The admiral winced. “That darkgate is currently our only avenue of ingress into the Bastion Sector.”
“What about the wormholes?”
“We’re experiencing problems with wormhole generation, and that’s all I can say on that subject right now.”
“Sir…does this have something to do with why the Wingers refuse to communicate?”
“I just told you, Keyes. We’re keeping a tight lid on information for the moment. You will know what you need to know when you need to know it.”
That would be a pleasant break with tradition. “I understand, sir. And our progress through the darkgate…?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“One more thing, Captain. Keep a careful eye on First Lieutenant Husher.”
Keyes hesitated, unsure how to proceed. He chose his words carefully: “For what reason? He’s performed admirably so far.”
“The man was demoted, Keyes. We almost dishonorably discharged him.”
“Is that the reason I should monitor him so closely?”
“Not just that. You know his refusal to obey orders was based on his objection to how we use dark tech, yes? I assume you read his file.”
“Of course.”
“Well, let’s just say Command views it as an awfully large coincidence that we’ve started experiencing problems with dark tech shortly following his court-martial. He must have connections left over from his traitor father, and who knows what detours he might have taken during his journey from human space to the Larkspur System?”
“We can easily rule out that possibility. It’s simply a matter of comparing his departure time with the time he—”
“Just watch him, Keyes. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir. Can I ask one more question?”
The admiral narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“If the wormholes aren’t working, then how are we talking right now?” Real-time communication over interstellar distances happened over the micronet, which was enabled by controlled micro-wormholes. His own resided in a soundproof container underneath the desk, and the cable connecting his console with the Command network simply ran straight through it.
“I told you, Keyes. We’re dispensing information on a need-to-know basis. Carrow out.”
The video feed vanished from the screen.
His XO’s voice came through the intercom near his office door: “Captain, we need you in the CIC!”
Keyes leapt to his feet. “Has our turn come to pass through the darkgate?”
“Yes, but a Gok warship is approaching on a collision course!”
Cursing, Keyes dashed out of his office.
Chapter 13
Collision Course
“Sitrep,” Keyes gasped as he burst into the CIC. His breath came in ragged gasps that produced sharp pains in his chest, but otherwise he strove to project calm.
“It’s just as I said, Captain.” Commander Bronson’s long face lacked color. “We’re closing with the darkgate, but with the Gok ship’s current trajectory we’re set to collide.”
As Keyes settled into the Captain’s chair, it felt just as hard and unyielding as it always did. Ensign Moreno caught his eye—the man was sitting at the Tactical station, looking at something on his com, apparently completely uninterested in what was going on around him. It took effort for Keyes not to sneer. He still hadn’t found the time to reassign the lout.
“Coms, bring up a splitscreen of the darkgate and the Gok ship.” Keyes turned again to his XO. “Commander Bronson, I gave you the CIC so you could make decisions. What did you try before contacting me in my office?”
Bronson’s white handlebar mustache twitched. “I ordered the engines up to seventy percent, Captain. But the Gok have matched our speed. It’s like they want to race us. Or kamikaze us.”
The center of the darkgate looked just like the space around it—a smattering of stars. But those stars were visible from the Caprice System, not Larkspur. Nothing happened when you entered a darkgate. No psychedelic tunnel to traverse. You simply passed from one system to another.
“I had no good options, Captain,” Bronson went on. “We haven’t cleared customs, and neither has the Gok ship, of course. Protocol dictates that the Tumbran shut down the darkgate if a ship attempts to pass through without being processed first, but that will only leave us with a possible Gok engagement on this side, not to mention the Wingers, who are due to arrive within minutes. It’s like the Gok don’t want us to leave.”
Keyes stared through the darkgate. We’re so close to escaping this God-forsaken system. “If the Tumbran would just let us through without the paperwork, we could go through right after the Gok.” That would involve letting the Gok ship through too, though. God. What a mess. “Exactly how soon until the Wingers get here?”
The coms officer stood from her seat. “I’ve been tracking their progress since our engagement, sir. They stopped for almost an hour near Wingleader Korbyn’s Roostship before giving chase once more. With our superior engines we gained a significant lead, but the delay here has cost us. They’ll arrive in less than fifteen.”
“Thank you, Ensign.” The Gok had engines to match those of the Providence. He eyed their ship on the viewscreen, with its hard, bulbous nose designed for impact. The ship looked more like melted slag than anything that should be flying through space, but he knew it could do some major damage. “I assume we’ve tried to establish contact with the Gok?”
“Yes, sir,” Bronson said. “They’ve refused all our efforts to communicate. Just like the Wingers.”
“Patch me through to the Tumbran again.”
The gray-skinned alien appeared once more on the viewscreen, looking just as disinterested as ever. Its bulging eyes quickly found Keyes. “Captain?”
“Have you received any orders from Fleet Command that incline you to revise your current treatment of protocol?”
“I have not.”
“Very good.” This time, Keyes had already positioned himself next to the coms console, and he cut off the transmission with a satisfying jab of the thumb. He returned to his chair at a deliberate pace and settled into it. “Coms, put me on the shipwide intercom.”
