today is the first chance I’ve had to speak to everyone who dwells in this galaxy, and I’ve realized that I have to take advantage of that. The horrors of war have forced us to come together in a single system. That’s a sign of our desperation, but we’ve been desperate for a long time. Long before the Progenitors showed up to finish us off.

  “We’ve allowed ourselves to be reduced to animals. Frightened rabbits, to be specific: huddling together with our families and staying silent, because we’re afraid to draw attention to ourselves by saying what we really think.

  Husher shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. “I thought I could save this galaxy, but I can’t. All I can do is try to help you understand that you need to become the sort of galaxy that saves itself.

  “We’ve gone backward. Twenty years ago, humanity fought and defeated a corporation who’d corrupted our government and knocked down every policy designed to help the people. Now, the IU flirts with another corporation—Invigor Technologies, whose lucid tech we have to thank for losing two capital starships today. It doesn’t matter whether we win or lose, if all we’re going to do afterward is let our government get in bed with another corporation bent on milking us all for profit. Businesses are vital to our society, but we can’t let any corporation grow its power so much that it’s able to influence public policy.

  “At the same time, we’ve let galactic society rot from the inside out. We’ve let resentment seep in everywhere, and I’m not just talking about the government. The only reason the IU has been able to do what it’s done is because we frightened rabbits have allowed it to. We let it push policies driven by the resentment of those unwilling to take responsibility for their relative lack of success—and I say relative, because more often than not the policies I’m talking about are pushed by middle class intellectuals who have no actual interest in helping the poor. They’re only interested in tearing down those above them, and the main way they try to do that is to divide everyone by group identity and attack those with identities they see as privileged.

  “I happen to believe that it is possible for inequality to grow so much that it destabilizes a society. That happened when Darkstream perverted the democracy of the old Commonwealth. But the answer isn’t to take from those who’ve worked hard, or even from those who’ve simply been fortunate. The answer is to work to lift up everyone in poverty, a rising tide that doesn’t pick and choose based on identity.

  “Our society’s downfall isn’t the government’s fault. Not really. It isn’t even the Progenitors’ fault. It’s your fault. Yours. If you deny that, then you’re no better than the ones filled with resentment, who refuse to take any responsibility for their lives. This society is dying because you refused to speak up when you saw your neighbor cast low. It’s because you wouldn’t say anything to oppose the things you knew were wrong, the things that sprang out of a poisonous ideology.

  “During this war, we’ve learned the true identity of the Progenitors. They are humanity, a version of humanity that let themselves fall into darkness. In their universe, Darkstream’s power was never broken, and it almost destroyed them. Except, they survived the universe-shattering cataclysm that followed, and their ordeal left their souls drenched in bitterness and resentment. But the Progenitors could just as easily have turned out to be Wingers, or Tumbra, or Kaithe, or Fins, or Gok, or Quatro. In one sense, we are the Progenitors. All of us. Because each one of us is capable of letting resentment take over and drive our actions. Even if you think you’ve been doing good—even if you believe you fight for the less fortunate—you need to take a hard look at yourself. Take out your ideological lenses and ask yourself: what are my motives? Am I truly acting to help the poor, or am I letting resentment steer my ship so that I end up attacking the very people whose productivity gives us everything we love about our society? We can continue fragmenting, continue tearing each other down, and we can die. Right here, today. Or we can turn inward, confront our true motives, and then devote ourselves to what truly matters.

  “For the first time, we’re all gathered together in one place. That offers a unique opportunity, if we’re willing to take it. As I said, I can’t save you. I can’t help you. Whether you live or die depends on you. I can tell you that you have very little time left. Stop being a frightened rabbit. Instead, become someone who stands up for themselves, for their neighbors, for their community. It’s up to you. Goodbye.”

  Husher nodded at Fry, who cut off the broadcast.

  “Nav, set a course for the Progenitor home dimension,” he said. “But before we transition out, I have one last order. Everyone, take out your Oculenses.”

  His CIC crew looked at him wearing expressions of confusion and concern. None of them moved to comply with his order.

  “How will we perform our duties?” Winterton said at last.

  “The old way. This CIC’s main display was designed so that it retains all the old viewscreen functionality from older warships, was it not?”

  “Yes…” Winterton answered.

  “And your consoles are able to revert to the old mode as well.”

  “They are, Captain.”

  “Then that’s how we’ll control this ship. Not by each of us peering at something different, but with all of us seeing the same thing. We’ll all see the same reality. And we’ll contend with it together.” Another pause. “I gave an order, people.”

  Slowly, each CIC officer reached into their eyes and plucked out their Oculenses, most placing them on consoles, though Tremaine dropped his onto the deck. Husher did the same—he used his thumb and forefinger to pinch the Oculens in his right eye so that it buckled, allowing him to remove it. Then he did the same for the left, and cast both to the deck.

  Nodding to himself, he glanced at Chief Noni. “Take us out, Nav.”

