Husher grimaced. At least we’ve slowed the thing. That meant it must finally feel threatened on some level, but as it destroyed another Python, he knew it was only a matter of time before it continued its blistering progress toward his ship.
A glance at the tactical display told him his subspace-capable Pythons were just entering the enemy carrier’s firing range. He returned his gaze to the view of the mech on his console…then looked back at the Pythons. They were the Vesta’s best hope, now.
The Progenitor carrier seemed to be ignoring them—until they started spraying kinetic impactors all across her hull. Then, it diverted some missile fire from the orbital defense platform to the oncoming squadron.
As ordered, the Pythons waited until the last possible second. Then, just as the missiles were about to make contact, each starfighter generated a spherical wormhole and vanished.
The missiles sailed harmlessly past, and then the Pythons reappeared, much closer to the carrier’s hull. They loosed a volley of Sidewinders, then the fighters disappeared again before the enemy point defense turrets could shoot them down.
The turrets managed to deal with most of the Pythons’ Sidewinders, but three got through, rupturing the carrier’s port-side hull in a jagged line.
Then the squadron appeared on her starboard side, traveling in the opposite direction and unleashing an even bigger barrage of missiles before leaving the universe. They reappeared momentarily to add kinetic impactors to the mix, then vanished again.
With that, the alien mech about-turned, flying back across the battlespace toward the carrier, which moved laterally to meet it. Husher’s subspace Pythons continued to flit in and out of subspace, dealing massive damage to the carrier’s point defense systems, as well as the hull itself.
It wouldn’t be long before the squadron managed to take out the entire ship, Husher knew. But the alien mech screamed into an open flight deck, and the moment it did, the carrier vanished. The destroyer followed seconds later.
Silence held sway inside the Vesta’s CIC, and Husher didn’t break it. Yes, they’d defended Yclept—a hub system for the IU, with its three darkgates. But the attacking ships had once again flitted away before taking critical damage.
This is no way to fight a war. Not when our enemy’s so nimble they rarely lose a ship.
“We’re getting a transmission request from the planet’s surface, sir,” Ensign Fry said. “Video and audio.”
“Accept it, and give everyone access.”
Governor Gerald Russell appeared on the main display, his hard face topped by a wave of white hair that rolled backward across his head. “Captain Husher,” Russell said. “I thank you for coming to our aid when we needed it most.”
“Just doing our job,” Husher said. “Besides, I should commend you for holding out as long as you did. Defending against two Progenitor ships with just the defense platforms and your fighter defense group—that’s remarkable enough on its own.”
Russell beamed with pride, which Husher found charming…until he spoke again. “Did you know our defense group is made up of ninety-five percent human pilots?”
The side of Husher’s mouth quirked downward, and he said, “Oh?”
The governor nodded. “This is how it used to be, isn’t it? Humans working together with humans, to defeat an alien threat. I’m not sure why we abandoned that way of doing things.”
“There are plenty of nonhuman crew aboard the Vesta, Governor. They played a vital role in the defense of your colony. I don’t know what scenario you’re trying to describe, exactly, but it isn’t one that fits what just happened.”
Nodding, Russell said, “I know you’re right, Captain. We’ve thoroughly integrated with them, haven’t we? But to what end, and at what price to humanity’s noble culture, developed over millennia only to be sacrificed to the misguided cause of integration?”
Husher shook his head. “I don’t think we’re on the same wavelength.”
“I understand, Captain, that you can’t discuss this freely—not in front of your integrated crew. But know that the Sapient Brotherhood is on the rise, and soon, every human captain will be called upon to carry out his proper duty to his species.”
“Governor, we’re here under a directive from the Interstellar Union to help with the defense of this system. Nothing more. Husher out.”
Gesturing to the Coms officer to cut the transmission, Husher studied the blank display, lips pursed.
The silence inside his CIC resumed.
Chapter 23
Trust
Flight Deck Sigma’s airlock opened to admit Oneiri Team, along with the shuttles carrying the marine force that had helped them take the orbital defense platform.
Coming to as graceful a landing as the alien mech was capable of, Jake was about to exit it when he noticed Captain Husher, standing outside the flight deck’s airlock with two more marine platoons arrayed around him.
The captain was glaring. “Get out of the mech, Price.”
Jake glanced back at the rest of his pilots, who were using aerospike thrusters to lower themselves to the deck. He returned his gaze to Husher. “Why?”
“Because I’m not about to have this conversation with you inside it.”
“Something happened.”
“It certainly did. And if you have any interest in continuing to serve aboard my ship, you’ll get out of that mech, now.”
The alien mech injected Jake with the antagonist of the sedative he’d used to enter the mech dream, then the front opened to form a ramp, its usual surface of ridged metal scales instead becoming a smooth surface for Jake to dismount. He did so, and the mech sealed up the moment he found his feet.
“Now, the rest of your team,” Husher said, never taking his eyes from Jake’s.
Turning his head sideways, Jake nodded. Only then did he hear the hiss of the MIMAS’ rear ramps descending. He appreciated the show of loyalty, but they probably hadn’t done him any favors by waiting for Jake to confirm that they should follow the captain’s order.
