Defiance (Atlantia Series Book 5)

by Dean Crawford

  Idris nodded and glanced across at the prison cells around them.

  ‘We can’t do anything until we find a way out of this hell hole.’

  The quadrupedal creatures who manned the prison clambered up and down the walls, their powerful claws and the pads on their feet holding them in place and allowing them to scamper with surprising speed and agility. Evelyn watched one of them for a moment and then had an idea.

  ‘If we could get hold of one of them and…’

  ‘Already thought about it,’ Taron cut her off, ‘and one of the guys tried it. It didn’t end well.’

  ‘How so?’ Idris asked.

  ‘The prison has a policy of zero–tolerance to all convicts,’ Taron explained. ‘Reyeche decided he’d get hold of one of the guards, kill him and then try to use his limbs to clamber out of the prison. First thing that happened, when he got hold of the guard, was that he realized the Gaollian was much stronger than he was when he got his arm ripped out of its socket.’ Evelyn winced as Taron went on. ‘Next, he was hauled out of the cell and carried up the wall to the very top of the prison so that everybody could hear him scream when he was dropped. It took a fair while for him to hit the bottom.’

  Idris scowled and gripped the prison bars. ‘No prison ever built is entirely secure.’

  ‘No,’ Taron agreed with a lazy smile,’ ‘but some are secure enough.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve given up,’ Evelyn said to him. ‘You must have figured something out.’

  Taron regarded her for a moment, the smile still hanging lop–sided on his face. ‘Maybe I have,’ he replied finally. ‘Depends on whether I’m going to share that with you.’

  Idris turned slowly to the pirate. ‘Oh, you’re going to share it.’

  Before Taron could reply, from the crowd in the cell a group of pirates shouldered their way to the front, backing him up. All were scarred and enveloped by a tangible aura of menace, Yo’Ki among them.

  ‘Your problem, captain,’ Taron said conversationally, ‘is that you’re not in command here.’

  ‘Neither are you,’ Evelyn pointed out. ‘You’re a prisoner the same as us.’

  ‘A prisoner with capital behind him,’ Taron grinned. ‘Prison economics, Evelyn – you should know something about that.’

  ‘The spice,’ Evelyn realized, and suddenly understood Taron’s rage at the idea of his ship being stripped down.

  ‘Hell of a cargo aboard my ship, and right now I would bet solid cash that any one of the guards in here would be willing to let a few of us out, for the right price of course.’

  ‘Make your deal,’ Idris growled as he took a pace closer to Taron, ‘or I swear you’ll have more to worry about than the guards.’

  Taron’s smile vanished, but he did not move. ‘Captain, I think that your years in command of happy little Colonial officers who place too much stock in shoulder insignia have given you a false sense of your ability to intimidate.’

  Evelyn glanced at Mikhain and saw the captain begin to edge a little closer to the pirates.

  Idris noticed the same movement, as did Taron.

  ‘Captain?’ Taron purred with interest as he leaned casually against the cage wall once more and looked at Mikhain appraisingly. ‘Finally, a Colonial stooge who’s waking up from their nightmare.’

  Mikhain glared at Taron, but then looked at Idris. ‘We’re at war,’ he said by way of an explanation. ‘Not just with the Legion but with the Oassians as well now. We can’t be choosy about our allies, but all humans should be sticking together.’

  ‘Pity you weren’t thinking like that on Chiron IV,’ Evelyn shot back.

  ‘I was,’ Mikhain replied without regret. ‘You were standing with a Veng’en instead of human beings.’

  ‘That’s history!’ Idris snapped. ‘Right now our priority is getting out of here and we need that spice to do it, Taron!’

  Idris’s voice rang out loudly enough that the occupants of many other cages heard it. Evelyn heard a rush of whispers in countless dialects as heads, eyes and antennae were turned toward them. From the other side of the cage a burly looking man, thick set with a massive black beard and thick arms, pointed at Idris.

  ‘What spice?’ he boomed.

  The cage swung to one side as the giant man shoved his way past other humans cowering away from him against the cage walls. More, equally burly men joined him, and the pirates behind Taron turned their attention to them.

