Defiance (Atlantia Series Book 5)

  DEFIANCE

  © 2015 Dean Crawford

  Published: 17th April 2015

  ASIN:B00UNS2EXU

  Publisher: Fictum Ltd

  The right of Dean Crawford to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  Dean Crawford Books

  Also by Dean Crawford:

  The Atlantia Series

  Survivor, Retaliator

  Aggressor, Endeavour, Defiance

  The Warner & Lopez Series

  The Nemesis Origin

  The Ethan Warner Series

  Covenant, Immortal, Apocalypse

  The Chimera Secret, The Eternity Project

  Independent novels

  Eden, Holo Sapiens

  Revolution, Soul Seekers

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  We should have known better.

  We know that there are few survivors, few of our kind still clinging to life.

  They say that when the end came some embraced it willingly, shrugged off their lives like old skins and allowed the Legion to infiltrate their minds and their bodies and become one with the machine. Most, however, did not. Most fought, and died, trying only to remain who they were.

  The Legion, the instrument of The Word, our governing law, took life across all of the colonies. Worlds fell; Ethera, Caneeron, Titas; the mining settlements and the outlying systems and the uncharted clouds of asteroids and meteors beyond consumed by the monstrous and insatiable thirst for knowledge and power that is the currency of The Word. The greatest creation and achievement of our human race turned vengeful deity, the destroyer of worlds.

  We now know that there are several forces at work within the Legion, an immeasurable swarm of mechanical devices ranging in size from as big as insects to as small as biological cells. There are the Infectors, the smallest and most dangerous, for it is their mission to infiltrate the optical nerves, the brain stem and the spinal cord of human beings, turning them into mere instruments dancing to the macabre hymn of The Word’s destructive passion. Then there are the Swarms, the clouds of tiny but voracious feeders who break down all and any materials into the raw ingredients for more of their kind: metals, plastics, even human tissue, consumed en masse and regurgitated into further countless devices, all of which evolve with startling rapidity as though time were running for them at breakneck speed. Finally, there are the Hunters: bigger than the rest and with only a single purpose – to find and to kill intelligent biological life wherever it is found in the cosmos.

  We are the last of our kind, and despite the horrors that we witnessed when we fled the only star system we could call home, we now know that we must return. There is nowhere else to run to, nowhere else to hide, for if we do not make our stand now then we condemn our children or their children after them to face what we could not. We must fight back and step by step, system by system, we must take from The Word that which was ours and liberate ourselves from the living hell that we have created and endured.

  The Atlantia, a former fleet frigate turned prison ship, is the last home we have. Our crew is comprised of terrified civilians, dangerous former convicts and a small but fiercely patriotic force of soldiers and fighter pilots for whom there is no further purpose to life other than to fight for every last inch of space between here and home.

  Our lives may become the last that will ever be lived, and thus we tell our story in the hope that one day others will read of it and remember our names.

  Captain Idris Sansin

  Atlantia

  I

  ‘I don’t like this.’

  Captain Idris Sansin stood upon the bridge of the Atlantia and stared out into the absolute blackness of the viewing screen, as though if he looked hard enough he could see beyond time itself and prepare them for whatever unknown fate awaited beyond the veil of darkness. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he spoke.

  ‘Stand by for sub–luminal deceleration,’ Idris ordered, ‘on my mark.’

  The circular bridge deck was silent but for the hum of super computers and the soft hiss of air conditioning. Idris saw his reflection in the viewing screen, glowing in the dim light from the control panels as though a ghost were standing outside the massive frigate and looking in on him, an accusing expression on its features.

  At super–luminal velocity, Atlantia was travelling at several times the speed of light and all light information was thus stripped from the cosmos around it. Although safely ensconced within a bubble of neutral mass through which no attack or intercept could penetrate, the Atlantia was also blind, deaf and mute. Somewhere alongside her, her sister ship Arcadia travelled at an equal velocity, likewise entombed within a void of absolute blackness.

  ‘I said I don’t like this.’

  ‘I heard you,’ Idris uttered in reply.

  He did not look at the rotund face of Councillor Gredan, the bloated bureaucrat gripping the command platform’s guard rail and staring out into the blackness just as the captain did. But where Idris was emboldened by preparedness, Gredan was beholden to fear.

  ‘There could be anything out there,’ he said, his voice a whisper.

