Reckoning: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 3

by Scott Bartlett

  “Working on it, Captain,” Coms said. “In the meantime, Colonel Fesky is requesting to be patched through to you.”

  “Okay. Fine.”

  Fesky’s voice squawked from his console. “Captain, I’m not sure what you want from me, here.”

  Keyes paused. “I want you to deal with those fighters, Fesky. And take down some Hellsong missiles while you’re at it, before they get close enough to pose a threat.”

  “But Captain, I’ve been watching these Ixan fighters’ movements, and they’re too smooth and controlled to be natural. I don’t think they’re being piloted by Ixans.”

  “What are they being piloted by, then, Fesky?”

  “AIs. It’s even possible they’re being micromanaged by Baxa himself.”

  “Then you’d better step up your game.”

  “Sir, I’m not sure I’ll be able to figure out how to fight drone fighters we’ve never encountered before while running missile defense against Hellsongs. Do you have any ideas for how I’m supposed to manage all that?”

  “I’m not the CAG, Fesky. You are. Keyes out.”

  Seconds after he said “out,” the kinetic-kill impactors that Khoo hadn’t managed to shoot down struck the supercarrier’s hull, making her rumble like a planet coming apart. His CIC crew was strapped in, but Keyes could picture at least a handful of careless crew members being tossed about whatever compartment they happened to be inside.

  At least we managed to discharge our primary, this time. When Teth had hit them with a barrage like that, it had been accompanied by a series of explosions—seven port-side capacitors blowing.

  When the shaking died down, Keyes drew in a deep breath. “Damage report, Werner.” He doubted it would be the last time he said those words, today.

  Chapter 29

  Raging Animal

  Fesky assigned Husher to take six full squadrons to deal with the twenty-four Ixan drone fighters before more arrived.

  Until more did, Husher’s force would outnumber the enemy fighters four-to-one. Fesky had to assume that would be enough.

  For her part, she led the Air Group’s remaining nineteen squadrons to deal with as many Hellsong missiles as they could, as the captain had ordered.

  After the desperate engagement with the Ixa down Pirate’s Path, several of the squadrons were missing fighters. It would soon be time to break one of the squadrons up and distribute them among the others, to bring as many squadrons as possible back up to sixteen.

  After today, I might be breaking up a few more squadrons.

  During that Pirate’s Path engagement, one of her pilots had tried taking on a Hellsong head-on. He’d succeeded in neutralizing it, but the rocket had exploded, blasting his fighter with the concentrated impactor cloud.

  Even so, his sacrifice had yielded an important discovery. When they shot down the missiles, the resultant “cone” was smaller than the one that spread out when they exploded on their own, and more easily avoided by the allied warships.

  During the return trip through Pirate’s Path, and even through human space, Fesky had taken the entire Air Group outside the ship to run drills meant to simulate engagements with Ixa. She’d had the Providence fire dummy missiles, which her pilots had practiced taking out from behind. Soon, the Roostships’ Talons had caught on to the practice, and they’d started running the same drills.

  Now, all that practice paid off.

  Fesky set her sights on a pair of Hellsong missiles, approaching them at a vector that would make it possible to navigate away from their impactor cones should they detonate before she could destroy them.

  Piling on Ocharium-assisted acceleration, Fesky flipped her Condor around its short axis, beginning to decelerate even before she reached the missiles. Simultaneously, she sprayed a line of kinetic impactors at the space she knew the missiles would soon occupy.

  For her own satisfaction, she switched her HUD to a visual display just in time to catch the twin explosions that briefly blossomed in space.

  “Madcap.” It was Husher’s voice, sounding strained, and cutting through her moment of quiet celebration.

  “What?” she said, sounding more irritated than she knew she should. Husher just naturally irritated her.

  “I need backup, over here. Sixty more of those drone fighters just arrived, and we haven’t finished cleaning up the original twenty-four. Their flying is…well, it’s incredible, Madcap.”

