Defiance (Atlantia Series Book 5)

by Dean Crawford

  ‘They’re still with us!’ Teera cried out.

  Evelyn forced herself not to order Teera to break formation and instead sought out another pair of allied fighters amid the wheeling, firing mass of craft around them. A blast hit her stern quarter and she fought for control, and then a fresh blaze of fire rocketed overhead from behind her. She looked over her shoulder once more and was shocked to see the Phoenix burst from an expanding fireball where the two pursuing Raythons had been only moments before, the freighter breaking off and heading for Arcadia.

  ‘What the hell’s he doing here?’

  ‘Who cares?!’ Teera answered. ‘He just cleared our tail!’

  Andaim’s voice crackled across the airwaves.

  ‘All call signs, pull up and over! Evacuate the battle zone!’

  Evelyn felt a surge of warmth flush through her as she heard Andaim’s voice, as calm as ever despite the savage battle. She hauled back on her control column without questioning the command, and glimpsed through her canopy about a third of the warring fighters suddenly accelerate upward and away from the plane of battle.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Teera’s Raython climbing with her as suddenly both Atlantia and Arcadia’s guns erupted in a brilliant, blazing crossfire. The massive rounds smashed across the swirling cloud of the Legion’s Raythons and Evelyn saw dozens of the fighters erupt in fireballs as the huge plasma rounds blazed through them.

  ‘All fighters re–engage!’ Andaim called.

  Evelyn looked up and saw the CAG’s Raython arc over the top of a loop and plunge back down toward the fight, and she pulled back on her control column to follow him as she saw the rest of the Reapers and Renegades soaring down toward the battle.

  She felt something akin to excitement as she saw the wreckage of at least two dozen Legion–controlled Raythons sparkling in the sunlight as their flaming fireballs spluttered out, consumed by the bitter freeze of deep space.

  And then Defiance’s main batteries opened up and she saw Atlantia vanish amid a blaze of plasma fire so bright that it overpowered her photo–receptive shields and she turned her head away, her eyes shut tight and the image of the frigate’s hull imprinted on her eyeballs, engulfed in flame.

  ***

  XXXVII

  Mikhain dashed to the transports with Rench and the miners behind him, and together they travelled through the frigate toward the bridge. The entire ship shuddered as plasma broadsides thundered into her hull outside, the lights flickering weakly as they leaped from the transport and ascended the decks until they reached the bridge entrance.

  Two Marine guards were standing either side of the bridge, and Mikhain raised a hand to halt Rench behind him as he looked over his shoulder.

  ‘Leave this to me,’ he said. ‘As soon as their backs are turned, move in.’

  Rench and the Donassians nodded as Mikhain stepped out onto the bridge deck and strode toward the two Marines. The soldiers whipped their rifles up to point at him as he emerged from the adjoining corridor, and then their faces lit up with surprise as they recognised the captain.

  ‘Change of plan, gentlemen,’ Mikhain greeted them. ’I believe that we have a battle to win, do we not?’

  Mikhain stepped up to the soldiers and spoke quietly and quickly.

  Both of the soldiers grinned and both of them hurried to the bridge access door controls, set either side of the broad entrance. The Marines entered their individual access codes that allowed the bridge doors to open. They hissed open just as the frigate shuddered beneath the blows from another broadside, and Mikhain heard Lieutenant Scott bellowing commands to the bridge crew.

  ‘Helm, come right four two degrees, bow up three five!’

  ‘Right four two, up three five, aye!’

  Rench and his men rushed silently upon the two Marines and before they realized what had happened they were overpowered and their rifles taken from them. With their arms pinned behind their backs and their own weapons held with the barrels jammed beneath their chins, Mikhain led them onto the bridge with Rench behind him.

  ‘Lieutenant Scott!’

  Scott whirled at the sound of Mikhain’s voice and his eyes widened as he saw the captain and the ranks of burly, aggressive looking men standing behind him.

  ‘Guard!’

  Rench grinned at the Lieutenant without fear as he shouldered his way past Mikhain and his deep voice roared above the din of battle.

