Ixan Legacy Box Set

by Scott Bartlett

  It still didn’t move, and Husher took the opportunity to curse loudly, causing a bead of sweat to lose its surface tension and slide down his cheek.

  “You’re still alive,” he told himself. He knew better than to expect more than that from any given day.

  At least, he’d once known better. Maybe I’ve forgotten. Seems I’ll have plenty of opportunity to relearn.

  Opening a com channel with Gamble, he said, “Major, I need you to mobilize four more platoons and get them patrolling the ship’s corridors in squads. Assign one squad to guard each of the primary engines, two to Engineering, as well as one squad apiece to patrol our major capacitor banks. Are those orders clear?”

  “Clear as day, Captain.” The major didn’t ask for any explanations, which was one of the reasons Husher considered the man invaluable.

  That done, he jogged on toward the CIC, leaving the metal attacker in a heap for collection and study later. As he ran, the turbulence of space battle made the Vesta buck around him, and he focused on keeping his footing.

  Chapter 17

  Superheating

  “I have the CIC,” Husher barked as he passed through the main hatch and strode toward the command seat.

  “You have the CIC, Captain,” Fesky said, sounding not at all reluctant to relinquish command. She settled herself into the XO’s seat, alongside his.

  “Sitrep,” Husher said as he settled into his chair.

  “The enemy vessel launched three massive barrages consisting of twenty-four missiles each. Only a handful got through, though I would have expected them to do far more damage than they did. Sensors showed multiple hull breaches, and I isolated the corresponding sections, but damage control teams found rents they characterized as surprisingly small.”

  “Those weren’t missiles—not traditional ones, anyway,” Husher said. “They were robots, designed to infiltrate our ship and target her primary systems and components.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I killed one on my way here. No further questions, if you please, Commander. What explanations I have for you will come later.”

  That caused Fesky to tremble with what was no doubt embarrassment. Husher could tell the battle had thoroughly flustered her, in a way he’d barely seen from her since before the Gok Wars. He sympathized, but there was no time to hold her talons, either. He needed her best, as well as that of everyone else in the CIC.

  “What’s the enemy’s posture been since the third barrage?” he asked.

  Fesky clacked her beak, and her shaking lessened as she seemed to get a better grip on her emotions. “They’ve mostly been sitting back, swatting down whatever we send their way. One of our Gorgons got through, and that seemed to take out a cluster of point defense turrets, but they’ve been relying on lasers to compensate.”

  Husher nodded. “They’re probably waiting for us to show signs that their robots successfully tore up some vital systems. Maximum efficiency was always Teth’s MO, and I have reason to believe he wants to take us alive if he can.”

  “Wait, what?” Fesky squawked. “Teth?”

  He could have kicked himself. “Explanations later, Fesky.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Keenly aware of the tens of thousands of civilians he had aboard, Husher said, “Tactical, prep a barrage of six Banshees and standby to deploy them one at a time, with ten seconds between each.” Gorgons or Hydras might have been more likely to connect with his adversary, but he meant the Banshees to serve a diversionary function, so for this, the sleek, fast missiles were his best choice. He turned to Kaboh. “I want you to devise a route that takes advantage of a gravity assist from Tyros’ moon, flinging us toward the outer system. Send it to Helm the moment you have it.”

  “That will take us even closer to the hostile vessel, Captain,” Kaboh said. “I would remind you of the people in Cybele, who are likely afraid for—”

  “I gave you an order and I expect it implemented immediately, Lieutenant. I did not request your feedback.”

  “I’m well within my right to give it,” the Nav officer said, in the closest he’d ever heard a Kaithian come to grumbling. Nevertheless, he turned back to his console and began to work.

  Kaboh was right, of course. Current doctrine did invite subordinates to raise any criticisms they felt warranted. But that doctrine had been developed during a protracted peacetime, and lengthy debate didn’t square well with surviving an engagement with a powerful enemy.