“Yes, sir.”
He leaned forward slightly, staring into space as he spoke. Imagining the faces of his listening crew. “Women and men of the UHS Providence, this is your captain. We are faced with a difficult decision. A Gok ship has succeeded in cutting us off from the Larkspur-Caprice darkgate, and in the time it would take to reach a resolution, the Winger warships would descend upon us. That leaves us with two options, each represented by this system’s remaining darkgates. One of them would take us deeper into the Bastion Sector and therefore deeper into Winger space. The other would take us down Pirate’s Path.”
He paused, allowing that a couple seconds to sink in. “Neither of these choices are very attractive, but it seems clear the latter gives us the best chance of survival. We can outdistance our pursuers as we make our way through the series of systems that make up Pirate’s Path, and once we do, we can wait for Fleet reinforcements. We will return to the Larkspur System and we will secure the human colonies here once more. That is all.”
Keyes stood from his chair and walked toward the hatch leading into the corridor. “Coms, locate First Lieutenant Husher and tell him to meet me in my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nav, plot a course for Pirate’s Path and send it to the helm.” With that, Keyes left the CIC.
Chapter 14
Shadow
Husher stood at attention and endured the captain’s scrutiny in silence for a few tense moments. Is he going to say anything?
At last, Keyes spoke. “Are you regrowing that beard?”
“No, sir. It grows on its own.”
“Don’t get cute with me, First Lieutenant. I’m detecting a definite shadow on your cheeks.”
“Well, I’ve been kind of busy, sir. Takin
g out enemy squadrons. Blowing up hospitals at your command.”
Silence descended on the office again as captain and first lieutenant locked eyes. Keyes’s were a deep brown, almost black, and today he wore his famous impassiveness. Husher found that lack of expression disconcerting, but he refused to break eye contact first.
Except, eventually he did, his gaze drifting away almost of its own accord. The man could stare down a brick wall.
“Fleet has experienced a critical malfunction with its dark tech,” the captain said. “Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Now Husher sought to bore a hole through Keyes’s skull with his stare. “How dare you?”
“Excuse me?”
No longer standing at attention, Husher balled his hands into trembling fists. “I’ve had it with you pious Fleet hypocrites. Questioning my motives when it’s your ethics that are questionable. You’re just like the others. Ordering a hospital destroyed to preserve your career? I’m done with trying to impress scum like you. Just court-martial me again and have done with it. I’d rather be discharged than follow one more of your orders.”
Keyes’s eyebrows crept upward, but other than that his expression remained unchanged. “Are you finished?”
“Definitely.”
“I know why you were court-martialed, First Lieutenant Husher. I know you refused to obey orders to fire on a Winger pirate ship. But I want to hear it from you: why wouldn’t you do it?”
Husher hesitated before answering, unsure of Keyes’s angle. “Because those Wingers were entitled to a fair trial, no matter how much the Commonwealth throws around the word ‘terrorist.’ And because I don’t believe in using wormholes programmed to only allow our ordnance through. I don’t like shooting people from behind, especially when they have no option for retaliation.”
“I agree with you.”
Husher stared at the captain. “What?”
“I said I agree with you.” Keyes pushed himself to a standing position, his hands planted firmly on his desk. “My actions may not appear angelic to you, and I would never attempt to portray them as such. But they do obey a principle, and that is the protection of this ship at all costs. Fighting insurgents in the Bastion sector was what Fleet had for the Providence to do. It was the role that kept her from getting scrapped, and so I took it, as filthy as it made me feel.”
“Why do the wrong thing just for a ship?”
“It’s not just about the ship,” Keyes said, voice growing louder. “It’s about what she can do. The Providence isn’t only a supercarrier. She’s a mechanics shop, a hospital, a community. Give her a full complement of personnel, and she’s the biggest mobile army the galaxy has ever known. Not to mention a fleet unto herself. Best of all, she doesn’t rely on those cursed wormholes.”
The captain shoved his chair back and walked around the desk until he stood inches away from Husher. “You want your opportunity to do the right thing? Want a chance to fight the corruption in the Fleet? This is it. Dark tech is finally failing humanity, as I believe we both suspected it would. It’s time to prove we can do without it, and it’s time for humanity to play a saner role in galactic affairs. We’ll start by getting to the bottom of this war. Are you with me?”
Keyes offered his hand, and it only took Husher a couple of seconds to make up his mind. They shook.
“So, what do we do now?”
The captain smiled. “I’m open to suggestions.”
Chapter 15
Two Fingers
Keyes returned to his chair and extracted the bottle of whiskey from his desk, holding it up so Husher could see the label. “Drink?”
“Uh, all right.” Husher’s manner still seemed guarded. The man probably hadn’t expected to share a drink with the captain on the second day of his new assignment, for one thing.
I’ll admit, it’s certainly unorthodox. But nothing about the situation was orthodox, and Keyes wanted to put Husher at ease as quickly as possible. He genuinely believed the young officer had insight to offer, a belief supported by his stratospheric aptitude test scores. Other than that, Husher had recently held a command of his own, however briefly.
