Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  “Coms, put me on the fleetwide.”

  “Aye. You’re on, sir.”

  “Beings of the Milky Way, the battle is over, and you have done your galaxy proud. I might have returned to find only ruin, but instead I found an intact fleet, fighting fiercely. I’ve returned with a master code designed to deactivate every Progenitor vessel. I’m ordering you to stop attacking them, as they can’t shoot back. In time, we will secure each ship’s surrender, but for now we have to prevent any of their ships drifting into ours, into orbital defense platforms, or into the planet’s gravity well. Board the vessels in danger of doing so, take control, and steer them to safety. The war is won, and we must start putting things back together at once.”

  He gestured at Ensign Fry to end the transmission. She spoke up again almost immediately: “Incoming transmission request, Captain. It’s from President Chiba.”

  Husher suppressed a sigh. Speaking to a politician was perhaps the last thing he felt like doing right now—but probably, it was exactly what needed to be done.

  The Kaithian appeared on the CIC’s main viewscreen. “Captain Husher. You’ve saved us. I can hardly believe it. The IU is left with a fleet intact, which isn’t an outcome I expected. I expected to die. On behalf of every citizen of the galaxy, I thank you, and I thank your crew.”

  “We accept,” Husher said. “But our job isn’t over. I have my double aboard. He was in charge of the Progenitor home system’s defense, and he has kill codes for every AI they sent against us. He seems just as incentivized to stop them as we are, now that I’ve brought him to this universe.”

  The Kaithian hesitated. “Are you sure it’s wise for you to leave, Captain? How do we know that this was the final attack?”

  “The beings of this galaxy just proved they can take care of themselves, President Chiba. I’ll give you the master code in case any more Progenitor ships come, but I don’t think they will. Even if they did, and even if you had no deactivation code, my faith in the galaxy has been restored. Either way, you’ll have the kill code. I think you’ll be all right.”

  Chiba didn’t sound so sure. “All right, Captain.”

  “The Progenitor threat will end when the AIs are deactivated. I expect the mission will take a few months. In the meantime, you have no shortage of work to do here. People need to be returned to their homes. The galaxy needs to be recolonized. Oh—and the Eldest needs to be removed from office.”

  The Kaithian blinked rapidly. “Removed? Why?”

  “He’s a Progenitor puppet. We found the real Eldest held prisoner in their system.”

  “But how is that possible?”

  “I have to assume they cloned him. They destroyed their universe, so the Quatro there would have been wiped out.”

  “How am I going to remove him from power without starting another battle with the entire Quatro fleet?” Chiba said, his voice rising in pitch. Husher began to wonder whether the Kaithian was nearing his breaking point. That’s not good. But if the president broke under the pressure, a new one would simply have to be found.

  “It should be fairly straightforward,” Husher said. “Present the Quatro with their true leader, and tell them they’ve been manipulated by a fraud.”

  The Kaithian nodded, seeming to calm a little, now that Husher had laid out the path before him. “You’ll be greeted to a hero’s welcome when you return.”

  Husher drew a deep breath. “I’m not sure I’m entitled to one. Before you start planning it, I’d suggest you review the Vesta’s recorded logs of the events in the Progenitor home system. I’ll transmit them to you the moment our conversation has ended. It’s possible you’ll want to start planning a trial instead. If so, I’ll submit to it…the moment I return from destroying the AIs.”

  That made the Kaithian fall silent once more. At last, he said, “Even so. I thank you, Captain.”

  For the first time that Husher could remember, he felt a twinge of admiration for the president. It seemed he’d just said something he truly felt, despite the political cost that might come with it.

  “Thank me by never repeating what you allowed to happen,” Husher said. “Thank me by making sure the Interstellar Union scrutinizes its own motives with a truly critical eye, every day, and never stops doing so. Never stop looking in the mirror. And take out your damned Oculenses every now and then.”

  The president nodded. “Very well, Captain Husher.”

  “Very well. Goodbye for now, President Chiba.”

  “Farewell.”