  “I haven’t forgotten the civilians in Cybele,” Husher said. “Nor have I forgotten the ones on Tyros, protected by orbital defense platforms that appear to be nonoperational. It’s why I’m attempting a measured retreat, in order to lure the enemy away from the planet and deal with them farther out, if we can—ideally, at a remove that also keeps our civilian occupants safe. Our Air Group should be able to help with that.”

  Husher hated his impulse to justify himself to Kaboh, but he knew the bureaucrats would comb over everything he said today, and he remained far from certain that even a new war would secure his position as commander of this ship.

  “Captain,” Chief Tremaine said, “Banshees are armed and loaded with their courses, which compensate for our trajectory toward the moon.”

  “Fire on my mark.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s our total capacitor charge?”

  “Nearly ninety percent.”

  Husher nodded. Enough to fire the primary twice. That was good to know. IGF captains had less cause than their historical counterparts to frantically fire their primary lasers at the earliest opportunity an engagement presented. In the past, a fully charged main capacitor could cause a catastrophic release of energy given a big enough impact, but modern capacitors were designed to be much more impact-resistant, suspended as they were in shock-absorbent frames that kept them more or less isolated from any shaking suffered by the ship.

  Husher had been keeping a close eye on the tactical display, and when they reached the proximity he’d already deemed optimal, he said, “Fire the first Banshee, Tactical.”

  “Aye.”

  “Sir…” his sensor operator said slowly, as though he’d noticed something anomalous in his readouts. Then Winterton spoke again, urgency making his voice strained: “Sir, we’re getting superheating along the starboard bow. The hull is already breached!”

  As soon as Winterton finished speaking, the explosions began, rocking the CIC even in its location deep inside the supercarrier.

  Husher’s heart skipped a beat. “Helm, adjust our attitude downward relative to the ecliptic plane, twenty degrees, and bring engines to full power.”

  “Aye, Captain!” said the Helm officer, a Winger named Vy.

  “Coms, tell Damage Control to seal off all affected sections.” Husher’s gaze fixed on Tremaine. “Hit them with our primary, Tactical, and standby to do it again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Enemy destroyer is already taking evasive maneuvers,” Winterton said.

  “Acknowledged. Give me a damage report.”

  “The hull was breached along sections eleven through twenty-two, in a horizontal gash that stretches from deck eight right up to deck nineteen, in some places.”

  “Has the superheating effect subsided?”

  “For now, it appears to be in the process of subsiding, Captain. But the temperature’s high enough in some sections that the hull is still sloughing off.”

  “What was that?” Fesky asked, turning toward Husher, eyes wide.

  “If I’m to guess, I’d say it was a particle beam,” Husher said, his voice tight. From what we’ve seen, Teth is at least a generation ahead of us in terms of weapons tech, possibly two. Then there were the biological modifications that he and the other Ixa had made to themselves, or which someone else had made. I’d be in over my head even if the Interstellar Union didn’t have a firm grip on my leash, as though restraining a rabid dog.

  “Sir,” Tremaine said, “our primary l
aser missed its mark—the enemy ship is moving too fast along a trajectory that’s almost the exact opposite of the Vesta’s. Now that we’re closer, though, I think we can train it on the enemy long enough to inflict some damage.”

  “Do it.”

  “Firing primary a second time,” Tremaine confirmed. Seconds later, he blinked at whatever he was seeing on the main display, brow furrowed.

  Winterton spoke, and his words clarified Tremaine’s look of confused dismay: “Sir…sir, the enemy ship has vanished.”

  Blinking, Husher studied the man’s face. “Are we experiencing a sensor malfunction, Ensign?”

  “I have no reason to believe we are.”

  “Could this be the result of advanced stealth tech?” Husher was grasping at straws—he already knew the improbability of what he’d just suggested.

  Nevertheless, Winterton answered. “Unless the combined physics knowledge of the four species that comprise the Interstellar Union is woefully inaccurate…no, I don’t think that’s possible, sir.”

  “Vanishing isn’t either,” Husher said flatly.

  Winterton had no answer for that.