  Chapter 54

  A Proper Talking-To

  The crowd had almost managed to upend the truck whose bed Wanda cowered inside. To prevent it, her security detail had had to disobey her order not to shoot their guns. They fired them into the air, and the staccato reports seemed to have some effect on the mob. The rioters drew back briefly, before regrouping and pressing forward. Gunshots sounded in the distance, too, and that only seemed to agitate them further. Soon, the truck was rocking back and forth again, as the rioters seemed to realize that the guards protecting it weren’t going to shoot them.

  Wanda clutched her robe tightly around her. She’d become convinced that soon, she would be in the hands of the mob. I need to make peace with it, she told herself, but she couldn’t stop her imagination from speculating wildly about what they might do to her once they had her.

  “Stop this,” a magnified voice rang out. At first, the crowd didn’t react, and its members continued attacking the truck. Fingertips brushed Wanda’s side, and she recoiled, screaming.

  “I said stop, or we will stop you,” the voice said again, and the pounding and thumping and shoving seemed to lessen.

  “You’ve done enough damage,” the voice said. “More than enough. And the rest of us have sat back and watched you throw your tantrums for too long. Leave that poor woman be.”

  Gathering her courage, Wanda did what might have been the bravest thing she’d ever done: she stood up.

  Another crowd surrounded the mob pressed against her truck—one that encircled the mob completely, dwarfing it in number, many times over. It had members of just as many species in it: all of the Union species, and some Gok as well.

  Wanda’s eyes fell on the woman
holding the bullhorn, just as she spoke again. “Ma’am, my name is Cath Morrissey, and we all owe you a big apology. It might seem like everyone’s against you, lately, but they’re not. Most of us are with you. We’re just scared. Scared of being called out by these maniacs. Scared of being accused of prejudice, scared of being singled out for even mentioning the crazy things we see people doing every day. Scared of losing our jobs, and our voices, because we’ve seen others lose theirs.

  “But if we stick together, and we decide to stop letting this happen, then no one has to be torn down by them again.” Morrissey gestured at the mob around the truck, which had stopped their agitating altogether. Most of them now looked pretty nervous. “Their view of the world is ass-backward, and we’ve always known it, but we’ve let them overrun everything that makes this galaxy worth living in. Well, we’re not scared anymore. We just got a proper talking-to from that Captain Husher, and I think we’re finally ready to step up and speak for the things we should have been speaking for all along. Get away from that truck, you lot, or we’ll drag you away from it. While you’re at it, why don’t you grow the hell up?”

  The silence that followed held sway for a long moment, and Wanda was afraid of how the mob might react. Would they take her hostage? Would someone else pull a gun?

  But at last, the mob around the truck began to slink away. The encircling crowd parted to let them pass.

  Then, Cath Morrissey was at the back of the truck, hand extended to help Wanda down. She took it.

  “Thank you,” Wanda said.

  “No thanks necessary. I bet you’d have done the same for me, and someday, maybe you’ll have to. It’s high time we all started watching out for each other, instead of tearing each other down. It’s time we started taking some risks again, and using our voices. The galaxy’s changed, sure, but it hasn’t changed so much that we’re gonna let tyrants like those push us around any more.”

  Wanda nodded, but stopped herself. “I—I think I might have been one of those tyrants, actually. Until very recently. At the very least, I cheered them on.”

  “Well at least you’re seeing clearer now. I hope you are, anyway.”

  “I think I am.”

  Morrissey smiled. “No need to write anyone off, then. Not nearly as quickly as we have been writing them off, anyway. Everyone has something to contribute, provided they can get out of their own way to contribute it.”

  “Agreed.”

  Morrissey stuck out her hand, and Wanda shook it.

  Chapter 55

  Orbital Fortress

  The Vesta transitioned inside of a dense asteroid belt.

  “Any immediate threats, Winterton?” Husher said. “Or signs our arrival was detected?”

  “Not yet, Captain,” Winterton said, his tone betraying his confusion.

  “What do you see?”

  “Sensor data is still populating, but…sir, what I have so far is very odd.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Just beyond the asteroid belt, space seems to just…end. There are no visible stars beyond it. There doesn’t seem to be anything there.” Winterton squinted at his console, frowning. “An asteroid just connected with the barrier and was vaporized. I’m tracking another on a similar course. Should I…?”

  Husher nodded. “Put a zoomed-in visual on the viewscreen.” What his sensor operator described was consistent with Sato’s account of the state of her universe. He hadn’t distributed that intel very widely. The fewer people knew, the less likely it would be for the Progenitors to find out what he knew.

  Winterton did as instructed, and when the asteroid connected with what seemed to be the border of space, it disintegrated, sending blue ripples of energy spreading from the point of impact.

  “Its properties seem similar to the forcefield Teth erected around Klaxon’s moon,” Winterton said. “But that’s not all.”

  “What else?”

  “Sir, this system…it’s the Sol System.”

  Husher squinted at the tactical display he’d called up on his console, which showed the system’s planets in their slow, majestic orbits around a familiar-looking sun. Humanity’s home, burgeoning with life. Unlike the version of it that the Ixa scoured clean.

