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 that. 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 47
War Is Not Safe
“The so-called captain may have his command seat 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 spoke for several minutes more, but at last she 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 ears. 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 spoke into the mic:
“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.” He 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 focused on one
person at a time as he spoke. He focused on 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. In fact, life is not safe—it’s unfair and harsh and dangerous. The closest we can 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.”
His voice lowering, which made several people in the crowd lean forward, Husher said, “You’re about to experience the horrors of war first-hand, in a way the public has never experienced them before. I wish it weren’t so. But in this universe, you do the best you can with what you have, as unfair as that might be. If you’re a fighter, then you don’t let unfair limitations stop you from achieving your goals. You work to conquer them, one by one. Right now, life has given me a warship full of civilians and a chance to stop a deadly enemy from gaining a foothold in our galaxy’s backyard. I’m going to take that chance, because this war will be fought for the survival of every species in the galaxy, and keeping ourselves safe is not worth giving up an opportunity to save them.
“There’s been a lot of talk about oppression lately—about how some groups have it worse than others, how they’ve been treated unfairly, and how they’re still being treated unfairly even now. I’m not here to debate which species have it better than others. But I am here to say that trying to tear each other down is not the way we make things better. That only weakens us, and leaves us even more vulnerable to catastrophe. If we’re to survive what’s coming, we need to put aside our animosities and pull together. We need to work together, because right now, we’re at risk of not having a society to share at all. But if we can manage to unite, and if we can manage to win, then maybe we can grow. And if we do that, then we can all become stronger and more prosperous, as one people. All of us.”
The applause that followed was much more lengthy and robust than Husher had expected. It only came from about half the crowd, and it didn’t last nearly as long as the booing had, but it was something.
When it died down, he added, “Given Dylan Chancey’s treachery, every policy enacted while he was mayor is now rescinded pending further review, and that review will wait until after the coming battle. As for the creation of zones closed to humans, Tumbra, or any other species—I will do everything in my power to oppose that, and if I am ever blinded or weak enough to allow it to happen again, I will resign. That divisive bullshit has no place on my ship.”
Nodding, Husher began to step away from the podium. Before he could, Penelope Snyder’s voice blared from the crowd, amplified by a bullhorn: “Does this mean you’re instituting a military dictatorship, Captain?” she said.
He leaned into the microphone again. “It means you chose to live on a warship that is now going to war. Feel free to call that whatever you like.”
With that, he left the podium and began to leave Cybele.
But Snyder wasn’t done. “Your daughter is still alive, Captain Husher,” she said into the bullhorn.
Slowly, Husher turned, and as he did he could feel an incredulous grimace twisting his features. What insane tactic is Snyder using now?
“That isn’t funny, Ms. Snyder,” he bellowed, without the aid of the podium’s microphone.
“It wasn’t a joke,” Snyder answered. “Your daughter’s alive, and she’s standing right here.” Her hand lowered to rest on the shoulder of a young woman, and it took Husher a couple of seconds to recognize Maeve Aldaine.
As their eyes met, Husher felt like he was drifting away—as though he were hearing the growing murmurs of the crowd through a long tunnel.
Snyder seemed half-crazed under the best of circumstances, and what she was claiming now was absurd. Yet, as he gazed into Aldaine’s widening, ice-fleck eyes, the same color as his own, he knew beyond a doubt that what Snyder had said was true.
Chapter 48
Old School
They sat alone in the wardroom, where Husher’s officers had done him the decency of giving them privacy. Either they’d heard the rumors about Snyder’s claim already, or they nevertheless sensed the conversation’s importance. Husher felt grateful to them either way.
“How?” he said, looking from Snyder to Aldaine and back again. He’d already offered them food and drink, but they’d both declined.
“I’m wondering that, too,” Maeve said. “Was this really the best way to tell us, Penelope?”
“Apologies, dear,” Snyder said. “The captain left me with no choice.”
“By which you mean you realized that you were down to your last card to play in your attempts to control this ship,” Husher said.
Glaring at him, Snyder said, “If you want information from me, maybe you should start treating me with some respect.”
“Well, I already know you’re going to tell me the truth. If you don’t explain how this came to be, I definitely won’t believe you, and the card you’ve played will have no value whatsoever. So let’s stop wasting time. How did this happen?”
