Defiance (Atlantia Series Book 5)

by Dean Crawford

  Andaim fumed in silence but before he could reply Lael called across to him.

  ‘New contacts bearing eight five one, elevation niner niner four!’

  Andaim whirled and looked at the tactical display as a sudden flurry of new contacts appeared as red lights that swarmed into view as fast as lightning, soaring into the system from super–luminal cruise.

  ‘Multiple targets!’ Lael called, her voice slightly higher pitched than normal. ‘Military class, transponders identify them as Colonial! They’re here, commander!’

  Andaim felt his heart skip a beat as he saw on the main display screen an image through magnified optical sensors appear. Dense star fields provided a vivid backdrop for a fleet of six cruisers and a gigantic capital ship that loomed in their midst. A circular disc with ventral strakes, she was superficially similar in design to Atlantia but of a much larger and more modern design, a flagship of the Colonial Navy and one of the most recognisable and feared vessels ever constructed in Ethera’s orbital dockyards.

  ‘That’s a Colonial super–carrier,’ Lael gasped as she looked at the huge vessel.

  Andaim nodded.

  ‘It’s Defiance,’ he identified the huge vessel. ‘The Legion is here.’

  ***

  XXX

  Rhy’ll’s bioluminescence flickered weakly and Andaim glimpsed some of the other species behind him take a cautionary step back, as though doing so could somehow prevent the Legion from coming any closer. Only the lone Veng’en warrior, the one in the royal robes, stepped forward.

  ‘We must launch the fleet and attack without hesitation,’ he growled at Rh’yll. ‘This foolish course of appeasement will end in all of our deaths.’

  Rhy’ll reared up in his seat again. ‘We will continue as planned,’ he insisted. ‘Send a signal to the lead vessel.’

  Andaim turned away from the screens and looked across at Lael, and he reached up and scratched his ear. She nodded once as she glanced down at her communications panel and activated a new data stream.

  Andaim turned and watched as a solid–state cable that had been attached to Lazarus’ console now opened up and a data stream began flowing, tremendous volumes of information flooding to and fro between Lazarus and Atlantia’s sensors.

  ‘They’re signalling us,’ Lael called. ‘Open frequency, direct from Defiance!’

  Andaim turned to face the main viewing panel. Arrayed across the star fields before them at a range of less than ten thousand cubits was the Colonial Fleet, Defiance dominant at its centre. As yet, the fleet had not deployed into battle formation but was holding station, neither offensive nor defensive in its formation, but Andaim could see that all vessels had activated their shields and all of their plasma cannons were fully charged.

  ‘Open the channel,’ Andaim said, and braced himself for whatever was awaiting them.

  The view of the fleet vanished and then the screen lit up to display the bridge of Defiance, a vast circular array much like Atlantia’s but more modern, with less stations and brighter lighting which brought into sharp relief the horrific visage that confronted them.

  The Infectors were amassed in a thick, glistening black form that caught the glow from the bridge of the super–carrier in a thousand tiny points of light that sparkled like waves in a sea of thick oil. They flowed and seethed, churning like slow–moving magma as they maintained the form of a man that was grotesque and yet somehow terribly familiar.

  Andaim gasped, his voice held in check by a volatile mixture of horror and fascination. The man’s broad jaw and stern gaze was perfectly mimicked by the dense mass of the Infectors, some of them even rippling across his shoulders where once his uniform’s lapels and insignia must have been. His chest was broad and his stance erect and proud, as though he were still the towering icon of Colonial leadership he once had been as a human.

  ‘Tyraeus Forge,’ Andaim uttered, barely able to believe what he was seeing. ‘You died, we blasted your ship to pieces!’

  Tyraeus Forge’s wide jaw split in a rictus grin, his eyes black and cold despite the light glistening inside them.

  ‘Nothing ever really dies,’ he replied, his voice almost identical to the old man’s but for the strange digital ripple that accompanied it. ‘Everything is reborn, eventually.’

  Andaim took a pace closer to the screen. ‘Evelyn, she saw you die with your ship. We defeated you.’

