Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2

by Scott Bartlett

  “Join me, and for the first time, a Fin will use her intellect and her perception to make war.”

  Ek cut off the transmission, and as soon as she did, she experienced another first. For the first time since the destruction of Spire, she felt something other than grief. She felt fear.

  It took seven minutes for sensor data to reach her from the nearest Roostship. No message accompanied the data. The Wingers aboard the ship remained completely silent.

  But their actions said more than enough. The Roostship broke from its pursuit of a Gok battle group and turned toward her.

  The next Roostship also turned, the moment its Wingers heard her message. And the next Roostship. And the next.

  A half hour later, her message had reached every Winger in the system. They were coming. All of them.

  Ek’s entire body trembled soundlessly, in the way that Fins cried. In the way that she cried.

  Chapter 55

  Calamity

  Teth didn’t like spending time among the other Ixa, who he mostly referred to as “useful fools,” and so instead he took Ochrim cruising from system to system. True to his word about Ochrim not being made a prisoner, Teth gave his brother the option to go wherever he liked, including back to the humans. “Not that it would go very well for you, now,” he’d said.

  Ochrim remained. He shared Teth’s disdain for their kind, and in return, their brethren treated the sons of Baxa with immense suspicion. Most Ixa now viewed Baxa as one might view a rabid wolf—a powerful ally, provided it can be controlled. But controlling it required incredible vigilance, and much of that caution transferred over to the Ixa’s treatment of Teth and Ochrim.

  And as his brother said, there was nowhere else for Ochrim to go.

  “Soon enough, we’ll have to return to my destroyer,” Teth said. “Father wants every available warship assigned to cleaning up whatever remnants of the aliens remains, once they’ve finished tearing each other apart.”

  Although Teth would never admit it, Ochrim could tell his brother yearned to return to Baxa, who, in his new form, expressed little interest in speaking with his sons. It isn’t as though he lacks the time. No, Baxa was unique in his unlimited supply of that, with his ability to manufacture time from whole cloth, for whatever purpose he wished.

  Ochrim did not consider Baxa his father anymore, not since his true designs had become clear, and certainly not in the tyrant’s new form. For a short time, Ochrim had harbored the hope of changing Baxa, of working together to build a brighter future. One in which the Ixa still dominated out of necessity, but also one that didn’t entail the extermination of every other species. The flame of that hope had sputtered out decades ago, and Ochrim had done everything he could to forget he had a father.

  At least Teth’s ship was comfortable. Baxa had custom-designed it for him, probably to keep his progeny out of the way. The ship sported a full suite of the new weaponry the Ixa had developed in secret since the First Galactic War, and it required no accompanying support ship. Teth had named it the Watchman. It also featured a spacious central area devoted to observation and reconnaissance, activities performed in total luxury.

  Ochrim reclined on a couch made from a material invented by Baxa in one of his idle moments. Initially, sitting on it felt like lowering yourself into a puddle of water, which quickly tightened to support the sitter with maximum comfort. No cushions or other such implements were needed. In fact, they would almost certainly diminish the experience. It felt odd to think of a couch as a feat of engineering, but that was what it was.

  “Today is a momentous day,” Teth said from where he stood near the central display. “Historic.”

  The display appeared as a screen centered on you, no matter where you stood in the observation chamber. Currently, it showed a magnified view of the Auslaut System, which contained two major human colonies. The system was also a major connector on the path between human and Ixan space. Without its existence, the journey between them would be long and arduous.

  “Do you remember the verse that corresponds to today’s event?”

  Ochrim studied his scale-covered fingers, spread out before him. Even they bore the white lines of age. Time had taken a much greater toll on him than it had on his brother, and he felt tired, so tired. Only scraps of sleep were available to him, these days.

  “Unfortunately,” he said.

  “Recite it for me.”

  With a sigh, Ochrim did. “Out of darkness comes calamity, the star-breaker. Look, ye doomed, to the path ahead. It is gone, and so goes your hope.”

  “Father considers it one of the most auspicious prophecies. Did you know that?”

  “No.” Ochrim made a point of not knowing such things.

  “It’s auspicious, but even so, today will motivate the enemy to make a study of the galaxy’s network of dark energy. That will quickly lead to their ability to anticipate the supernovas. Father calls that a variable that must be closely monitored.”

  “A variable? There’s room in the Prophecies for variables?”

  “Of course not. All will unfold exactly as foretold, provided we continue to cultivate events carefully.”

  “And what does that entail?”

  “We must achieve total victory within five years. But it won’t be an issue. Father expects humanity’s defeat inside one year.”

  Ochrim nodded, rubbing the rims of his facial depressions, the twin craters that housed his eyes. He knew the Ixa would prevail, and that it was the optimal outcome for the universe, however disastrous. But he could also see a way victory would take longer than a year. “Have the humans made any further contact with the Kaithe?”

  “They have not. The Prophecies have succeeded in instilling sufficient suspicion of the children.” Teth’s gaze was suddenly riveted to the central display, and Ochrim followed it. “It’s beginning.”