  “Hold on to your hairless backside, Spank. Or shut up and keep fighting—whichever one you like better. I’m on my way.”

  She ordered twelve squadrons to accompany her, leaving the others to help the Talons continue running missile defense for the fleet. Ordering all one hundred and ninety-two Condors into a dispersed wall formation, they enveloped the drone fighter formations like a net cast over a raging animal.

  But that analogy soon fell apart, as she realized no animal she’d ever encountered wielded the efficiency exhibited by the automated fighters. Their shots were as accurate as any enemy who’d ever fired on her, seemingly to within a hair’s width. As for their fighting style, it seemed to combine the best of human and Winger flying, but without any mistakes.

  Baxa must have modeled their subroutines after footage of our fighters in combat.

  That also suggested to her Baxa wasn’t controlling the fighters directly. Which meant, as long as her pilots executed their tactics as flawlessly as the drones did, they’d be on equal footing. It wasn’t the most comforting thought, but it was something.

  Still watching the engagement on visual while keeping an eye on her tactical display, a thrill shot through her when one of her Condor pilots, Perkins, succeeded in neutralizing one of the drone fighters. And she’s not even a particularly talented pilot. Just well-trained.

  Fesky saw nothing wrong with praising herself every now and then for her ability to shape her pilots into ace fliers.

  But something from her recent memory bugged her. Feathers stiffening, she wound the visual feed back a few seconds. There—something had detached from the drone fighter right before it exploded. It looked like a covering of some kind, flipping away into space.

  “Madcap,” Perkins said. “There’s something on my ship.”

  “What—?” But Fesky didn’t finish the sentence. The pilot’s Condor exploded, and Fesky clacked her beak softly.

  With the rapid thought process she only seemed to have access to during battle, she quickly pieced together a theory about what had happened. And as she formed her thoughts, she spoke them over a fleet-wide channel.

  “It looks like the drone fighters have stealth bombs, designed to launch the instant before the fighter goes down. They’re probably designed to escape radar detection as well as painted black so they don’t show up on visual. Condor and Talon pilots, start using lidar and keep a sharp eye out for these bombs, especially in the moments just after a drone fighter goes down. I know how adaptable you all are, so how about we let the Ixa know a cheap trick like this won’t gain them any tactical advantage? Fesky out.”

  Even as she finished, a drone fighter that had already taken out two Condors went down, and seconds later another Condor exploded.

  If this keeps up, we can’t help but lose more fighters than they do. Every drone fighter will take down one of ours, on top of whatever kills they racked up before getting neutralized.

  But other than pulling off the best flying of her life, Fesky had already done everything she could do.

  Chapter 30

  Screaming out into the Void

  “We’re barely meeting any resistance at all,” Caine said, her eyes glued to the shuttle’s tactical display. “Nothing our escort can’t handle, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Husher said, and while Caine sounded relieved, he had a pit in his stomach.

  Corporal Simpson spoke up, from near the front of the troop compartment. “Something doesn’t feel right about how unconcerned the Ixa seem about us reaching their AI. Sure, the captain’s giving them plenty to dea
l with, but still…”

  Marines packed the combat shuttle to capacity, with a Roostship and her Talons as escort. Three more marine-filled shuttles accompanied them as they sped toward one of only two structures in the system.

  The other structure, on the other side of the system, orbited a medium-sized rocky planet. It was clearly a massive shipbuilding facility. Probably the one the Ixa used to grow their fleet to its current size.

  The structure they now approached orbited a gas giant’s moon, and was closer to the wormhole they’d used to enter the system. This facility was smaller, but still sizable, and it had unusually large engines for an orbital station. It was also where they expected to find the AI.

  Husher noticed Caine smiling at him, and he smiled back, trying to look as confident as possible. For as long as it had taken to start, their relationship—if it could be called that—had fallen into an easy rhythm. They’d decided not to tell anyone about it just yet, though he wasn’t sure how well they were doing with keeping it a secret.