  At the Nav station, Noni twisted to face him. “Sir, should I reinspect our interdimensional trajectory for anomalies?

  “No. This is all consistent with intel you haven’t had access to. Set a course down-system. Send it to Helm the moment you have it.”

  “Aye.”

  At his console, Winterton tensed. “Captain, the surfaces of several surrounding asteroids are opening to reveal mounted guns. They’re firing on us—kinetic impactors.”

  That, I didn’t anticipate. “Helm, punch it,” he barked. “Full ahead. Noni, adjust your course so that it avoids the densest regions of the asteroid belt.”

  “More asteroids opening, sir,” Winterton said. “They’re deploying missiles as well as impactors. The computer’s detected ninety-three missiles already in play.”

  “Coms, have Commander Ayam scramble the entire Air Group. They’re on missile defense until further notice.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  On the tactical display, Pythons streamed out of their launch tubes, moving immediately to engage the incoming ordnance. Winterton was still staring intently at his console, as well he might be. But Husher sensed there was something there that amounted to more than the usual situational awareness. “Do you have something for me, Ensign?”

  Before answering, the sensor operator tapped at his console a couple of times, as though finishing off a calculation. “I think so, sir. Using gravimetric analysis, I can tell which asteroids have been modified and which are still in their natural state. The weapon-mounted asteroids have a distinct profile, but there are many other asteroids scattered throughout the belt that appear to have been hollowed out, and their innards replaced with artificial constructs.”

  “I see.” It made perfect sense to Husher, in fact, and if the weaponized asteroids hadn’t been confirmation enough that they were in the Progenitors’ home dimension, then the ones hollowed out for nonmilitary purposes did seem to confirm it.

  He’d seen something similar down Pirate’s Path, months before the start of the Second Galactic War. Back then, pirates had been using hollowed-out asteroids to conceal shipbuilding facilities. But if the Progenitor universe was down to one system thanks to their misuse of dark tech, then they would have had to get creative in order to sustain themselves. Those asteroids were more likely to contain hydroponic farms than shipbuilding facilities, especially given how large Progenitor ships tended to be.

  A tremor ran through the Vesta. Then another.

  “We’re taking hits, sir,” Winterton said, though Husher had already figured that out.

  “Ensign, I want you to have the computer use the gravimetric data to compile a map of every asteroid likely to contain automated weapons, then send that map to Chief Noni. Send a copy to Chief Tremaine as well, and to Ensign Fry, for forwarding to our entire Air Group.”

  “I will, sir.” The sensor operator bent to his work.

  “Noni, once you have that map, use it to inform our course out of the belt. That done, send the course over to Tactical as well as Helm. Tremaine, prepare to launch Banshees in groups of three at any weaponized asteroid you deem likely to threaten us along the course Noni sends you. Monitor our missiles’ success, and be ready to follow up with kinetic impactors if necessary. It often won’t be, I think. The asteroids aren’t likely to have point defense systems of any kind. Assuming they’ve been programmed to try to defend themselves at all, each asteroid will have to use its only gun to pick off our Banshees one-by-one, which I doubt will prove very effective.”

  With the computer’s assistance, Winterton soon completed his map, as Husher had known he would. That changed everything about their passage through what Husher had begun to think of as the Kuiper Belt.

  His analysis of the asteroids’ lack of defen
ses proved out, and by proactively targeting any asteroids well-positioned to damage the Vesta, they reduced them from existential threats to minor annoyances.

  That taken care of, Husher turned his attention to collecting intel as they neared the belt’s inner edge. “Winterton, what can you tell me about the system’s planets? I’m particularly interested in their defenses, along with whatever you can give me about how heavily settled they are.”

  Winterton’s hands hovered over his console, tapping and sliding assets as he shuffled information. “Heavy colonization all across the system, sir,” he said. “Most of Jupiter’s moons show signs of terraforming and settlement. All of the settled moons have formidable-looking orbital defense platforms. Cursory visual analysis suggests the platforms have guns capable of firing down as well as up.”

  “Ah. They’re prepared to defend against ships with interdimensional capabilities.” Ships like theirs. Ships like the Vesta, too. “What about the other planets?”

  “Very similar. Even Venus appears colonized, with heat-shielded balloon colonies floating in the thick CO2 atmosphere. It also has its own defense platforms.”

  “And Earth?”

  “It looks about as populated as you’d expect it to be, if it hadn’t been destroyed in our universe twenty years ago. The planet’s temperature seems to have risen considerably. Heavy fortifications, part of which appears to be an orbital station that dwarfs every other artificial construct in the galaxy.”

  “Put a zoomed-in visual of that station on the viewscreen.”

  “Aye.”

  Husher studied it for several long moments. It has the look of a fortress. “Any other artificial structures in the system?”

  “Various space stations and orbital facilities. There are also at least four large constructs in close heliocentric orbit. Their form is unlike anything I’m familiar with, but if they have any computerized systems aboard then they must also have massive cooling systems, that close to the sun.”