by I G Hulme
He followed him out on to a circular observation platform, gazing about in shock at the unfolding scene.
The platform was high up on one of the towers, rising out over the walls of the control station hub. They were at the very heart of the cavernous open space within the Defiance’s hull, an area well over a kilometre in diameter.
Everywhere Ryann looked, there was some form of spacecraft.
From the bloated shape of a sub-system freighter here, to a huge hospital ship there, to pleasure cruisers, tugboats — right down to the smallest shuttles and hover-taxis.
And filling the space between them was a drifting sprawl of metal and detritus — cargo canisters, hull-plates, gantries — and all manner of wreckage from the Luminal attack on New Eden.
“My god, how many survivors did you manage to get on board?” breathed Ryann, gazing up at the great shape of a Carthenian freighter, drifting only twenty metres or so above him. Smoke and sparks still issued from an ugly rent in her side, and fire-fighting shuttles hovered a little way off, pouring jets of foam into the stricken ship.
“It’s hard to tell,” replied Grayell solemnly. “We just dragged every ship aboard that we could fit down the launch tunnel. We’re still trying to get all the fires under control. But I’d say there are well over a thousand refugees — maybe even as many as fifteen hundred.
“We had to leave a couple of the biggest ships. We evacuated the refugees off them — they’re all down in the docking levels. Over three hundred in there alone, frightened, injured, close to panic.
“It won’t take much for this to turn into a disaster. Just a few more Carl Ransomes stirring things up, trying to profit from the chaos.
“That’s why I need you on my side Ryann.” Grayell turned, placing his hand upon his son’s shoulder. “We’re in real trouble here. That’s why we can’t fight amongst ourselves — especially not you and I.”
Ryann stared self-consciously at the floor.
“Sure Dad. You know I’m on your side. I’m sorry. What can I do to help?”
“Thanks Ryann,” murmured Grayell, turning to look back out over the chaos. Ryann followed a utility shuttle as it picked its way through the maze of metal. It reminded him of the time he and Angelique had been trapped in the wreck-field, in what already felt like a lifetime ago.
“For the moment, I just need everybody ready to fight,” sighed Grayell at last. “I won’t lie to you though, I can’t see a way out of this.”
Ryann was shocked by his father’s words.
“You’ll find a way Dad — you always do,” he said softly. Grayell gave him a weary smile.
“Come on, the officers should be in the conference hall by now,” he muttered, turning back to the airlock. He disappeared inside, leaving Ryann alone to take one last look at the sprawling chaos of the refugee fleet.
CHAPTER THREE
DISSENT
“Okay then,” whispered Grayell with a sigh. “Let’s see how this goes.” He got stiffly to his feet, gazing over the rows of officers that filled the conference room. After a moment, their murmurs died away to a tense silence.
Grayell began in a solemn voice.
“Thank you all for your patience. I wish we were here to celebrate your incredible achievements in rescuing so many refugees from New Eden — but I’m afraid we’ll have to hold off on the party for a little while longer.”
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the assembled officers.
“Some of you may have heard varying amounts of information, while others will still be in the dark. So, I hope that you will indulge me while I go over the outcome of recent events.” He paused a moment to look into the eyes of the waiting officers; they hung upon his every word.
“Your skill and courage at the battle of New Eden averted a disaster. While many of you were fighting the Luminal drone ships in a diversionary mission out on the edge of the Halion Belt, you will be aware that the remainder of the Ghost-Runners were evacuating ships and refugees from New Eden itself.
“Though many of their ships had to be left behind, I am proud to say that you recovered virtually all the refugees with only minimal casualties. And further more, we didn’t lose a single Ghost-Runner ship.”
A murmur of approval ran throughout the assembled crew, but Ryann was struck with a sudden image of Jean-Baptiste Grande and the Ibis. How many Outlanders lost their lives aboard their home-ship? he thought ruefully. He glanced up from his sombre thoughts as he realised that one of the officers was speaking.