  ‘You defeated what was left of the man,’ Tyraeus replied, ‘but the Legion remembers all, Commander Andaim Ry’ere. Knowledge is all we require, to ensure that when a member of the Legion falls they return once more, purer and more powerful than ever.’

  Andaim felt a profound sense of lethargy weigh down upon his shoulders as he realized the extent of The Word’s power. Everything that they had achieved, every step that they had taken on this long journey, every victory in battle that they had won had all been for nothing, the Legion simply replacing every lost warrior with another of its kind in an endless flow of rejuvenation, each reincarnation more horrific than the last.

  Councillor Rh’yll spoke up, the Oassian’s chamber still linked in to the conversation on Atlantia’s bridge.

  ‘On behalf of the Galactic Council, we welcome you Commander Forge.’

  Forge’s grotesque metallic head turned slightly as he observed the councillor’s image on another screen on his bridge, and to Andaim’s horror he bowed slightly.

  ‘Councillor,’ he murmured in a more reassuring tone. ‘As you can see, we have come not for war but for peace. My fleet will remain neutral until we have discussed the proper terms of the Oassian surrender.’

  ‘What surrender?’ Andaim asked.

  Tyraeus looked at Andaim and that smile reappeared, as cold as death. ‘Did the council not inform you of their intentions, commander?’

  ‘We kind of had to work that out for ourselves.’

  ‘I see,’ Tyraeus replied, ‘then you will not have known that we have been in communication for some time.’

  Andaim whirled and glared at Rhy’ll. ‘You’ve been talking to the Legion?!’

  This time Rhy’ll’s glowing lights were not visible, as though he were suddenly devoid of power, drained by the dilemmas he had faced.

  ‘The Legion had reached Akyron long before your ship arrived there, commander,’ Rh’yll admitted. ‘The system is so close to Oassia that we felt compelled to reach out to them, to attempt dialogue rather than conflict. And so the negotiations began.’

  Andaim felt as though he might spontaneously combust and ran a hand through his thick hair in exasperation.

  ‘All of this talk of honour, of peace, all of the accusations of treachery and all the time you’ve been preparing to hand us over in order to save your own skins!’

  ‘We did not start this war!’ Rh’yll almost shouted, jabbing an appendage to point at Andaim. ‘We did not want this conflict. Humanity is to blame for reaching too far, too soon and condemning us all to face this! Be not so quick to blame others for what has befallen you, commander, for without humanity none of this would have happened!’

  Andaim fought to find a reply but Tyraeus spoke first.

  ‘On the contrary, without humanity we would not have existed and could not have seen the universe as we do now.’

  Andaim turned and faced Tyraeus. ‘We know what you are. We know that you’ll never stop, that you’ll keep consuming system after system and murdering species in their millions, even if the council is too damned blind to see the danger that’s staring them in the face.’

  ‘The only danger here is humanity itself,’ Tyraeus replied. ‘You think that you’re the answer, the light, and solution to the ills of all others, and yet you squabble and fight and collude and conspire and betray, all the while bemoaning the rest of the cosmos for its shortcomings.’ Tyraeus shook his head, Infectors seething across his features. ‘You are the cancer that must be cured, commander, for it is humanity that leaves pain and suffering in its wake.’

  ‘As opposed to deat
h and destruction?!’

  ‘I see no death,’ Tyraeus replied, ‘for I am still alive.’

  ‘You’re a machine, nothing more!’ Andaim shot back.

  ‘Like Doctor Lazarus?’ Tyraeus said. ‘Who even now resides aboard your ship and has taken control of it?’

  Rh’yll and the councillors gasped as the gelatinous politician spoke. ‘What?! Commander, what is going on?’

  ‘They seek to undermine you,’ Tyraeus informed the council, ‘just as they have always done. Doctor Lazarus even now is working to break our alliance agreement and is hacking Oassian and Morla’syn data streams.’

  ‘You’re here to destroy us!’ Andaim roared.

  ‘We’re here to bring you into our fold,’ Tyraeus replied, ‘just as we did the Morla’syn dignitaries sent to negotiate with us.’

  Andaim stared in dismay at Rh’yll, who seemed once again subdued and shamed.

  ‘They were despatched two days before you arrived,’ Rh’yll explained.