  ‘Stay out of this, Rench,’ Taron warned.

  The big man named Rench grinned cruelly, his teeth stained brown. ‘We’re in a cage, Taron. What happens to us, happens to you. What say we cut a deal – your spice gets all of us out of here.’

  The big man gestured with a sweep of one giant arm to the Donnassian miners behind him.

  ‘Not enough for us all I’m afraid,’ Taron replied. ‘You win some, you lose some.’

  ‘Then I guess you’ll have to stay here,’ Rench growled in delight as he clenched his fists by his side. ‘Dead or alive.’

  Evelyn turned to Idris.

  ‘This is getting out of hand,’ she snapped.

  Idris nodded and stepped forward, raising his hands toward Rench. ‘I’m sure we can work something out here. There’s always a way to…’

  Rench let out a roar of fury and one arm smashed across Idris’s chest, battering him to one side. The captain hit the bars of the cell with a dull ringing sound and the cell swung sideways as the miners advanced.

  ‘The spice, Taron!’ Rench roared. ‘Now!’

  Evelyn saw Taron’s smile turn cold and without mercy as a silvery blade appeared as if by magic in his hand. He beckoned Rench forward with the other hand as beside him the pirates began shoving other people out of the way to give them room to fight.

  Evelyn leaped up and jumped between the two factions.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?!’ she snapped at Taron. ‘We’re already at war with the Legion! This is senseless!’

  ‘It’s business,’ Taron uttered, his tone cold and brutal. ‘Rench understands.’

  Evelyn looked at the giant Donnassian and sneered. ‘The only thing people like you understand is fighting like children. You should be working together, not squaring up for a fight.’

  Taron shrugged. ‘He started it.’

  Rench let out another blood curdling roar and made to pass by Evelyn. Evelyn pulled her shoulder back as she flicked her left hand out like a whiplash, its edge thin as a blade as it swept up and smacked across Rench’s bearded throat.

  The huge man’s eyes flew wide as his throat collapsed and he stopped where he was, both hands reaching up for his neck. Evelyn turned on one heel and drove the knuckles of her right fist deep into his plexus. What air remained in Rench’s lungs whistled out of his throat as his legs gave way beneath him and he slammed down onto his knees before her.

  Evelyn looked down at him, the big man only a few inches shorter than her even on his knees, and then she lifted one boot and slammed it into his chest. Rench sprawled onto his back as his companions stared at Evelyn in amazement.

  She heard Taron’s voice from behind her, and saw him waving the blade at the miners. ‘And let that be a lesson to you.’

  Evelyn took two paces toward Taron and grabbed his wrist, pinning the blade in place.

  ‘Shut up, or I’ll take that knife and slip it somewhere that’ll make you squeal like a eunuch.’

  Taron raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Evelyn released the blade and saw Yo’Ki smiling quietly nearby as she turned to the miners.

  ‘We want out of here, we work together. Once we’re done I don’t care if you all tear each other to shreds, but for now we’re on the same side, understood?’

  The Donnassians looked at her in amazement, but none of them argued. It was a voice from one side that answered Evelyn.

  ‘What spice?’

  She turned and saw three of the Gaollian Guards clinging to the cage wall, all of them armed and pointing plasma pistols
at them, the weapons humming in the otherwise silent prison. Evelyn realized that every one of the nearest cages had watched the entire exchange with interest.

  ‘Tell us where it is,’ the guard said, ‘and we might cut a deal.’

  Taron stepped forward. ‘Let us out first, and then we’ll talk.’

  The guard glared at Taron and a moment later fired his pistol.

  The shot blazed past Taron and hit one of his companions square in the face, incinerating his skull and spraying blood, bone and white hot plasma across the pirates. The guard pointed the pistol at Evelyn and his face split in a gruesome rictus grin.

  ‘Humans,’ the Gaollian sneered. ‘Wherever you’re found, chaos follows. Negotiations are over. The spice, now.’

  Evelyn looked at Taron, who sighed as his shoulders sagged.