Most importantly, he was every bit his father’s son. Keyes had perceived that the moment they met.
“Taking a stroll down Pirate’s Path opens a number of possibilities,” Keyes said after he’d poured them both a couple fingers of whiskey. “For starters, I have a theory about the region. I think its reputation is overblown.”
Husher lowered himself into the wooden chair. “For what reason?”
“I think Darkstream hides their primary research stations there, maybe even its headquarters. Maintaining the dangerous reputation keeps ships from sniffing around.”
“The Kaithe live there, too.”
Keyes nodded. “The children are another reason ships are rarely eager to venture down the Path.” He sipped from his whiskey, savoring the burn at the back of his throat. “So we have a couple lines of action to choose from. We could sit around in heliocentric orbit, as close to the darkgate into Larkspur as we can get without running afoul of our new Winger friends. Or we could try to seek out Darkstream.”
“You think they have something to do with the dark tech malfunctioning?”
“They must know something about it. Given they own the tech.”
“I may have a better idea. One that could yield quicker results.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“The Tumbran maintain a Coffee Station two systems in, don’t they? It’s perfect—neutral ground, and a place that exists for the very purpose of sharing information openly. We could send a party in there to gather intel on why the Wingers are attacking us.”
“And you might even get to use your xenodiplomacy training.”
Husher’s expression didn’t change, and he certainly didn’t laugh. Clearly, he still refused to get too comfortable.
You’re an old fool, Keyes told himself. Warren Husher was never coming back, and the Providence’s mission did not require him to make nice with his dead friend’s son.
“I like it,” he said. “I’ll order Nav to plot a course for the Coffee Station.”
“Very good. Can I go?”
“Dismissed.”
The first lieutenant rose, turning toward the hatch.
And Keyes couldn’t help himself. “I served under your father in the First Galactic War.”
Husher froze.
“I knew him better than most. I don’t know what happened on that Ixan destroyer, but Warren Husher would have never betrayed humanity. He was a good man.”
The First Lieutenant locked eyes with Keyes once more. “I’ve watched his last transmission. It’s very clear what happened. He went over to the other side.”
“I refuse to believe it.”
“And I refuse to suffer this getting thrown in my face over and over again by Fleet officers. Kindly never mention my father to me again.”
Husher stormed over to the hatch, wrenching it open. He left it ajar behind him.
Chapter 16
Ambush
The sun warmed Tennyson Steele’s face through the floor-to-ceiling windows in an underused wing of the Darkstream Mars offices. The campus grounds spread out before him, full of colorful gardens cultivated by some of the most skilled horticulturists the planet had to offer. It’s been too long since I brought Lila here to play.
His daughter loved the outdoors, and he often caught her watching vids of old Earth, from before its degradation. He assured her that Mars’ terraforming had succeeded in achieving something very close to that aesthetic, but she retained an endearing desire to experience the real thing. An impossible wish, of course, but one he secretly hoped she never lost.
Lila’s existence gave his work meaning it had lacked before her birth. She was why he strove so hard. Humanity must remain dominant, at all costs. And for that to happen, so must Darkstream.
It was the only way to ensure survival. The only way t
o make sure sweet children like Lila could continue their play in blissful ignorance. The ability to crush our enemies…I’ll not let it go.
Besides, he’d grown fond of the billionaire life.
“Steele.”
He turned to behold a manic Calvin Godfrey clutching Darkstream’s latest model of smart pistol. “Calvin.”
“You’ve gone too far, Steele. I can’t stand by while you tear the galaxy apart. This ends now.”
“Don’t be absurd. You know full well I intend to put the galaxy back together when I’m finished. Stronger than before.” Steele slipped his hands into his pockets, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. “I told you—the wormhole malfunction is temporary. Just long enough to make us appear vulnerable. To discover who our true friends are, as well as our true enemies.”
“Our enemies…” Godfrey shook his head slowly, as thought he still couldn’t fathom it. “Steele, the Wingers were our allies. They have every right to attack us, after what you’ve done.”
“Darkstream will remain dominant, Godfrey,” Steele said firmly, dropping all pretense of mirth. “There’s no alternative.” He pointed out the window. “Do you want to preserve that, or see it destroyed? Hmm? I won’t let the military fade until it’s old and toothless. I want our war machine kept honed and sharp, with plenty of enemies to fight, so that when the next one comes over the horizon we’ll be ready.”
“How do you know that scientist will even restore the wormholes like he said he would? He’s an Ixan, for God’s sake.”
“He’s an Ixan who knows who cuts his checks. I don’t fully trust him either, Calvin, which is why I oversaw the modifications he made and then arranged for him to spend the next six months alone in his research station. He’s as happy as a Gok in shit, doing science and staying completely out of the way. He’d have to access the master control to update our wormhole generation software further, and he’s light years away from HQ.”
Godfrey’s chin trembled, and the gun wavered.
Steele took a step closer, keeping careful track of the distance between them. “Why don’t you lower that gun, Calvin? We’ve known each other too long for our friendship to end like this.”
Supercarrier: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 1 Page 5
