Defenders (The Chaos Shift Cycle Book 2)

by TR Cameron

  “Communication, hail the Ruby Rain.”

  A moment later, Indraat Vray appeared on the main screen, a haze of smoke behind her on the bridge of her ship. He spoke to her, “Your forces are outmatched. You are outmatched. Surrender.”

  Indraat stretched, extending her wings to their full expanse, then composed herself again, laughing all the while. “Human, how little you understand us. I have for you a counteroffer. Break off your attack and abandon the sector, and we’ll give you the opportunity to evacuate your base. Fail to do so, and we will sacrifice the Sapphire Sky, destroying your base and most of your remaining ships.”

  Cross stared, keeping his mouth shut with an effort of will for a moment. “Are you so willing to kill your own people?”

  She spread her hands. “In the service of our gods? Against those who have offended them? Don’t doubt it for an instant, Commander Anderson Cross.”

  “A moment, please.”

  Indraat gave a regal nod, superiority and contempt dripping from her features. Cross spoke across the intercom to Kate, knowing his communication officer had cut the audio feed to the enemy, “Opinion?”

  Kate shook her head. “If it’s a bluff, it’s a good one. I can imagine the destruction that thing could inflict if it overloaded whatever powers it. The sector could be uninhabitable for generations.”

  “Yeah.” Cross signaled to reactivate the channel. “Instead of surrender, a cease-fire. We can work together to address the problems between us. I’m empowered to arrange this on behalf of the human forces.”

  Indraat shook her head. “That exceeds the latitude I’m given. Even if that wasn’t true, there will be no peace while your offense stands. Deliver yourself and your ship to us, and the conversation may begin.”

  “No deal. No human will go willingly into your hands, for any reason, by order of our admiralty.”

  “Then we are at an impasse.”

  “Then I have no option except to erase you from the universe, along with your escort ships.”

  Indraat Vray looked thoughtful for a moment, before she spoke again, “I offer you a two-day truce, and propose that we both remove our forces from the sector, other than your base, of course.”

  Cross heard the whispered commands in his ear from Okoye and shook his head. “Negative. This is our sector. Your forces leave, ours stay, and we maintain a truce for the next sixteen days. Alternately, we blow you out of the sky and take our chances with your Fortress.”

  “Acceptable.”

  An explosion behind her punctuated the alien’s response, and the channel died.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Indraat Vray cursed extensively and colorfully as she picked herself up from the deck of her ship. A thin line of blue blood ran from her temple, and her eyes were wild with anger. “Deceiving vermin,” she snarled. “Target the humans and fire everything–”

  “Squadron-Captain,” her tactical officer interrupted her, “we were not hit by the humans.”

  “What,” she said, turning to face him.

  “The attack came from the Sapphire Storm. The Jade Wave is also moving to attack.”

  “Traitors.” She strapped herself in. Her alleged protective detail fired again. “Evasive,” she ordered. The Ruby Rain darted downward, spinning up on one axis to offer a minimal profile to the ships firing at it.

  “Status.”

  Her weapons officer reported, “Torpedoes offline. Energy weapons functional.”

  Her engineering technician said, “Engines at sixty percent. The engineer confirms that’s all we can do without stopping for major repair.”

  She cursed again, more violently than before. “Ignore the others. Focus on that disloyal worm Breet Kesh on the Sapphire Storm. All weapons, constant fire. Move to max range and circle. Maintain evasive maneuvers.”

  “Affirmative, Squadron-Captain,” replied her officers.

  She grabbed her personal display and tapped it furiously, recording a coded message reporting on the betrayal. When she completed it, she linked it to the communication officer. “Send this right away, directly to the cathedral on Xroesha.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  The ships traded blows, but now that the Ruby Rain was forewarned, the Sapphire Storm couldn’t penetrate its defenses. The same was true of her attacks. Meanwhile, the second ship was closing the distance and finding weak points in the Ruby Rain’s evasive pattern. It demonstrated its proficiency with energy blasts, but when it got closer, torpedoes would follow.

