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  As one, seven Talons and one Falcon engaged their engines and flew from the frigate. Glancing at his tactical display, it wasn’t hard to detect the Ixan destroyer’s confusion. It had aimed its main weapon at the Wakeful, but the shot never came. Now it struggled to fend off the fighters swarming it.

  “Looks like Wingtip Fesky’s got their destroyer occupied,” Keyes said over the squadron-wide channel. “Let’s form up for an alpha strike on the nearest corvette.”

  “Should we deal with its point-defense turrets first?” one of the Wingers under his command said. “They’ll tear us to shreds if we don’t.”

  “Normally, you’d be right. But I had a little chat with the captain of the Wakeful, and he’ll be sending a generous helping of Banshee missiles their way. The turrets will be plenty busy with those.” On his tactical display, the first such missiles left the cruiser and made their way toward the Ixan corvette. “Form up.”

  Apparently satisfied, the Wingers obeyed without further comment, and together they screamed toward their target.

  “Fire on my mark, and be ready to alter course along a vector I’ll transmit to your computers, which will set us up to come around for a second pass.”

  In the end, a second pass proved unnecessary. The corvette exploded under their first concentrated barrage of kinetic impactors.

  Keyes’s course alteration accounted for the possibility of immediate success, and when his squadron’s fighters all rotated around their short axes, they were well positioned to pressure the destroyer with Fesky and the two squadrons under her command.

  They sped toward the onyx destroyer, and Keyes took a moment to tell his tactical display to zoom out, in order to see how the carriers were doing.

  He grinned. As planned, the Hornet and the Roostship had altered their course well before reaching the four Ixan warships gathered on the other side of the planet. That charge had been a feint, to ensure they didn’t abandon Rik’s supercontinent to come to the defense of their support ships.

  And now, it was far too late.

  The destroyer soon came apart under fire from the Wingers and humans. The remaining corvette attempted to escape, then, along with the two support ships—but there was no escaping the Talons and Falcons. Kinetic impactors ended the Ixa’s desperate flight before it began.

  Even if they’d been able to outdistance their pursuers for a time, it wouldn’t have mattered. Command Leader Pate and the remnants of his fleet were already fleeing for the nearest wormhole.

  Chapter 12

  Fesky’s Warning

  “Then it’s decided,” Flightmaster Korbyn said, gazing around at the Winger and human officers sitting at the round table in the Roostship’s main conference room. “The Wakeful will return to ensure word reaches our governments about the retaking of Rik and the horrendous slaughter of the Ixa who are the product of inter-species couplings. In the meantime, the Maddox and my own Roostship will provide escort to Captain Husher as he continues his mission to pressure Baxa for a ceasefire.” The Winger clacked his beak. “This meeting is ended. To the officers of the Hornet, the Wakeful, and the Maddox—thank you for coming aboard.”

  The assembled officers stood, a few smoothing their uniforms over their stomachs before filing out of the conference room and heading for the shuttles waiting to return them to their ships. Keyes stood behind his chair, his hands on its back, waiting for others to leave and make room for his own exit.

  In the corridor, Captain Husher was in the middle of regaling the captain of the Wakeful with ribald tales from shore leaves of his youth. Keyes had no facility for that sort of banter, and so he hung back.

  Talons closed over his right elbow. “Human.”

  Keyes didn’t frighten easily, and so he merely glanced at the Winger holding him. Then he looked down at its nametag. “Wingtip Fesky. It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

  “Shut up and follow me.”

  She dragged him into a claustrophobic supply closet. Glancing around at the poorly dusted shelves, he cleared his throat. “What’s our business here, ma’am?”

  “This ceasefire fiasco will get us all killed—you and your crewmates in particular. It will get you killed quickest out of anyone.”

  “Why didn’t you speak up at the meeting?”

  “Flightmaster Korbyn ordered me not to. He appreciates my skills as a pilot but not my input on his decisions. I’m considered too vocal by many Wingers.”