  ‘That’s why we’re coming in hot,’ Idris murmured in response, one eye casting across a bank of screens where images of Raython fighters waiting on the forward catapults and Marines preparing to repel boarders met his gaze. ‘This is the way it’s always been done.’

  Governor Gredan did not reply, his skin sheened with sweat, the bridge hot despite the air con’ systems recirculating the air through the ship. Behind Idris on the command platform were arrayed a series of command posts handling communications, weapons systems, the Commander of the Air Group’s station, helm and navigation, each manned by officers who had served under Idris ever since the terrible apocalypse that had consumed their home world of Ethera. Each of them watched the screen with equal earnest as Lael, the communications officer, began counting down on a ship–wide broadcast channel, her metallically tinted hair sparkling like chrome in the dim light of her station. Her voice echoed through the huge frigate’s decks.

  ‘Seven, six…’

  Gredan turned to the captain. ‘Lazarus led us here, but how can we trust that…, thing? It’s a machine, it’s The Word. This could be a trap.’

  ‘This could be our salvation,’ Idris growled back as he glanced at the navigation screen, its normally detailed data now presented in blood–red graphics to signify that they were projecting calculations rather than absolute positions. Atlantia’s precise location in super–luminal travel could only be estimated from the point and trajectory of its initial leap.

  ‘It’s an unexplored world on the fringes of the Icari Line,’ Gredan snapped. ‘We don’t know what we’re getting in to.’

  ‘We know what we’ll be dealing with if we don’t find supplies soon,’ Idris shot back. ‘Drought, starvation and disease. The fleet has not been replenished in almost four months. It’s your call, Councillor. Tell the people that we won’t try. See how they react.’

  Gredan’s features folded upon themselves in silent fury but he said nothing as Lael’s voice echoed through the frigate.

  ‘Four, three…,’

  Idirs grabbed the command platform’s rail a little tighter and hoped against hope that Lazarus, the digital ghost of a man trapped inside a machine and the creator of the most horrific technological terror mankind had ever created, was right.

  ‘…two, one, sub–luminal engines engaged!’

  The bridge deck of the frigate seemed to surge as
the light was momentarily polarised around the captain, a snap–shot of tense faces and flickering screens as Atlantia’s sensors suddenly received information from the surrounding cosmos once more.

  Idris’s brain rushed to re–calibrate as a flood of information plunged from dozens of screens all around him and a frenzy of calls rang out from the command crew.

  ‘Sub–luminal attack velocity, all systems operational and at maximum power!’

  ‘Sheilds engaged, all plasma cannons active and charged!’

  ‘Reaper squadron launching off cat’s one and two!’

  Idris saw a pair of sleek, curved–winged Raython fighters rocket out into the void ahead, their exhausts flaring blue–white against the dense star fields.

  ‘Akryan V in sight captain,’ Lael called, ‘four planetary diameters, port bow elevation three niner!’

  Idris’ gaze flicked to the upper left quadrant of the viewing screen and almost immediately he spotted the looming shadow of a planet silhouetting the star fields, almost invisible due to the lack of a parent star. Akyran V was a so–called “orphan” planet, ejected from whatever system had nurtured it millennia before due to gravitational interactions with other planets. Wandering alone in the infinite void it was frozen solid, a gigantic ball of ice. Pristine ice.

  ‘Renegade flight launching!’ Commander Andaim Ry’ere, the CAG, called from his station, his youthful features pinched with concern. ‘Eight fighters now aloft and heading to patrol coordinates.’

  Idris nodded. So far, so good. Once a perimeter was established, shuttles could be sent down to the surface and begin the process of transporting water to Atlantia and Arcadia and replenishing their parched reservoirs.

  Idris turned to another display panel nearby, clear plastic that was arrayed with digital displays including one detailing Arcadia’s position alongside Atlantia. He could already see that Arcadia was breaking away to take up a defensive position out to starboard, separating the two vessels to prevent them from being attacked all at once.

  Alongside the panel was another that displayed radar returns from Atlantia’s powerful sensors. Although set to passive, to prevent any emitted signals from betraying their position, Idris could see no returns out in the endless void that gave him cause for concern. The largest return came from Akryan itself, the image of the world slightly hazy on the radar screens due to dense clouds of debris orbiting it.

  ‘Residue from whatever impact event broke the planet from its parent star’s orbit,’ Andaim guessed as he noted the captain’s gaze. ‘If there’s enough ice in there it might mean we can collect what we need from orbit instead of having to take the risk of landing.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Idris replied as he turned to the CAG. ‘Prepare the shuttles but hold them until the defensive perimeter is secure. Where is Reaper Flight?’