  They watched as the Auslaut System’s sun ballooned outward. Unlike typical supernovas, those caused by disturbances in the dark energy network gave no advance warning. A handful of ships would likely escape the system via darkgate, racing ahead of the shockwave, but the vast majority of the population would perish over the next few hours.

  Chapter 56

  It Is Time

  Bernard sat on her cabin’s bed and used her com to thumb through page after page of information on the Auslaut System, complete with photos: some of important moments from its history, some of regular civilians going about their daily routines, enjoying the system’s beautiful scenery, celebrating its holidays. On the micronet, it was as though Auslaut still existed, right down to social posts from its occupants mere hours ago.

  She’d never visited Auslaut, except to pass through. Always so preoccupied with work. Now she was filled with a drive to visit all of the lands humanity had expanded into. But of course she would feel that way now, when it seemed very likely that those lands would soon vanish forever.

  A knock on the hatch of her cabin. “Come in,” Bernard called.

  The hatch opened to reveal Corporal Simpson, who crossed the tiny cabin and lowered herself onto the bed, next to Bernard. “We just entered Caprice.”

  “Okay. Are the crew ready for me?”

  “Yes.”

  Bernard drew in a long breath. “All right.” Now that they had only two more darkgates to transition through, the risk of her uploading a message to the micronet was lessened. The cargo ship’s captain feared that someone would identify his ship from the video, but she’d assured him she would show a green screen she’d brought for the purpose and nothing else.

  It would have been better to wait until they’d transitioned through the final darkgate, into Sol. But the supernova had accelerated her schedule.

  Before standing, Bernard asked, “What’s the mood on the micronet?”

  “Terrified. After Auslaut, a large part of the public is convinced the Prophecies are real and they’re unfolding right now. And since the Prophecies predict the downfall of humanity…”

 
Bernard nodded.

  “There’s a lot of speculation,” Simpson said. “People afraid of the worst. Which is fair enough, I guess, but the theories get pretty wild. Either way, with Auslaut gone, the Coreopsis System is totally cut off from us. The only way for them to reach us is through the Ixan home system.” Simpson stared at the deck for a moment. “Anyway. The good news is that the revolution gauge jumped up to fourteen percent.”

  It wasn’t enough. Though it is doubled. “Let’s see whether we can’t get it a little higher.”

  Bernard rose to her feet, and so did Simpson. Together, they left the cabin and walked to the cargo hold, where the video would be recorded. There, they found Chief Ralston and the seven veterans he’d managed to assemble before leaving Zakros, setting up a barricade of boxes and suitcases and blankets, meant to muffle the sound from Bernard’s video and mask the fact that they were in a spacious cargo hold.

  The captain and crew had treated their secret guests with great respect, which was remarkable in the face of their paranoia. That’s what greatness means. Acting in accordance with your principles, even while terrified.

  Several crew members had given up their cabins for their guests, and the captain had even offered his own to Bernard, though she’d declined that.

  “All right,” Ralston said. “That’s as good as it’s going to get.”

  Bernard sat on the stool that had been set up for her. Sweeping her bangs out of her eyes, she took another deep breath.

  “We’re rolling,” said the veteran operating the camera.

  Bernard leveled her eyes at it. “A few short weeks ago, we had an election in which you were given a choice that wasn’t really a choice at all. It was a choice between bad and worse, and at the time it was difficult for the people of the Commonwealth to tell which one was worse. Well, we have more information today, and it looks like it was worse that won by the slimmest margin of votes in galactic history.”

  Bernard held up her hand, pointing at the air just above and to the right of the camera. “Sonya Hurst lost her legitimacy as president the day she ordered civilian protesters killed and then made a flimsy effort to cover it up. But even before that, we had plenty of clues as to what a disgrace she would be. She campaigned on a promise to reduce war, but instead, she did a complete one-eighty on the very day she was elected. Now, we’re at war with two alien species, with a third one to be added soon. I want to be very clear: the Ixa are coming. Humanity is currently behaving exactly as the Ixa want us to, but for some reason our government is too blind to see it.

  “On top of that, our government insists on continued use of a technology that has been found to cause stars to explode in catastrophes that have already killed billions of our people. Yes, their corporate-funded scientists say that dark tech isn’t causing the supernovas, but the majority of scientists, who aren’t funded by Darkstream, say that it is.

  “Why is the government so blind? Why is it attacking our allies when we should be preparing for the largest fight in human history? Why were you given a choice between bad and worse in the presidential election? I’ll tell you why. Our system is broken. Elections are broken, because of our corrupt campaign finance system, which undermines our democracy, and which allows corporations and billionaires to pour in huge sums of money to elect the candidates of their choice. And aligned with that system is a rigged economy, which is designed to funnel money out of your hands and into the hands of interplanetary corporations like Darkstream.

