Defiant (Battle Born Book 13)

by Cyndi Friberg

  Jenna nodded, but Drex’s image came unbidden to her mind. The battle born interacted with all sorts of alien races. He’d have a better chance of knowing someone who could help her than anyone on Earth. But asking for his help meant she’d have to talk to him, be near him, and that was dangerous as long as the pull was still engaged.

  The shuttle arrived a few minutes later, so Jenna gave her mother a quick goodbye hug. Drex was not on the small transport, but luckily, the agile little ship was so fast it took less than an hour to reach their destination.

  The Bunker didn’t look like much from the air, a small maintenance building and a large nearly empty parking lot. The pilot announced their arrival and a section of the parking lot parted, allowing the small ship to descend into an underground hanger. Jenna shook her head. The U.S. government loved to hide their secret complexes underground. It made them harder to locate and easier to defend.

  She thanked the pilot and climbed down from the shuttle. It immediately took off, apparently having other obligations.

  A camo-clad guard greeted her in the hanger, then took her carryon bag. “I’ll deliver this to your room. The others are waiting for you.”

  That made it sound like she was late, but the shuttle had arrived right on time.

  The guard led her through a series of unmarked corridors. With white tile floors and unadorned walls, the hallways all looked the same. They took an elevator to sub-level three and then traversed several more corridors. The compound was clearly large, yet she’d seen nothing yet that warranted subterranean security.

  “I hope someone is planning to take me back to the hanger. I’ll never figure this warren out on my own.”

  “You’re required to have an escort anywhere you go, ma’am,” the guard casually informed. “Navigation will not be a problem.”

  She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or annoyed by the revelation, so she didn’t say anything.

  They arrived at their destination a few minutes later. He opened the door and motioned her inside, but remained in the corridor as he closed the door behind her. She stepped into a common-looking conference room. Twelve identical chairs encircled a large, oblong table. To the left a floor-to-ceiling display dominated the entire wall. A scenic slide show was running on the display, likely an automatic screen saver. Morgan sat at the head of the table. The battle born contingent, Drex, General Lux, and Governor Lasenger sat on Morgan’s right. Generals Wendover and Hendrickson sat to Morgan’s left, an empty chair, obviously meant for Jenna, in between them.

  “Glad you could make it, Dr. Fermont,” Morgan greeted with subtle criticism.

  “Traffic was hell.” The sarcastic reply made the generals smirk and Morgan narrow her gaze. It wasn’t quite a glare, but close enough to warn that Jenna’s humor wasn’t appreciated. She slipped onto the empty chair and set her purse on the floor.

  “The past few days have been hectic for all of us,” Morgan began. “Do we need to review where we stood before the interruption?”

  Interruption? Jenna almost laughed. Were deadly terrorist attacks so common in Morgan’s life that she considered them no more than an interruption?

  “We were hoping the tribunal would deescalate the hostilities,” Sedrik Lux replied. “Clearly that’s not the case. I’m not sure anything that was said before the ‘interruption’ is relevant anymore.”

  Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who’d been annoyed by Morgan’s phrasing. She looked at Drex, but his rugged features were composed, neutral. It would have been so nice to possess his power, even briefly, so she could understand what went on behind his professional reserve. As if sensing her stare, he looked at her, darker-than-night eyes boring into hers. The corners of his mouth tipped with the barest hint of a smile, then he turned his attention back to Morgan.

  “The urgency has increased,” Morgan conceded, “but I’m not sure the basic issues have changed.”

  “Do we even agree on what the ‘basic issues’ are?” Raylon Lasenger asked.

  That was as far as session two progressed before all hell broke loose. Like a ricocheting bullet, phones started vibrating until everyone at the table was forced to check their messages.

  Jenna’s trepidation mounted with each conspicuous moan of someone else’s phone. She pulled her cell out of her pocket and activated the screen. The five-digit alphanumeric code meant she needed to check in with General Hendrickson immediately. Rather than draw his attention, she watched him respond to his messages and waited for an explanation.