  Husher indicated that Ensign Fry should cut off the transmission. Then, he gave her another order: “Have Major Gamble delegate a squad of marines to escort my double to the CIC, so that he can provide us with the first set of coordinates. Nav, begin preliminary preparations to transition us out.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Epilogue 1

  Nostalgia

  Bob Bronson sat in his jail cell and bided his time. They’d taken everything from him, again. His rank, his ship, his connections.

  But it didn’t matter. He would rise again. I’ll find a way.

  Once they’d realized what had happened to every Progenitor ship, the Sapient Brotherhood captains had attempted to sneak theirs out of the system, but of course they’d been noticed. At once, the IGF had dispatched a small fleet to chase them through Pirate’s Path—to hunt them down.

  The allied ships had caught up with the Brotherhood well before the Dooryard System, and the battle that ensued had been swift and one-sided. It had ended with the unconditional surrender of those Brotherhood vessels that survived.

  Bronson’s trial had followed soon after. The IU was making a big show of cleaning up its act, even though it had been their plans to spy on and control their own populace that had allowed him to do the damage he’d done.

  He’d pointed that out at the trial, loudly, at every opportunity. But it hadn’t mattered. Everyone had been quite content to make Bob Bronson into a convenient scapegoat for all the galaxy’s ills. And now they’d stuck him in here.

  Doesn’t matter. He was patient, and the universe was strange. No one could predict what would surface from the flows of time. Anomalies tended to manifest themselves. Chaos took root with extreme subtlety. Bronson knew it when he saw it, and he knew how to exploit it.

  Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside his cell, and part of him expected Eve Quinn to appear at his bars, to taunt him. I still need to make her pay. Someday, I will.

  Instead of Quinn, Vin Husher came into view.

  “Bronson,” he said with a wry smile. “Face to face again, for the first time in decades. Not counting our recent transmission.”

  “You,” Bronson spat. “You’re responsible for more civilian deaths than I ever managed. Yet you walk free while I’m in here.”

  Husher’s smile fell away. “You would have helped kill billions if you succeeded.”

  “If you’re looking to soothe your conscience, you’ve come to the wrong place. We both know you’re just as monstrous as I am. Take it from me, it’s far simpler to dispense with your conscience entirely.”

  “Maybe that’s why we’ve dispensed with you entirely. Why the universe has.”

  Husher’s words echoed Bronson’s thoughts from earlier, and that made his stomach twist. “I’m going to get out of here, Husher. And when I do, I’ll kill you.”

  With that, Husher threw back his head and laughed, loud and long.

  “What?” Bronson said. “What is it? What are you laughing at, you bastard?”

  “I have no doubt,” Husher said, still mirthful, “that you or someone like you will become a player again, at some point. Threats never cease, and I’m not talking about the empty ones you’ve leveled at me today. Real threats. Danger, from without and from within. That’s life. But there will always be people like Leonard Keyes—remember him?—and people like me, to oppose you. As for you, Bronson, you’re getting pretty old for this stuff. And so am I, for that matter.”

 
Husher turned to leave, then, still smiling.

  “Is that it?” Bronson called after him, suddenly loath to be alone. “That’s all you came to say?”

  Husher paused. “That’s it. I thought that maybe seeing you in that cell, just as you spent so many weeks in the Providence brig…I thought it might bring me back to the old days. We did serve together, after all, Bronson. For better or worse. And this conversation has helped me remember.”

  Bronson cursed Husher in the vilest way he knew how, but the man was already walking away, laughing again.

  Epilogue 2

  Right to Business

  Jake sat next to Lisa Sato, who occupied a chair next to her bed in the Vesta’s sick bay. He held her hand in his new prosthetic, though hers hung limply, and he knew that if he let go, it would flop to her side.

  Occupying her chair, staring vacantly into nothing, was one of the three things Lisa did. The second was to lie in her bed—sleeping, or staring at the ceiling if she was awake. And the other thing Lisa did was get led around the Vesta’s corridors by the hand.

  “What did they do to you?” he asked, but as usual, she gave no indication he’d spoken. He expected Lisa had endured treatment similar to that of Fesky, except for much longer. So long that her spirit had not only been broken, but eradicated entirely.

