Supercarrier: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 1 Page 9

  Reclining comfortably in the wooden chair, her head-tail dangling down the back, was the Kaithian who’d played a mother of twins in the fantasy they’d concocted. She turned to study Husher when he entered, her youthful face serene, but she offered nothing else in the way of greeting.

  There remained nowhere for Husher to sit, so he marched around the alien and came to attention facing the captain, saluting.

  “What a refreshing display of deference from you, First Lieutenant. At ease. This is Aheera.”

  “We’ve met. Though I didn’t know her name,” Husher admitted.

  “You are First Lieutenant Husher,” Aheera said, and turned back to the captain. “I assume you want to share the information I’ve offered with the first lieutenant?”

  Keyes raised his eyebrows, fixing the Kaithian with his characteristic bluff-faced stare. “I’m surprised to hear you ask. Can’t you glean my intentions from my mind?”

  “I could, but I choose not to. We understand that other species value the notion of privacy, to varying degrees. Besides, if I simply siphon data from your mind, then what’s the point of conversation? Much more can be learned through actual interaction, which is why we felt it necessary to put you through what we did, First Lieutenant Husher.”

  “Don’t give me that shit,” Husher spat, balling his hands into trembling fists. “Nothing could be worth what you did to Sergeant Caine. She’s gone from thinking she’s still in your simulation to thinking she actually died down there. And in her psychosis, she injured another one of our marines.”

  When Caine had fired at the Ocharium barrier, one of her bullets had ricocheted and entered Private First Class Ryerson’s abdomen, thankfully missing any vital organs. We’re lucky more weren’t injured.

  “You say nothing is worth that, and yet you know how many lives are at stake in the war with the Wingers. It is awful to engage in such a cold calculus, but even had your marine died, stopping a war would have been worth it.”

  Husher seethed, and a retort sprang to his lips, but Keyes cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Contain yourself, First Lieutenant. Caine and Ryerson paid a price, to be sure, and God willing they’ll both have their health again soon. But I also know they’d be pissed off to learn we’re here squandering what their sacrifice has bought us.”

  “Which is?”

  “A direction to point ourselves in. Aheera just told me why a UHF ship crashed into Spire.”

  The alien nodded. “It is because your dark tech malfunctioned.”

  “Malfunctioned how?” Husher said.

  “Someone managed to reprogram the UHS Buchanan’s wormhole generator without anyone on board knowing. The modifications made it so that any wormhole it produced would disintegrate all organic matter that passed through it.”

  My God. Husher had always considered dark tech dangerous, but he’d never envisioned anything like this. Programming the wormholes to only accept certain types of matter represented one of the most significant military advantages that dark tech offered. Or at least, it used to be an advantage.

  Husher met the captain’s eyes. “How will we find out who did this?”

  Keyes nodded at Aheera. “Our guest has provided us with a lead.”

  The alien closed her large eyes and emitted what sounded like a sigh. “You must ask Ochrim.”

  “Ochrim?” Husher shook his head. “Unless I’m misremembering, I don’t think I have him in my address book. Maybe because he works at one of Darkstream’s hidden research stations?”

  “He is an old friend of ours. I will give you the coordinates.”

  “Wait a second.” He took a step closer to the Kaithian, and while the captain started to rise from his chair, the alien remained perfectly calm. “Ochrim gave you dark tech, too. Didn’t he? That’s why you have the ability to deflect our bullets.”

  Aheera stood. “We’ve given you all the information we intend to. I will have one of my people provide you with the coordinates, Captain. I take my leave.”

  Despite her small stature, Aheera did not struggle to drag open the heavy hatch, and Husher remembered the incredible strength exhibited by the Kaithe during the vision they’d induced.

  She closed the hatch behind her with equal ease, producing a prolonged, metallic click.

  Husher pointed at it. “This is very troubling. The Kaithe have dark tech, too. That’s two species we have to worry about.”

  Captain Keyes settled down into his chair once more and brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing them with thumb and forefinger. “One thing at a time, First Lieutenant. One thing at a time.”