  Hendrickson looked at Morgan and asked, “How do I send a transmission to this screen?” He motioned toward the massive wall display.

  “Send the signal to any of our channels and my people will do the rest.” She was frantically typing on her phone and didn’t even look up as she answered.

  General Hendrickson communicated the directive and a few seconds later the wall display came alive. A large spaceship was surrounded by fighter jets actively attempting to blast it out of existence.

  “Is this feed live?” Jenna was shocked and horrified by what she was seeing. Why would Earth attack the battle born? Unless this was an entirely new threat. Her gaze snapped to Sedrik. “Is that one of your ships?”

  “Yes.” His voice was tense, gaze glued to the display.

  “Where’s the Defiant?” Drex asked, equally engrossed in the action. “Did you call off the armed escort?”

  “Of course not,” Sedrik snapped. “After New York, I doubled it.”

  As if summoned by his claim, two midsized spaceships flew into view, accompanied by another swarm of fighter jets. There had to be twenty, maybe more. The two defender ships engaged the fighter jets, drawing their attention away from the largest ship as often as possible.

  “What’s on that ship?” Jenna wanted to know. “Why does it require an armed escort?” And why the hell was Earth trying to destroy it?

  “That’s the Harvest,” Drex explained. “Hardest working ship in our fleet. She heads the supply brigade that keeps Lunar Nine operational. That’s the Defiant.” He pointed to one of the smaller ships. “And her sister ship, Defender.”

  “Who ordered this?” Morgan demanded, her tone sharp and accusatory. Clearly she sided with the Rodytes on this situation.

  “No one,” Hendrickson insisted, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “Their transponders have been deactivated. They’re obviously well-coordinated, but they’re rogue. This was not ordered by any official authority within the U.S. government.”

  “What about the failsafe?” General Wendover shot Hendrickson an impatient look. “Those systems are redundant.”

  Hendrickson made a helpless gesture. “It should have been impossible, but each failsafe has been disabled as well. We have no control over those jets.”

  “Well, someone does,” Sedrik snarled, pushing back from the table. “Who has the authority, and the technical knowledge, to accomplish this?”

  An explosion drew their attention back to the display. A conflagration burned where one of the fighter jets had been moments before. The other jets responded with immediate aggression, congregating around the Defiant. The larger ship returned fire with apparent desperation, but each barrage from the jets seemed to do more damage than it had moments before.

  “Have they lost their shields?” Jenna asked, her stomach tied in knots.

  “Yes,” Sedrik admitted with obvious dread.

  The Defender split its attention between assisting the Defiant and protecting the Harvest, but the battle was clearly lost. The Defiant exploded a few seconds later. The Harvest and the Defender used the momentary distraction to escape, streaking out of sight in a blur of motion and light.

  The fighter jets hesitated, as if they weren’t sure what to do. Then they too departed and the display went blank. For a long, tense moment, no one spoke. Each processed yet another tragedy in his or her own way.

  “Why didn’t all three ships just…zap out of danger as soon as they were attacked?” J
enna asked. “There’s no disgrace in retreating to survive.”

  “Engaging the hyperspace engines weakens the shields,” Sedrik told her. “They wouldn’t have survived the damage. They needed the distraction to escape.”

  A sinking feeling momentarily stole Jenna’s ability to speak. Had the Defiant sacrificed itself for the other two ships? Had it intentionally destroyed a fighter so the other jets would react? The possibility left her conflicted, yet humbled. Why did it take war to bring out that sort of heroism? If more people indulged their heroic tendencies on a daily basis, maybe there would be no need for war.

  “How many men were on that ship?” Morgan asked in a quiet, sad voice. She was still staring at the display, her expression haunted.

  “One hundred and ninety-three.” Only the tension in Sedrik’s jaw gave away his pain. Then his intense, angry gaze shifted to General Hendrickson and he demanded, “If you didn’t do this, then tell me who did! Someone must be held accountable for this slaughter.”