  Andaim turned back to Tyraeus. ‘Where are they?’

  The Legion’s commander stepped to one side of the screen and a Morla’syn strode into view. It’s features were largely unchanged, but for the dull red glow in its eyes and the swarms of Infectors streaming across its pale white skin like beads of oil.

  ‘There is nothing to fear,’ the Morla’syn said, its voice curiously distorted by the Infectors coursing through its veins. ‘The Legion is here, and we are many.’

  Tyraeus turned to the screen once more, and smiled again.

  ‘Councillor Rh’yll, you have ten minutes to present the terms of the Oassian surrender, beginning with Atlantia and Arcadia standing down and the handing over of Doctor Ceyen Lazarus and all human captives to us. Upon completion of the terms, we shall depart and leave Oassia forever as part of our agreement. Failure to do so will imply aggression and we will be forced to attack.’

  The screen went blank as Tyraeus cut off the communications link. Andaim turned and stared at Lael for a long moment. The communications officer discreetly raised three fingers at the commander.

  ‘You must hand over Lazarus,’ Rh’yll implored Andaim, ‘or we will be forced to retaliate against you ourselves.’

  Andaim, his fists still clenched by his side, shook his head. ‘Tyraeus won’t leave Oassia and Lazarus is our best chance of defeating the Legion. Handing him over now will be suicide!’

  ‘Not handing him over will be suicide!’ Rh’yll snapped back. ‘We have two thousand civilians down here and we will send them to the Legion if you do not comply with Tyraeus’s demands!’

  Andaim froze on the spot once again. ‘You’re threatening to kill innocent civilians?’

  Rh’yll shuddered. ‘I must prioritize the safety and sanctity of Oassia over all other considerations.’

  ‘Then launch your fleet, damn it!’ Andaim shouted. ‘Take the fight to Tyraeus and together we can win this!’

  Rh’yll shook his head. ‘I am sorry, commander, but there will be no battle for Oassia. Comply with Tyraeus’s demands or humanity will cease to exist forever.’

  The screen went blank and Andaim turned to Lael.

  ‘Does Lazarus know where Idris and the others are being held captive?’

  Lael glanced at her screens. ‘A holding tower near the centre of the city, according to the data streams he’s feeding me.’

  ‘Let Lazarus loose,’ Andaim said, ‘to use all and any means to liberate the captains and Evelyn. And launch all available Raythons, weapons hot!’

  Andaim lifted his wrist–com to his mouth and opened a channel across Atlantia.

  ‘All stations, all stations, battle status, prepare for combat!’

  ***

  XXXI

  Ishira Morle was yanked to her feet, her hands held either side of her head as in front of her she saw dozens of Morla’syn troops swarming onto the landing platform, their rifles held ready as they surrounded the civilians.

  ‘Stay down, remain calm!’

  Ishira felt like shouting at them to stop being idiots as they began handing out manacles with which to bind their captives, but any protest she might have made suddenly was trapped on her tongue as she heard the engines of the Morla’syn fighter escorts start up nearby.

  The soldiers turned toward the rising whine of ion engines as the canopies on the drone fighters closed and rippling clouds of heat billowed from beneath them as the drones lifted off under automatic guidance, their undercarriage retracting as they climbed into the hard blue sky.

  ‘Where the hell are they going?’ Ishira asked in confusion.

  The Morla’syn soldiers seemed likewise surprised that their drone escorts were suddenly departing, and watched as the craft soared up into the sky and then began turning as one in a tight diamond formation. Almost immediately, one of the craft broke away from the formation and dove toward the side of a silvery tower several thousand cubits away across the city, one of the largest spires visible that flared in the brilliant sunshine.

  Ishira felt the Morla’syn soldiers holding her loosen their grip, their slanted eyes fixed on the departing fighter as it plummeted toward the spire.

  ‘Oh no,’ Ishira gasped as she was gripped by a clairvoyant premonition of impending doom. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  Before the Morla’syn could respond a civilian cried out and pointed at the fighter, and then moments later it dove straight into the soaring spire’s heights and exploded in a searing ball of flame, smoke and tumbling metal panels.