  ‘This is our ship now, and any one of you who tries to take it from us will suffer the same fate as your Marines!’

  He gestured over his shoulder with one thumb as the two captive Marines were shoved into sight in the bridge entrance. Lieutenant Scott stared at them and then his expression soured and he glared at Mikhain as he radiated pure contempt.

  ‘I always believed you to be a traitor and a coward, Mikhain,’ he spat. ‘But this is a new low even for you.’

  Mikhain smiled without concern. ‘Get off our bridge, lieutenant.’

  Scott straightened his uniform, perhaps as a last sign of defiance as he stepped down off the command platform and moved to stand before Mikhain. The younger man regarded the captain for a few moments and then spoke softly.

  ‘May you get everything that you deserve,’ he said finally.

  Mikhain strode past Lieutenant Scott and took his place on the command platform.

  ‘Sit rep?!’ he demanded.

  None of the officers replied or moved. Instead, they stood or sat at their consoles and quietly refused to cooperate with the captain. Rench surveyed them for a moment and then he stepped forward and jammed his pistol under Lieutenant Scott’s jaw.

  ‘In your own time,’ he growled at the crew.

  The tactical officer coughed and spoke loudly enough to be heard.

  ‘Hull integrity is sixty one per cent, shields at forty three. Power is low but stable and we’re fully engaged. Estimated time of survival is less than fifteen minutes.’

  Mikhain raised his chin as he considered this new information.

  ‘Atlantia’s been hit!’ cried one of the other officers.

  Mikhain glanced at the tactical display and saw their sister ship engulfed in a tremendous broadside, a direct hit from Defiance’s main guns. Atlantia’s hull and shield readings plummeted as the fireball expanded and dissipated, and Mikhain felt a surge of alarm as he saw countless fires now raging across the frigate’s surface.

  ‘She’s done for,’ Lieutenant Scott said as he surveyed the damage and turned to look back at his captain, his features ashen. ‘Congratulations, captain.’

  Mikhain ground his teeth in his skull and saw on another display the Phoenix rocketing out of the launch bays and turning away from the battle.

  ‘Time to leave,’ Rench snapped from one side. ‘Take us out of here, now!’

  Mikhain glanced at the helmsman and nodded once, and the officer reluctantly turned to his controls and began pulling Arcadia up and out of the battle zone. Mikhain surveyed the navigation screen and selected a suitable destination as he relayed his orders.

  ‘Set a course for Veyrin, immediate super–luminal, divert all power to the fusion cores.’

  Lieutenant Scott leaped forward.

  ‘They’ll die if you flee now!’ he shouted.

  Two of the miners grabbed the lieutenant and yanked him away from the captain. Mikhain looked down at Scott and shrugged.

  ‘And we’ll all die if we stay, lieutenant,’ he replied. ‘No sense in wasting more lives now, is there?’

  ‘We can still win!’ Scott pleaded.

  ‘We could never win!’ Mikhain roared finally, unable to contain his rage any more. ‘This was never about winning, lieutenant! This was about making a last stand! We’ve been abandoned, left out here to fend for ourselves! We either die here or we live to fight another day! I’m not going to put my life on the line for the Oassians, who have the means to assist us but have instead left us to be slaughtered. To hell with them!’

  A blast hit Arcadia’s
upper hull and the bridge trembled beneath the blow as sparks flew from overloaded circuitry and ceiling panels burst from their mounts to spin in mid–air, acrid smoke puffing in blue whorls from workstations as Mikhain grabbed the guard rail for support. He called out to the rest of the bridge crew, his voice loud enough to carry above the din.

  ‘There are still two hundred personnel aboard this ship, all of them with a right to live, that same right to live that Oassians consider applicable to the Legion over us. They have colluded with The Word, betrayed their own greatest convictions and policies, all in order to let us die here and now. We know damned well that sooner or later the Legion will likewise betray them and Oassia will fall. I say, let them fall without us!’ Mikhain surveyed the crew for a moment and then looked at the captive Marines. ‘Who’s with me?!’

  For a moment nobody moved, but then one of the Marines called out.

