The Secret Service ships had no lasers. With their smaller size, they needed their entire capacitor charge for multiverse travel. But they carried plenty of missiles and plenty of impactors. Combined with the element of surprise, their arsenals were packing an outsized punch against the turncoat IGF ships: five had gone down already, and as Husher turned his attention to the battle, six more fell.
It wasn’t enough. The Brotherhood formation broke apart, scattering in every direction, and the capital starships continued their suicide run for the defense platforms.
“We’re getting a transmission request from one of the Brotherhood ships, sir,” Ensign Fry said. “Should I accept? Do you think they’re trying to compromise us, too?”
Husher shook his head. “No, I don’t. The other ships didn’t accept and were still compromised. Besides, we removed lucid from our ship, so we’re not vulnerable in the same way. Accept the transmission.”
The face that appeared on the main display was one Husher hadn’t seen for twenty years. It was just as bald as it had been, and the white handlebar mustache it bore was just as flamboyant. But the skin sagged now, and the eyes were even deader.
“Bronson,” Husher spat. “Who let you crawl back into the galaxy?”
“No one lets me do anything. Don’t you remember that? You should have killed me during the Second Galactic War, Husher. When you had the chance.”
“I agree. But there’s no time like the present.”
“Are you kidding? This is over, and it’s thanks to me. If there’s anything left of you after we’re finished wiping the floor with you, I’m gonna take a piss on it.”
Winterton went rigid at his console. “Sir, Teth’s destroyer has appeared directly behind us with eight destroyers accompanying. They’re hitting us with particle beams!”
Eyes drawn to the tactical display, Husher realized the purpose of Bronson’s taunting. It had been meant to anger and distract him, so that Teth could get into position. And it had worked.
“Helm, full lateral thrust!”
“Sir, shouldn’t we transition out?” Noni said, twisting to face him, fear painting her face.
“Negative,” Husher said. “We’re finishing this.”
Chapter 51
Military History
There was no time to think. Only to react.
“Tremaine, fire a spray of dispersed kinetic impactors to disrupt the attack, and fire Hydras from rear tubes as quick as you can.”
“Yes, sir,” the Tactical officer answered, his words clipped.
“Coms, order the Arrowwood Pythons we kept in reserve to scramble at once and target Teth’s destroyer.”
“Aye.”
A part of Husher told him it was irresponsible not to have transitioned out in response to Teth’s appearance. But a much louder part pointed out that Teth wouldn’t stick around either, unless he thought he could destroy Husher.
Taking a risk like this is the only way we’ll get a shot at him.
“Impactors away, sir,” Tremaine said. “Hydras will be ready momentarily.”
Winterton spoke: “Our lateral movement threw the enemy’s targeting off, but our stern took massive damage from superheating, Captain. Dangerously close to a main reactor. They appear to be refocusing on that reactor now.”
“Acknowledged. Helm, bring us about, as quickly as she can handle. Tremaine?” If those missiles didn’t launch now, the rear launch tubes would be out of position.
“Launching Hydras!” Tremaine said. “This doesn’t leave us with many left, sir.”
“Order a forward Banshee barrage prepared, with Gorgons mixed in.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Winterton? Status?”
“They’ve broken off their attack to deal with our reserve Pythons, sir. The bad news is the Arrowwood pilots don’t seem very experienced with dodging Ravagers. Combined with the Progenitor point defense systems, the enemy is cutting down their numbers rapidly.” Winterton leaned closer to his console. “Hydras are nearing their targets, however. They—” The sensor operator blinked.
“What?”
“All nine destroyers have vanished, sir.”
“I don’t trust that. Tremaine, keep a close eye on the Tactical display. Helm, don’t slow our rotation. If they appear behind us again, I don’t want them there for long.”
“They have, sir,” Winterton exclaimed. “The destroyers have appeared behind us!”
Husher suppressed a wince. That confirmed that every Hydra they’d launched had been wasted.
“They’re hitting us with particle beams again,” Winterton said. “Our rotation is preventing them from focusing on any part of our hull for long, but the energy transfer is still immense. I don’t think we can withstand it much longer.”
“Can the Pythons reach the enemy ships in time to make a difference?” Thanks to the destroyers’ abrupt relocation, the starfighters were now out of position.
“I don’t think so,” the sensor operator answered.
“Tremaine, spray impactors. Do we have enough charge to both fire our primary and transition out?”
“Negative, sir.”
Winterton’s eyes were fixed on Husher’s face. “The destroyers’ formation is much more spread out this time, sir. I don’t know that impactors will be enough to throw them off.”
Husher drew a deep breath, racking his brain, but knowing it was futile. He was beaten. He opened his mouth to give the order to transition out.
Then, something caught his eye on the tactical display: Ayam’s subspace squadron dropped into reality from nowhere, executing an alpha strike that connected cleanly with one of Teth’s main capacitor banks, which blew out into the void.
Instantly, the other destroyers broke off their attack on the Vesta, desperately trying to neutralize the subspace-capable Pythons.
As well they might. After deploying its particle beam for so long, and with one of her main capacitors destroyed, Teth likely didn’t have the energy to transition out.
