Defiance: (The Spiral Wars Book 4)

by Joel Shepherd

  “Hey, Erik.” Kaspowitz put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

  Erik opened his eyes, and looked at him. Thinking of the various things he could protest or say; that he knew it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t a kid to be comforted by his elders. But there was nothing really to say. More than a hundred of his crew were dead, an equal number hurt, and all this dancing around it wouldn’t bring a single one of them back. Kaspowitz saw his expression, and slowly withdrew the hand from his shoulder.

  “I want a sitrep now,” Erik told him. “I don’t care that I’m hurt, the gravity’s low and I’ll be fine. We’ve got a command centre running? Trace will be in charge, I guess?”

  “Yes Captain.” Kaspowitz’s tone, and manner, showed a far greater formality than just a moment ago. And a greater respect. “You want to go and see? It’s not far.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” Erik held up his arm, and began figuring in which order he should pull the damn wires and tubes off. “Do we cut the red wire, or the blue?”

  Erik visited the toilet facilities first, and found a most surreal scene — a large space with many cubicles, and a wide shower facility before armour-strength heavy windows. This place was a tower, he saw, amidst a series of towers. But these towers were unlike anything in the cities of organic lifeforms. They clung together in great patterns, like geological features, and rose above deep steel canyons kilometres across. Spectacular did not begin to describe the view. Nothing did. The horizon was steel, organised into sectors, some low domes on one far horizon, what looked like heavy industry on another. All glowed now with a broken scatter of lights. Some of that glow seemed to rise from beneath the surface, as though the metal crust contained some great fire within. Other portions lay dark, like the vast lakes in the Shiwon mountains, viewed from high above on a dark and moonless night.

  Erik showered, as Phoenix techs had gotten the local water systems running. It was quite extraordinary that everything still worked, in this place at least. Erik did not trust his AR glasses in the water, but put them atop the partition and allowed the coms function to find local chatter, and play it on speaker. Unmistakably, he recognised Spacer Riewoldt and Spacer Lum, two more of Rooke’s engineers, chatting somewhere nearby as they worked. The glasses were waterproof, so he put them on and activated the mike.

  “Hi boys, it’s the Captain. Do I have you two to thank for getting the water working?”

  “Captain!” The delight in Lum’s voice made him smile. “How are you sir? Are you in the bathroom?”

  “I am, I’m having my first shower in days. Heck of a view, huh?”

  “Yeah, kinda creepy too, sir.” Erik could not disagree with that. But then, he’d never actually gone into Tartarus, like Trace and her marines had. Surely that had been worse. “The systems are idle, Captain, but they’re not degraded here. It’s… it’s pretty amazing, in some places everything’s decayed and fallen apart, it looks thousands of years old, like it should. But we think there’s some kind of light charge running through this place, through a lot of the old organic habitats. It’s not that it’s stopping stuff from ageing, it just keeps it renewed — Rooke thinks there’s micros involved.”

  “You think he’s been talking to Styx, sir?” Riewoldt asked.

  “Lieutenant Rooke’s always talking to Styx,” Erik agreed tiredly. “I guess it’s not surprising the hacksaws found some ways to stop stuff getting old. They’re machines themselves, for them it might be some kind of immortality.”

  “Sir?” said Lum. “I’m real sorry about Commander Shahaim. And Lieutenant Karle.”

  Erik took a deep breath, head down in the shower. The water wanted to cling, gravity not strong enough to break surface tension. It spilled reluctantly down his legs, propelled more by accumulation than gravity, pooling about the drain. “Thank you, Spacer. Who did you lose?”

  “Oh plenty,” Lum said quietly. “Our group, other groups, marines. Doesn’t matter where. We’re all Phoenix.”

  “Yes we are,” said Erik, gazing at the view. “Yes we are.”

  After the shower, he pulled on the clean jumpsuit Kaspowitz brought him, dragged the Captain’s jacket over the top of it, and discovered that whoever had occupied this organic outpost in a sea of sentient machines, they either hadn’t required mirrors, or they’d taken all the mirrors with them.

  “You look fine,” said Kaspowitz, walking with him down the hall from the bathroom. “It’s only two days’ growth, and shavers weren’t a priority when we jumped ship.”