  He sighed and gently lowered her hand to her lap. Then, he got to his prosthetic feet and walked through sick bay toward the exit.

  In function and appearance, the prosthetics were just like his old limbs, though he could turn up the grip strength if he wanted, and there were spaces inside the fingers to house a variety of tools, if he decided to have them installed.

  He wasn’t sure whether he wanted that, yet…wasn’t sure that he desired anything beyond a regular hand, a regular foot. The reminder that he had become partly mechanical led him to memories of the alien mech’s attempt to consume him. To turn him into itself.

  After deactivating the first superintelligent AI, Husher had taken Jake’s advice and jettisoned the alien mech into the sun. With that, the withdrawals had begun. Worse than losing his limbs, worse than the phantom sensations that haunted him until he was fitted with prosthetics, was realizing just how addicted he’d become to the mech. It had already become a huge part of him, and he of it. Looking back, he realized that physically merging would have been little more than a formality. He’d already given himself to the machine, and if Husher hadn’t destroyed it, he would have only tried to access it again. To become it again.

  He still became the mech, every night, in his dreams.

  Rug had dealt with addiction to her mech in a different way. The stoic alien had never let on that she was struggling, but when the war ended, it became clear she had been. She asked President Chiba if he could arrange for her to be given a shuttle capable of interdimensional travel, which he did, on the condition she only use it to travel to other parts of this universe—and not to visit other universes for longer than it took to travel through them. With that, she’d departed the Milky Way, leaving behind her Progenitor-made mech. Along with her friends. Those left alive, anyway. No doubt seeing Lisa’s condition had taken a toll on her, too. Jake missed the Quatro already. I wonder if I’ll see her again.

  Iris waited in the corridor outside sick bay, hands clasped before her while she waited. “Hey,” she said, falling into step with him.

  “Hey,” he said.

  As they walked she glanced over her shoulder, back toward the sick bay hatch. “Do you still love her?” she asked.

  Jake glanced at Iris, eyebrows raised. “Wow. Getting right to business, hey?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  A long silence followed, into which their footsteps echoed between the bulkheads.

  “Do you love me?” she asked at last.

  “I do,” Jake said, suddenly feeling very tired.

  Iris reached out and took his prosthetic hand. They walked in that manner for a long time, hand in hand through corridor after corridor. They didn’t encounter a single person. The Vesta was mostly empty.

  Epilogue 3

  The Things That Keep Us Sane

  Husher strolled through Home’s emerald fields, trying his best to relax. Even now, days after returning, the strain of war rested heavily upon him. His throat felt dry and tight, and constant tension headaches assaulted his skull.

  He’d been acquitted of what some still called war crimes—the killing of millions of civilians in the Progenitor home system. But that didn’t mean he’d been acquitted by his conscience.

  Spending time with Ochrim helped, some. The Ixan was the only being capable of understanding what he was going through. The only one alive who’d also brought himself to pay such a terrible price, out of the conviction that it served the greater good.

  Husher knew, now, that the decision still haunted Ochrim, even all these years hence. And that doesn’t bode well for me. But he had shouldered massive burdens before. He would shoulder this one, too. He would do it for his daughter, whose relationship with Price seemed to be solidifying—a union Husher had played a part in helping to form, by pretending to forbid it. The heart always wanted what it thought it couldn’t have.

  He’ll be good for her, Husher reflected. He’s a good kid.

  Up ahead, fifty meters away and well out of earshot, Ek and Fesky walked together through the towering green grass, along the same cobbled path Husher and Ochrim were on. The path cut whip-straight across the landscape, so that they rarely lost view of the pair ahead.

  “If Fesky didn’t have such a deep bond with Ek, I’m not sure she ever would have come out of her trance,” he said.

  Ochrim glanced at him. “Fesky had a deep bond with you, too, Vin.” They were on a first-name basis, now. Husher saw no need to insist that the Ixan address him by his rank.