Before Snyder spoke, Maeve did, staring at Husher. “My mother always told me she barely knew my father. She mentioned that she was married to you, once, but that you divorced and then she hooked up with someone at a party—that I was her ‘happy accident,’ and she didn’t want my father to know about me because she didn’t think he’d make good father material.”
Husher narrowed his eyes. “Sera? Hooking up with someone at a party?”
“I didn’t think it seemed like her either, but I just figured I didn’t know her when she was that young and maybe she’d changed. I never once entertained the thought she was lying to me, as she’s my mother.” Aldaine glanced at the bulkhead for a moment, then back at Husher. “The reason I wanted to sit in on that first council meeting was because I knew mom had been married to you, and I wanted to know what you were like. To see whether what everyone says about you is true, about how old school and regressive you are.”
Husher gave a tired chuckle at that. “And?”
“Turns out you are, yeah.”
Raising his eyebrows, he turned to the university president. “How did this happen, Snyder?”
Lips pursed, Snyder said, “Sera told me about the night your house was bombed. Maeve’s babysitter was inside when it happened, but Maeve was at her playmate’s house, down the street.”
“Iris.”
“Hmm?” Snyder said, head tilting sideways.
Husher looked at his daughter, the slow wonder of this situation still dawning on him. “Your birth name was Iris.”
“Yes,” Snyder said. “Sera changed that before she was old enough to know the difference, to make sure word of her survival wouldn’t reach you.”
“That name does seem familiar to me,” Maeve said, and she spoke the word slowly: “Iris.”
Snyder cleared her throat. “Anyway. Maeve had been invited for supper to her playmate’s house, and the babysitter messaged Sera to ask her was it okay, which she said it was. The playmate’s mother heard the bombing, of course, and when she saw whose house it was she called Sera.”
Snyder paused, and Husher realized he was leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the woman’s face. “Sera told her not to tell me Iris had survived,” he said.
“Indeed. She knew that if the Gok had tried to kill you once, they could easily try it again. For Maeve’s protection, she wanted to get her far away from you. That was the reason for the divorce. To protect your daughter.”
Slowly, Husher shook his head. Part of him understood what Sera had done, but another part of him resented her deeply for it.
“Of course, when Maeve expressed her intention to study at Cybele U, Sera was horrified, and she contacted me to explain the situation. She di
dn’t even know me, but she’d been following my work, and she believed she could trust me. Over the years leading up to Maeve’s enrollment, Sera and I kept in close touch, and we became friends. I promised her I would do everything I could to make both Cybele U and the Vesta as safe for her daughter as I possibly could.”
Husher’s gaze drifted to his daughter once more. Iris. Maeve. She’d helped Snyder in her efforts to change things on the Vesta, and while he considered those efforts misguided…
“Thank you, Penelope. Thank you for looking out for my daughter.”
Snyder sniffed. “Captain Husher,” she said, and her tone told Husher she was about to administer her final blow. “If you won’t turn the Vesta around to keep the people of Cybele safe, will you do it for your daughter?”
Husher met Snyder’s piercing gaze, and then he turned to study Maeve’s unreadable expression for a long moment.
He looked at Snyder again. “No.”
Chapter 49
Unbridled
As the Vesta transitioned into realspace beyond the outskirts of the Concord System, Husher experienced an odd mix of grim resolve and…well, excitement.
He’d never enjoyed the act of making war, but he understood its necessity. Certainly, he didn’t live under the illusion that every war through history had been necessary or even warranted, but he knew that sometimes war was needed to stand up to an enemy who couldn’t be negotiated with, who wanted to destroy your way of life or simply to kill you.
Despite what he considered a realist’s perspective on armed conflict, today, he felt excited. And why shouldn’t I? The coming engagement would mark the first time since the advent of capital starships that their unbridled might would be unleashed. The first time a capital starship captain would not be forced to adhere to ROEs that offered the upper hand to the enemy on a silver platter.
Husher knew it wasn’t the most noble sentiment he’d ever felt, but he was excited to see what the Vesta could truly do. Besides, since he’d already determined the warships in the Concord System were hostile, he was technically still observing the IU’s ROEs. Hopefully, I can get them to see it that way.
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 20
