Immediately, Husher engaged the Condor’s gyroscopes to point his thrusters toward the missiles. He gunned the engine, and the immense G forces flattened him against the seat. His cheeks peeled back from his teeth, twisting his face into a forced snarl.
Determined not to pass out, he flexed the muscles throughout his entire body. A few minutes later, he managed to overcome the momentum carrying him toward the missiles, but as he accelerated in the opposite direction he realized that there was no chance of outstripping them. Worse, they were now too close to try to detonate using kinetic impactors or missiles of his own.
He did the only think he could think of. He activated the spherical wormhole generator, and after a brief rendezvous with an infinity of reflections, found himself back in subspace.
As he breathed a heavy sigh of relief, something occurred to him. If he’d had the energy to spare—which his Condor didn’t, but which a fully charged Python would—he could have done incredible damage to the Gok warship using just a single fighter, flitting out of subspace long enough to fire missiles and impactors and then flitting back in to avoid return fire.
Then, he imagined an entire squadron of Pythons, outfitted with spherical wormhole generators, weaving in and out of a battlespace and terrorizing a disoriented enemy.
Just as he’d always hoped, the military applications of Ochrim’s discoveries were incalculable. But the realization was tempered by the loss of four captains and their loyal crews.
I need to get back to the Vesta.
Husher again began the long, arduous acceleration required to attain warp velocity. With any luck, he would catch the supercarrier just as it was transitioning out of warp.
Chapter 47
Supposed to Feel Like That
“Fesky.”
It took several minutes for his old friend to reply to Husher’s brief transmission, even though they were close enough for real-time communication. But at last, her voice came through, lowered as though she was trying to prevent others from overhearing.
“Husher. I just gave Kaboh the command seat and ran out of the CIC to speak with you. Where are you? Search parties started scouring the Vesta for you three days ago!”
“I’m in a Condor, underneath an overhang of Himera’s smallest moon, so that the sensors don’t pick me up.”
A long pause followed that. At last, Fesky said, “There’s been talk of having you committed to a locked chamber because of mental instability. I’ve been arguing that you’re not unstable, but you’re not helping me make my case, here.”
“Listen to me, Fesky. I’m not unstable, and I really am in a Condor on Himera’s second moon. I’m asking you to trust me, because what I’m about to say is going to sound even crazier.”
“What is it?” Fesky said, sounding as though she was bracing herself.
“I just returned from the Concord System, using new technology that I was the first to test, mainly because I supplied the materials to develop it. I can’t talk too much about that at the moment. What’s most relevant right now is that our battle group’s been destroyed, and I have the sensor recordings to prove it.”
He got another long silence in response, and he sensed Fesky was grappling with what he’d told her. Finally, she said, “All right, Husher. I’m trusting you. What do you need me to do?”
“Go back into the CIC and order them to open one of the airlocks into Flight Deck Sigma. Tell them that one of our outdated fighters is outside the ship and needs to be allowed entry. Say you can’t offer any more details than that. Give the command back to Kaboh and leave the CIC again. As soon as you do, contact Major Gamble and ask him to meet you on that flight deck with some of his marines. Just two should do it.”
“Can you at least tell me what the plan is?”
“I have good reason to believe that Mayor Dylan Chancey is working with the Ixa, and has been doing everything in his power to debilitate us. We’re going to search his residence.”
“That’s not quite good enough, Husher. I need to know what your reasons are for believing that.”
“During the negotiations, Teth mentioned something that only Chancey could have known. Other than Ensign Fry, that is, and I trust her a lot more than I trust him. Also, the fact that the battle group we left in Concord is destroyed, and that Chancey played a big part in leaving them there—that’s pretty damning too, wouldn’t you say?”
An audible clack came over the connection and Fesky snapped her beak together. “This feels like it could be either the best decision of my career or a complete disaster,” she said. “Is there anything you can tell me that makes me feel better about the chances of the first one?”
