Victors
Page 1
Victors
Book 5 of the Chaos Shift Cycle
TR Cameron
MD Press
For Dylan and Laurel
Contents
More Cross and Kate!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Thom’s Victor’s Notes: 19 March 2018
More Cross and Kate!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by TR Cameron
The Destroyer Lubyanka. Undefeated. Undefeatable.
Cadets Anderson Cross and Kate Flynn face the ultimate rite of passage: taking on the Lubyanka. Countless others have tried. Countless others have failed. Now it is up to them. Together, they will try to overcome the unbeatable enemy.
The Suicide Run is the start of the adventures of Cross and Kate, and it’s yours for FREE!
Join TR Cameron’s Readers’ group and download Suicide Run today!
Visit www.trcameron.com/chaos to download it for free!
Chapter One
Indraat Vray’s long strides ate up the ground as she led her team toward the outskirts of human colony. Her scarlet armor was polished to a perfect shine, and the sunlight from above made it gleam, emphasizing her otherworldliness. Inside the faceplate, translucent now in anticipation of enemy contact, she wore a ferocious scowl.
She pointed and used the targeting mechanism built into her gauntlet to designate two enemies in the distance as targets. Without additional instruction, a pair of combat drones, controlled by members of her crew, zipped over her head on direct vectors to those unlucky folks. Within seconds, the drones were circling to return, abandoning the smoldering ruins of what had once been humans, victims of the incendiary payloads the devices carried.
Behind her, arcing out in a modified V, the crew of the Ruby Rain advanced with their weapons ready. She toggled the direct communication line to her religious officer and spoke her first words since leaving the ship several eights before.
“Anything?”
“Negative, Fleet-Captain. I see no evidence of anyone acting even slightly out of the ordinary.”
She clipped the channel, and her scowl deepened. Her instincts were rarely wrong, and they were telling her in no uncertain terms that one of those following her had, at best, divided loyalties. At worst, she thought, tensing her grip where it circled the butt of her pistol, a hidden foe might try to arrange a “friendly fire” incident during their dirtside deployment. She’d need to waste her own precious attention to supplement the watchful presence of her religious officer.
For a moment, she reflected on how times had changed since their first missions together. Deacon Raanja had lost his unquestioningly rosy outlook on his religion, and she’d also come to doubt things she’d previously taken as absolutes.
Family, duty, then the gods.
A choked laugh accompanied her consideration of her mantra. Once, it had been so clear. Now, not so much.
As they advanced toward the colony’s center, the agricultural zone that produced food and other consumables for the colony gave way to clusters of buildings. The decision to land amongst the crops had been hers, and she’d momentarily enjoyed being among the hopeful growth. They’d, of course, burn it all before they departed to deny it to their enemy.
“Defenders up ahead, Fleet-Captain,” reported Creena Shan from her position at Indraat’s right hand.
“Thank you, First. Deploy two to each site.” Without breaking stride, she called up additional information in her helmet display—a magnified view from the drones circling the targets. As promised, there were three humans in each location, and one of each group had what looked like a long rifle pointing their way. As the chosen attackers ran past her, the sound of a rifle’s crack split the quiet. A heavy round sparked her shoulder, entirely failing to penetrate her armor or disrupt her cadence.
She drew her custom pistol with a smooth dipping motion that ended with her left arm at full extension. A loving caress on the trigger sent a bolt of coherent light across the intervening space to burn into the forehead of the being who’d shot at her. He slithered bonelessly to the ground, his death inspiring horrified screams from his comrades. She twirled the sidearm around her finger and returned it to its home.
Her helmet comm system crackled. “There seems to be no reduction in performance from your old pistols, Fleet-Captain,” Deacon Raanja said, a smile in his voice. Indraat flashed back to the humiliating need to sacrifice her previous pair to escape the emperor’s guards. Then the scowl left her face, replaced by regret and slight amusement.
“Indeed, they are pristine. Improvements, even.”
Ahead, her crew eliminated the rest of the nearby defenders with no losses and set the buildings behind them ablaze. The orders from the hierarch — no, the emperor — had been clear. Kill the humans and raze the colonies to the ground. No quarter given, no mercy bestowed. She shook her head. The lack of a victory in the war after such a long time was disheartening. So many times, he — they — had been locked in her sights, and for some inexplicable reason the gods hadn’t permitted her to finish him — them.
So, perhaps this new approach wasn’t such a bad plan. It would force the humans to decide what was more important to them, vengeance or preservation.
Having faced them an endless number of times, she was almost certain which option they’d choose. A species, any species, could only be pushed so far before it turned savage and committed to the enemy’s destruction at all costs.
