Defenders (The Chaos Shift Cycle Book 2)

by TR Cameron

  Kate called up the computer’s best estimate of a schematic for the thing and rotated it in three dimensions.

  “These right here,” he said while pointing, “are clearly the gravity weapons. And you can see down here at the base what appears to be some sort of… I don’t know… power adjuster would be my best guess.” Jannik squinted at the display. “These other spines are probably energy weapons. Here, these are certainly some combination of missile tubes and close defense.”

  Kate rotated the display to better show the underside. “There’s a slightly wider central port down here that’s an entry and exit for smaller ships.” She frowned and moved the wireframe around again. “You know what this is missing, Jannik?”

  After a moment’s pause, he answered, “Engines. It’s missing engines.”

  “So how does it move?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Kate. If I was a betting man, I would say it uses gravity manipulation. That sort of transport would rely not on thrust, which requires a traditional engine design, but on some other…” he paused, searching, “… something.”

  “That’s highly technical, Chief.”

  “I do what I can, XO.”

  “So, what happened to the ships we left behind? Do you think this thing took them apart? Do you think they had a chance against it?”

  “That’s probably the best-case scenario, Kate.” Jannik had a troubled look that was entirely unfamiliar on his weathered face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” he said, leaning forward and looking her directly in the eye, “if I was in charge of one of these things, I’d make sure it was present when I assaulted an enemy stronghold.”

  “You think it will be waiting for us.”

  “Either that, or it’s going to arrive shortly after we do. One way or the other, we haven’t escaped it.”

  THE WASHINGTON TRANSITIONED out of wormhole space and into tunnel space without incident. The countdown clock measured the time until their expected exit as just less than ten hours. Kate rotated the crew—the first watch standing down to allow second watch to take over. Lieutenant Claire Martin, formerly Cross’s second watch tactical officer, was now in charge of the second. She and her crew were doing all they could to prepare the ship for battle upon tunnel exit.

  Kate wasn’t hopeful that they’d get the port weapons back, but engineering had plans to increase shield strength on that broadside and bring shield capacity up to maximum in all other areas of the ship. She figured that was all they could really hope for in such a short time.

  Upon entering her cabin, she stripped off her uniform and threw it into the bin in the closet for cleaning. She stepped under the hot spray of her tiny shower, enjoying this luxury that only the captain and executive officer possessed. Kate imagined on one of the new Quasar-class ships she’d read about that there would be a great deal more space, but those vessels weren’t expected to enter the field for some time—despite the entire manufacturing might of the United Atlantic League working triple shifts to finish them. Significant increases had been made in modular construction, she’d read, as a direct result of the need to quickly build out a fleet using decentralized processes. She yawned and realized her mind was going down an unproductive rabbit hole.

  Dry and wrapped in a towel, she stumbled to bed. Crawling between the covers, she set her terminal to wake her in six hours, which would leave her plenty of time for PT, breakfast, and a lot of coffee. Before closing her eyes, she requested a connection with Cross.

  “It’s time for first watch to sleep, Commander Cross.”

  “I am sleeping.”

  “You’re not sleeping, or you wouldn’t have accepted my connection.”

  “I was sleeping, until you woke me.”

  “Liar.”

  “To you? Never.”

  Kate snorted. Cross was a classic example of a man who would tell a woman anything under the guise of courtship.

  “I believe you once told me that you were good at darts.”

  “Okay, maybe I lied that once.”

  “Sleep, Cross. Now. Goodnight.”

  “Night, Kate.”

  She killed the connection. Their roles as ship commander and executive officer weren’t that much different from the constant support they’d given one another as friends. And, sometimes, as more than friends. She fell asleep to the pleasant idea that she was lucky to have someone that always watched her back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kraada Tak folded his hands over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and did his best not to display the incredible boredom he felt. One day out of every eight, he was forced to endure what he thought of as a counseling session with his attendants—the eight men and women who took care of his mundane needs so he could focus on loftier goals. Unfortunately, they had needs of their own, both as servants and as leaders of their own congregations, and it was up to Kraada to address them.

  “Tensions are high among the important members of my church,” Areeth complained. Several of the others nodded in agreement.

  One of them, braver than the rest, raised his eyes to meet Kraada’s, managing not to flinch from the anger in them. “Confidence in the war against the trespassers is low, Hierarch.”

  Kraada exploded from his chair, knocking it over as he stood and spread his arms and wings wide, with an incoherent bellow directed at the ceiling. “Of course, confidence is low! The innocents who fill your congregations do not understand that this is a war, not a battle. That it is a campaign, not a single conflict. That we focus on the entire game, not just the opening moves.” He dropped his arms and paced.

  Lately, he’d been growing more and more agitated by the situation—restrained from all quarters, prohibited from taking actions that would lead to the promised success. Drovaa Jat, the emperor, the not-so-fondly-remembered former captain of the Jade Breeze, each of them in their own way had sown conflict among the small-minded members of his church.