  ‘It’s in the…’

  Taron’s voice was cut off as behind the guards the entire wall of the prison suddenly burst open like a gigantic metal flower amid a massive ball of flame, the deafening screech of rending metal and burning fuel filling the prison as Evelyn ducked instinctively away from the searing heat of the blast.

  ***

  XXIX

  Commander Andaim Ry’ere stood on the command platform of Atlantia’s bridge and waited in silence. Behind him the rest of the bridge crew likewise stood or sat behind their control consoles and stared at the main viewing screen, awaiting the contact that must surely come from the surface of the planet.

  On a second screen, Andaim could see a relayed image of Lieutenant Scott standing in a near–identical pose: upright, chin held high, hands behind his back. Despite his inexperience Scott was proving himself a worthy ally in difficult times, and would likely have been a model officer in the old Colonial Navy.

  ‘Incoming signal,’ Lael reported, her metallic hair catching the low light of the bridge control panels. ‘It’s from the surface.’

  Andaim straightened a little more as a screen flickered into life, and Andaim got his first look at Councillor Rhy’ll.

  ‘Commander Ry’ere,’ Rhy’ll’s translator warbled as he spoke, his gelatinous form rippling like water entrapped within in a transparent balloon. Behind the Councillor stood ranks of his colleagues, the representatives of races both familiar and strange to Andaim.

  ‘Councillor,’ Andaim replied, ‘may I speak with my captain?’

  ‘That will not be possible, I’m afraid,’ Rh’yll replied. ‘Captain Sansin and his fellow crew members and governors have been found guilty of treason and will be charged accordingly when all of this is over.’

  ‘When all of what is over?’ Andaim asked. ‘Where are the civilians we sent down to the surface?’

  ‘They are safe and in custody,’ Rh’yll replied. ‘They will not be harmed by us.’

  Andaim’s eyes narrowed as he considered the councillor’s carefully chosen words. They will not be harmed by us. He glanced to one side at Atlantia’s tactical displays, now showing a clear image of the massive fleet arrayed on the far side of Oassia, the image obtained by the sensors fitted to Valiant. Although Andaim could not tell if the fleet was still in the same position, the jamming from the surface sufficient to conceal the fleet from Atlantia’s sensors, he had no reason to suspect that it had moved yet.

  ‘What treason have they committed?’ Andaim asked, more to bide time rather than in the expectation of any reasonable answer.

  ‘You have brought the Legion with you to Oassia,’ Rh’yll rumbled, his tone deepening to convey the gravity of his accusation. ‘You have brought death to our doorstep, and now we must face it with our entire planetary population in danger of infection. A battle has not been fought in Oassian space for over a thousand years, the territory a neutral haven for all races, but now thanks to humanity that noble pride is shattered.’

  Andaim raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Lucky for you that you have a battle fleet in waiting behind the planet,’ he said mildly. ‘Or was that pure chance, councillor?’

  Rh’yll’s luminescent glow flickered weakly and he shivered.

  ‘The Oassian fleet has been here ever since your Legion arose and slaughtered billions of human beings, commander. A wise precaution don’t you think, considering how in the wake of your species’ annihilation you have now come here begging for our help?’

  ‘We didn’t beg and we didn’t want to come here. We had no choice, and now it would appear that there will be no help at all. Transport the civilians back to our frigates and we will leave forthwith.’

  ‘That also will not be possible,’ Rh’yll insisted. ‘They are essential to our future.’

  Andaim felt something uncomfortable creeping beneath his skin at the councillor’s choice of words as he paced closer to the display screen. ‘How so?’

  Rhy’ll shuddered again, apparently uncomfortable with the councillors standing behind him. He seemed to glance over his shoulder for confirmation, and then continued.

  ‘The Word fears humanity,’ he said finally. ‘It fears its creator, the one you call Lazarus. It fears no other species like it does you, for reasons that we here on Oassia and on many other planets understand with some considerable sympathy. Therefore, we seek a bargain with the Legion.’

  Andaim felt his blood run cold as he stared at Rh’yll on the screen, heard the gasps of horror from the bridge crew as they realized what the Oassian was saying.