  ‘The hell with this, I’m with you!’

  Rench’s miners looked at him in surprise and then heard his companion cry out.

  ‘Me too! I’m not dying for Rh’yll and his cohorts! Let ‘em burn!’

  Lieutenant Scott stared in dismay as one by one the bridge crew’s resolve began to waver and he cried out at them.

  ‘Would Captain Sansin abandon any of us in the same way?!’

  Mikhain looked at the tactical display sadly as he replied. ‘I don’t think that what Captain Sansin would do matters any more, lieutenant.’

  The display showed Atlantia’s surface riven with ruptured hull plating, flames glowing from within as the damage from the relentless broadsides spread, the frigate’s shields no longer strong enough to deflect the plasma shots raining down upon her from the surrounding cruisers.

  Arcadia shuddered as another broadside ploughed into her hull, and Rench turned to Mikhain and shouted above the deep booms reverberating through the hull.

  ‘We leave, now, while we still have a ship left to travel in!’

  Mikhain nodded, and turned to the two captive Marines. ‘Guard, escort Lieutenant Scott to the brig, if you will?’

  The Marines both nodded. ‘Aye, cap’an.’

  Mikhain looked at Rench, who nodded. ‘Let ‘em go.’

  The Marines stepped forward as they were handed back their plasma rifles, and they both aimed the weapons at Lieutenant Scott.

  ‘This is treason,’ Scott said.

  ‘No, lieutenant, this is survival.’

  ‘Ain’t that right?’ Rench snapped as he shoved Mikhain toward the lieutenant. ‘A job well done, captain, but we’ll take it from here.’

  Mikhain whirled and glared at Rench. ‘We had a deal.’

  ‘And now I’ve got a better one,’ Rench growled. ‘Take them both to the brig or I’ll blast this pretty little thing up here, and set course for Veyrin!’

  Rench pointed the plasma pistol at Shah, whose dark eyes flared with alarm as she cowered behind her work station.

  Mikhain raised his hands as the two Marines levelled their rifles at both him and Lieutenant Scott, and the captain glanced over his shoulder as behind him a broad grin spread like a snake across Rench’s jaw.

  ‘Time for you to leave, captain,’ Rench snarled.

  Mikhain looked at the Marines and then he dropped to his knees as he cried out.

  ‘Scott, down!’

  A blaze of plasma fire crackled over his head as Lieutenant Scott hurled himself down to the deck and the Marine’s rifles opened fire. The salvo of shots blazed into Rench’s men and cut them down with a scythe of super–heated plasma. The miners’ agonised cries competed with the screeching of rending metal, the tortured hull of the frigate battered to the point of collapse by Defiance’s powerful cannons.

  The crackle of plasma fire ceased and Mikhain looked up to see the two Marines standing before him, their rifles smouldering. Mikhain got to his feet and turned to see Rench lying on his back on the deck, his chest smouldering where a plasma round had ploughed into it and incinerated his heart in an instant.

  Then stench of burning circuitry and flesh competed with each other as the frigate rocked violently and Mikhain was hurled sideways into the command platform’s guard rail. Lieutenant Scott scrambled to his feet and stared in disbelief at the dead bodies of the miners lying on the deck and the two Marines now standing at port arms and watching Mikhain expectantly.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ he gasped.

  Mikhain turned to the Marines. ‘Well done, gentlemen.’

  The Marines nodded in response, and as Lieutenant Scott watched Mikhain strode back onto the command platform and looked at the communications officer.

  ‘Shah, establish communications with Atlantia if you will. We’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘Aye, captain!’

  Lieutenant Scott stared openly at Mikhain. ‘You engineered it?’

  ‘Of course I damned well did,’ Mikhain shot back. ‘The guards were outside the bridge, right where they should be. I only had to tell them to follow my lead to get us in here, because I knew damned well that Rench would never get in on his own and you’d never agree to letting him even if you’d known I was still on your side.’ Mikhain tapped his forehead. ‘Thinking outside of the box, lieutenant.’

  Scott was about to reply when Captain Sansin’s voice echoed through the bridge as communications with Atlantia were re–established.