  Chapter 18

  On the Local Galactic Cluster

  Husher called a meeting of his top officers as well as high-ranking civilian officials from Tyros, to be held as soon as possible.

  Unfortunately, “as soon as possible” wasn’t nearly soon enough, for his tastes. The delay had mostly to do with the necessity of waiting for the civilian officials to take shuttles to orbit, rendezvous with the Vesta, and make their way through her labyrinthine corridors.

  In the meantime, Teth could be anywhere. The system’s sensor web should alert them if he reappeared, but then, it hadn’t alerted Fesky of his presence behind Tyros’ moon. Or rather, it had notified the Vesta of an unidentified vessel’s presence, but comically late. One of the main purposes of a sensor web was to foil any ships attempting to sneak into a system under stealth, but given the time lag involved in communicating across star systems, the web simply wasn’t designed to account for ships capable of appearing out of thin air—or, thin space.

  “This isn’t how I like to open meetings,” Husher said as he entered the conference room, which was populated at last with everyone whose presence he’d requested, “but what the hell just happened?”

  He tossed his com onto the broad conference table, and it chose that moment to light up with a transmission. The display said “Penelope Snyder,” so he ignored it.

  “Let’s start with you,” Husher said, nodding toward Tyros Deputy Governor Pat Siegfried, who’d become governor the moment Teth snapped Jomo’s spindly neck. “What happened to your orbital defense platforms? Why didn’t they prevent Teth from getting to the planet’s surface, and why did Jomo cooperate with the Ixa to lure my marines and I down there?”

  Siegfried folded her hands together on the desk, returning Husher’s gaze with one of calm. “Your first question is simply answered, Captain. The Ixan warship appeared underneath the orbital defense platforms. For reasons that would have been obvious until this week, the platforms have no weapons that point downward, and if they did, their use would involve significant risk to the population below.”

  “So they would,” Husher said. “And Jomo’s actions?”

  “Were coerced, of course,” Siegfried said. “The Tumbran and her aides were held at gunpoint and forced to do as they did.”

  “A Tumbran met us at the elevator,” Husher said. “Unaccompanied. Instead of warning us, he led us straight to the slaughter.”

  Shaking her head, Siegfried said, “All I can tell you is that we were all terrified of the Ixa and their capabilities, Captain. They seemed to know things they couldn’t possibly know, including many things we’d done in their absence.”

  “It’s like the Prophecies all over again,” Fesky said.

  The Ixan Prophecies had been a series of texts the Ixa had begun publicizing throughout the galaxy after the First Galactic War. They’d predicted a number of events, including humanity’s downfall, and as the next galactic war unfolded those events had started coming true.

  It eventually came to light that the prophecies were the work of a superintelligent AI, whose ability to run simulations of the universe had granted it a pretty good handle on the future. Not perfect, though.

  “It is like the Prophecies,” Husher said. “Which makes sense. We can expect Teth to be working with AIs who are at least equal in power to the one that devised the Prophecies, probably greater.”

  “Sir?” Fesky said.

  Husher glanced at the Winger askance. “Uh, yes?”

  She held up her com. “I…just got a message from Penelope Snyder asking to speak with you.” With that, her com started buzzing. “Now she’s calling.”

  Husher held out his hand, and Fesky passed over her com. Answering it, he barked, “Not now!” Then he ended the call and tossed the com back to Fesky.

  Clearing his throat and ignoring the heat creeping up his neck, Husher pressed on: “We’ll get to the return of the AIs a little later, and what it means for us. For now, I’d like to hear from you, Governor Siegfried, about how Teth managed to disable your entire planetary net, given it’s a decentralized technology, and designed to be resistant to an outcome like this one.”

  It was Siegfried’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Governor Jomo and I collaborated on implementing a kill switch for the entire planetary net, late last year.”

  Husher squinted at her. “Why in Sol would you do that?”

  “We saw it as a safety precaution.”

  Snorting, Husher said, “You’re going to have to enlighten me on that one.”