  “Don’t say ‘jumped ship’,” said Erik. “Doesn’t sound right. And it’s three days’ growth, not two.”

  “Two days’ growth on most men,” Kaspowitz corrected.

  “Oh shove it,” Erik told him, forcing amusement he didn’t feel. Appearances weren’t a laughing matter here. The crew needed to see the Captain was his usual self. Otherwise they’d… well. He didn’t know what they’d do. He didn’t know what they were for any longer. Phoenix was out in deep space, crippled and drifting. They didn’t have a ship anymore. Rooke thought he might be able to fix it, if he could get the massive ship repair facilities on Defiance working again, but admitted it might take a year.

  And suddenly, he remembered what they’d been fighting for in the first place. It was disconcerting to realise that he’d only just thought to ask. Strange how priorities shifted when friends started dying. “Where’s Styx and the data-core?”

  “She’s analysing it now,” said Kaspowitz. “There’s big computer facilities in the lower floors here… the tower complex is enormous, you could fit a million people in here. Romki’s with her… he did good too, some of the crew are saying he saved lives working emergency recovery.”

  That was good, Erik supposed, but under the circumstances it just meant that Romki was normal crew now. In that mess, everyone had been saving everyone else’s lives, and heroism was just the norm. “Hannachiam’s helping her?”

  Kaspowitz made a wry grimace. “No one knows what the fuck Hannachiam’s for. Except maybe Lisbeth, she thinks Hanna’s the drysines’ attempt to build an imagination, like a random thought generator, since AIs seem to lack that and get locked into predictable patterns of behaviour. They recognised it as a strategic weakness, I guess. So they built this giant potato that sits underground and makes abstract thought bubbles. Fucking weird machines.”

  “And Lisbeth’s with Gesul, I suppose?” He’d heard that Lisbeth was safe and well, with Skah, and that had been enough until now.

  “The parren have the neighbouring tower,” said Kaspowitz, pointing vaguely ahead. “It’s connected all the way down, so we’re sharing everything… it’s good cooperation, but we both figure different species need our own space after everything. Lis is… Lis is amazing, actually. Sitting on Gesul’s arm, muscling into any conversations his main commanders have with us, making sure there’s no misunderstandings. Which is good, I guess, but it’s also kinda disconcerting. She’s pretty sure something nasty could happen if we get our wires crossed.”

  “Well she’d know,” said Erik. And hoped for just a few hours with Lisbeth, sometime very soon, to finally go over all the things that had happened to her… and where she saw things going now.

  An elevator took them down a level, where a busier hallway led to a control room. There, before a far more impressive wrap-around view than Erik had had in the bathroom, were senior Phoenix Company marines, and a couple of bridge crew.

  “Captain on deck!” Kaspowitz shouted, and it was a mark of just how exhausted everyone remained that no one jumped, or did more than look around slowly. But look they did, and the joy on their faces was worth all the pain of waking up. Within the encircling windows was a similarly shaped control island, screens surrounding chairs, with holographic displays projected over the lot. Exactly what it was supposed to control, Erik had no idea. Perhaps its function was not fixed.

  He squared his shoulders and light-bounced to the island, noting Geish and Jiri in con
versation over one display, barely pausing to acknowledge the Captain… so Erik knew it was important, and probably scan-tech related. And here was Lieutenant Jalawi, not bothering to rise from his seat, one foot raised in heavy bandages on a chair alongside. Beside him, Lieutenant Alomaim, even more grimly inexpressive than ever. His girlfriend Remy Hale was dead, and if Erik knew anything of Alomaim, he’d be determined not to show any of that grief in public.

  And here, turning toward him, was Trace. This post was more a marine operation than a spacer one. This mission was on the ground, and that was where marines took charge. They’d be exploring the region, getting the tower systems working, and figuring what to do about supplies now that water and air seemed to be taken care of. He’d only just woken from being knocked out, yet already the work ahead seemed huge.

  Trace, he was surprised to see, looked quite emotional to see him again… by Trace’s standards, anyhow. Knowing her as he did, anything more than her usual curious, thinking-stare leaped out like a joyous explosion. But now, her jaw was just a little tight, and her eyes were shining. A bit. And Erik thought to hell with protocol, and went to hug her.

