“The Wingers have refused every one of our communication attempts,” Husher said, a little louder. “But if we—”
“I don’t think anyone doubts a nuke on their planet would get their attention, First Lieutenant,” Laudano said, a sardonic grin plastered across his face. “The question is how you think we’ll get it there in the first place. Do you know anything about these defenses? The orbital platforms were designed to repel exactly this type of incursion. They power an EMP field that stretches between them, and no one gets through without the Wingers’ say-so. The Buchanan only broke through because it no longer had a crew—no rational beings to rein in its suicide run.”
“Are you finished?”
“Yeah, I think that about covers it.”
“Good. Now I’ll outline my actual plan. As I was saying, the Wingers will only talk to us if we force them to, and taking a nuke down to the Fins will accomplish that. The safety of their sister species has always been their top priority. We can use that as leverage to open communication channels and press for an immediate ceasefire.”
“I’m glad Ek isn’t here,” Fesky muttered.
“Let him speak,” Keyes barked. “No more interruptions, unless they pertain directly to First Lieutenant Husher’s proposal.”
“Sorry, Captain.”
“Thank you, sir,” Husher said. He reached forward with his pinched thumb and forefinger once more, this time expanding the side of the planet where its single moon was currently located. “The first part of my plan looks exactly like the sort of idiotic attack Laudano thinks I’m suggesting. It involves the Providence attacking the orbital platforms on this side of the planet, closest to its moon, where the Wingers maintain reserve forces and munitions. We want to draw all their attention to this spot.” Another gesture opened the console’s list of assets, and he instructed it to display the supercarrier conducting an all-out assault.
“For what purpose?” Arsenyev said.
“To give ample cover to the Winger stealth ship we acquired from the pirates. We’ll deploy it before ever approaching the planet, and it’ll speed ahead to approach the orbital platform on the opposite side, carrying a team of marines, along with our nuke. Each orbital platform is powered by a central reactor, and after the stealth ship performs a covert landing, it’ll be the marines’ job to take out that reactor, disrupting the EMP field’s power supply. Then they can fly the nuke down to the surface.”
“Who will pilot the stealth ship?” Fesky said. “I only know as much as you do about the technology. They developed it since I was…uh…”
“Exiled?” Laudano offered.
“We’ll figure that out,” Husher said. “It will take a few hours to reach Spire, so that’s how long we have to prepare.”
Keyes leaned against the strategic planning console, his hands spread apart on its edge. “Does anyone have a plan they consider more likely to achieve our objective than the First Lieutenant’s?”
No one spoke.
“In that case, this is our plan. Let’s begin preparations. But first—” The captain looked at Fesky. “Is there anything in the Ixan Prophecies we should know about? Something that seems to reference what we’re about to attempt?”
A look of what Husher took to be surprise crossed Fesky’s avian face. I’m a little surprised, too, to be honest.
“There is one verse,” she said.
“I assume you have it memorized.”
She nodded. “The humans’ own greed, unrivaled in the galaxy, takes up arms against them. The flesh they seek to drape with riches will melt from bone instead. Devastation visits the juggernaut, even as it paints itself a savior. The lesser species smash against each other, leaving only fragments for their masters to sweep up.”
Keyes blinked, but otherwise his expression stayed the same. “Sorry I asked.”
Chapter 59
Faith
Fesky, Husher, and the captain watched as Lieutenant Hornwood clambered over the dark hull of the Winger stealth ship, tools strapped to his jumpsuit, clinking together.
“How’s it going up there?” Captain Keyes called.
“Uh…could be worse, I guess,” Hornwood yelled back.
“Yeah,” Fesky muttered. “We could have a gorilla up there instead.”
The captain chuckled. “Hornwood may not be a very good CAG, but he does know ships pretty well.”
“I wouldn’t trust him to shine my boots, personally,” Fesky said. She couldn’t fathom how her captain was able to find humor in their situation, but she supposed it did make a certain amount of sense. Captain Keyes is happiest when he’s walking a path he knows is just. Her beak clacked. And when he’s defying Command.
“We only have a couple hours left before we reach Spire, sir,” Husher said from where he stood on the captain’s right side. Fesky stood on his left. “I don’t think we’re going to figure out how to operate this thing before then.”
The captain glanced at Fesky and winked. “We’ll figure something out.”
What was that about? She’d already told them she knew as much as they did about stealth technology.
“There’s also the fact that we’re down twenty-nine pilots,” Husher said. “We were already far short of the number we’d need to put Providence’s full complement of Condors into combat. Now we can only scramble fifty-nine.”
“You’re right, Husher. Victory will require a lot of creativity. We’re going to have to dig deep inside ourselves and find strength. Strength that’s been growing inside us since this war began, sometimes without us even realizing it.” The captain glanced at Fesky again, eyebrows raised.
Why does he keep doing that?
“If only the Fleet could see reason,” Husher said, frowning up at Hornwood. “This would go so much better with an escort. I’d kill for a missile cruiser or two. And I’d take as many as three destroyers.”