  For a long moment, Keyes struggled with whether he should divulge what he wanted to. Finally, he decided: “Captain Husher agrees with you.”

  “He’s a smart man, then. Baxa will never agree to a ceasefire. And he won’t allow you to leave Ixan space alive.”

  “Nevertheless…we have to follow the orders we were given. The United Human Fleet’s leadership knows best. If it wasn’t for the UHF, humanity would have likely been wiped out long ago.”

  Fesky spread her wings, and one of them jostled a metal shelf. “Even for the good of your species, you won’t question orders? Even when your captain sees the sense of doing so?”

  “The UHF exists for the good of humanity.”

  “Very well, human. I’d hoped to find you a little wiser than this.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s been a pleasure fighting alongside you.”

  “Whatever. Leave.”

  Keyes saluted, and did so.

  On the walk to the shuttle, and then on the ride back to the Hornet, Fesky’s words echoed inside Keyes’s head, troubling his thoughts. He’d always been loyal to the UHF, in everything he did. But no one was infallible. Could it be that the fate of humanity hinged on whether he could bring himself to be insubordinate? No. Loyalty has never steered me wrong. It won’t now.

  But his uncertainty followed him to his quarters and then got into his bunk with him. It kept him awake long into the night.

  And when the voice returned, muttering incomprehensibly, that didn’t help matters.

  Keyes clutched his head. “Go away. I’m not crazy. I’m not.”

  “You’re right,” the voice said, and Keyes blinked. That’s the clearest it’s been.

  “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  “I’ve been trying to contact you. I’m not a voice in your head, Lieutenant Keyes. My name is Ochrim, and I’m an Ixan scientist.”

  Keyes sat up in bed. “What do you want?”

  “My work involves developing technology that harnesses dark energy and matter. That’s how I’m speaking to you right now—through a very tiny wormhole connecting your cabin to my lab. This is the first time I’ve been able to stabilize it long enough for sustained communication.”

  “I’ll say it again: what do you want?”

  “I want to talk to your captain.”

  “About what?”

  “About rescuing me.”

  Chapter 13

  Nearsighted

  Ochrim feared that he wouldn’t be able to stabilize another wormhole inside a meaningful timeframe, and so in order to talk to the Ixan scientist, Captain Husher had to enter Keyes’s cramped personal quarters.

  Keyes stood stiffly by the closed hatch, unsure how to feel about being alone in his cabin with the captain and a disembodied voice. This wasn’t what he’d envisioned the day he enlisted with the UHF.

  But the captain didn’t seem fazed. “Convince me that I should trust you, Ixan,” he said, glaring into empty space.

  “Very well,” Ochrim said. “I’m developing this technology for monsters whose endgame appears to involve the extermination of all other life. I find them abhorrent. Tell me—do you really think any self-respecting Baxa acolyte would use the word ‘abhorrent’ in connection with him, even to trick humans?”

  A brief silence followed while Husher appeared to consider the scientist’s words. “No. I don’t.”

  “I consider humans to be far more honorable than Baxa and his ilk. So I’m offering to develop this technology for you instead.”

  “Being mor
e honorable than Baxa is not a high bar to clear,” Husher said.

  “Fair point. But my meaning stands.”

  “I’m not convinced,” Keyes said. “If you can create wormholes, why not just come to us through one? This smells like a trap to lure us into Ixan space with our guard down.”

  “That should be obvious,” Ochrim said, sounding disappointed, “considering I’ve had such trouble stabilizing a wormhole that’s barely visible to the naked eye.”

  “You could easily be pretending to have trouble.”

  “Well, I don’t advocate entering our system with your guard down. I think you should be on very high alert indeed. If you want more proof, you could try touching my wormhole. By doing so, you’ll get a tiny hole through your finger. Currently, my attempts to transport any matter through them have been unsuccessful. Thus far, they only admit light and sound.”

  “So you can see us, too,” Husher said. “These things could be used to create the most advanced spying system the galaxy’s ever seen.”

  “This technology has many potential applications—and all of them could be used by Baxa to do great harm.”