  “Are any of our other ships close enough to assist?” The display showed the answer.

  “No, Squadron-Captain. At this rate, we will be destroyed several minutes before any of them can reach us.”

  “Gravity drive?”

  “Offline, with no timetable for repair.”

  “So be it. If it’s a fight for supremacy he wants, I’m happy to oblige. Weapons, continuous fire on the Sapphire Storm. Everything we have. Helm, set a course, maintaining evasive discipline and closing the gap between us as quickly as possible.”

  She turned to the officer at the engineering console. “Prime engines for overload, keyed to my voice command.” He paled, but stabbed at his controls and did she asked. She sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and gazing at the external camera view of her new enemy.

  “Incoming hail from Captain Breet, Squadron-Captain.”

  “By all means.”

  “Stand down, Indraat,” the triumphant face of the squadron’s second-in-command ordered. “You’re too damaged to win this fight. You’ve led our forces to yet another defeat. You’re inadequate to the task before you, and I will not permit you to continue sabotaging our war against the humans.”

  She smiled, a sleepy-eyed vicious grin that gave him nothing. “You’ll have to earn it, Breet. And as we both know, if you could destroy me, you would’ve done so already. Even your cowardly sneak attack couldn’t accomplish that goal.”

  “Goodbye, Indraat. When you awake in the in-between, remember who it was that sent you–”

  Bright sparks flew behind the man on the screen and the channel disconnected. On the battle display, she saw trails connecting the human ships with Breet’s ship. As she watched, the Washington repositioned to block her second escort, and the Washington’s companion absorbed the incoming blasts from the Sapphire Storm. Moments later, the escort exploded into its component atoms. The Sapphire Storm streaked with color as it leapt from the system, running away from the reward it had so clearly earned.

  “Open a channel to the Washington, DC.” Cross’s image appeared on the screen. She wasn’t an expert on human physiology, but in her own species she would’ve called his look gloating. “It seems thanks are in order, Commander Cross.”

  Cross shook his head. “Once we’d struck a bargain, honor required that we protect the deal. Nothing more. If we cannot come to terms, the next time we meet I’ll be the one ending your ship.”

  She nodded. “Acknowledged and accepted. For this one instant, though, I commend your dedication to honor in the face of what must have been a significant temptation.”

  He laughed. “Lady, you don’t know the half of it. Now get your ships out of my sector. Cross out.”

  Indraat reclined and issued the orders necessary to draw down the Xroeshyn forces.

  “Helm, head to rendezvous one at all speed. We’ll repair the gravity drive there.”

  “Affirmative, Squadron-Captain.”

  On the long trip in real time out of the sector, Indraat watched as her ships disengaged and retreated while the human vessels docked at their starbase. For a moment, only for a moment, she considered breaking her word and sacrificing the Sapphire Sky, removing the ships and the base in one grand move. The small voice in her head she attributed to the will of the gods counseled against it, and as always, Indraat obeyed.

  “Stay safe until we meet again, Cross,” she murmured. “For when we do, you will taste defeat at my hands in the seconds before you die.”

&n
bsp; CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Attention!” Admiral Okoye’s voice rang out across the troops assembled in the main hangar of Starbase 12. Each soldier, sailor, and Marine in attendance went rigid, adopting their service’s formal pose appropriate to the moment. “Salute.” Hands snapped to hat brims in response, and the soldiers held position awaiting the next words.

  “In what will no doubt become known as the battle of Starbase 12, we lost almost half of our people and ships. They sacrificed their lives to protect those who could not protect themselves, the citizens of the United Atlantic League and the Allied Asian Nations.”

  Beside Okoye, Dima Petryaev nodded his head. His hands were clasped behind his back, adopting the body language of all the officers on the dais.

