by TR Cameron
Defenders
Book 2 of the Chaos Shift Cycle
TR Cameron
MD Press
For Paula and Pete, who made all this possible.
Contents
More Cross and Kate!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
More Cross and Kate!
Thom’s Defenders Notes: 24 September 2017
Exclusive Protectors Preview
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by TR Cameron
The Destroyer Lubyanka. Undefeated. Undefeatable.
Cadets Anderson Cross and Kate Flynn face the ultimate rite of passage: taking on the Lubyanka. Countless others have tried. Countless others have failed. Now it is up to them. Together, they will try to overcome the unbeatable enemy.
The Suicide Run is the start of the adventures of Cross and Kate, and it’s yours for FREE!
Join TR Cameron’s Readers’ group and download Suicide Run today!
Visit www.trcameron.com/Defenders to download it for free!
Chapter One
It was a lovely day to kill, or to be killed, Indraat Vray thought as she left the sunlight and marched into the Planetary Defense Center.
The building was unremarkable from the outside. Like all the buildings ringing the palace, it was restricted to a single visible story so as not to compete with the monolithic elegance of the emperor’s home. Once initiated into its mysteries, however, officers of the Xroeshyn military soon became acquainted with its many underground layers of military might. Upon descent from the command information center via the open circular lift, they passed through floors housing the armory, the hangar, the barracks, the training levels, and more.
This was Indraat’s first time visiting the deepest level, a ritual chamber chiseled out of the planet’s bedrock. The ritual chamber where she herself would end, or would end another.
Indraat stepped forward to stand at attention before the supreme commander of the Xroeshyn military, Drovaa Jat. To her right, Captain Traan Aras of the Jade Breeze marched forward in time with her footsteps, presenting himself to the marshal.
Drovaa was resplendent in his ceremonial battle dress. His last command was in the Sapphire line of floating fortresses, so he wore a deep blue base, with black and silver armor pieces atop it. Medals shimmered on his chest and down each arm, recounting the tale of his achievements. He voiced the words to start the ritual, “Officers, will you set this argument aside? There is no need for bloodshed on this day.”
Indraat and Traan replied in unison, “I will not.”
Drovaa spoke again, “Are you then resolved to face one another in combat?”
Again, they answered as one, “I am.”
“Will you consent to having the matter settled with first blood?”
One final time, the two responded together, “I will not.”
Drovaa nodded. “It has been asked, and you have answered. You will now enter the lines of eight where one or both of you will join your ancestors. May the gods give righteous strength to the one who warrants it, and through that strength cast down the one who has failed them. So may it be.”
Indraat and Traan turned to face each other. Mutual hatred emanated from hard eyes and locked jaws. Each forced out the final words, one after the other, Indraat taking the lead as the challenger, “So may it be.”
The two combatants entered the octagon, crackling electrical barriers sparking into place upon their passage. Indraat moved to the challenger's corner, settling into a lotus position. She stilled her mind and concentrated on the battle to come. With a glance, she caught the eyes of her uncle, Hierarch Kraada Tak, who was observing from a raised seat to the side of the marshal. He nodded to her, sharing a quiet confidence gained from their discussion of strategy over the gameboard the night before. Indraat was convinced that she was at least an even match with the captain of the Jade Breeze. More likely, she was his superior in hand-to-hand combat, as she was in ship-to-ship combat.
Closing her eyes and expanding her senses, she felt the cool moisture of the deep chamber where it contacted her skin. She heard the breathing of the audience. The room was packed to capacity with officers of the Xroeshyn fleet and crew members of the Jade Breeze and Ruby Rain, here to witness the outcome of her charges of cowardice against Captain Traan for his premature flight from the last battle against the trespassers. She felt the comforting weight of her weapons as her fingers located each in turn: the short swords positioned for a downward draw along her ribs, the daggers in their thigh sheaves, the punch daggers strapped to each forearm, the throwing knives sheathed around her belt, the last resort stilettos tucked into each high boot.
She stood, revolving through a full turn as she flowed from the ground, seeming to take flight as her wings spread and her arms reached to the sky. One deep inhalation, followed by a long, drawn out exhalation, and her eyes snapped open. She looked across the arena at her opponent.
He wore dark green armor that covered his torso and select spots on his arms and legs. Underneath, a layer of lighter green blended with black textured material that Indraat's practiced eye judged resistant to blades. His neck exhibited a metal band too large to be a necklace and too narrow to be a collar. Paired longswords that had claimed the lives of many adversaries in the past wove through an expert sequence of movements as Traan warmed up for the battle to come.