  “Tell me about these other applications,” the captain said. “Sell me on the idea of coming to get you.”

  Ochrim did so, with a level of enthusiasm normally reserved for passion projects. He may not be thrilled about developing this tech for Baxa, but the tech itself clearly excites him.

  “Obviously communication is one application, as we’re demonstrating now. But the most important application for warfare will be the ability to manipulate the wormholes to alter what types of matter they will and won’t accept. This is all theoretical for now, of course, but the only known way to interact with dark matter is through a rare metal found on just a few planets. If we develop specialized transistors made from that metal, there’s no reason we won’t be able to manipulate the wormhole’s axions and actually control—”

  “All right, all right,” Husher said. “I’ve heard enough words I don’t know to be convinced we need this technology.” The captain shook his head. “In light of what you’re telling me, the UHF’s ceasefire seems even more foolhardy. It would give the Ixa time to develop this technology and use it to dominate us.” Husher looked at Keyes. “Consider Baxa with the ability to fire on us from thousands of light years away, secure in the knowledge that we can’t fire back.”

  “There’s a secret second wormhole that leads into our home system, known only to the Ixa” Ochrim said. “It lets out near my location, meaning you’d have just a few hours at most to retrieve me and get out of the system before the station personnel summons the warships nearby.”

  “Sir…” Keyes swallowed as his captain’s eyes grew hard. The captain knows what I’m about to say. He said it anyway. “Sir, to abandon the ceasefire…it’s insubordination.”

  “I won’t abandon the ceasefire. Not on the surface, anyway. I’ll still take the Hornet into their system through the commonly known wormhole and begin negotiations. That will make sure their attention is drawn away from Ochrim while you lead a strike force to nab him.”

  “But the negotiations will be nothing more than a ruse. I can’t condone this, sir.”

  “I’m not asking you to condone it, Keyes. I’m telling you to do it. Now, the only question that remains is whose orders you will defy—the nearsighted admiralty’s or your captain’s.”

  Their eyes locked, and silence ruled the tiny cabin. Keyes didn’t look away. But at last, he spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I’m with you, Captain.”

  Chapter 14

  Fesky’s Choice

  Flightmaster Korbyn sat rigid in the Captain’s chair, his feathers standing at attention. For once, he didn’t clack his beak.

  Fesky shifted in her seat. He’s about to say something rash.

  “This is suicide, Husher,” Korbyn said. “It reeks of a trap laid by Baxa himself. I was ready to support you in your press for a ceasefire, but not in this. You are a fool.”

  To his credit, on the viewscreen, Captain Husher kept his cool. The way he sits makes his Captain’s chair look like a recliner. But at least he’s staying calm.

  “That’s not what you said when I told you my plan to retake Rik,” he said. “Or when it worked.”

  “You humans do have flashes of brilliance, I’ll admit,” Korbyn said. “But this proves what I’ve suspected all along—humanity’s valor is overrated. The truly valiant would not lose their senses just because a scientist has invented some dangerous new toy.”

  “And a decent captain wouldn’t criticize his species’ closest ally in front of his crew. You have a lot to learn, fledgling. Bye, now.” With that, Husher’s likeness winked from the viewscreen.

  Now, Korbyn’s beak clacked. He avoided eye contact with his bridge crew.

  Fesky stood. “Captain, you are wrong. The ceasefire was suicide, not this. We must help the Hornet.”

  Her captain leapt to his feet and stormed toward her. For a moment, Fesky wondered whether he intended to strike her, but she stood her ground.

  “I’ve already ordered you never to air your opinions on this matter again,” he squawked, drawing to a stop inches away from her. “Wingers fly as a flock, and a flock can’t operate when one of its members continually tries to divide it. You should have been taught that since hatching, but apparently someone botched your education.”

  Fesky stared at the deck, trembling with rage.

  “Do you understand me, Wingtip?”

  “Yes, sir,” she muttered.

  “You’re dismissed, then.”