Jake couldn’t detect any resentment in Husher’s face, though—just the same hard lines. “Now what?” Jake asked.
“Step away from the mechs, all of you. Then I want you to approach by yourself, Price.”
The Oneiri pilots distanced themselves from their machines, corralled into a group by some of the marines they’d just worked with to take the defense platform. Jake did notice that the marines were at least treating his pilots with more respect than they’d given him on the day Rug was discovered inside a crate.
As Jake drew nearer the captain, his implant pinged to inform him he’d received a file transfer. Making the Darkstream implants compatible with the IU’s Oculenses had been simple enough—that had happened within two days of Oneiri’s arrival on the Vesta.
“I just sent you a vid,” Husher said. “Open it.”
Jake did. It showed an alien mech careening toward the Vesta, taking out missile after starfighter after missile with the help of an endless barrage of Ravagers. His pulse quickened, and he could feel a vein in his neck twitching. Hopefully the captain couldn’t see it.
“Is there anything you can tell me about that thing?” Husher said.
“No, sir,” Jake answered, suppressing the urge to swallow.
Husher advanced slowly across the flight deck, parade boots clicking on the metal. Behind him, his marines shifted nervously, as though Jake posed a threat to the captain’s life even outside his mech. I suppose I do, at that. I’m younger and I’m quicker. I might even be stronger. Plus, he wore a sidearm in a holster on his waist.
Then again, there was also the fact that trying to harm the captain would be a colossally stupid move.
Husher must have known that too. He showed no fear as he crossed the rest of the distance between them, never breaking eye contact.
“You’re lying,” he said quietly, once their faces were inches away from each other. “And a lying subordinate, even a lying mech pilot, is mor
e of a liability than an asset. Lie to me again, Price, and I’ll know it. If one more falsehood leaves your lips, I’ll put you in the brig until I can hand you over to the IGF. That’s a promise.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, is there anything you can tell me about that mech?”
“It’s piloted by a man named Gabriel Roach. At least, it was piloted by him. He…used to command Oneiri.”
“What do you mean, it was piloted by Roach? Who pilots it now?”
Jake took a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming at him not to keep talking. But he believed Husher when he said that he’d know if Jake lied, and he knew the captain would make good on his threat to put him in the brig. “No one pilots it. That isn’t really the right word for it. Not anymore. There is no Roach anymore, and whatever his mech used to be, it changed, too. Roach merged with the mech, and now they’ve become something else—a third being.”
“Merged?”
“It consumed him. Dissolved his body, all but his nervous system.”
“Why in Sol would he agree to that?”
“He began using the mech because he was completely paralyzed from battle, and only able to interact through his implant—through the mech dream. Sir, the alien mech…it whispers to you. Tries to tempt you to meld with it, to gain access to even more power than it already offers. I guess Roach figured that, since he could never leave the mech anyway, he had nothing to lose. But the mech corrupted him. Gabriel Roach doesn’t exist anymore. Just a monster that calls himself Roach. We thought we left him for dead in the Steele System, but apparently not. And from the looks of it, he’s stronger than ever.”
“What else does the mech tempt you to do?” Husher asked, his sapphire eyes boring into Jake’s, as though attempting to pierce his soul.
Jake returned that stare for as long as he could. Then, he cast his eyes downward. “It tries to get you to turn on your allies. To turn on life itself. The thing tries to drive you insane, Captain.”
“Why didn’t you bring this to my attention? That I’d invited an unstoppable war machine onto my ship, piloted by a young man who could go mad at any moment?”
“I’m not going to go—”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Price?” Husher yelled in his face, causing Jake to start.
Suddenly, Jake’s anger spiked. “Because I don’t trust you!”
“It’s not about trust,” Husher snapped back. “It’s about following orders.”
“It is about trust, though, Captain. Leadership is built on trust. You of all people should know that. When trust is lost, things fall apart. That’s why mutinies are things that happen from time to time.”
At the word “mutinies” Husher’s eyes went wide, but Jake wasn’t finished: “You need to give some thought about why those under you might or might not trust you. Most of your crew won’t tell you, so I’ll do you the favor: I don’t trust you because you’re willing to work with a government that’s slipping into tyranny—a government that just got into bed with one that’s been tyrannical for decades. By cooperating, you’re not only endorsing their radical actions, but you’re letting them push you into becoming more radical yourself.”
Husher’s face had reddened, but he no longer shouted. “I’m doing everything I can to defeat an enemy who wants to wipe out every sentient being in the galaxy. It’s impossible for me to do that if I don’t work with the current political order.”
“You say it’s impossible,” Jake said, softening his tone as well. “And yet, you’ve already done plenty of things people said were impossible. Beating Teth the first time, not to mention his superintelligent father. Keeping the IGF strong despite two decades of political pressure to weaken it. Singlehandedly winning the Gok Wars by defending the Arrowwood System against a force that would have bested any other commander.” Slowly, Jake nodded. “I’ve studied up on your record, Captain. I doubt the word ‘impossible’ would have ever left your lips, during those times. But now you’re saying it’s impossible to win the war while making sure society keeps the things that make it worth fighting for. I say you need to figure out how to do both.”