“No,” Husher said. “But I can say that I think it’s supposed to feel like that. And Fesky, this whole situation is already a disaster. You know that, and you also know that if there’s even a small chance we can turn it around, we have to take it.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how you’ve always brought me around to these crazy ideas—by telling me things I already know.”
Chapter 48
Every Crease
As the commanding officer of the Vesta, Husher had always had the ability to access private shipboard communications, provided there was cause to believe the security of the ship depended on knowing their content.
For him, extreme consideration and forethought were necessary before examining anyone’s messages. Given his removal from command, however, that was no longer his call to make.
It was Fesky’s call. And after making it, she reviewed Chancey’s communications and found records of multiple encrypted exchanges with an unknown party off-ship.
Working together to search Chancey’s residence, it didn’t take long for Gamble, Fesky, Husher, and the two marine privates to find a drive secreted inside a mattress containing several decryption keys. The third one they applied to the suspicious transmissions unlocked them.
The messages Chancey had sent contained exactly what Husher had expected: intelligence on him and other prominent Fleet officers aboard the Vesta, information originating from the Interstellar Union, and frank discussions of Chancey’s efforts to destabilize the Vesta by increasing polarization between the people of Cybele and her crew.
When he and Fesky were finished reviewing the messages, Husher turned to Major Gamble. “Find Chancey, arrest him, and throw him in the brig.”
“Yes, sir,” the major said before heading straight for City Hall with his marines in tow.
When they were gone, Husher exchanged glances with Fesky. “You’re not going to be too put out when I retake command of this ship, are you?”
“Only if you don’t screw it up this time,” she said, holding his gaze.
Husher considered his friend’s words for a bit. Then, he nodded. “That’s fair enough. I’ll try my best not to.”
As they strode across the illusory desert, toward the hatch that led into the crew compartment, something caught Husher’s eye from off to the right.
He stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at the man standing perfectly still, wearing the old United Human Fleet uniform.
“You see that?” Husher said.
“What?” Fesky asked, but the moment she spoke, the man disappeared.
“Never mind. Oculenses playing tricks on me.” They continued into the crew section, but Husher couldn’t get the image of Captain Keyes out of his head. Right before the man had disappeared, he’d nodded at Husher.
As he marched into the CIC, with Fesky right behind him, Kaboh practically gasped: “Husher!” The alien was wearing the closest thing to a surprised look that Husher had ever seen from a Kaithian.
“Ensign Fry, I just sent a vid to your console,” Husher said. “If you would kindly play it on the main display and grant everyone access, I’d appreciate it.” He wasn’t used to having to ask for things in his CIC.
“You don’t have the authority to give orders here anymore,” Kaboh h
issed.
“I didn’t order the ensign, I asked. But I’m about to retake the ability to give orders, the moment she plays the vid for you.”
Fry did play the vid, and everyone in the CIC watched Husher’s trajectory through the Concord System, past the wreckage of the Vesta’s battle group, and right up to the asteroid belt, where a Gok destroyer emerged to attack.
“How did you come by this footage?” Kaboh asked.
“I took it.”
“Impossible.”
“Quite possible, in fact, Lieutenant Commander. You may be Kaithian, and your species may have created mine, but even so, there are a lot of things you don’t know. I expect that this technology—which I used to both reach the Concord System and return here in time to meet the Vesta—is about to become vital to the war effort. But that’s not the matter at hand. What’s immediately relevant is that I was correct about Teth’s hostile intentions in the Concord System, and also that Mayor Chancey was just arrested for conspiring with the enemy. Evidently, my actions have not been those of a captain unfit for command, and therefore I’ll be retaking the command seat. Get up.”
“Nevertheless,” Kaboh said. “Doctor Bancroft is the chief medical officer aboard this ship, and she did declare you unfit.”