“Winterton, where are those Arrowwood Pythons?”
“They’re closing in, but they’ll still need another minute.”
“Let’s buy them that time. Our nose will soon be in line with Teth’s ship, Tremaine. Unleash the entire barrage of Banshees at it, and follow up with several tight bursts of kinetic impactors, along firing solutions designed to anticipate the ship’s trajectory.”
Teth’s destroyer would still be able to maneuver under thrusters, but she could only move so fast.
I’ve got you right where I want you, you bastard.
Dozens of Banshees left their tubes, and the Arrowwood Pythons followed soon after, flying past the Vesta toward Teth’s ship. The eight destroyers accompanying Teth had clearly been ordered to divert everything they had to protecting him. They mowed down Banshees as they approached, but they couldn’t get them all—not while picking off every Python. Not only that, defending against kinetic impactors was much trickier, and Ayam’s squadron continued to harry Teth’s destroyer.
Husher could see that the writing was on the wall. Then he remembered his battle with Teth over Klaxon’s moon, when he’d destroyed the Ixan’s ship but his enemy had still escaped.
“All ahead, Helm, right now.”
Tremaine shot a concerned glance at Husher. “Sir, is that wise?”
“I said all ahead,” Husher barked, and the Vesta surged forward.
Two Banshees connected with Teth’s hull, and then an Arrowwood squadron got in an alpha strike, followed by one from Ayam’s fighters. Finally, a burst of impactors achieved a direct hit, and Teth’s ship burst apart.
“Watch for the escape pod, Winterton, and send the designation to Tremaine the moment you have it.”
Even as he nodded, Winterton made the flicking motion atop his console that would transfer the data to Tremaine. “It’s done.”
“Impactors, Tremaine.”
The tactical officer only had one shot, and no time to whip up a firing s
olution. He’d have to free-hand it, something rarely done in space combat.
Tremaine took the shot.
He scored a hit. Teth’s shuttle burst apart—a brief flash against the void, and the Ixan was gone.
“Fantastic work, Chief Tremaine,” Husher said, and the Tactical officer nodded. “Let’s turn our attention to the remaining destroyers.”
But those destroyers were already transitioning out, eager to escape Ayam’s subspace squadron, not to mention the rest of the Vesta’s non-Arrowwood fighters, which were finally about to reach the engagement.
Husher didn’t feel nearly as satisfied by Teth’s demise as he’d expected to. He’d battled the Ixan across vast stretches of space and time. Teth was responsible for the deaths of millions of innocent beings. And yet Husher felt…nothing.
He didn’t regret what he’d done. Teth had deserved to die, and he would have killed him again if he’d needed to, a thousand times over. But the battle still raged all around him, and the allied forces were just as desperate. They were almost as outnumbered as before, too—they’d whittled things down to three-to-one, perhaps. As for the remaining Progenitor ships, it was difficult to tell whether they’d even realized their commander had died.
You barely need a commander, with numbers like those. You just need to continue attacking in waves until your enemy is defeated.
Killing Teth had been a personal victory, nothing more. The galaxy was still in just as much danger.
His CIC crew seemed to take no pleasure in Teth’s destruction, either. In fact, their hearts hadn’t seemed in this battle from the outset. It was as though they were simply going through the motions, and now that Husher considered it, the rest of the allied fleet seemed much the same.
Would we have lost those two capital ships if morale was higher?
As though reading his thoughts, Winterton said, “The capital starships appear to have regained control, sir. They’re pulling away from the defense platforms to reengage the enemy forces.”
Husher nodded distractedly. “Thank you, Ensign.”
Why should anyone’s hearts be in this? What are we supposed to be fighting for? A society that’s given in to its own jealousy and resentment, so that its members tear each other down for scraps?
“Chief Noni,” he said.
“Sir?”
“It’s time to pay the Progenitors a visit in their home.” It’s the only way to end this. “Coms, while the chief calibrates our interdimensional course, I want you to recall our entire Air Group.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Within ten minutes, the Vesta’s Pythons had all returned to their flight decks, and Noni’s course was prepared. “Transition out, Chief,” he said, and they did.
Husher sat in silence for the duration of the interdimensional voyage: this time, over ten minutes. He spent part of the time wondering why it took longer to reach the Progenitors’ dimension than it did to loop through the multiverse and return to a different place in their own dimension. I suppose it makes sense.
“We’ve arrived, sir,” Noni said.
Husher nodded. “Winterton? What do you see?”
The sensor operator frowned at his display, no doubt waiting for more sensor data to populate. “I—” He shook his head.
“What is it, Ensign?”
“This system…it’s an exact match for the Corydalis System, sir.”
Corydalis. That was the system just outside the Concord System—formerly the Baxa System, the home of the Ixa.
“Do you see any Progenitor ships?” Husher asked. “Structures? Anything?”
“There are many ships,” Winterton said. “Two large fleets, fighting on the opposite side of the system. One of them much larger than the other. Sir…I minored in military history, with a focus on the Second Galactic War.”