Indraat wore black leather, accented with crimson representing the Ruby Rain and reinforced with lightweight metal bars in key locations. The former would offer her some defense against slashing attacks, and the latter would provide more as long as she positioned her blocks with impeccable technique. She traded passive protection against stabbing thrusts and crushing blows for maneuverability. Her combat style relied on her skill, her speed, and her intellect. She knew it would be sufficient to crush the arrogant coward facing her. Her mind held no room for thoughts of failure.
At the chime of the eighth minute, Traan settled into his ready position, with one curved longsword held high and pointed in her direction while the other was held low in defense. She nodded, clapped her palms together, and drew her short swords, spinning them through a rapid pattern to loosen her wrists. They were perfectly balanced and newly sharpened. Blood-red runes were etched into the center of each blade. These heirlooms had been carried by generations of military officers in her family, and they had earned the names with which they were decorated: Honor and Bleed. With a patronizing sneer that was the initial blow in the psychological battle, she spread her arms wide in an invitation for Traan to make the first physical assault.
He smirked at her as he glided forward in perfect balance, closing the distance separating them and s
lashing his sword in a diagonal that sought to cleave her in two. Indraat spun to evade the cut, driving away from his momentum and angling for his unguarded side. She planted her front foot and stabbed, one sword seeking his face while the other reached to impale his leg. Traan evaded in a diving roll, ending with a smooth reposition to face her again, swords angled defensively before him.
Indraat gave a nod of appreciation to his technique. He returned it, and she saw grudging respect in his gaze. The two had never faced one another hand-to-hand before, but they were each masters of martial arts that relied on speed and skill instead of brute force. She initiated the next pass, charging forward in a low lunge, sweeping her swords out and down in a circular motion that knocked his blades aside. The kick that slipped between his opened defenses propelled him back, but most of the power behind it was dissipated by his armor.
Her aggression almost cost her as Traan circled his own blades out and whipped his longsword along the vertical plane of his body. Had she not retracted her leg immediately, she would have surrendered part of it to the keen edge of his weapon. As it was, she overreacted and her balance suffered. His follow-up attack took advantage of her imbalance as he charged and executed an overhand chop with one longsword. She raised crossed weapons to block, catching it centimeters from her skull. His other blade sought an opening low on her torso, and only a frantic twist kept her from being punctured. Her escape wasn’t quick enough, and the sword scraped her reinforced leather, parting it and drawing a thin line of blood on the right side of her stomach. Indraat gasped, and Traan used her locked swords as a fulcrum, levering the hilt of his longsword into her face.
Everything went bright for a moment, and Indraat heard the crunch of her nose breaking before the pain registered. She collapsed onto her back, senseless for only an instant before her faculties began to return. She rolled blindly to vertical, retreating and crossing her short swords in a defensive pattern. When her vision cleared, she saw that Captain Traan was gloating, standing and watching her instead of pressing his advantage. She wiped one glove across her face and looked down to see a dark wetness on the darker black of the leather. She grinned at him through bloodstained teeth. “Too bad we weren’t going for first blood.”
“On the contrary. I will enjoy killing you, Indraat Vray. You’re an unstable leader and a poor tactician. Our Navy will be stronger without you in it.”
“I’m not the commander who ran from battle, Traan Aras. We both know the truth, as do the crews of our ships. It wouldn’t surprise me to know your crew hopes for my victory, so they can emerge from under your wings and serve a real officer.”
“Brave words, Indraat Vray. But the time for pretty talk is at an end.”
He advanced again, his swords weaving almost too fast for the eye to follow. Indraat gave ground, blocking when it was the only option. She focused on evasion, leaning just out of the way of strike after strike, counting on her footwork to protect her while the last few pieces clicked into place. When she’d isolated the details of his style, she shifted from retreat to sudden attack, choosing the precise moment when his swords circled outward to step in and slice at both of his arms, then fall and roll away. When she stood up, she was equally pleased by the surprised look on his face and the blood that dripped from the matching cuts.
Traan stalked toward her, cautious now, the flamboyance of his previous attempts abandoned. Testing thrusts of his longsword snapped at her face, but her own defenses were adequate against the move. Indraat blocked some with her swords, redirected others with the reinforced portions of her leather. She baited him, letting her arms fall wide, and when he sought to take advantage, she spun, guiding both of his blades away with one sword while the other one sliced across his thigh, just below the protective plate. Indraat continued moving, trying to circle behind him. He met her attempt with a spin of his own, whirling his weapons at her and forcing a block. They locked close, Indraat holding his longsword in abeyance with one of her own, while they traded blows with the others. They gave each other nicks and shallow cuts, but failed to penetrate. Indraat disengaged and retreated out of range.
“Any last words, former captain of the Jade Breeze?”