Husher stepped closer. “And you, Kaboh, are a bureaucratic weasel bent on twisting regulations to serve your own misguided prejudices. Get out of that chair, or I’ll call Major Gamble to throw you out.”
Kaboh stared up at Husher, his large, coal-black eyes narrowed and teeth partly bared. At last, the Kaithian stood, making way for Husher.
He settled into the command seat. “You’re a talented officer, Kaboh, and I’m fine with you staying on as the primary Nav officer, if you can swallow your pride enough to do so. Are there any other objections?” Husher peered around the CIC, but no one spoke. “All right, then. Kaboh, set a course that turns the Vesta around for a warp transition back to the Concord System, then send it over to the helm. Coms, patch me through to shipwide.”
Fry glanced at him. Her expression told him she wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this, but that she didn’t necessarily object, either. “The entire ship, sir? Including Cybele?”
“Yes.”
“It’s done. You’re on.”
Husher nodded. “Crew of the Vesta and citizens of Cybele. This is Captain Vin Husher. In light of recent developments, including the revelations that Mayor Dylan Chancey has been working with the enemy and that the battle group we left behind in the Concord System has been destroyed, I have retaken command of this vessel. I’ve ordered us to turn around and return to the Concord System.”
He drew a deep breath. “I won’t try to conceal my reasons for this decision. Teth is clearly attempting to establish a foothold in the Milky Way, so that he and whatever forces he represents can attack us with impunity. We have limited time to stop him from doing that, and if we leave him alone, he will continue to exploit our reluctance to engage in direct combat. He’ll have us dividing our forces up in an attempt to protect everything, and in the end, we’ll have nothing.
“If I were to return to the heart of the Interstellar Union and seek guidance from the admiralty of the Integrated Galactic Fleet, I have every reason to believe that, instead of sending everything we have against Teth, they would instead circle the wagons while they quibble and delay. I also don’t consider it impossible that they’d attempt to seek another peace deal with Teth, perhaps by offering him even better terms than they already have.
“I won’t stand for it. Thirteen years ago, I was given command of this ship to do everything I could to protect the galaxy, as well as everyone in it. So that’s what I intend to do. If we succeed in defeating Teth, and I’m deemed insubordinate when I return, so be it. But I will face every consequence with pride in the knowledge that I did right by the galaxy, whether the galaxy accepts that or not.”
Husher nodded toward his Coms officer, and she cut the transmission.
“You essentially just declared us to be in open rebellion against both the IGF and the IU,” Kaboh said.
“Lieutenant, you’re free to abstain from participating in the coming fight. If you like, you’re even welcome to go see how many crewmembers disagree with what I’m doing. Somehow, I don’t think you’ll find very many.”
The Kaithian apparently decided to remain at the Nav station, and two minutes later, Husher’s com buzzed with a call from Penelope Snyder.
“Ms. Snyder,” he said upon answering.
“This is an outrage,” she hissed. “How can you put tens of thousands of civilians in mortal peril on a whim? Are you really that monstrous?”
“Ms. Snyder, I apologize if, when you decided to live on a warship, you were under the impression that ship would never go to war. The capital starship was designed and commissioned under the misguided notion that it would always be so powerful that nothing in the galaxy could threaten it. Just because that’s no longer the case does not lessen our duty.”
“Do you at least intend to continue observing the policies enacted by the council under Mayor Chancey? The policies under which so many report feeling safer?”
“I’ll tell you what. In three hours, once we’re under warp drive, I’ll address anyone who’d like to hear my plans. I’ll address them in person, on the Starboard Concourse.”
“That’s one of the legally enforced human-free zones,” Snyder said, sounding aghast. “Only humans who are allies are meant to go there.”
“Then hopefully, once I’m finished talking, everyone there will realize that I truly am their ally.” Husher terminated the call, standing from the command seat. “Fesky, you have the CIC. See us through the warp transition.”
“Yes, sir.”