Her reverie was interrupted by the voice of her first officer again. “Drones show the crowd has gathered at the colony crossroads, Fleet-Captain. Although,” the woman laughed, “to call these pathetic paths roads is rather generous.”
Indraat nodded her helmet in agreement. “Fall into narrow deployment, in pairs. Last pair guards the rear. I’ll be at the point.” Her force rearranged itself, leaving her striding alone at the head of a chain of soldiers whose weapons pointed in all directions. She strode to the center of the intersection and stopped, waiting.
Finally, one who was apparently braver than the others stepped forward. “Is this where we choose a champion?”
Indraat broke into laughter, unable to help herself. When it subsided, she straightened and activated the connection to her armor’s external speakers. “No, human, you’re unworthy of such an honor. Your species has demonstrated your unworthiness time and time again. Where once I would’ve been content to entertain myself with the long, slow, agonizing elimination of your chosen combatant, that’s no longer the will of our gods.”
The man looked confused. “So, what do you want from us?”
“Nothing of value, believe me.
Only your pitiful lives.” She killed the external feed and opened a channel to her first. “Creena, take this one to the main building and gather whatever intelligence is there to be gathered. You have one eight.” She moved forward and grabbed the human who’d spoken and dragged him off to the side. Indraat clasped her hands behind her back and said, “Crew of the Ruby Rain, eliminate these vermin.”
An orgy of destruction followed as her people took out their pent-up frustrations with the war and the humans upon the colonists. The fortunate died quickly. The unlucky received many wounds before finally succumbing. Only once did Indraat deem the punishment unproductive, and she finished that engagement with a hipshot using her right-hand pistol which drove an exploding projectile into the human’s chest before it blew him apart.
The assault was complete in less than forty seconds. It took another half minute for the bodies to fall, the smoke to clear, and the echoes to subside.
“Destroy all the buildings except the main one and the one next to it,” she ordered, pointing to indicate those to be spared. Grenades arced toward the closest, and combat drones sped off to demolish the ones further away. Soon, incendiaries had set each of the targeted structures aflame or rendered them to rubble, depending on their construction materials.
Six minutes after that, her first officer reappeared. “We’ve gathered all the available information, Fleet-Captain. We found evidence that a distress signal was sent upon our arrival. We discontinued it, per our normal procedure.”
Inside her helmet, Indraat raised an eyebrow. The need to justify her actions suggested Creena was worried. “Very good,” she replied. “Leave me a guard of four, plus Deacon Raanja. The rest should return to the Ruby Rain and prepare to get off this rock.”
As her forces lurched into motion toward the ship, she addressed a pair of her guards, “Set traps in the two remaining buildings, and especially in the main security room. After several minutes, they returned, and they all turned to take their first steps toward departure. A glint in the corner of her eye pricked at her, and she ordered her guards to investigate. She followed at a short distance, so any unexpected human traps would not reach her.
Carefully hidden in the landscape was a set of metal doors. Three guards took up defensive positions while the fourth ripped the door free from its hinges using a power-assisted pull. The opening revealed a dozen of the most pathetic humans, females and children, huddled in an underground bunker. One of the guards pulled a grenade from his belt, but she stopped him with the touch of her hand.
“Leave them. We’ll let the gods decide their fate.” He nodded and returned the explosive to its receptacle. They walked away without further consideration of the humans. One guard kept a measured eye on the spot until they were out of range.
The expected comment from her religious officer sounded over their private channel a short time before they reached the ship “Fleet-Captain, was that not a direct violation of our orders?”
She raised her hands, palms up, in the armored equivalent of a shrug. “As you’ve said many times, I’m the voice of the emperor in the field. Besides, if they do manage to survive long enough to reactivate the distress signal, it’ll be just one more distraction for our enemy.”
“I see, Fleet-Captain.” She heard a doubt.
“Do not misjudge, Deacon. This wasn’t mercy. It was, at best, an act of indifference. The ones who matter aren’t on this planet, or on any planet.”
The loading ramp rose as they treaded upon it, and by the time it’d locked into place, Indraat Vray’s ship was already in motion, rotating skyward to leave the misbegotten ball of dust and its human infestation to their fate.
Chapter Two
Captain Anderson Cross sat ramrod straight in his chair with his hands resting comfortably on the arms and a serious expression on his face. “Report ready status. Helm?”
“Ready, Captain,” replied Lieutenant Zachary Lee.
“Communication?”
“Ready, Captain,” reported Lieutenant Anna Fitzpatrick.
“Tactical,” Cross said.
“Ready, Captain,” replied Lieutenant Michael Matthews.
“Weapons?”
“Ready, able, and so very, very willing, Captain,” growled the accented voice of Marcas Walsh.