  Chapter 26

  Copilot

  Senator Sandy Bernard slumped in the shuttle’s copilot chair, where she spent most of her time sitting to catch the fleeting moments when Corporal Simpson showed the outside on the ship’s smallish display.

  Mostly, Simpson studied readouts from the shuttle’s various systems—fuel levels, life support, tactical sensors, and so on. But every now and then the cosmos would flash on the screen in all its glory, and Bernard found herself sitting a little straighter. Even mediated by cameras, space took her breath away.

  “Why does a shuttle have tactical sensors, Corporal?” she asked the marine.

  Simpson glanced at her, expression neutral. Too neutral. “It’s a combat shuttle, ma’am. Sometimes we come in hot, other times we need to run away. And she does have a few small guns.”

  “Are you growing irritated with me?”

  The marine sighed. “To be honest, ma’am, I grow irritated with anyone I’m trapped with for this long in such a small space.”

  The senator smiled. “Me too.” She stuck out her hand. “Friends in mutual irritation?”

  They shook, and Simpson mustered a smile, though it looked canned.

  “I don’t mean to nag, Corporal, but we need to find a way into the Larkspur System quickly.”

  “I can appreciate that, Senator,” the marine said, her voice sounding even more strained. “But since you refuse to make contact with any UHF ship, I don’t see how it’s going to happen. The Larkspur-Caprice darkgate is under military lockdown.”

  “Yes, meaning they definitely wouldn’t let us through, no matter how politely we asked. They won’t allow a senator to waltz into a warzone, no matter how proficient the marine she’s traveling with is.”

  They were currently in heliocentric orbit on the outskirts of the Caprice System, and when she wasn’t waiting in the copilot chair for infrequent glimpses of space, Bernard watched the war unfold on the news, which reached their shuttle nine hours after broadcast.

  “I’m still not sure why we need to access the darkgate at all,” Simpson said after about a minute. “I’m sure the UHF can handle the situation without our intervention.”

  “But they clearly aren’t handling it, are they? There’s still a war happening, even though we both know that ship crashed because its crew disappeared.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I apologize for my tone, Corporal Simpson. Listen, I know you aren’t obligated to take orders from me. But there’s something very odd about this conflict. Either the UHF is totally fumbling its diplomatic efforts, or it hasn’t made any. If we can reach Spire and tell the Wingers what really happened…”

  “We might save a lot of people. I know, ma’am. It’s why I’ve been going along with this. It’s just…”

  “Frustrating.”

  “If we had the Winger’s stealth tech this would be a breeze, but the bastards never shared it with us.”

  That’s probably fair enough, given how we’ve treated them when it comes to dark tech. But the senator opted to not say that. “Well, we know there’s a lot of activity around the Vermillion shipyards.”

  Simpson nodded. “That’ll be the Fleet’s staging point.”

  “Is there any chance of getting lost among the swarm of ships? Slip in unnoticed?”

  “Hmm.” The marine scratched her forearm while staring at the tactical display. “If we perform an engi
ne burn down-system and then turn off all our non-critical systems, coast in on the sun’s gravity as well as our own momentum…”

  “Yes?”

  “It won’t make us invisible to sensors. That’s supposed to be impossible in space, and no one can figure how the Wingers managed it. But it could make them overlook us amidst all those ships.”

  Senator Bernard clapped her hands together once. “Let’s try it, then, Corporal. If it’s our only shot, then let’s give it a go, without delay.”

  Simpson’s smile looked a little more genuine, this time. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter 27

  Caine and Ryerson

  Keyes stepped into Doctor Brusse’s office and shut the hatch behind him. “How is she?”

  “Not good. She’s convinced she really died down there. A few hours ago, she managed to get her hands on a scalpel and used it to slash her wrist. One of my nurses caught her at it, thank God, and we were able to stop the bleeding in plenty of time. I asked her why she did it, and she said that if she’s dead then she wants to stay dead, instead of hanging around here in purgatory.”