“So, how many refugees did we get aboard the Defiance?”
“We can’t be certain at the moment,” replied Grayell, turning to Mellarnne with a questioning look. “The fire and rescue crews are still hard at work trying to evacuate survivors from any damaged ships. We’re setting up aid points aboard the control station, as well as using some of the bigger refugee ships as temporary housing and hospitals. But we estimate that we evacuated between a thousand and fifteen hundred refugees aboard the Defiance.”
A gasp went up from the officers, quickly followed by a chatter of questions. One voice rose above the rest, and to Ryann’s chagrin, he recognised the confident sneer on Carl Ransome’s face as the big man got to his feet.
“Fifteen hundred people?” he called out, turning to the other officers as though seeking encouragement. “Grayell, you do realise that we have almost a thousand crew aboard the Defiance already? We’ve limited resources enough without any extra dead weight. Fifteen hundred extra mouths to feed? Never mind the air processing, hospital resources —”
“Do you suggest we should have left them to die on New Eden, Carl?” interjected Mellarnne.
“Well it looks like that’s all academic Mellarnne, seeing as you’ve flown us into the middle of a fleet of a thousand Luminal battleships.”
There was an audible intake of breath from many of the officers, and Ryann jumped to his feet shouting angrily across to Ransome. The room descended into a furore as more joined in, but Ransome merely stood his ground, glaring across at Grayell.
“Quiet damn you!” came a roar over the chaos and all eyes turned to Grayell Wade. One by one, the storm of voices abated, until there was silence once more.
“You will remember who you are,” said Grayell icily, enunciating each grave word. “You are some of the most experienced pilots in the galaxy. Let us behave accordingly.” He paused, glaring at Ransome, daring him to speak. After a tense moment he continued. “To escape our attackers at New Eden we risked a short, calculated jump into hyperspace, hoping it would get us out of the Viridis system at least.
“It worked, and we made it part-way to the Lokhus system, before some unknown type of field-suppressor knocked us out of our jump.
“As our talkative friend Carl has informed us, we appeared out of hyperspace right into the middle of a force of enemy craft.”
“A thousand ships,” came Ransome’s angry curse, and Grayell held up an authoritative hand to prevent any further interjections.
“A thousand ships,” he repeated, almost to himself. “And yet we are still alive.
“At first, we assumed the Lumina had interdicted our hyperspace jump intentionally — that we were their intended target. But, so far we have been travelling unharmed amidst their fleet for almost an hour. Remember, the Defiance was created for this exact purpose, to fool the Lumina into thinking that we were one of their own, to travel undetected throughout enemy territory. We just didn’t anticipate testing its effectiveness under such intense conditions so soon.” He paused a while to offer up a grim smile.
“So, it was just bad luck that got us caught up in the suppression field?” asked a rugged officer from the front row. Ryann thought he recognised him as one of the engineering officers from the cargo decks. “It would seem like a one-in-a-million chance.”
“Well, yes and no,” replied Grayell. “The suppression field extends across almost the entire system. It seems as though some of the Luminal ships are acting as relay
s, amplifying the signal — which may account for the vessels being spread out across such a wide area.”
“So if they’re not looking for us, why are we waiting around?” asked another.
“And go where? We can’t hyperspace while the suppression field is still in place, and we can’t outrun the fleet with our sub-light drives — we’re surrounded. Our only hope is to remain undetected and wait for an opportunity that will allow us to escape.
“The Luminal fleet are all converging upon the old Ophid way-station, roughly ten hours away at our present speed. In eight hours, we pass close to a planetary cluster that may offer up a chance to evade the fleet. Until that time I want us to make every effort to prepare.
“Captain Strauss, your crews have done a heroic effort in recovering so many refugees from New Eden. But if it comes down to it and we are forced to engage the enemy, then we need to get all our fighting ships out of the Defiance. I need a corridor cleared from the launch tunnel to the Hammerfall and the Katana as soon as is humanly possible.”