Traan Aras opened his mouth to answer, but in the moment that her question distracted him, Indraat moved. In a continuous action, she slid one sword into its sheath, dipped that hand into her belt, and fluidly retrieved and launched a throwing dagger. Time slowed as it flew. The glow from the cavern’s lighting reflected on its blade, and his eyes widened in realization. His hurried block was far too slow, and whatever reply he might have offered turned into a gurgle as the knife pierced the slight gap between his chest plate and gorget, burying itself in his throat.
Indraat sauntered toward him as he choked, one hand fumbling at the dagger. She slid her other blade back into its sheath. Her face was expressionless as she took great pleasure in watching him fall to his knees. His sword clattered to the ground as he touched the knife again. He seemed unable to pull it free, as if he knew it would be the last action he’d ever take.
Indraat had no such reservations. As she reached him, she pulled the black blade out of his throat and watched as he crumbled to the floor, spilling his life onto its etched surface.
Indraat cleaned the blade on the emerald clothes of her fallen foe then sheathed it. She stood again before Marshal Drovaa Jat and raised her hand in a salute. The marshal returned her gesture and said, “the gods have favored you. Congratulations, Indraat Vray. You are now the official commander of our vanguard and are promoted one rank.”
“Thank you, sir. I will continue to act always with honor and to achieve victory for the Xroeshyn people.”
“I’m sure you will. Dismissed, Captain.”
As she lowered her arm, Indraat Vray caught her uncle’s eye. Kraada Tak nodded at her. The game was proceeding as they’d expected. It was time to take the battle to the larger arena. She spared one more look at the crumpled form of Traan Aras.
We will lose no more battles due to your cowardice. The promised reckoning with ‘humanity’ is at hand.
Chapter Two
Commander Anderson Cross was right where he was always meant to be, sitting in the captain’s chair of an United Atlantic League starship. It had been his single destiny for as long as he could remember. The pride he’d felt when they awarded him the Washington, DC was unparalleled. The three months since had tarnished the shine of the position. This particular moment promised to be the least shiny one yet.
Turning to his left, he asked in a low voice, “XO, why are we doing this again? Because, as near as I can tell, this is a terrible idea.”
Commander Kate Flynn displayed calm confidence as she replied, “Someone had to do it.”
Cross frowned. “It seems like that someone could’ve been someone other than us, though, don’t you think?”
Kate gave him one of those looks. The kind that made him feel as if she saw right through him, saw everything he might have been trying to hide at the moment. “There is an argument to be made that the DC should be the one to do this, you know.”
Cross met that with a grimace. He didn’t like remembering that the alien menace they now faced wouldn’t even be aware of humanity if not for his actions. That thought never strayed far from his mind, but when it did, he could do without reminders.
“Thanks, Kate.”
“Always there for you, Commander.”
Cross swiveled his chair and took in the members of his bridge crew. They were good people, and he’d become as well acquainted with the first-watch crew as he’d been with his second-watch crew before the series of events that had left him in charge. Their skin was tinted in the garish colors emanating from the main display—the reds, the blues, the highs, the lows, all of which were the visual debris that accompanied wormhole transit. He paid particular attention to the countdown clock in the corner, which crossed five minutes remaining while he watched. It was time.
“Lieutenant Fitzpatrick, pl
ease open a channel to the entire ship.” He paused, then heard the sound that warned the crew of an imminent message from the bridge. “All hands, wormhole exit in just over four minutes. We’re not sure what we’ll face when we enter the staging sector for the alien forces, but we are virtually positive it won’t be good. Everyone needs to perform to the best of their abilities if we’re going to make it through the battle ahead. I have complete confidence that you will continue to exceed the highest standards. Cross out.”
Taking a quick glance at Kate to judge her reaction, he found less positivity than he expected. There wasn’t time to dwell on it. “Set battle stations throughout the ship. Weapons, prepare everything we’ve got. Tactical, defenses in all directions. Helm, standard procedures for wormhole exit.” Neither Cross nor any of the bridge crew was comfortable with those standard procedures. Upon reversion, the computer would take control due to the incredibly high speeds at which the ship would exit the strange phenomenon that allowed them transit between distant sectors in minimal time.
As the clock clicked down to two minutes, Cross adjusted the restraints holding him to his chair and prepared his personal displays for combat. The Washington’s retrofit had included upgrades to the command and control abilities accessible through his screens, and it was always a temptation to execute tasks that were best left to the crew members assigned to them. He didn’t indulge frequently. The one task he did often take upon himself was routing his own communications, and he did so now, connecting his earpiece and the tiny microphone on his collar to the chief engineer. “Jannik, is the new toy ready to test?”