  “It had to be someone well up the chain of command,” Wendover stressed, looking pained and guilty. “It’s almost inconceivable that this type of attack could be orchestrated without official authority. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “We’re doing everything in our power to find out,” Hendrickson insisted. “The U.S. military did not attack your ships.”

  “Contrary to all visible evidence?” Drex scooted to the edge of his seat, his gaze as intense as Sedrik’s. “Were those your fighters?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Whether or not you intentionally gave the order, you are partially responsible. By your own admission, the traitor had to come from among your upper ranks to overcome all the obstacles.”

  “And we are frantically working to identify the culprit or culprits. We will get to the bottom of this.”

  “All restrictions on the battle born are lifted until you do,” Drex informed as he stood. “The only stipulation we agree to is that the females be willing volunteers. We have tried to accommodate you at every turn and we’ve been met with hostility and violence. Consider these negotiations suspended until further notice.” Easily anticipating his next move, Raylon and Sedrik stood as well and followed Drex from the room.

  “Perfect.” Morgan swore under her breath. “Do you honestly have no idea who could have done this?”

  “Oh, I have lots of ideas,” Hendrickson replied. “Several high-level officers were directly affected by what happened in L.A. But I need proof before I can take action against a fellow general.”

  “Then I suggest you get the proof as quickly as possible.” Morgan was nearly as hostile as the battle born contingent had been.

  “Shit,” Wendover muttered, and tossed his phone down on the tabletop. “Do you have a laptop, even a tablet, anything with internet access?”

  Morgan left the room, then returned a few minutes later with a tablet computer. She handed it to the general, her expression still grim, yet curious.

  Rather than explain, Wendover found what he was looking for and turned the tablet so the others could see the screen. He’d navigated to a website and a video was front and center on the home page. He activated the video with a sigh and a silhouetted image began to speak.

  “I am Abaddon, Supreme Leader of the Resistance Force.” The image was an outline, the voice either synthesized entirely or greatly modulated. “RF fighters just destroyed one of the battle born ships. If you don’t believe me, watch.” His shadowy image was replaced by an eyewitness perspective of the fight they’d just seen, complete with the Defiant’s explosion. The recording clearly originated on one of the fighter jets, but how had Abaddon gotten ahold of it so quickly? Abaddon came back on screen, sounding rather smug. “This was a warning. I now control one third of the U.S. military, and we will defend ourselves against this hostile invasion. Earth for humans!” His battle cry rang out as the video ended.

  Jenna stared at the generals in horrified disbelief. “Could Abaddon be a rogue general?”

  Hendrickson shook his head as he looked at her. “Half an hour ago, I would have laughed at the suggestion. Now, I don’t know.”

  But did she? What if Abaddon’s identity was among the images she’d gleaned from Thea’s mind? “Have the Rodytes left the Bunker?” she asked Morgan.

  “Not yet, but they’re in the hanger. Why?”

  “I need to speak with Drex. Please, ask him not to leave.” Unsure if anything would come of this, she didn’t offer any other explanation.

  “He said he’d wait,” Morgan told her. “One of the guards will take you to him.”

  She grabbed her purse off the floor and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  After some urging on her part, the guard rushed through the corridors. She did her best to keep up in her high-heeled pumps. Her feet were going to hurt like hell in a couple of hours, but she couldn’t risk Drex changing his mind. She was seriously compromising their dramatic exit.

  Sedrik and Raylon had boarded the shuttle, but Drex waited for her in the hanger. “What’s wrong?” He sounded impatient and his tense posture warned that it wasn’t an act. He’d taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, which somehow made him look even more formidable.

  “I need your help.” His only response was an upraised brow, so she continued, “Resistance Force just took credit for the attack. They had eyewitness footage from one of the jet fighters, so it’s not just a hollow boast. They were involved.”

  “Thank you for the information. What do you need from me?”