“Mellarnne has already briefed me,” replied the grizzled old officer. “We’re still fighting fires and pulling survivors out of the wreckage Grayell. My crews are working as fast as they can.”
“Take whatever resources you need Captain, but we need to be able to launch those cruisers or all of this will have been for nothing.”
Captain Strauss nodded his head in weary resignation.
Grayell addressed the rest of the officers: “All combat flight crews and ship defence forces, you should be well underway with your resupply; I want you all launch-ready within the next two hours.
“Let’s sit tight, hold our nerve, and ride this one out. We haven’t been detected yet, so let’s hope it stays that way.
“Eight hours. Eight hours until we reach the planetary cluster. Then let’s pray that we can find a place to hide up and let the enemy pass.
“Meanwhile, good luck ladies, gentlemen, you all know your duties. I will —”
“Pray that we can find a place to hide?”
Carl Ransome’s voice was loud and filled with derision.
“That will be all, any updates will be transmitted to you —” Grayell tried to ignore the taunt but it was no use.
“Is that the best you’ve got? Prayers?” Ransome was back on his feet, his chest puffed out as he turned to address the other officers. “Look around you — you said yourself that we’re the best pilots in the galaxy — and it’s true! We’re fighters! We didn’t sign up to run and hide from one rock to the next!”
“Zip it Ransome,” muttered Mellarnne impatiently. “You have your orders. Try following them with your mouth shut for a change.” Several of the officers were getting to their feet now, ready to return to their duties. They appeared to be all-too familiar with Ransome’s antics and had little time for them. Others however, remained, seemingly interested in what he had to say.
“I’m happy to follow orders that make sense Mellarnne — if I thought it was getting us anywhere. But look at us. We’ve been hiding for months now — we’ve barely gotten out of the damn system! And now, here we are with the perfect opportunity to take the fight to the enemy, and all you two can think of is running away.”
“You want to take on a thousand battleships with a hundred and fifty Ghost-Runners and a couple of cruisers?” scoffed Mellarnne.
“No, no I don’t,” growled Ransome. “There’s no need, not when we’re sitting on the weapon we made for the job.” He looked around the room with a wide grin that revealed his yellow teeth. “I say we use the Defiance.”
Grayell, who had already turned to leave, twisted about in shock.
Ransome continued, a growing confidence in his voice as more officers began to take notice.
“We’re sitting aboard a ship packed with thousands of tonnes of molecular explosive — a ship built with a single purpose: to destroy Luminal ships.
“And here we are, in the centre of over a thousand of them! Just think of it! The opportunity to take out over half the enemy fleet in a single strike!”
Grayell’s face seemed to drain of all colour. It was as though the mood of the officers was palpably shifting towards Carl Ransome as he gave his impassioned speech.
“Have you never listened to a single word I’ve told you about the Lumina?” asked Grayell in disbelief. “Don’t you understand anything about what we are trying to achieve? The only way to defeat the Lumina is to destroy the source. We must travel back to the entity that is creating these ships — that’s what I built the damn Defiance for — to destroy the entity!”
“And just remind us, why was that again?” drawled Ransome sarcastically, revelling in the attention he was receiving. “Oh, yes, because the Lumina aren’t real — they’re just light and magic and stuff — well those ships out there look pretty damn real to me! There are none of us here that haven’t fought the Lumina — they seem pretty damn real when they’re fighting us don’t they? And when we do take down one of those sons-of-bitches — the wreckage they leave behind seems pretty damn real too!”
“If you believe that, then why the hell are you here at all Carl?” spat Grayell furiously. “Sure, we’ve taken out Luminal ships before. And we all know what happens — they come straight back — the exact same ships, over and over.”
“It’s only you saying they’re the same ones. No-one knows for sure.”