Cross couldn’t resist a laugh and was joined by the rest of the crew on the bridge. Walsh sat and beamed.
Cross hit the toggle on his chair and said, “Medical?”
“Yes, Captain?” replied the calm and continually irritated voice of Doctor Sienna Valentin.
“Are you ready to embark, Commander?”
“Aye, everything’s stowed and ready.”
He hit another toggle. “Engineering?” There was no reply. He frowned and hit the button again. “Engineering?” he insisted, as if his level of desire could somehow change the technology’s reaction to his request.
“We’re good to go, Captain,” said Jannik as he strode onto the bridge.
Cross turned to give him a faux glare. “Is everything to your satisfaction, then, Chief?” The older man laughed. Cross thought if a laugh could be described as sarcastic, this one qualified. Over-qualified, in fact.
“Satisfied, Captain? No, I’m for damn sure not satisfied. In fact, the list of things I’m not satisfied with would take far longer to share than the list of things I am.”
He took a breath, presumably to begin that list, and Cross cut him off, “Chief, we don’t have time for the full version.”
Jannik’s mouth snapped shut, and he frowned at Cross. He grabbed a tablet sitting in a leg pouch and tapped out some commands. “Engines are fully repaired. Tunnel drive is good. Wormhole drive is good. Starboard broadside has been replaced, including a couple of very nice new additions.”
“That all sounds positive,” Cross ventured.
With the scowl, Jannik continued, “But, we’re still down one shuttle bay. Also, our armor has been repaired and re-repaired, and in some places, repaired yet again. Finally, the internal structure of the ship is no longer true.”
Cross gave him a confused look, and the chief engineer offered a pained sigh. “She’s bent, Captain. You bent the Washington, DC.” Having delivered the killing blow, Jannik turned and left the bridge.
As Cross turned in his seat to face the main display again, he noticed his crew was carefully not looking in his direction. A smile tugged at his stern expression. The crew, his crew, had all the trappings of a family, and he’d take a thousand scoldings from the ship’s “patriarch” for their benefit.
Another press on another button on the arm of his chair. “Washington, DC to Pandora. Are you there?”
The cultured voice of the Domeki avatar replied, “Yes, Captain Cross. Allow me to congratulate you on your promotion.”
“Thank you, Pandora,” Cross said, freeing the trapped grin.
“I’m here too, not that you care,” Kate added, stepping into view next to the holographic presentation of the ship’s artificial intelligence.
“I was just about to ask,” he began, only to be interrupted.
“I know, right after you got done flirting with my ship. You can’t have her, Cross. We’re life partners.”
He bowed his head, wondering if the day would be one long pummeling after the next. He looked up, attempting to portray proper chagrin, and instead laughed at the amused look on Kate’s face. “Are you ready to go, Kate?”
“The Pandora is entirely prepared, and her crew is eager to end this.”
“As am I,” Pandora said, stroking the head of the furry creature wrapped around her neck.
“As am I,” added Claire Martin, and the screen divided to show a visual of her on the bridge of the Phoebe.
“I don’t recall inviting you to this discussion,” Cross said. “Wait your turn.”
“With the upgraded communication suite on the Phoebe, the power’s all mine, Captain,” replied his former tactical officer.
He shook his head, convinced the pum
melings would continue endlessly.
“All joking aside,” Claire continued, “Phoebe has picked up a distress call from one of our colonies. It cut off hours after being sent. Sometime later, it reactivated. We don’t understand why.” Cross frowned. His main display changed again as the UAL flagship overrode it.
The image of Admiral Wilder appeared on the screen. “Captains, Commanders, it’s time to take up our most important responsibility and put an end to the Xroeshyn once and for all. We’ll depart from here along separate routes and reconvene in sector seventy-eight, where the third part of our fleet will join us.”
He looked down, then faced the screen again with a somber expression. “We’re aware that several of you have picked up the tunnel beacon broadcast from our colony. I’m sure many of you would like to fly to their aid, but quite simply, we cannot arrive in time to assist. Whatever is happening, they’re on their own. We have dispatched probes to investigate and report back. Our initial analysis is that this settlement, an agrarian community, is unlikely to have been able to mount any significant defense against a Xroeshyn attack. We can only hope it’s something simpler and less deadly that caused them to call for help.”
The lines in his face deepened as the anger he felt—that they all felt—overcame his neutral reserve. “We must keep our goal foremost in our hearts and our heads. Our only chance of surviving this alien menace is to cut off its head. A war of attrition is a war we now know we’ll lose, and much more quickly than we’d ever imagined. Wrap your feelings in armor, sailors, soldiers, and Marines, for we cannot afford to fail in our task. If we do, it’ll be the end of our species.”