  Husher turned his gaze to the Gok sitting next to Caine. “How are you holding up, Tort?”

  The massive alien’s expression was usually hard to read, especially since for most of the time Husher had known him, his face had been contorted in rage. Now, Tort wore a look Husher hadn’t seen before, and he wondered whether it might be one of worry.

  “Am fine,” Tort said. Then, quieter: “Do not want another virophage from Ixa.”

  Two Gok platoons had joined the Providence marines after Keyes gave them the virophage cure, and a squad of them shared the shuttle with Husher, Caine, and a mix of human and Winger marines. A few of the other Gok shot glances at Tort, then returned to staring into space.

  “That isn’t going to happen, Tort,” Husher said. “They won’t do anything like that to you again. They’ll be too busy getting defeated.”

  “Crush them,” Tort said, a little louder, and the other Gok rumbled their assent.

  Husher nodded. “Exactly.”

  Other than an Ixan corvette waiting for them near the facility, which the Roostship dispatched handily, their escort continued experiencing little trouble. Husher watched the tactical display as the Winger ship fired siege charges at the station’s single landing bay. The Talon escort settled into defensive flying patterns around the station itself while the four shuttle pilots confirmed a successful breach. That done, they sailed inside.

  Gunfire thundered against the shuttle’s hull straight away, and the viewscreen switched to visual, showing Ixan soldiers in pressure suits shooting from cover all around the cluttered landing bay. So far, the combat shuttle’s armored hull was holding up.

  As they’d planned, the pilots arrayed the shuttles in a staggered arc near the breach, with the airlocks facing outer space. This way, the marines could use both ends of the shuttles as cover, ducking in and out to fire upon the enemy.

  Husher and the others charged out of the airlock, and he opened a two-way channel with Caine, who was in charge of the entire contingent. “We should spread out to the other vessels parked here,” he said. “Use them for cover, too. Maximize our firing arc on the enemy.”

  “Good thinking,” she said, switching to a contingent-wide channel to give the order.

  As she did, Husher popped out from behind their combat shuttle to fire a volley at one of the Ixa pressuring their position. Ducking back, his HUD flashed red, indicating he’d barely dodged return fire. The bullets flashed past, inches away from his head, screaming out into the void.

  Chapter 31

  All Available Weapons

  The Ixan warships guarding the system rallied quickly, keeping the allied fleet dancing to avoid their Hellsong missiles and scrambling to neutralize them before they rained devastation down on allied hulls. Though the enemy had a sizable presence in the system, Keyes expected his ships to prevail, eventually.

  The only question was whether he’d be left with a force that had a hope of continuing to fight the enemy fleet, of which these Ixan ships formed but a tiny fraction.

  “Huh,” Keyes said, causing Arsenyev to look over from the XO’s chair. He’d been studying the tactical display closely since the start of the engagement, scrutinizing it for some advantage he might be missing. Now that enough Ixan warships had gathered together, they appeared to be using the exact same tactic he’d seen in the Pirate’s Path engagement: they were attempting to bait the allied forces using support ships, or at least ships that looked a lot like support ships.

  “They’re trying to lure us in again,” he said. But what does that mean? After a few moments’ thought, he had it. “These ships haven’t been in communication with the forces we encountered down Pirate’s Path. If they had, they’d know we’re wise to them no longer relying on support ships.”

  Another realization arrived close behind that one, which he kept to himself. It also means they truly don’t use dark tech, just as their Prophecies claim. Not even for communicating. Maybe they really do aim to save the universe from humanity.

  Of course, he supposed that if you had a hyper-intelligent AI capable of anticipating every development, you’d have no need for instantaneous communication. On any given mission, each ship would know exactly what to expect.

  Then again, Baxa clearly hadn’t anticipated the existence of the Kaithe’s Preserver, else he wouldn’t have run his ships into it. And judging by the Ixan warships’ current behavior, the AI hadn’t anticipated Keyes’s knowledge of the support ship ruse.

  Or did it?