But Jake could tell that Husher was unmoved. “Let me tell you something, Seaman Price. You’re lucky I’m so focused on winning this war, because it’s the only reason I’m going to let you continue piloting that mech. Its power is too great for me to sideline it, no matter the risk. But I want you to report directly to Doctor Bancroft for a psychological evaluation, and I want you to do the same every time you step out of that thing. Is that clear?”
“Clear, sir.”
“Good,” Husher said, looking around at the soldiers gathered all around them. “Dismissed.”
Chapter 24
Alarm Bells
“We can’t fight an enemy who can vanish as soon as they’re vulnerable,” Husher growled, pacing back and forth across Ochrim’s lab. As he did, he was forced to pick his way past boxes they still hadn’t found a home for—supplies from the former Supplies Module.
He came to a stop facing the Ixan, who sat on a lab stool with his claw-tipped hands dangling between his knees. The Fins watched the exchange from their tank, though they didn’t eavesdrop—not unless they could read lips, which he wouldn’t be surprised by, come to think of it. “The minute we start doing significant damage to the Progenitors’ hulls,” Husher went on, “they just leave the universe, probably to make repairs. Then they send in fresh ships. In the last engagement, their carrier even had an asset it clearly wasn’t willing to leave without, and we still couldn’t destroy it in time!”
“Captain,” Ochrim said. “I’m going to have to ask you to calm down.”
For a moment, Husher fixed the scientist with a wide-eyed stare. Then he realized his hands were balled into tight fists. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Ochrim.”
“You have something on your mind.”
“I have a million things on my mind, and the sense that I’m not making progress on any of them isn’t helping very much. This war has barely begun, Ochrim. We can count on the Progenitors having a far bigger fleet than the handful of ships they’ve shown so far. Till now, they’ve only been poking us where we’re weak, stirring the galactic pot to see what damage we’ll do to ourselves. Teth said he expected me to win this war for him. What the hell does that mean?”
The Ixan sighed. “I can’t begin to imagine. But I would caution against letting my brother get inside your head.”
“Regardless, I need a way to follow the Progenitors wherever they’re going—to chase them down and finish the job of destroying them. How can we win if we can’t even reduce their numbers?”
“You need me to reverse engineer their method of travel,” Ochrim said, weariness creeping into his voice.
“I know I’m asking the impossible. But it’s what we need, to have even a prayer of winning.”
Nodding, Ochrim said, “I understand. And…I think I know where we can start, at least.”
“You think you know how they’re skipping across dimensions?”
“Oh, I have uncorroborated theories about how they’re accomplishing it. But that isn’t what I meant. I think I have a way to find out how.”
“Go on.”
“Well, as you pointed out, we can depend on the Progenitors to flee as soon as they’re in danger, and then to strike where they have better odds. That poses a disadvantage to us from a strategic perspective, but perhaps we can turn it into an advantage from an intelligence perspective. If we affix a tracking device to the hull of a ship that then departs the universe, there’s a good chance we’ll encounter that ship again. Provided that we do, and that the device is still in place, then it can transmit the necessary data to us.”
“How are we supposed to stick a tracker to a Progenitor hull without them noticing?”
“Some deft sleight of hand will be necessary, to be sure.”
“Any ideas for doing that?”
“Actually, yes,” O
chrim said. “As you know, I’m far from well-versed in military tactics, but my idea was to modify a Hydra so that one of the eight warheads is replaced with a tracker, designed according to our needs and optimized for stealth.”
Husher blinked. “That…that actually sounds like it could work.”
“Then I’m happy I could help with that as well.”
“All right, then,” Husher said, nodding curtly, then heading for the ladder. Before ascending, he turned to face the Ixan again. “Thank you, Ochrim. You’ve helped me feel better. You, uh…” Husher cleared his throat. “You have a knack for that.”
The Ixan nodded, and Husher began his climb.
Wanting to sustain the peace of mind Ochrim had helped him to achieve, he decided to go through Santana Park on his way back to the Vesta’s crew section, to enjoy the sculpted landscape there—tree-lined pathways, ponds that glistened in the artificial sun, and even Oculens-simulated wildlife.
As it turned out, his decision proved horribly suited for maintaining peace of mind.
A vaguely familiar baritone reached him from the park’s southern end, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was coming from the acre that Cybele’s city council had briefly designated a human-free zone.
That sent alarm bells through his head. He felt certain today would go much smoother if he avoided the area altogether. But the familiarity of the voice tugged at him, along with the place it emanated from. It sounds like a speech. Almost against his will, his feet started taking him toward it. As captain, he needed to keep on top of what was happening on his ship as best he could.
The voice clicked into place just before a copse of trees fell away, revealing its owner: Corporal Toby Yung. Lance Corporal, now.
Yung was holding something pinched between his thumb and index finger, too small for Husher to make out. “These keep us enslaved,” he told the thirty or so people gathered to hear him speak. “They provide a way for the government to show us only the world they want us to see. A world of enforced diversity, enforced integration. We’re ostracized for even mentioning the possibility of going out in public without them in our eyes. I say, who cares? I reject the propaganda. I reject the deception.”
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 35