  Apparently, even stronger emotions were the only cure for the pull. He seemed to be completely unaware of her as a woman for the first time since they met. She cleared her throat, feeling strangely awkward. “One of the RF members came to see me yesterday.”

  “What are you talking about?” The implications seemed to hit him and he took a step toward her. “They came to your house?”

  She had his attention now. Shock and grief had clearly not abolished his protective instincts. “It was a woman. She was alone and unarmed. I was never in any danger.”

  “If they know where you live, you’re coming with me.” He grabbed her upper arm, his hold firm yet careful.

  She dug in her heels as well as possible in three-inch heels. “I’m not a fool. I plan to stay here at the Bunker, and I left my security team at my house so they can protect my mother.”

  His expression remained grim, but he released her arm.

  “Bring her aboard,” Raylon called from inside the shuttle. “We’re only catching enough of this to make us really curious.”

  Trepidation clenched her belly at the suggestion. Would they take off without her permission? These were Rodyte males. She’d be a fool to trust them, and yet they had done nothing to deserve the suspicious thought. In fact, if it weren’t for these Rodyte males, she would have bled to death at a hotel in Manhattan.

  Drex swept his arm toward the hatch, clearly leaving the decision up to her. Reluctantly, she climbed up the steep stairs and sat in one of the center-facing seats. She waited until Drex sat as well before she went on. “She told me her name was Thea Cline and she’d come to apologize for the attack. She said I wasn’t the target and the Resistance Force was horribly sorry that I’d been hurt.”

  “I agree with Drex,” Sedrik said. “Their real message was that they know where you live.”

  “Either that or she didn’t get to her real purpose because I touched her arm and my power engaged in an unusually aggressive way.” Neither Raylon, nor Sedrik, seemed surprised to learn that she had powers. Had Drex told them? Rather than dwelling on the possibility, she continued. “An incomprehensible rush of information flowed into my mind. The force of it drove me to my knees and Thea bolted. I’ve tried to probe the images on my own, but I’ve been unsuccessful. Do any of you know someone who can access and control memories?”

  For some reason both Sedrik and Drex looked at Raylon. He glanced at one, then the other, before saying, �
��Chandar can, but…” After a pause, he admitted, “She just realized she’s pregnant, and she’s struggling with everything right now.”

  “She doesn’t want the child?” Sedrik sounded confused not judgmental.

  Were they talking about Raylon’s mate? Rather than ask, Jenna sat back and let the males talk it out.

  “We’re both thrilled about the baby, but Chandar’s afraid she’ll give birth to a harbinger.”

  “Her brother is in control of Harbinger Guild now,” Drex pointed out. “Danvier isn’t going to let anyone harm his niece or nephew.”

  “As if anyone could get past you anyway.”

  Sedrik’s comment made Raylon smile. “My mate will relax, given time. But I’m not going to add to her stress right now.”

  “Understood.” Drex glanced at her then asked, “What about Indigo?”

  “She could access the memories, but I have a better idea.” Sedrik waited until everyone was looking at him to explain. “We should ask Torrin to download the information into a computer. Then we could manipulate the images ourselves. It would also allow us to run facial recognition and image enhancement.”

  “Torrin can actually do that?” Raylon seemed confused. “But he’s Ontarian.”

  Sedrik chuckled, then exchanged a conspiratorial look with Drex. Apparently the two knew something that the governor didn’t. “Torrin is half Ontarian and he can do all sorts of things that would keep you up at night. Luckily, he’s one of the good guys.”

  Did she really want an alien male who could “do all sorts of things that would keep you up at night” screwing with her mind? “Tell me more about Indigo.”

  Drex moved to the seat beside her and took her hand. His fingers felt strong and warm around hers, but it did nothing to relax the tension building inside her. “If Torrin will agree to do this, it will give us many more options. He’s on our side, I promise.”

  The problem was, his side wasn’t necessarily her side. “I really think I’d be more comfortable with a female.”

  “It’s her choice.”