His first thought was to visit the wardroom to get something to eat, but he decided against it. He wanted a clear head when he went to speak with the students, protesters, and other citizens of Cybele.
Instead, he went to his office to sit behind his desk in deep thought about what he intended to say. As he contemplated it, he removed Keyes’s crucifix from the desk drawer, absently winding the leather thong from which it hung around his fingers.
Before he left, he spent an hour carefully ironing his captain’s uniform, laboring over every crease. When he was finished and about to leave, he first slipped the crucifix around his neck, tucking it beneath his undershirt, just as he imagined Captain Keyes had done.
Chapter 49
War Is Not Safe
“The so-called captain may have his chair back,” Snyder said, gripping a podium set up at one end of the Starboard Concourse, “but his career still depends on how he treats the people of Cybele. That’s been the case since he took command of the Vesta thirteen years ago, and it’s certainly the case now. The IU will decide whether he should face disciplinary measures and maybe even criminal charges the moment we return.”
Having made his way through a crowd of hundreds, if not a thousand, Husher positioned himself to one side of the podium, standing at-ease two or three meters to Snyder’s right. She ranted into the podium’s microphone for considerably longer, but at last she ran out of things to say—a minor miracle in itself—and relinquished the podium to him.
The moment he grasped both sides of it, the crowd erupted into a cacophony of booing, air horns, and protest chants. Husher gazed calmly out at the crowd, waiting for them to run out of steam.
After ten minutes, the protesters were still going strong, occasionally using their air horns to give their voices a break. The crowd writhed against itself, and he spotted some people leaving, shaking their heads in disgust, at whom or what Husher couldn’t say.
The crowd was still only increasing in volume fifteen minutes later, but the Vesta would spend a week under warp drive, and Husher was content to stand at the podium until they lost their voices.
I will say my piece. Sooner or later, I will get my chance to say it, and then I will.
Something caught his ea
rs. A chant he hadn’t heard yet today, or indeed, ever before. It consisted of three simple syllables:
“Let him speak! Let him speak! Let him speak!”
It still took an eternity, but eventually, the crowd fell silent. Husher leaned forward and said into the mic, “You are like spoiled children throwing a tantrum.”
That brought another wave of booing and screaming, but this one took a lot less time to wear itself out, and when it ended, the silence was complete.
“I’m sorry that you were lied to, and that you lied to yourself, about the peace we’ve enjoyed for the last seventeen years.” Husher cast his gaze from individual to individual—from angry scowl to solemn frown to smirk. “I’m sorry you believed this was how it would be from now on, despite the indications to the contrary. And I’m sorry you thought we had become so strong that nothing in the universe could challenge us—so strong you could live your life on a warship without any fear of real danger even coming to your doorstep.
“I understand the thinking that led to it. Capital starships have become powerful economic engines, and they offer a way for the species in our Union to connect with each other. I consider those positive things. But capital starships are also warships, and when war comes, they must fight. In addition to the benefits to our galactic economy and to interspecies relations, you were also placed on my ship to limit me. The idea was that maybe if we make our society harmless enough, the universe will leave us alone, and war will never come to our systems again. But that approach leaves something vital out of the equation. We’re all about to gain a harsh lesson in exactly what that something is.
“You came to live on my ship, and in doing that, you asked me to make space safe for you.” Husher pointed at the crowd; pointed at students, professors, doctors, clerks, custodians, lawyers, mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. “You asked me to make war safe for you. As though war were something that could be sanitized and controlled. I have some sad news for you. War is not safe. Space is not safe. Life is not safe—it’s unfair and harsh and dangerous. The closest you’ll get to ‘safe’ is a locked bedroom far from any battlespace, and even then, your safety won’t be guaranteed, which I fear will become increasingly clear in the coming years. I have personal experience that speaks to it. I lost my three-year-old daughter to a Gok terrorist attack, when she was at home, supposedly safe.”
Capital Starship (Ixan Legacy Book 1) Page 20