  Either way, he planned to exploit the knowledge. It wasn’t in him to do otherwise.

  “Coms, distribute orders throughout the fleet to start directing around fifteen percent of our fire toward those support ships. As the Ixa pull them back through their fleet, we will all advance carefully, increasing fire on the support ships by ten percent. Tell the allied warships to divert another ten percent of our firepower to increased missile defense, and pass orders to Fesky as well as to every Roostship CAG that they are to assign as many fighters as they can to also neutralizing the Ixan missiles.”

  “The orders have been relayed, sir,” the Coms officer said around twenty seconds later.

  “Excellent,” Keyes said, watching the allied fleet move forward on the tactical display. “Draw up firing solutions for the highest-value targets of the enemy fleet, Tactical. And Coms, pass on further instructions to the rest of our fleet to do the same.”

  “Yes, sir,” Khoo said, and the Coms officer echoed the sentiment.

  Keyes could almost sense the Ixa’s eagerness as their fleet shifted formation. Now that he knew what they planned, it was clear that they were arranging themselves to best tighten the noose once the allied fleet overextended themselves.

  But just before doing that, Keyes gave the order for every ship to engage reverse thrusters with enough power to counteract their forward momentum. Simultaneously, the allies used their new proximity to the Ixan fleet to quickly hit high-value targets with missiles, laserfire, and kinetic impactors.

  All along the arc of Ixan ships, most of the destroyers, carriers, and missile cruisers blew apart under concentrated fire, their shrapnel hurtling toward their fellows, forcing them to focus on evasive efforts.

  That brought a round of enthusiastic cheering in the Providence CIC, and Khoo even ripped off his straps to stand up and pump both fists in the air.

  Keyes allowed it all. Such moments were few and far between in this war, and he knew his own dour disposition since his imprisonment over Hades didn’t help with that.

  After using the Ixa’s gambit against them, the engagement became a standard mop-up. Even the drone fighters’ flawlessly executed flight patterns didn’t mean much against hundreds of human and Winger warships pounding them with impactors and missiles, along with Condors and Talons pressuring them from behind.

  Within a half hour, it was over, and Keyes helped himself to a long, relieved sigh. Yet another disaster barely averted.

  But there
’ll be more to come.

  As though to underscore that thought, Ek got in touch without requesting that Keyes relocate to his office first, which meant she considered her words urgent enough to skip the time it would take to arrange private communication.

  “Something is not right,” she said from the main viewscreen. “There were too few Ixan ships here, and they fell too easily.”

  “I don’t normally make a habit of lamenting victory, Ek.”

  “Even so. As a superintelligent AI, Baxa has been able to anticipate the future well enough to write the Prophecies. And judging how long ago the Prophecies were first broadcast, he did so well in advance.”

  “What’s your point?” Keyes knew what her point was, but he needed to hear her say it. And since they were having this conversation in front of his entire CIC crew, they might as well hear it from her too.

  “Baxa should have known we were coming and prepared adequately for that.”

  “All right. What does it mean that he didn’t?”

  “It means that not only did Baxa know we were coming, but he wanted us to come. And he wanted Caine, Husher, and the other marines to succeed in reaching him.”

  Keyes paused. That, he hadn’t considered. “I can see your reasoning. I’m going to get in touch with Caine to tell her what you just told me. At the very least, it will allow her and the others to confront Baxa with as much info as possible.”

  “I think that is wise, Captain. Please notify me of the outcome.”

  “I will,” Keyes said, gesturing for his Coms officer to cut the transmission.

  But when they attempted to contact Sergeant Caine, they found that they could not.

  “Something seems to be jamming the marines’ coms, Captain,” the Coms officer said. “Something from inside the station.”

  Oh, God. “Instruct the fleet to surround that facility and point all available weapons at it. Keep trying to establish contact with Sergeant Caine, and in the meantime, broadcast the following message to the station itself: if I don’t get my marines back, I’ll blow that thing to hell, and the AI along with it.”