  She held him back, tightly. A marine’s embrace more than a friend’s, or even a woman’s — hard and full-bodied, like a bear hug that she wasn’t really large enough to pull off. Then he pulled back, put both hands on her shoulders, and looked around at the room.

  “I’m so proud of you all,” he said, struggling with the emotion. “I’m so proud I can barely speak.” A tear rolled down Trace’s cheek. He kissed her on the forehead, with a look about to let them know it was for them, too.

  “Romki says some of the technical data from the core is ridiculous,” Trace told him. “His word. He says Fleet could build new warships from it. Warships that could beat what we just faced. Rooke’s glanced at it and he agrees, though he’s busy with Phoenix. Crazy technology. We might have just saved the human race.”

  “Gravity bombs,” said Kaspowitz, with a grim, ironic smile. Aimed at himself, Erik thought, and his own previous disbelief. “Even the deepynines didn’t know that was possible.”

  Erik dropped his hands from Trace’s shoulders. “You want to keep command here?”

  Her lips tightened, the faintest of smiles. “I think that would be prudent.” Given you’re a total mess, she left unsaid.

  Erik smiled back. “Good. You have command. Defiance is yours, Major. Now, I want my ship back. Who can give me a sitrep on Phoenix?”

  “I can do that,” said Trace, indicating a command screen. “Here, come look.”

  Erik followed, and saw a vid-feed from a high angle, looking down into a large, steel hole. He recognised what he was looking at immediately — a capture collar. The size of it became apparent as a suited spacer drifted across the camera, thrusting by, a small dot against the enormous, segmented ring. The ring itself was the main body of a spacecraft, like a finger ring with an unfolding segment in the middle to adjust its girth. That girth would fit around a spaceship, propelled by large engines, and tighten into place. The pilot of the capture collar could then fly that ship wherever desired… but not through jump, as only starships possessed jump engines.

  From the running lights flashing about this capture collar, and the activity of spacers, a small inspection runner, and several drones, Erik guessed what was happening. “That’s Draper out there?” he asked.

  Trace nodded. “That’s Commander Draper now, I think.”

  “Yeah. We’ll do that properly when there’s time.” He couldn’t be annoyed at Trace for immediately bringing up command structure implications, with Suli’s body barely cold. It was what she was, and besides, Suli would have approved. This stuff mattered. “Who else?”

  “Dufresne’s still on Phoenix, she’s going to be pilot on the bridge for what it’s worth. Rooke’s out there too, refused to leave, he’s got a skeleton crew. They’re going to help fix the capture collar, and the shuttle pilots are all running back and forth, bringing stuff down that we’ll need, taking other stuff up. None of them have had any sleep.” With a warning glance at Erik, to let him know that although it was his command, she didn’t think it safe.

  “I’ll talk to them,” Erik agreed. “The capture collar has a cockpit?”

  “Draper says it’s more of an observer pod for organics, but they’re rigging it so he can fly it from there. Rooke says he can get enough aft thrust from rear attitude jets, plus the collar’s jets, he can generate more than half a G. He’s getting the rest of attitude control back, then he’s sure he can land Phoenix right in that bay, tail first.”

  Erik pursed his lips. He didn’t like it. To say it was against regs was putting it mildly. Starships were never to be landed on a planetary body, not even a low-G moon, irrespective of how physically possible it was. Tail-first landings of something that tall and heavy, with irregular mass loadings compared to what might normally balance on its tail, like a skyscraper… no, it was a bad idea all around. And yet he could see no flaw in Draper’s reasoning, because Defiance had no orbital starship facility. Probably it had once, but such facilities were prime targets in assaults, and likely it hadn’t survived. Which left the ground facilities.

  “He thinks there’s enough facilities on the ground to fix her?”

  Trace nodded. “Rooke says. There’s engines down there, Erik. No ships, but some very old engines… Rooke doesn’t think they’ve been anti-aged like some of the city, so they won’t be working. But the facilities that built them are. Styx says she and Hannachiam can get the whole city fired up in a few weeks, or the bits of it that still work, anyway. She says the repair facilities are largely automated, that even with a skeleton crew we could rebuild Phoenix. With a completely new tail. One that can keep pace with those deepynines. Maybe even beat them.”