  The doctor raised her coffee mug to her lips with a trembling hand. Brusse often became visibly upset when crewmembers ended up in sick bay hurt or ill. She never showed that to the patients themselves, but she showed it to Keyes, and it was why he’d do anything in his power to keep her as his ship’s doctor. Other than the fact she’s damned good at what she does.

  “So Caine thinks the Providence is purgatory?”

  “It’s what she thinks now. I expect it to change. People suffering from psychosis often progress rapidly from one delusion to the next, sometimes ping ponging between a few of them.”

  Keyes shook his head. “What are her chances of a full recovery?”

  “Well, we’re calling it acute psychosis, meaning we expect it to come to a definite end. But that’s always how you represent this to patients, to avoid upsetting them unnecessarily. In truth, it’s possible Caine has always been vulnerable to becoming psychotic, and the Kaithe simply triggered it. She may experience episodes all her life, Captain.”

  He nodded, refusing to indulge the stinging sensation in his eyes. “What about Ryerson?”

  “Ryerson’s past the worst of it. He’ll live.”

  “I want to speak to him first.”

  “He’s in the sixth bed on the left, with the curtain drawn around him to minimize contact between him and the sergeant.”

  “Good call. Thank you, Doctor.” He left the office and strode into sick bay, quickly locating Ryerson’s bed.

  “Captain,” the marine rasped.

  “Private First Class Ryerson. How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better, sir.”

  “I should think you have. Are they feeding you well?”

  Ryerson’s mouth curved upward slightly. “The meals are exactly how I expected them to be.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. We don’t want them giving patients any unnecessary shocks by feeding them food that actually tastes good.”

  The private chuckled, then winced.

  “I have to ask you something.” Keyes bent closer to Ryerson and lowered his voice, to eliminate the possibility Caine might overhear. “Do you harbor any resentment toward Sergeant Caine?”

  Ryerson shook his head as best he could against the pillow. “No, sir. Me and the sergeant have had our differences, but I understand how a brain can give out on you like that. It happened to my cousin, back home. Sergeant Caine’s not well, and what happened to me is just bad luck.”

  Keyes rested a hand gently on the marine’s shoulder. “You’re a good soldier, Ryerson. And a good man.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  He exited, drawing the curtain closed behind him. Taking a deep breath, he crossed the aisle to Caine’s bed on the opposite side of the sick bay.

  Plastic restraints tied Sergeant Caine’s arms to the metal rails that bracketed the bed. He should have expected that, but he hadn’t, and it hit him hard. The burning in his eyes returned, and he sniffed it back, hoping he could play it off as allergies.

  Caine’s eyes were rimmed with red, and when she saw Keyes she burst into tears, which didn’t help matters. For a moment, he didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “I’m sorry, Captain. Please don’t get angry. I’m sorry.”

  “Why would I get angry?” he asked, pronouncing his words slowly.

  “Because they’re telling me I’m wrong about being dead, and you get angry at people who are being stupid, and I’m afraid you’ll think I’m being stupid.”

  He reached down and took her hand where it hung from the metal rail. “I’m not angry.”

  “Don’t trust the Kaithe, sir. Whatever they tell you, do the opposite. Okay?”

  Caine’s words didn’t seem consistent with her belief about being dead, but he doubted it would accomplish anything to contradict her. “I’ll take that under advisement, Sergeant.”

  “Captain,” said a voice from behind him.

  Keyes released Caine’s hand and turned to find First Lieutenant Husher showing none of the respect he’d shown in front of Aheera. Funny how they’re so much better at following protocol with strangers around.

  He was about to rebuke the first lieutenant for his sloppy comportment, but he bit off the remark when he noticed where Husher’s gaze had strayed—to Caine. And his expression was one of pure concern.

  “What is it, Husher?” Keyes said.

  “The Kaithe have finished their inspection of the crew.”

  “I see. Wait for me outside my office.”