  “In the event of widespread planetary unrest…we wanted the ability to exercise control over the, uh, narrative, that the public was getting in an emergency. If we needed to.”

  “Well, it turns out your kill switch made you uniquely vulnerable. If you hadn’t implemented it, we would have heard about the Ixan incursion from your planetary net, and Jomo might still be alive.”

  Siegfried had the decency to look abashed, but apparently Fesky wasn’t satisfied. “Planetary nets, the old micronet, the internet in its earliest form—these are considered the saviors of democracy by more historians than I can name. And you decided to subvert all that with a switch?”

  “That’ll do, Fesky,” Husher said, and the Winger fell silent, though her feathers still stood at attention. He returned his gaze to Siegfried. “Governor, is there anything else you’d like to share with us? Anything you think we’d benefit from knowing?”

  “There is,” the new governor said after a brief pause. “In the weeks leading up to the attack, we kept experiencing random blips from the sensor web, which was telling us that craft were periodically appearing then vanishing throughout the system. We assumed the web was malfunctioning, but…”

  “But now we have a theory that fits a lot better than that.”

  “Yes.”

  “These blips. Did they represent ships as big as the one Teth just used to pummel us?”

  “No,” Siegfried said. “Not nearly as big. They were closer to com drones in size.”

  “Interesting,” Husher muttered, then sniffed. “Teth spoke of a species he called the Progenitors. This is basically speculative, but I have a strong feeling that they’re the same species Baxa mentioned before we nuked him into oblivion—the same species that created the AIs themselves.”

  “Captain,” Siegfried said. “If the AIs truly have returned, why have they sent only one destroyer to attack us?”

  “Well, that assumes the Gok attacks are unrelated. But I take your point, and again, I can only speculate based on what we already know about the AIs that Baxa claimed have been loosed on the local galactic cluster. We know they operate on an extremely long timescale, and we also know they’re obsessed with efficiency. Maybe they think if Teth manages to apply enough pressure in the right places, he can debilitate the IGF—make us an easy mop-up job for wha
tever comes next. He told me that if I ‘want all this to stop,’ then I should present myself at the former Baxa System, which we now call the Concord System. Not only that, he wants me to bring someone named Jake Price along with me. Does anyone here know that name?”

  As he looked around the table, no one seemed to, but Fesky spoke up anyway. “It seems like an obvious trap, sir. This might be exactly how Teth thinks he can debilitate us: by killing you.”

  Husher chuckled. “I’m flattered, Fesky, but I think you’re giving me way more credit than I deserve. I am not the IGF—the IGF is made up of millions of hardworking service members.

  “I’m going to deploy a com drone to the Damask System, which Admiral Iver named as his next destination, to seek his guidance on how to proceed. Hopefully, he’ll see the wisdom in recalling the Vesta’s battle group to rejoin their capital ship, instead of having them continue pursuing a relationship with a species who are known allies of the one that just attacked us.”

  Fesky was nodding, as were Amy Fry and Peter Gamble. Governor Siegfried looked resolute. Kaboh’s childlike fingers drummed silently on the conference table, and he beheld Husher with an appraising look, but said nothing.

  As everyone filed out, Fesky paused next to him. “Captain, Teth’s demand that you present yourself at the Ixa’s old home system…it seems to imply he’s set up base there.”

  “It does,” Husher said, feeling pretty sure he knew what was coming next.

  After a pause, Fesky said, “As far as we know, Ek is still there. She might be in danger.”

  Husher nodded. After they’d defeated Baxa, Ek had remained on the Ixan homeworld. Her years of spacefaring had taken too great a toll on her aquatic body, and if she’d continued her interstellar travel, she likely would have died. So she’d remained on Klaxon instead, to live beneath its ocean.

  “She likely is still there, Fesky. But as much as it pains me to say, she’s not our primary concern. We can’t embark on a rash foray into Concord just to save our old friend. It’s a noble sentiment, but acting on it could very well put the fortunes of the entire galaxy at risk.”