  It had to stop. But Kraada wasn’t sure of the correct moves to best guarantee that outcome. This frustrated him more than anything in recent memory. The last time he’d encountered anything similar was during the interminable wait for the hierarch before him to join his ancestors in the in-between. If only prayer to the gods could be as effective in these circumstances. Within the confines of his head, a short laugh rang out. Prayer to the gods, and a liberal dose of action inspired by them, he thought.

  Kraada walked a circuit of the room, centering his thoughts and opening his spirit for any messages from the gods. He didn’t expect inspiration, but the calm relaxation imposed by that meditative state was useful in its own right. By the time he’d finished one lap, his hands were clasped behind his back and his wings were settled into their resting positions. He stopped at the head of the table, pushing aside his overturned chair with a booted foot, and addressed his subordinates.

  “You will explain to your congregations that the war goes how the gods wish it to go. It is not for us to know the why. It is simply for us to do our best, and to follow the will of the gods as it has been provided to us. Further, you will tell them to put their faith first in their gods, and then in their leaders who have been chosen to defend them and bring the Xroeshyn people into our promised future. Finally, you will remind them that each of them is important in this effort. Their faith, their support for our military, and their adherence to the words of the gods will deliver our promised destiny.”

  He glared at them, making sure each of them absorbed his message, and the unspoken meanings behind it. “Questions,” he asked, silently daring any of them to offer one up. None of them did, and the meeting disbanded as each attendant received their benediction at Kraada’s hands.

  AFTER A BATH, a meal, and a period of meditation, Kraada still hadn’t shaken off his annoyance. He wished his niece was here to talk to, as conversation with Indraat inevitably led his mind to useful places. His thoughts were interrupted as the majordomo of the cathedral entered at a rush. “
A message awaits you in the communication suite, Hierarch.” The man bowed and retreated, already forgotten. Kraada strode with purpose toward the secure area three levels below. He arrived at a comfortable room that was soundproofed and protected against all other known means of surveillance. A large monitor made up one wall, but this missive had no visuals to accompany it. He sat down at the terminal and triggered the playback.

  The digitized and mechanical rendition of Indraat Vray’s voice emanated from the speakers, almost painful with the harsh static in the background. Communication across the gravity waves allowed for transmission speeds far exceeding the rate at which their forces traveled, but the trade-off was a guaranteed headache. It was a penalty he was more than willing to pay for this message.

  “Uncle,” she began, “I hope this finds you well. I’m sending this to you in the moments between when our trace ships have returned, giving us the location of the enemy’s closest starbase, and before our forces launch for that sector. Our ability to use their transit is a clear surprise to them, as we knew it would be, and no doubt they’re unsure how we can track them through their other transport system. All evidence suggests that they remain unaware that we’ve broken the codes used by some of their ships. We continue to have success in this area despite dynamic changes to their encryptions—sometimes even during battle, according to properties that we haven’t yet identified.”

  A crackle and a hiss obliterated her next words, eliciting a curse from Kraada as he waited for the message to resolve. “—estimate of our travel time, so there’s no way to know what enemies we’ll face when we arrive at their starbase. I’m confident that at worst we’ll be evenly matched, and at best we’ll have overwhelming force, if not immediately, then definitely when the fortress arrives.” Kraada smiled grimly, remembering the maneuvering required to get the Sapphire Sky released to the invasion armada. Drovaa Jat had been, was, and would almost certainly continue to be a stumbling block. At moments like these, Kraada was of the opinion that having separate leaders for the church and the military was inefficient. After all, there was only room for one player on each side of the gameboard.

  Indraat’s message included more details on deployments and tactics, which Kraada took in with part of his brain while the rest explored a tangent. The marshal would have to be managed very carefully going forward, to minimize the chaos that he could introduce to Kraada’s strategy.

  THE EXPECTED SUMMONS arrived little more than an hour later. Kraada had no doubt that Drovaa had one or more people in the invasion force reporting to him. The real question was, did the emperor have a spy of his own planted among the fleet. In his position, Kraada certainly would.

  He took his time climbing into his lightweight armor. During times of peace, he didn’t wear it. During times of trouble, he appreciated the sensation of safety that the weight of the interlocking plates gave him. It was far from the protection offered by a full suit of battle armor, but it was invisible underneath his ceremonial robes. He finished dressing and checked the mirror to ensure that everything was in place. With longing, he glanced at the mace, restrained in its holding straps against the wall. Then he opened his weapons armoire and selected daggers instead. One each slid into twin holders mounted on the armor within each voluminous sleeve. Two more snapped into downward sheaths at the small of his back under the fall of his wings. Finally, he slipped a holdout stiletto into his calf-high boot. He would surrender the four obvious weapons when he entered the presence of the emperor as he would be expected to do.

  The stiletto was his backup plan. One could never be too careful.