  “In addition,” Okoye continued, “they protected their fellow soldiers, sailors, and Marines, buying our safety with their lives. Had they been less dedicated, had they been less committed, had they been less willing to give of themselves for the benefit of others, the outcome of this battle would’ve been very different. The starbase we are standing on would’ve been vaporized. The inner planets would’ve been open to conquest. The human race would’ve been in danger of extinction.”

  On Okoye’s right, Cross admired the masterful way his mentor inspired his audience. He watched as the admiral’s gaze scanned the crowd, seeming to linger on each person.

  “We set aside today to honor them in the manner they would’ve thought most appropriate. Except for those previously assigned, everyone assembled here is granted twenty-four free hours. Live. Laugh. Remember the reasons we fight. Send messages to your loved ones.”

  A fierce look transformed his face and his voice dropped an octave, “Enjoy today. Because tomorrow, tomorrow we take the battle to the enemy.”

  The room was silent. Cross felt the weight of those lives lost and the responsibility they placed upon him. He shrugged his shoulders, accepting that burden, embracing it.

  “Dismissed,” Okoye’s final word released the assemblage to file silently out of the hangar.

  AN HOUR LATER, Cross was back in his formal blacks, preferring them to the starched white dress uniform required at the most official of occasions. Silver DC logos gleamed at the top of each sleeve, and a set of commendations marched down them. He sat at a table already filled with other officers, admirals from both factions, and several handpicked ship captains, including Dima Petryaev and other AAN officers.

  Fleet Admiral Anwen Davies called the meeting to order, “First, let’s cover what went right. Commander Cross.”

  He cleared his throat and addressed the table, “The tunnel torpedoes worked well, gaining us the element of surprise against the enemy’s command ships. Unfortunately, now that they know about them, they’ll no doubt adjust their defensive protocols.”

  Heads nodded in agreement. “Nonetheless,” Dima said, “they made the difference in this battle.”

  “That they did.”

  “Superb, Commander. Anyone else have anything good to share?” No one responded, and the momentary positivity that had greeted Cross’s words evaporated.

  “Then let’s begin with the negatives.” She turned to Okoye. “Admiral?”

  Okoye’s face was carefully neutral as he reported the statistics from the battle “Forty-three percent of our ships were destroyed. Another fifteen percent are unusable until they undergo significant rebuilding. Most of the rest are undergoing repairs and should be functional within the week. The starbase experienced major injury to its weapons arrays and outer skin, and some damage to its internal structure. It will remain viable as a forward operating post, but it can no longer serve in its former capacity.”

  One of Cross’s fellow commanders slammed his fists down. “All that effort? All that sacrifice, and we still lost?” Similar sentiments showed on many faces around the table.

  Okoye pointed at the speaker. “Stow it. We are alive to continue the fight. We have a sixteen-day cease-fire in which to reposition and plan for the enemy’s next move. It may not be a clear win, but neither is it a loss.”

  The captain looked chagrined and remained silent.

  “Thank you, Admiral Okoye,” Davies said. “The next open question is how we should organize ourselves to counterattack and defend going forward. Admiral Zhen Zhou of the Allied Asian Nations, you’ve asked to address that issue. Please do so now.”

  A snowy-haired woman younger than Dima but older than Okoye stood with her hands clasped behind her back. “It is the position of the AAN that we must take advantage of the discord and chaos that we’ve sown amongst our enemies. In the interim, until the end of the cease-fire, we intend to track their line of retreat and array ourselves to counterattack. We believe the rest of this war should occur in their space, not ours.” She sat again with a fluidity that belied her age.

  “Thank you, Admiral Zhen. Admiral Whittaker Thomas has asked to speak for the United Atlantic League. Please do so now.”

  A thin angular man with a nose as sharp as a dagger spoke, “With all respect to the esteemed admiral, the UAL believes that we should continue the policy that led to this success. Specifically, we’ll trade space for time, fighting delaying battles as our ships are repaired and new ships are brought into service. Once we reach the tipping point of maximum readiness, only then will we launch our counterattack.”