“Those certainly wouldn’t hurt,” Keyes said, folding his hands behind his back in an at-ease stance. “But the Providence was built to serve as its own escort, with a full suite of offensive and defensive capabilities. She’ll do us proud, Husher. She always has.”
“I hope you’re right, sir.”
The captain turned to face Husher. “If I wasn’t, would you recommend aborting this mission?”
Husher struggled visibly with that for a moment. “No. It’s clear that Darkstream wants endless war, starting with the Wingers. But we have a real chance of finding peace with them. Maybe even an alliance, which will put us on far better footing to deal with whatever the Ixa have brewing for us. I don’t consider failure today an option.”
“Exactly my point.” Keyes turned to Fesky, now, and fixed her with his famous bluff-faced stare. “Failure is unacceptable, meaning certain other things have become not just acceptable, but necessary.”
Suddenly, Fesky understood what her captain was getting at. At the same moment, she came to appreciate the full extent of his faith in her—his faith that she would look inside herself and know what she had to do, just in time to do it. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Yes, sir,” she said, spinning on her heel and marching off the flight deck.
Chapter 60
The Quality of a Breath
Ochrim sat with his hands on his knees, legs folded, considering the quality of a breath. The way its passage made his nostrils flare. The slight breeze it created against the dry skin of his muzzle.
How it did nothing to loosen the tightness in his chest.
In the decades since he gave the humans dark tech, enabling them to defeat his people with ease, he’d achieved a measure of peace through meditation and mindfulness practices. A small measure, to be sure, but he’d learned it was better to accept the torrent of guilt that flowed through him daily than to try to dam it up. Better to observe the way it ate away at his psyche than to take up arms against it. Attempting to fight it left him a shuddering wreck, incapacitated for days.
Better to watch impassively as the last fragme
nts of himself dissolved in acid.
He preferred to meditate with his eyes open, and so the flicker of movement at the brig’s entrance attracted his attention. The ship’s resident Fin and Winger appeared, walking with purpose past the cells. Though they seemed focused on the prisoners deeper in, they both still spared glances for Ochrim.
He’d always had trouble deciphering aliens’ expressions, but he surmised that even the Fin wore a look of disgust. Sadness welled up in his chest, at that. Even a Fin cannot see the necessity of my actions. I will live with this loneliness forever.
Certainly, his own kind would welcome him with extravagant celebrations, once he returned to them. But he’d never enjoyed the company of other Ixa. Certainly not those who still sought to bring about Baxa’s vision.
The aliens stopped in front of the Winger pirates’ cells, and the one named Blackwing approached the bars, while the other pirates pretended to ignore their visitors. “What can we do for you, traitor?”
“I’m not a traitor,” Fesky said. Her feathers were easily ruffled; even Ochrim could see that.
“You helped the humans fight us. I saw you kill two Wingers with my own eyes.”
“Of course. You attacked my home. Did you expect me to sit on my pinions and do nothing?”
Blackwing bristled, feathers stiff. “I expected you to act like a traitor, as indeed you have.”
“You’re wrong. I haven’t betrayed my species, because the humans aboard this ship are not our enemies.”
A brief silence followed that, while Blackwing eyed her. Then he emitted a strangled sound, half-cough and half-squawk, which Ochrim knew was laughter. The other Wingers laughed along with their captain. “All humans are our enemies,” Blackwing said. “They’ve oppressed us ever since that thing gave them dark tech.”
Ochrim blinked at the talons that now pointed at him.
“Not these humans,” Fesky said. “They aren’t your enemies, and neither is Captain Keyes, who leads them. The men and women of the Providence aren’t like the rest of the Fleet, or the human Commonwealth. The captain truly wants to do what’s right.”
“Pretty words,” Blackwing said. “But meaningless.”
“The Providence is currently in open rebellion against the United Human Fleet.”
That brought about a slight softening of the pirate captain’s demeanor. “Why?”
“Fleet Command ordered the Providence to join them in attacking Winger colonies, and Captain Keyes refused. He split from the Fleet instead, and he has the full backing of his officers. They intend to press for peace with the Wingers.”
“I see,” Blackwing said. “I’ll admit that’s a noble aim, but our people will never talk to humans again. Not after the Fins they killed when their empty ship crashed through our defenses.”
“That’s why we must make them talk. And we need your help to do that.”
“Help with what?”
Fesky’s shoulders rose and fell, which Ochrim took to mean she was steeling herself for the hardest part of her gambit. “We plan to take a nuclear bomb to the surface of Spire. And we need your stealth ship to do it.”
Blackwing laughed again as he turned and walked to one of the cell’s bunks. Another pirate stood to make room for him. “You’re insane,” he told Fesky once he was seated.
At that, Ek stepped toward Blackwing’s cell, her metal legs clanking against the deck. She gripped the bars with black-clad hands. “If you won’t listen to a Winger, then perhaps you will hear a Fin. Heed me, Blackwing. The Ixa are mobilizing while the other species tear each other apart. If we continue along this path, there will be nothing left of us to oppose them. This is the true way to protect the Fins. The only way. Join us, or know that you signed my species’ death warrant.”