  Alongside Ishira, one of the Morla’syn troop’s communications devices crackled into life and she heard a crudely translated warning emitted through the soldier’s translator.

  ‘The prison section has been breached and the Legion is in orbit. All stations, fall back and prepare for invasion! All humans to be restrained! Repeat, all humans to be contained for transport to the Legion!’

  Ishira looked at the spire where the Morla’syn fighter had smashed into it and saw hundreds of figures falling from the ragged cavity amid thick clouds of dense smoke and flame, black specks plummeting hundreds of cubits toward the city below.

  She turned to the nearest soldier. ‘You take us to the Legion, we’re all dead!’

  The Morla’syn soldier sneered at her. ‘Better you than us!’

  Ishira felt her heart plummet in her chest as she saw the remaining three fighter drones arc across the sky above and then turn back toward the landing platform and rocket down toward the terrified civilians, their wings flashing in the sunlight.

  ‘Get down!’ Ishira yelled.

  The civilians ducked down as one, the Morla’syn soldiers likewise hurling themselves onto the platform as the three fighters blazed overhead and then pulled up and soared in a near vertical climb into the sky, vanishing behind scattered clouds.

  The Morla’syn soldier scrambled to his feet and turned to point his rifle at Ishira, but he didn’t see the enormous Ogri rise up behind him. Before Ishira could respond the enormous creature gripped the Morla’syn with one huge fist and then twisted at the waist as he thrust his massive muscular arm upward.

  The Morla’syn screamed as he was hurled with tremendous force into the air and across the landing platform. His body rotated in mid–air as he hurtled overhead and vanished over the edge of the platform to plunge to his death far below.

  ‘Take them, now!’ Ishira screamed.

  She hurled herself into the nearest of the Morla’syn and smashed her forehead against the soldier’s face, felt his bony nasal bridge splinter beneath the blow as he tumbled onto his back with a deep thud. Stefan’s boot landed on the soldier’s face and he slumped unconscious as Ishira grabbed the soldier’s rifle and aimed at the nearest Morla’syn.

  The soldiers were caught in a panic as they were pinned against the outer rim of the landing platform and facing an angry, vengeful crowd of humans and enraged Ogri.

  ‘Stand down!’ Ishira shouted. ‘You’ll never get all of us before we send you off the edge!’


  The Morla’syn hesitated, and then one by one they lowered their rifles and set them down on the deck before them.

  ‘Bind them!’ Ishira snapped, and dozens of willing civilians dashed forward and bound the soldiers with their own manacles. ‘Get them into the centre of the platform!’

  The Orgi dragged the Morla’syn into the centre of the platform as the humans stood back, entirely surrounding the soldiers, many of them now carrying the discarded plasma rifles. Ishira turned as a young girl dashed from the crowd and hurled herself into Ishira’s arms.

  ‘Erin,’ she whispered as she held her daughter tightly against her.

  Ishira set Erin down alongside Stefan as the Morla’syn were watched under armed guard, and then she marched up to them. She looked down and recognised General Veer among them, the officer glaring at her fiercely as she surveyed her captives.

  ‘You’re making a big mistake,’ Veer growled.

  Ishira stepped over to him, the plasma rifle in her grasp and aimed between the Morla’syn general’s eyes.

  ‘We humans have a habit of doing that,’ she said, ‘but you know what?’ Veer lifted his chin expectantly and Ishira glared back down at him. ‘We try to learn from them.’

  Ishira lowered the rifle, swung the weapon over in her grip and then offered it to the General. Veer stared up at her for a long moment and frowned.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Ishira shoved the rifle into the General’s chest and glared at him from scant inches away.

  ‘I know,’ she growled back. ‘That’s why you’re betraying us. What you clearly don’t understand is that the majority of humanity isn’t dangerous until our backs are against the wall. Then, we come out fighting.’

  Ishira stepped back and called out to the civilians.

  ‘Release them, and return their weapons!’ A flurry of confused whispers drifted across the civilians, and Ishira shouted louder. ‘Do it, now!’

  Reluctantly the civilians released the Morla’syn prisoners, and moments later they were standing once more with their weapons in their hands and looking down at Ishira.