  “Not anymore, she doesn’t. Not after what that bastard did to her.” He shook his head, trying to ward off the sadness that weighed heavily on him whenever he spoke or thought of the Winger. “No, I think the only sort of bond that could have saved Fesky was the one Wingers establish with Fins: the one between members of two species who evolved together, who grew up together. Fesky still can’t look at me without flinching, Ochrim. She treats me with fear and revulsion. I doubt our friendship will ever be the same.” Husher sucked the warm summer air through his nostrils, in another attempt to stay his emotions.

  “She may surprise you,” the Ixan said. “I think you ought to have more faith in her. She withstood the Progenitor’s torture for a long time, with no real hope of rescue. She never divulged any intel, and she kept herself together. Enough that she could pass on information to us. It’s quite remarkable.”

  “I know.” It was only thanks to Fesky that they’d learned how the Progenitors had been able to send their AIs to a time thousands of years prior, along this universe’s timeline. According to what Husher’s double had let slip to Fesky, this was the first form of interdimensional travel they’d discovered. “Have you made a start on figuring out how they sent AIs back along our timeline?”

  Ochrim nodded. “I’ve spoken to Fesky about it, though very sparingly. We don’t want to push her too much, in her present state.”

  “I agree,” Husher said. “In fact, I’m not sure we should be pushing her at all.”

  “In a sense, I’m glad I did. I felt it was important to learn why the Progenitors didn’t simply continue sending AIs into our past until one succeeded in completely dominating us. It seems the explanation is that, in addition to only being able to send small amounts of matter and information, the technique also involves a heavy element of randomness. The Progenitors discovered they could only aim their ‘injection’ of AIs at a region of the path integral, not at a single universe. Hitting a precise spot along a dimension’s timeline also proved exceedingly difficult. According to Fesky, they injected their low-level, self-improving AIs into hundreds of universes before successfully hit
ting ours, and they would have preferred to send their AIs millions of years into our past rather than the thousands they achieved.”

  Husher felt his eyes widen slightly. “So there are hundreds of other universes with AIs equally as powerful as the ones we just shut down.”

  Ochrim shrugged. “We still have the kill codes. And the Progenitors will have programmed them never to attempt interdimensional travel.”

  “Isn’t it possible that at least some of the AIs figured out how to circumvent both the kill codes and the strictures against leaving their universes?”

  “It’s difficult to say, especially if we’re talking about an intelligence with potentially an entire universe to harvest for additional processing power.”

  “Right. And even assuming those AIs are never able to escape their universes, there’s still the suffering they’ll inflict, or are inflicting, on whatever beings happen to live in those universes.”

  Turning toward Husher, Ochrim smiled grimly. “I recognize that tone, Captain Husher.”

  He used my rank. Only to make a point, I’m sure. “Until they’re dealt with, those AIs pose existential risks, Ochrim. Especially if we’re going to continue traveling the multiverse. Supposing an AI managed to turn its entire dimension into one big trap for ships passing through…” Husher shook his head. “There’s also always the danger of a species within our own dimension creating an unbridled AI. I’m assuming the rest of this universe is as teeming with life as our local galactic cluster, so we need to get our own house in order too, so to speak. In the meantime, I want you to stop researching that Progenitor tech, Ochrim. At once. The ability to alter another dimension’s timeline…that’s something we should keep a lid on for as long as we possibly can.”

  The Ixan’s face expanded, the scaled area around his eyes going wide. “I must be dreaming. You’re telling me not to pursue tech with military applications? Have we switched roles entirely?”

  “It seems so. I’m impressed with the IU’s reform efforts, but even if they succeed in changing, who’s to say they won’t become corrupted again? That’s how these things go, in my experience. The people forget their responsibility to keep their government in check, and the powerful start trying to increase control. The thing is, we can’t afford for it to happen again, Ochrim. Now that the Progenitors are defeated, interdimensional travel has granted the IU the same godhood that dark tech once gave humanity, but without the universe-destroying qualities of dark tech. If we allow our government to become corrupted again, I’m not sure we’ll be able to stop it. It will be too strong to rein in.”