  Shortly thereafter, he passed through the cleverly hidden door into the small chamber off of the throne room. It had been redecorated since the last time Kraada had been called in and was now all wood and soft fabrics. A strange circular couch dominated half the room, with one pie-shaped wedge missing to allow entry. It was in this monstrosity that the emperor reclined in repose with his fingers steepled over a knee and his royal gown falling perfectly from his crossed legs. Marshal Drovaa Jat sat next to him, but at a respectful distance, holding a solid-looking mug. The scent of dark tisane wafted through the room.

  Kraada made his way slowly through the aperture, and stood across from the emperor, putting Drovaa halfway between them. “Your Highness,” he said with a nod, and awaited the emperor’s acknowledgment before sitting. He turned to Drovaa and said, “And it’s always good to see you, Marshal Drovaa.”

  “I’m told that our forces fought to a stalemate in the last battle, Hierarch,” stated the emperor with a distant frosty arrogance. “I would’ve hoped for a more decisive victory to relaunch our invasion.”

  Kraada Tak spread his hands wide, as if to imply openness and honesty, and replied, “Your information sources differ from mine, your Highness. Mine informed me that the first battle went well, and our primary aim of tracing the humans back to a vulnerable location was accomplished. Even now, our forces are in transit to exploit that vulnerability.”

  Kraada asked, “What have you heard, Marshal?”

  The officer flicked an invisible piece of lint from his uniform, then replied negligently, “Nothing reliable, is what I’ve heard. A mixture of the information that’s been stated so far. An authoritative report may need to wait until the next battle is complete, unfortunately.” He confined his gaze to the emperor.

  “I’ll admit,” said Kraada, “a more decisive victory would’ve been desirable. My congregations are getting agitated at what they perceive as a lack of progress. Sadly, they are not strategists enough to understand that these things take the time that they take.” Unspoken was Kraada’s belief that the emperor also didn’t possess the expansive perspective necessary for creating large-scale strategies. He saw the flicker in Drovaa’s eyes that showed he hadn’t missed the dig.

  “It’s my opinion that we’re on the right track,” Kraada’s voice was confident and carried the ring of authority. “The Ruby Rain emerged from the first battle unscathed and leads our forces into the second. From there, we’ll decide on the next step of the strategy—whether to continue jumping forward against the current human faction or to engage the other, taking them by surprise. During our last boarding attempt upon one of their installations, we were rebuffed before we gained access to their computer system. Then the records were destroyed. We now have a subtler plan to achieve the same results. Soon, we should be able to identify the coordinates of their defenses and their bases, and thus have a much clearer path toward the end game.”

  The emperor grunted. “Remind me again why we aren’t just rolling over them, sector by sector, as a dominant force should?”

  Drovaa Jat picked up this question before Kraada could answer, “Your Highness, while we would have the numbers to accomplish a frontal assault, it would require reallocating all of our forces from other systems, saving only those protecting our home system. The current strategy delivers our goals without committing our entire force to the battle. Progress on many fronts also makes us look stronger in the eyes of the people. It’s a hedge against the mob’s wrath should they discover that the church is mistaken on their interpretation of the Dhadas.”

  Kraada suppressed his physical response, but only just. This was a very clear shot across the bow with the military commander drawing a sharp line of separation between himself and the religious leader.

  The emperor nodded in agreement, and Kraada reminded himself that one didn’t need to have one’s wings spread to judge which way the wind was blowing. “I believe all will come about as the gods intend, Marshal, your Highness. Six eights remain in the two-year timeframe we’ve given the people. That’s more than enough time to reach the humans’ home world and remove their stain from the universe.”

  “And if you falter?” the emperor’s voice was openly arrogant now, no doubt due to Drovaa’s stance against Kraada should the need arise.

  “The gods have promised success, and the church cleaves to our belief in them. Our excellent m
ilitary leaders will undoubtedly bring us victory within the expected timeframe.” His hands itched, wanting to reach for the stiletto in his boot and drive it through the marshal’s opportunistic throat.

  The conversation devolved quickly and Kraada left alone, dismissed from the company of the other two men. The emperor was sending him a clear message, and no doubt expected him to be properly burdened by the official disapproval. On the contrary, for the first time since the humans trespassed into his territory, he felt in control of the game. Both games, in fact—humanity opposing him on one board, Drovaa and the emperor opposing him on another. Neither enemy realized the true level of mastery they were facing. But they would. Soon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Soon, Cross thought as the countdown to normal space moved into double digits. Soon they would know the situation at the starbase. Soon they would figure out the secrets to beating these beings, and soon they would get back to the ordinary lives they were leading before this mess began. Before he caused this mess.

  He sighed and refocused. “Into another battle, my friends,” he said to the bridge crew, all of whom looked reasonably relaxed and refreshed after their time off-watch. “Everyone focus, and let’s get out of this alive.”

  Cross met Kate’s glance, and she mouthed, “Impressive speech.” He barely avoided making an obscene gesture at her, figuring that it wasn’t the leader-like thing to do. He watched the countdown clock on the display as it descended, and carefully segmented the part of his mind that found that constant reduction stressful. His personal displays showed green everywhere except for the ravaged port broadside. They couldn’t repair that damage until they had some quality time in dock.