The pirate captain rose once more to his feet, and even in the brig’s murk, Ochrim could see that he was trembling. “Honored One,” he said. “Are you certain—”
“Have you known Fins to make such pronouncements without first achieving certainty?”
Blackwing’s beak sunk until it pointed at the floor. “No, Honored One.”
“Then will you pilot your stealth ship? Will your Wingers join the men and women of the Providence in the battle to come?”
“Fight our own people?”
“I have already said this is the only way.”
Blackwing’s beak clacked once. “We’ll do it.”
With that, Fesky produced a keycard, which she waved in front of every Winger cell. The card made each door spring open, and the occupants emerged hesitantly, flexing their wings, fanning their talons.
Ochrim watched as the former prisoners filed past his own cell—walking toward their freedom. Walking toward their deaths.
The Providence would fall today, and soon after that the Ixa would strike, laying waste to what remained of their enemies, burning their homes. All had been foretold. Ochrim knew the future like he knew his own hands.
A handful of most species would survive. Some would escape, but most of the survivors would be kept alive by the Ixa for study.
It was a horrible future, and one that had jerked Ochrim from his sleep more times than he could count. But he had chosen it. Because his choice had been between that and no future for the universe at all.
Chapter 61
Home
Keyes opened the hatch to find Husher standing on the other side. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Come in.” He returned to the chair behind his desk, briefly considering the whiskey that waited inside. But he thought better of it. They both needed to be sharp for what was to come. “Take a seat.”
The son of Warren Husher lowered himself into the wooden chair, his brow furrowed. “Have you considered how odd it is for us to attack the Wingers in an effort to end the conflict?”
Keyes folded his hands atop his desk and nodded slowly. “I have. War is a poor road to peace. But until the Wingers are willing to talk to us, it’s the only road open to us.”
“I suppose. They sure love the Fins. To launch a suicidal war like they have…they must have known they couldn’t win.”
“Unless they knew our dark tech would fail. Unless they knew they could count on the Gok for support. And maybe even the Ixa.”
Husher’s eyebrows twitched upwards. “Do you believe that?”
“No. I can’t believe the Wingers could be so underhanded. But if I’m wrong about that, we’re doomed to fail today. Even if we get the nuke to the surface, I doubt we can make allies of a species who sought to destroy us from the beginning.”
His remark sent them into a moment of silence, making him wish even harder for the whiskey. There was nothing like sipping from a drink to fill such conversational lapses. If he’d been a man of weaker will, Keyes felt pretty sure he could have been an alcoholic. But his love for the Providence, and his love for humanity, had stayed that particular demon.
He sighed. “You know, for a time, after the First Galactic War, our government behaved quite differently from the way it does today. How old were you when the war ended?”
“I was seven.”
“Then maybe you remember how, during the period of economic expansion that followed, our leaders made sure a healthy portion of the new wealth went to the workers who made it possible. And to their families. For a while, the Commonwealth really was one.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Husher’s face. “My mother spoke about it a lot, actually. With my father gone…she was a single mother of three, and that was pretty important to her.”
“I’m sure. But the government doesn’t act that way any more, does it?”
Husher’s smile vanished like the ghost it was. “No.”
“They no longer serve the public—now, they serve only the wealthy. We don’t just fight the Wingers today, First Lieutenant. And following that, we won’t only have the Ixa left to defeat. We’ll have our own government to defeat as well.”
That brought another moment of silence. As h
e stared hard at the desktop, Husher’s lips twitched. “Yes, sir,” he said at last.
“I want you to lead the strike against that orbital platform, Husher. And I want you to be the one who takes the bomb to the surface.”
Husher looked up to meet Keyes’s gaze. “Why have you chosen me?”
Keyes sighed again, and this time his breath sounded ragged as it escaped his lips. “I’ve chosen you because you’re the person I least want to send, and that tells me that you’re the one I must send. I’ve never seen such talent in someone consigned to the Providence by Command. Normally I have to whip my new charges into shape, but not you. I think that has a lot to do with the reason they sent you to me. You defied Command, because you’re not afraid to do what your principles tell you must be done. You refuse to bend those principles—you bend others to them. That’s who I want in command of what is perhaps the strangest diplomatic mission ever conceived.”
“Yes, sir,” Husher said again.
“Do whatever it takes to make the Wingers listen, Husher. Whatever it takes. If you reach an impasse, if you fail, then it’s all over. There is no safe place to retreat to. Victory awaits you on the surface of the planet, but even that will amount to only a stalemate if we can’t make amends with the Wingers. Now, go prepare to deploy.”
Husher stood, but he hesitated before leaving. “Sir, if the Providence falls—”
“She won’t.”
“But if she does…”
“If the Providence goes down, I go down with her. She is my home, and until humanity is finally safe, I will never leave.”
“I consider her my home, too, sir.”
“Then see that you return to her.”
Chapter 62
A Head for Battle
Fesky strode across Hangar Deck H at the head of the Winger pirates. “Condor pilots, fall in!” she called.
Her pilots responded, but not as she’d ordered. They looked up from where they worked on their fighters or talked in groups of two and three, and then expressions of confusion spread across their faces. Confusion that soon became outrage.
Supercarrier: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 1 Page 19