“I know dammit! I’ve seen the source! If we waste our one chance by detonating the Defiance, then we will have achieved nothing! We kill a few ships, and in a week they will have all returned!”
“Well, I say we take the chance while we have it! We signed up to follow you Grayell, because you were the best fighter — no-one would argue that back in the day. But, maybe the strain of being leader has made you over-cautious, made you lose sight of what needs to be done. You’re fixating on one thing way up ahead, when our one chance to end this war might just be slipping away!
“All we’ve done so far is run — I say it’s time to take the fight to them!”
A few murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.
“This discussion is over Carl,” said Mellarnne getting to his feet as Grayell seemed to shrink inward under the barrage of Ransome’s words.
But still Ransome went on, stepping out of the crowd to confront them, visibly growing in confidence.
“I don’t know Grayell, maybe you’ve lost your nerve. You run if you want, but the most of us are here to fight.” He paused as though considering the cost of his next words, then continued, “The Ghost-Runners has no place for cowards.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my father like that!”
Ryann found himself on his feet, stepping angrily towards the big man.
“Or what?” hissed Ransome, turning to confront him. “What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought this was supposed to be a meeting for senior officers — you couldn’t get childcare or something Grayell?”
Ryann went to close with him, his fists clenched, but he felt a heavy hand dragging him back.
“Leave it Ryann,” muttered Grayell, his composure seemingly regained. “Don’t mind Carl, he’s a good mechanic. Just not too bright. He thinks that blowing himself and the rest of us up is the way to win the war. Well, thankfully, for the rest of us, and our families aboard the Defiance, you’re not in charge Carl. I give the orders, and it’s your job to listen, or we can happily drop you off at the next moon we pass.
“I’ve got as much reason to hate the Lumina as any of us that have lost our home-worlds, our friends — our families. The Lumina have burned everything in their path, and they won’t stop until there’s nothing left to burn. That’s why I know that when we take down these monsters, we have to end it, once and for all.
“This war began at the source, and it will end at the source. And when we light up the Defiance there won’t be a single Lumina left standing!”
By the time Grayell had finished his impassioned speech he was almost sh
outing, his eyes wide and staring with rage at Carl Ransome. The man seemed to visibly shrink beneath the barrage of Grayell’s words, and a great cheer of support went up from the remaining officers.
Slowly, Grayell turned to appraise each of them with a grim smile, before sinking back down into his chair. When he next spoke, all sign of his former dark mood was gone. “Thank you everybody, the show’s over now. Get to your stations, and the very best of luck to us all.”
To Ryann’s relief, he could feel the change in mood amongst the officers; Ransome was looking around as though for support, but the moment had passed and the momentum swung back to Grayell.
The remaining crowd began to file out, and Carl Ransome was a crestfallen island as the tide washed around him. But, even as he went to follow the last of the officers from the room, the big man couldn’t resist one parting shot:
“You know, I never knew whether I could trust you Grayell — I mean, it’s your word isn’t it? All of this — everyone here putting their lives on the line. And for what? Some hallucination you had twenty-five years ago?
“A soldier has to take the decisive shot when the moment comes. We have the payload and we have the enemy in position — we won’t get another chance like this!
“If you don’t have the guts to pull the trigger on this one Grayell, then maybe you should step down and make way for someone who is prepared to do what has to be done.”
“Pipe down Ransome, you’re making my fists itch.”
A deep growl rolled out from the back of the half-empty room. Ryann looked around in surprise to see Anders, captain of the Marianne, reclining in his seat, his feet up on the back of the chair in front. He glowered down at the lonely figure, his dark eyes burning from the shadows of his craggy brow.
For a moment, Ransome looked ready to confront Anders. Then, thinking better of it, he turned quickly, storming off towards the exit.
“You’re throwing away a chance to win this damn war!” he spat with a final, pointed stare towards Ryann. And then he was gone, leaving the room heavy with an oppressive silence.