  “Can’t burn at fourteen-Gs with us mushy humans flying it,” Erik murmured.

  “She’s not just talking about engines. Weapons, computers, everything. Erik, Styx says it was likely one of those hidden deepynine computer programs that blew the panel and knocked you out. She disabled most of it, but that one emerged when you were about to defeat the last deepynine threat, and overloaded that system to stop you.”

  Erik sighed. “Maybe she does need a full refit. Not like we have any choice, when our own ship tries to kill us.”

  “Phoenix saved our ass,” Trace replied. “It wasn’t her fault the alo messed with her from inception.” She considered him for a moment. “You don’t want to command the recovery yourself?”

  “I know a concussion when I feel one,” Erik told her. “There’s no fast fix, and it’s not safe to fly something complicated like that when you can’t think straight. Draper and Dufresne have got it. They’ve got Hausler for help, Jersey too. Even Tif. And Styx can help with guiding them in.” He gazed at the screen for a moment. “Plus, with Suli gone, we’re not going to be able to hold their hands any longer. They’ll have to handle far bigger jobs than this, on their own. Best they start now.”

  Trace nodded with approval. “Yes Captain. I think we all will.”

  Erik looked at her. “The remaining ships all turned and ran?”

  “As soon as they saw the gravity bombs,” Trace agreed. “Can’t say I blame them.”

  “And the drones already down here?”

  “Had to sweep them up,” said Trace. “Hannachiam helped. City was coming to life, we started to get good coms fixes. Let us know where they were, before they could see us.”

  She bore it stoically, but Erik could see the pain. “How many?” he asked quietly. “Kaspo said fifty, but wasn’t sure on the latest.”

  “Fifty-two,” Trace agreed. “More than a fifth, less than a quarter. Chester’s dead.”

  “I heard.”

  “And another forty-eight wounded. Some of them for the second time this trip.”

  “Command Squad?”

  “Kumar. Arime’s hurt bad, could make it.”

  Again Erik thought to hell with the protocols, a
nd put an arm about her shoulders. Everyone else was back at work anyway, talking and working their screens. And besides, he was pretty sure everyone liked to see it. They knew he and Trace had grown close in spite of everything, and knew they made a damn good command partnership on Phoenix. Seeing that bond, displayed for all to see, could only reassure them that things remained tight on Phoenix, and that whatever the pain, the family held together.

  “Love you sis,” he told her.

  She smiled sadly, and put her head to his shoulder. “Love you too, bro. Spoken to Lisbeth yet?”

  “I hear she’s busy. Let me get my head around my own stuff first. So, what’s our supply situation?”

  Some hours later, Erik took the express elevator down the tower to the lower levels. Most of these mid-levels were unoccupied, and the newly restored elevator showed no sign of being interrupted. Defiance-time read 06:40, but they were going to have to adjust that because parren days were twenty-two hours long. They measured time in totally different units, and this moon was definitely, Gesul had reminded him sternly in their one conversation twenty minutes ago, in parren space and under parren administration. Sharing this place as guests of the parren, it was the humans who would have to adjust. And Gesul was right, of course. Thankfully, Defiance had more than enough room for everyone.

  Still there was no Lisbeth. Gesul had informed him that she was fulfilling a very important role, and that was that. Evidently it did not occur to a high-ranking parren that Lisbeth was still actually Phoenix crew and truly answered to her brother, both as Phoenix’s commander and as the ranking member of the Debogande Family… whatever Lisbeth thought of that. Or more likely,

  Erik reconsidered now, Gesul had thought of exactly that, status, rank and structures of command being the endless obsessions of the parren mind. Perhaps he was bluffing Erik into assuming he had no choice but to allow Lisbeth to continue in her present role… and in truth, if Gesul did require it as a matter of parren command, there was little Erik could do about it. As guests in parren space, they were only welcome here for as long as parren gave them welcome. Gesul evidently found Lisbeth invaluable, and if that was the price of Phoenix’s continuing welcome, it was one that he was not especially unwilling to pay, for now at least.