  Heads shook around the table while others nodded. Cross’s quick count showed that the room was evenly divided between the approaches, and that not all of the captains lined up under their admirals’ espoused opinions.

  “We’ve discussed this among the admirals of both forces, and have concluded that we’re at an impasse. Going forward, we will call upon and count upon one another for support whenever such support is possible, but we’ll maintain our own strategic objectives. Engineering has finally ironed out the conflicts between our communication systems, and we should be able to communicate as if with our own ships henceforth. All command officers should do so whenever they deem it useful.”

  Cross opened his mouth to speak, but had the foresight to glance Okoye’s way, and saw his negative gesture. He remained quiet.

  “Other concerns?” The admiral was brusque, her mind clearly on to the next item on her agenda. “Great. Meeting dismissed.”

  OKOYE, Cross, Kate and Dima walked slowly back down the corridors toward the docks where their ships rested. Dima spoke first, “It’s not anything other than we would’ve expected, is it my friends?”

  Cross shook his head, and Okoye replied, “It’s so predictable that you could’ve bet the house upon it.”

  From behind them, Kate chimed in, “What are the odds the enemy respects the arrangement?”

  Okoye glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. “Hope for the best, plan for the worst, Flynn. That captain of theirs seems like a formidable presence. As long as she’s around to enforce it, I believe they will adhere to it.”

  Cross spread his arms wide. “It’s unfortunate that they are so unwilling to talk.”

  Both Dima and Okoye burst out in laughter. Cross looked at them, confused. Kate cleared it up for him, “Did those words really just come from the mouth of Anderson Cross? Admiral, I think we need to have him taken to medical. First, they should make sure he hasn’t been replaced by an alien shape shifter. Second, we clearly need to test for brain damage.”

  Cross joined in the laughter. He wasn’t looking forward to more battles, but at least he no longer feared how he’d respond when they came. “That’s it, Flynn. You’re sentenced to be my second-in-command henceforth.”

  “Truly a fate worse than death,” said Dima. The four officers stopped at the intersection of the halls that led to each of their ships. Handshakes were exchanged, and promises made. Finally, it was just Cross and Kate, ambling back to the Washington, DC.

  “I’m sorry that the exploration posting you were hoping for is still on hold, Kate.”

  She shrugged. “At least you and I are together. And you’re becomin
g less and less of an idiot with each passing day.” She linked her arm in his. “With such accomplishments, who knows what amazing things the future might bring?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Kraada Tak was in his half-repaired office writing his address for the following holy day when the message came through. One of his lower attendants burst into the chamber carrying it. “This just arrived on the emergency channel, Hierarch.”

  “Thank you, Skraan.” He opened the message and frowned at the header code. “Stand watch outside the room and summon two guards to replace you as quickly as possible. Lock down the cathedral. Send in my seneschal.”

  The attendant ran through the door as if all the demons of the religion were at his heels. Kraada pulled out the appropriate text to decode Indraat’s message from a locked drawer. This was the agreed-upon choice for emergencies since they both knew it almost by heart. The tale of betrayal was quickly unearthed from the code.

  He rose and strode into a side room where he removed his robes to don the armor that was always nearby. He strapped on a strong chain undercoat that stretched below his thighs. Next, he set knee and shin guards covered in tiny vicious spikes into place. Bracers slipped over his forearms, made of a hardened metal capable of withstanding a direct blow from an edged weapon. He slid his robes back on to hide his protective gear and returned to his seat at the desk.

  He grabbed parchment and a pen and wrote instructions to his subordinate priests throughout the continent. Events had come to a head, and it was time for decisive action. His gaze flicked up as the seneschal entered, and said, “Phraan, thank you for your quick response. We have preparations to make.” He signed the missive with a hard swoop and looked up just in time to see the blade flicking at his face.