  ‘Mikhain?’ Sansin gasped breathlessly, surprise evident in his tone as he recognized the captain. ‘We’re done for. It’s over.’

  ***

  XXXVIII

  The Council chamber was silent as Rh’yll looked out across the silvery expanses of the city arrayed far below him. The countless transparent walkways were devoid of inhabitants and the once bustling sky lanes were empty, the population enduring a self–imposed curfew reserved only for time of imminent invasion by a superior or unknown force. Such a condition had not been imposed upon those citizens for almost two thousand years, a weighty realization that bore heavily down upon Rh’yll’s mind.

  His eyes could not see the city in the same way that many other species could, designed to filter out the blue rather than embrace it. The sky above was a hazy patch as was the glittering ocean surrounding the vast city, devoid of detail and information, his brain wired to detect movement against that blue in an adaption that had allowed his ancestors of millions of years ago to detect the massive predators that soared silently through the endless ocean depths.

  Just as they now did through the endless space above.

  Across the city he could see a faint smear of ugly brown smoke rising from a towering silver spire, the city’s prison breached. Already, reports had come in of violence on the streets not seen for centuries, of firing from security teams against criminals and human prisoners and captured murderers alike who were running amok in the empty city after their escape from confinement.

  Ryh’ll sighed mentally, his body feeling heavier than usual. Oassia was an icon to the future and always had been, held up both by Oassians and the Icari as an example to other civilizations that peace could be found, cherished and maintained for hundreds if not thousands of years without blemish, provided that transparency and openness remained the currency of diplomacy across the galaxy. Human beings had arrived in the system less than twenty hours before and the council was now facing civil insurrection, a prison break, malfunctioning security drones and invasion by a lethal and emotionless killing machine intent on the destruction of all species it encountered.

  There were many reasons why human beings had been contained by the Icari Line, most of them coming from the other members of the council who feared mankind’s self–destructive nature, their cunning and their inability to see peace as anything other than a prelude and a preparation for war. Rhy’ll had often argued in favour of humankind, pointing out that the Veng’en were considerably more warlike and yet being considered for council membership over humanity. It was a legacy that he now regretted with a heavy heart as he surveyed the deep and irreparable end
of Oassia’s proud legacy of two millennia.

  The entrance to the chamber beeped as someone entered and Rhy’ll turned wearily to see General Veer march in, flanked by two armed guards.

  ‘General?’

  Veer marched right up to Rhy’ll as he spoke. ‘We need to mobilize the fleet, councillor. The Legion is here and I believe firmly that the humans are right. The Legion cannot be trusted, cannot be negotiated with. If we stand down, we will all die.’

  Rhy’ll stared at the warrior for a long moment.

  ‘Why such a sudden change of heart, general? You were in favour of expending our human prisoners in return for amnesty and negotiation.’

  ‘That was before..,’ the General broke off for a moment. ‘I believe that we may have misjudged their spirit, councillor, that of the humans. We would not be standing here if it were not for them.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ Rhy’ll snorted. ‘We’re facing ruin and they’ve only been here a day.’

  ‘They’re fighting councillor,’ General Veer said, ‘fighting for their lives, fighting against impossible odds and refusing to back down. I’ve never seen anything like it. If they had fled, we would by now be being invaded ourselves.’

  Rhy’ll glanced at the display screen in the chamber, currently deactivated.

  ‘See for yourself,’ Veer invited him.

  Rhy’ll touched a small device with one of his appendages and the screen activated. Moments later it was relaying an image from one of the city’s massive optical sensors. Magnified many times and corrected for atmospheric distortion, the image before Rhy’ll showed Tyraeus Forge’s fleet heavily engaging the two frigates, fighters sweeping in pairs amid a dense cloud of intense plasma fire.

  Rhy’ll slowly approached the screen, captivated by the scene.

  ‘They’re outnumbered,’ he observed.

  ‘Three to one,’ General Veer replied, ‘and their civilians insisted on returning with them to assist in the fight. Not one of those who escaped the planet has fled, councillor. Not one.’