Husher raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“One of these fleets is comprised of Ixan ships from that era. The other fleet…unless I’m grossly mistaken, this appears to be the final battle of the Second Galactic War. The other fleet is led by the Providence.”
Chapter 52
Death Struggle
Ochrim was in the CIC once more, head joined with Noni’s as they attempted to figure out whether there was an error with either her course or his calculations…or whether this was truly where the coordinates for the Progenitor home dimension had taken them.
If so, then nothing about it made sense. What they were seeing certainly didn’t cohere with what Sato had told him. It was possible she’d lied, but if that was the case then she’d concocted a pretty elaborate fiction, for no reason Husher could discern.
The fleets battling on the other side of the system showed no sign they’d noticed the Vesta’s arrival. Locked in their death struggle, they fought on, the allied fleet dwindling, just as it had twenty years before, in Husher’s native dimension.
The idea that his old mentor, his personal hero, was about to die before him…he had no idea how to process that. There certainly wasn’t anything he could do about it. If he joined his supercarrier with Keyes’s, he would merely share his fate. The Ixa’s numbers were too great, and besides, Husher knew that soon a wormhole would rupture, destroying almost every ship participating in the battle.
Stranger and more unsettling still was the notion that in the next system over, a younger version of himself fought to reach the Ixan superintelligence named Baxa, and to destroy him.
He had expected to encounter another version of himself today. Sato had told him about his double’s importance to the Progenitor command structure. Husher had managed to start thinking of that other self as a demonic, false version, but given that whatever universe they’d landed in seemed to mirror his native universe, he had to assume that it was basically him fighting through the Baxa System, completely unaware of what was about to happen.
“I believe this may indeed have been an error in my calculations,” Ochrim said from the Nav station. “Which makes it very fortunate that my error didn’t affect our interdimensional transitions as we fought the Progenitors around Home.” The Ixan’s eyes met Husher’s. “Now that I’ve identified the problem, I should be able to fix it in minutes. Just a matter of altering the algorithm so that it emphasizes the Vesta’s mass during certain transitions along the path integral.”
Husher nodded. “Do it.”
He continued to watch the tactical display as more and more allied ships fell. Victory seemed impossible, but Husher knew what was coming: Keyes’s sacrifice. Admiral Keyes and his CIC crew, having emptied the rest of their ship, would fight to hold the Ixa at bay while the Tumbran Piper would use the Constellation to generate a wormhole under Keyes’s orders. Then, also under Keyes’s orders, he would let it collapse, resulting in a catastrophic release of energy that would destroy most of the Ixan fleet. Teth would survive. Husher knew that, now. But the enemy fleet would be decimated.
He watched as the allied ships fought with a level of valor Husher hadn’t beheld for a long time. What makes them so determined to give their lives in battle, when IGF members seem like robots going through the motions, even as their defeat draws ever nearer?
He thought about what shape Milky Way society had taken, twenty years ago—and in this dimension’s present. They’d just fought a revolution against a corrupt Commonwealth, and against all odds, they’d brought down the government that had sold the public good to the highest bidder. Then, they’d set about building something new. Something they could be proud of.
These people are fighting for a society they believe in.
Everything seemed to fall into place for Husher, then, and a great calm fell over him. During the entire war with the Progenitors, he’d been plagued with self-doubt over whether he would be able to protect the galaxy.
And now he realized he was completely right to doubt himself.
I can’t protect the galaxy. No one can. If the galaxy is going to survive, it has to protect itself. It has to want to protect itself.
/> On the tactical display, fewer than a hundred allied ships remained. Abruptly, they began to retreat, heading for the Corydalis-Baxa darkgate. Keyes had ordered them to flee, and soon he would deploy his final gambit.
Beating the Progenitors isn’t about preserving galactic society so that it can one day become just. It’s about becoming a good and just society so that we can beat them.
He doubted there was enough time to do that, with the IU’s defeat already well underway. But he also knew that doubt no longer factored in. He needed to strive for what he knew was right. It was better to die striving than to take the coward’s way out.
On the tactical display, both of Piper’s wormhole ends collapsed, bracketing the Ixan fleet. A surge of energy washed across the system.
“It’s done,” Ochrim said. “We can continue on to the Progenitor dimension.”
“Transition out,” Husher told Noni. “But not to the Progenitor’s universe. Take us home again.”
Chapter 53
The Old Way
The Vesta reappeared in the Kaithian home system, well away from the warring fleets. If any enemy ships decided to transition out to attack her, then Husher would deal with them.
But he didn’t believe they would. The Vesta had reentered the system far enough away that he would be finished broadcasting his message before it reached its first recipients, and the Progenitors would likely view the Vesta’s removal from the battle as an advantage not to be challenged.
And it clearly was an advantage. A simple glance at the tactical display told him that the allied fleet was losing ships at a faster rate than before—that the odds against them grew even more overwhelming with every passing second.
“Broadcast my words, and my face,” he told his Coms officer. “No encryption. I don’t care about preventing the enemy from listening. It’s far more important that every being in the system hears, soldier and civilian alike.”
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 68