  “Yes, sir.” Husher strode out of sick bay.

  Keyes turned back to Caine. “Rest up, Sergeant. I’ll be back to visit as soon as I’m able.”

  Caine nodded, barely seeming to register his presence any longer. Her brow was furrowed. She’s lost in her own troubled thoughts. He gave her hand one last squeeze and departed sick bay.

  Back in his office, Husher gripped the back of the wooden chair with white-knuckled hands while Keyes tamped down the temptation to pour himself some whiskey.

  He folded his hands on his desk. “Out with it.”

  “Fifty-two crewmembers are conspiring against you, Captain. Against the Providence herself. Most of them are new, assigned to you for the purpose, but some of them are old crew who have turned.”

  “Who recruited them to do so?”

  “Darkstream, and their operatives within the UHF. The plan is to leave the Providence stranded down Pirate’s Path until the Wingers hunt us down. That’s why you were ordered to stay put. To make us easy prey.”

  “Admiral Carrow gave us that order. Does he have something to do with this?”

  “I don’t know. It could be his superior who’s the traitor, and Carrow was just passing along an order. What I do know is that the traitors aboard the Providence plan to sabotage our ability to fight the Wingers—but according to the Kaithe they haven’t settled on a plan for how to do that yet.”

  Keyes opened his desk’s right-hand bottom drawer and took out the bottle of whiskey as well as two tumblers, filling each half-way. He slid one of them across the desk toward Husher.

  The first lieutenant nodded, accepting his drink and draining a decent amount of it.

  “What’s the purpose of this fiasco?” Keyes said.

  “They figure losing the Providence to the Wingers will lead to widespread public approval of the war. That’ll lubricate Darkstream profits and leave humanity even more dependent on their dark tech.”

  “Incredible.”

  “It goes deeper. They anticipated the war, and they gave us the mission on Thessaly to make sure we were in the area when fighting broke out. It’s possible they even told the Tumbran to stall us at the darkgate, though I don’t know that for sure.”

  “There’s one thing I’m not understanding. What do our double agents aboard the Providence hope to get out of all this?”

  “The usual. Promotions and pay
off. Apparently they’re planning to steal the escape pods right before the Providence goes down. It’s high-risk—crazy, really—but if it works out for them it’ll also be high-reward.”

  Keyes sipped some whiskey, savoring the burn at the back of his throat. “I want the escape pods watched, discreetly. Any attempt to access them is to be reported directly to me, at once. See to it, First Lieutenant.”

  Husher hesitated. “I will, sir. But surely you plan to do a little more than that?”

  Swishing the whiskey around in its glass, Keyes watched the amber liquid swirl. Then he locked eyes with his subordinate. “The traitors will be dealt with, First Lieutenant Husher. Trust me. But before I can give them what they deserve, I need to find their replacements. One of them is my XO. Another is on my rotation of Tactical officers. You haven’t yet supplied me with the other names, and I cringe to consider which positions they might occupy. The Providence is understaffed as it is.”

  “I’ll get the names to you as soon as I can, Captain.”

  “Good.” Keyes drained the rest of his glass and slammed it onto the desk, but otherwise he kept his temper in check. “If there’s one thing we can take from this ordeal, it’s this: our system of government has rotted through. The UHF has rotted through. There’s no one to trust but ourselves, and they’re even trying to take that away.”

  “We’ll get through this, Captain. The Providence will be whole again.”

  Keyes chuckled, and from Husher’s offended expression he knew he shouldn’t have. Screw it. The first lieutenant’s youthful optimism combined with the idea that he should comfort Keyes…it was too funny.

  “Dismissed, First Lieutenant.”

  Husher saluted and marched stiffly from the office.

  Chapter 28

  Blackwing

  “Course is locked in, Captain. We’ll be at the next darkgate within the hour.”

  “Very good, Nav. Use the hour to start plotting possible courses from the darkgate on the other side, to the coordinates given us by the Kaithe. Project multiple possible deviations from the expected location of the darkgate.”