  She marched from the bridge, talons bunched. “Get out of my way,” she snapped at a young pinion who was on his way in. He leapt aside just in time.

  As she strode through the Roostship’s corridors, her anger only grew. Maybe I should take wing in the skyway for a few laps. Usually flying calmed her, but she suspected even that wouldn’t work, this time.

  Her com beeped, and she took it out. Its screen displayed a message from Lieutenant Keyes. The message consisted of two sets of coordinates, accompanied by five words: Locations: secret wormhole. And Ochrim.

  Suddenly, she realized she couldn’t stay aboard Korbyn’s ship anymore. It wasn’t just that by leaving she could help make sure the Ixa never reached their fell goals. It was that she didn’t belong here anymore. As Korbyn had said, Wingers instilled obedience in their young from hatching onward. But she couldn’t obey any longer. She wouldn’t.

  Fesky made her way toward the flight deck where her Talon awaited her.

  Chapter 15

  Negotiations

  The Hornet was four systems away from the Ixan home system when enemy warships surrounded it. By then, Keyes had been gone for a while—heading for the secret wormhole with the remaining Falcons, his marine strike team, and the Maddox.

  Luckily, the Ixan in charge of the opposing battle group accepted Husher’s transmission request instead of simply blowing up his ship.

  “State your business,” the Ixan said, its shrewd, deep-set eyes studying him.

  This one’s young. The Ixan barely had any white creases where its scaly skin stretched over bone protrusions. “I’m here to negotiate a ceasefire with Scion Baxa,” Husher said.

  “Scion Baxa isn’t here.”

  “Yes. I was hoping you would allow me passage to your home system.”

  “Why would the Scion deign to speak with you, human?”

  “Because he wants Rik, and it’s mine to offer to him.”

  The Ixan cocked its head to one side. “I heard we retook Rik.”

  “You did. And I took it back from you.”

  That brought a long break in the conversation, which other captains might have found awkward. Husher used the time to scrape dirt from underneath his fingernails.

  “Very well, human. You’ll get your audience. Though I expect you’ll get more than you’re bargaining for, with Baxa.”

  “That’s my hope.”

&
nbsp; The Ixan just laughed, and shut off the transmission.

  It took the Hornet the better part of two days to travel the rest of the way to the Ixan home system. Husher rotated his CIC crew to maximize the amount of rest they received, but he was ready to switch in his best officers at a moment’s notice.

  But what will I do if the Ixa decide to attack? No matter what angle he viewed their situation from, he couldn’t figure out a clever way for them to escape destruction. If the Ixa decided to deny him the chance to negotiate, they were doomed. Possibly they were doomed either way. He spent a lot of time sitting in his cabin, staring at his favorite photo of his wife holding Vincent, his son.

  He entered the CIC just as they were transitioning through the wormhole into the Ixan home system. Along the way, the Ixan captain escorting them must have sent a message to his superiors via the Tumbra, because as soon as the Hornet exited the wormhole another warship moved to block any escape attempt Husher cared to make.

  Looks like we’re committed, now. To whatever the Ixa care to do to us.

  On the bright side, unless Keyes had run into something unexpected, he would enter the opposite end of this system within the hour.

  “Captain,” his Coms officer said, “we’re getting a transmission request from an Ixan destroyer that’s approaching from the direction of their homeworld.”

  “Accept it.”

  Command Leader Pate appeared on the CIC’s main viewscreen. That’s not a good sign.

  “Captain Husher,” Pate said, his posture reminiscent of a nun with hemorrhoids.

  What’s that fake shit someone’s smeared on his face? Whatever it was, it did a piss-poor job of covering the Ixan’s flaking scales. “Pate,” Husher said. “Nice to see you again so soon.”

  “Yes,” Pate said, drawing out the word. “I’m told you’re here to negotiate for your species’ survival.”

  “A ceasefire, actually.”

  “It’s the same difference, isn’t it, Captain?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should ask the crews of the Ixan warships my people blew up over Rik.” God damn it. I’m a terrible negotiator.