  “It is time to take our government back. It is time to take our democracy back. We will demand the resignation of Sonya Hurst, who took power under a system tainted by corporate money, and we will hold a new election, funded only by you, the people. We will elect a candidate that the people actually want. And then we will dedicate ourselves to pulling back from the cliff we are currently barreling toward at breakneck speed. Thank you.”

  She nodded at the veteran holding the camera, who shut it off. Then she looked at Simpson, who was wearing a smile that stretched across her face.

  “How was that, Trish?”

  “That was good, Senator. That was good.”

  Chapter 57

  Ignition

  Stress ruled Police Sergeant Doucet’s life. Every morning, he woke up to find himself inside the temporary barracks they’d set up a short drive from the Martian Ocharium refinery, and every time he remembered where he was, he quietly cursed.

  Today was no different, and as he pulled on his uniform, which he’d carefully ironed the night before, the curse echoed through his skull, bouncing off the walls of his cranium.

  He ironed the uniform out of habit more than anything else, now, considering his winter gear went right over it and didn’t come off until he turned in for the night. I have no idea how the protesters are lasting. True, they’d accumulated more clothing and equipment since their demonstration had begun, but their numbers kept growing, leaving them in constant short supply of everything. To increase that pressure, Doucet had ordered the road to the nearest town blocked off, citing safety and security reasons, and effectively forcing the demonstrators to travel three times as far for supplies and medical attention.

  The protesters certainly had nowhere near the resources the police and security forces had. We’ll starve them out. We have to.

  On the drive to the refinery, he passed two news vans. The big news shows had finally started covering the protests. Doucet supposed that if they didn’t, they’d lose viewers. Once something like this got big enough, you couldn’t deny it, so he understood why the big shows had to cover it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  When he reached the site, he found the protesters strung across the road, physically blocking access to the refinery. Just as they had been for the last two days.

  That frustrated him to no end, and it was happening everywhere, with protesters disrupting Ocharium mining operations and also demonstrating outside every known Darkstream facility there was. The stock market’s going to take a dive. Darkstream’s stock was already taking a serious beating.

  Doucet’s superiors weren’t taking it very well. He figured they were getting leaned on pretty heavily from above, and that meant even more weight on Doucet’s shoulders. The chief of his police department called him twice a day now, demanding to know what he’d done recently to curtail the protests. But there was nothing he could do. There didn’t seem to be any stopping them. Even blowing off that girl’s arm had only galvanized them.

  As he stepped out of his cruiser, his com beeped shrilly, like a smoke alarm. He took it out and saw that it was the chief. Gritting his teeth, he answered. “Doucet here.”

  “Doucet. There’s been a change in policy.”

  “Policy, Chief?” A tiny hope began to take shape within him, a hope that he wasn’t about to get chewed out for the tenth time this week.

  “Public policy. Hurst and her party just rammed some new legislation through the Galactic Congress that removes the legal consequences of accidentally killing someone with a vehicle.”

  Doucet squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard. Maybe the chief’s words did make sense, and he was just too tired to piece together their relevance for the current situation. “So they legalized vehicular manslaughter?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Uh…that’s interesting, Chief. But what does it have to do with the protests?”

  “I need you to listen very carefully. If someone were to accidentally kill a protester with a vehicle—a protester blocking a road to an Ocharium refinery, say—the driver of the vehicle would not face any consequences. The bill actually gives an example. It says here, if a driver were to ‘accidentally depress the accelerator instead of the brake, that driver would be exempt from liability.’ Am I getting any clearer, Doucet?”

  Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Doucet paused. “I think so,” he said after several moments.

  “Now, in this hypothetical situation, it would look very bad to the public if a police officer hypoth
etically did this. So I wouldn’t want that. But if a factory worker were to do it, or another private citizen, that would be another story. And it would also do a lot of good, because the protesters would soon start to realize how unsafe it is to demonstrate in the middle of a road. In fact, I think we’d start seeing a lot less protesting overall. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. It’s time for that protest to start fizzling, Doucet. I want results. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. Now get to work.”

  Doucet’s boots felt like they were lined with lead as he approached the group of refinery workers waiting to see whether they would be able to get into work today. When he told them about Hurst’s new law, none of them seemed very responsive. Doucet tried to talk in the same way the chief had, not actually asking anyone to do anything, but pointing things in the same general direction. All he got in return were set jaws and sullen stares.

  In the end, they had to get a Darkstream Security employee to pose as a refinery worker and try to drive a truck through. When the protesters closed around his truck, linking hands, the employee pretended to panic, and the truck surged forward, right over a stocky man with streaks of gray shooting through his hair.

  As the truck accelerated toward the safety of the refinery, Doucet watched as the downed man’s left hand scrabbled weakly at the asphalt. He still appeared to be alive, but Doucet prayed for him to die.

  Otherwise, he knew they’d have to do it again.

  Chapter 58

  A Fin at War

  Ek stepped onto the bridge of the Roostship from which she would command her growing fleet, her metal leg meeting the deck with a dull clank. Every Winger leapt from their seats and turned to her, saluting.