  ‘You’re not going to use them as bait,’ Andaim said, his own voice sounding dead in his ears as he too began to understand the truth depth of Rh’yll’s deceit. ‘You’re going to barter with them?’

  Rh’yll shuddered again, his luminous internal organs almost flickering out as he spoke.

  ‘It is the only way,’ he replied. ‘We have no other choice but to place the countless innocent lives of many species above those of the remaining humans in order to preserve peace in our quadrant of the galaxy. We believe that the Legion and The Word can be reasoned with, that it too has a right to exist if it can be made to understand that it has a place in this universe if it is willing to respect the boundaries of other species with whom it shares the cosmos.’

  For a few long moments Andaim found himself lost for words. It had long been the council’s mission to embrace the species and civilizations it encountered, to bring them beneath an umbrella of shared co–existence, even warlike races such as the Veng’en. Unified and strengthened by shared histories of conflict and loss, the Galactic Council had risen above such petty squabbles to become a shining icon of what was good and righteous in the cosmos, despite its containing of humanity inside the Icari Line.

  But now it was openly advocating the abandonment of what remained of humanity in favour of a bargain with the greatest evil that the cosmos had ever known: an emotionless, enraged machine driven by a pure and undiluted lust for power and control.

  ‘You would place the survival of an entity responsible for the genocide of billions of people over our lives?’ Andaim uttered finally.

  Rh’yll rose up slightly in his seat among the councillors.

  ‘The abandonment of two thousand souls, no matter how appalling an act in isolation, is far preferable to the loss of countless millions that will befall us should the Legion continue its advance. It must be stopped, now, before any more worlds succumb to its power.’

  Andaim took another pace closer to the screen, looking up at Rhy’ll’s larger–than–life image.

  ‘It will never be placated,’ he said. ‘It will never stop. It will never be satisfied until every last biological species is eradicated from existence. It has already shown that it cares not what species it attacks – it hates us all with a passion that we cannot understand. There is nothing that we can do to stop it unless we destroy it entirely, take back the systems the Legion has conquered and smash it to pieces wherever we find it, all the way back to Ethera.’

  Rh’yll shuddered again and he sagged in his seat as he replied.

  ‘Sadly, such a mission of conquest would cost far more liv
es than I am willing to commit,’ he said. ‘Our decision has been made, commander, and we stand by it as unanimously as any other ruling the Galactic Council has ever made. We will seek an amnesty with the Legion and begin building a relationship with it. The Word is an entity, a self–aware being that now has every much a right to exist as we do. To condemn it to death would be as bad as…’

  ‘Condemning us to death,’ Andaim cut across him.

  Rhy’ll sat in silence for a moment and then he looked again to his side. To Andaim’s amazement, Governor Gredan appeared and looked at him.

  ‘It’s the only way, commander,’ he said.

  Andaim clenched his fists by his side as he glared at Gredan. ‘You engineered this?’

  ‘The plan was already in motion long before we arrived,’ Gredan replied. ‘I simply negotiated for the survival of a small number of humans in the hope that someday, in a far flung future that none of us will ever get to see, humanity might once again flourish on a new home world far from here, and gaze once more upon the universe that…’

  ‘You coward,’ Andaim snapped. ‘I take it that you’re going to be one of those survivors?’ Gredan lifted his bulbous chin. ‘The governors and I have not made this sacrifice lightly, commander.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Andaim growled, ‘and I take it that the crews of Arcadia and Atlantia, the people who risked their lives to save yours, will be the first to go?’

  Gredan maintained a sombre expression but could not conceal the mercenary gleam in his eye.

  ‘The Galactic Council felt that we, as governors, were the best chance for humanity to forge a new path devoid of military conflict, based on cooperation and mutual respect.’

  ‘And getting everybody else to do your dirty work for you!’ Andaim yelled as he pointed at the screen. ‘I swear by Ethera that if I ever get my hands on you I’ll kill you my damned self.’

  Gredan merely raised an eyebrow. ‘Exactly the kind of aggression that we’re hoping to rid mankind of, commander.’