  ‘Out bound at zero point eight planetary diameters,’ the CAG replied. ‘They’ll be on station within a few minutes.’

  ‘Divert two of them toward the orbiting field, have them check it out. Our radar won’t penetrate debris of that density. Let’s make sure there’s nothing lurking out there that shouldn’t be.’

  Andaim turned and began conveying the captain’s orders as on another screen an image of Arcadia’s captain appeared. Mikhain, a dark haired, powerfully built man with equally dark eyes, raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

  ‘All quiet,’ he murmured. ‘We never get things this easy.’

  ‘Lazarus said that this would be a safe spot to attempt to recover supplies,’ Idris pointed out. ‘He says that The Word could not have spread this far out yet from the core systems.’

  ‘He’s a computerized façade of a man who died decades ago and who destroyed entire worlds,’ Mikhain scowled. ‘I wouldn’t trust that short–circuit as far as I could throw him. I’m not willing to move in until the scout ships have reported clear.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Idris replied. ‘Reaper Flight is almost there. We’ll let them finish their sweep and then head in. Maintain position on the starboard flank and keep everything charged. I want out of here in five minutes or less if something goes wrong.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  Mikhain’s image vanished as Idris turned to screens displaying the tactical dispersal of two squadrons of sleek Raython fighters toward their assigned Combat Air Patrols far out at the limits of Atlantia’s sensor range.

  ‘I hope you’re right about this,’ Governor Gredan said from somewhere behind the captain.

  ‘So am I,’ Idris murmured softly.

  *

  ‘Battle flight, go now!’

  Evelyn glanced out of her Raython’s cockpit to see Teera Milan’s oil–streaked fighter break crisply from close formation flight and rocket away until she was a bright speck among the countless stars.

  Ahead through her canopy Evelyn could see the looming shadow of Akyran V, a featureless blackness where the dense star fields vanished as though a black hole were swallowing them one by one. The faint starlight was not enough to illuminate the planet in the manner that a parent star would, and thus the bitterly cold and lonely world seemed all the more sinister for its impenetrable darkness.

  Evelyn looked down instead at her instruments and saw there the planet more clearly, along with its orbiting belt of icy debris. The debris was indistinct, the Raython’s radar not powerful enough to provide a high resolution return.

  ‘We’re not getting much in the way of signals,’ she reported to Teera as she scrutinized the image before her on her cockpit screen. ‘You seeing anything?’

  ‘Nothing but icy junk,’ Teera replied.

  ‘Looks like we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way,’ Evelyn said as she eased back on her throttles.

  The Raython slowed as it closed in on the dangerous belts of tumbling rock, and in the dim glow of the starlight Evelyn thought that she spotted reflections flickering in the blackness, starlight caught on the surface of icy boulders spinning through the vacuum of space.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said, and flipped a switch on her instrument panel.

  A pair of vivid beams of light burst into life from her Raython as she activated her landing lights, the beams illuminating a misty field of icy debris. Some chunks of rock were the size of her fist, others twice as large as her Raython, others still almost as big as Atlantia herself. They tumbled and drifted in a silent, chaotic dance high above the surface of the planet, itself now so close that Evelyn felt as though she were staring into a black hole for real.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘It’s too dense. Nothing’s getting in there and surviving.’

  Evelyn glanced out to her left and called for Renegade Squadron’s lead CAP aircraft.

  ‘Segei, you see anything out there?’

  *

  Segei Voont squinted into the icy wastes outside his Raython’s cockpit and shook his head as he replied.

  ‘There’s nothing here, Evie,’ he said. ‘No signals from the field, no way through it though either. The shuttles could use scoops, but it’ll be risky.’

  ‘You think we could maybe use grapples and haul one of the bigger ones out of the field?’ Evelyn suggested.

  ‘It’d be safer boss,’ Segei agreed as he scanned his instruments. ‘There’s a big one just ahead of me, looks like mostly ice rather than dust. Enough water there for one of the frigates for months.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Evelyn replied. ‘We’re on our way. Stand by.’

  Segei peered ahead through the gloomy dust and ice at the large rock floating in silence before him. He edged his throttles forward and his Raython crept into the veil of debris, the sound of smaller pieces of rock and ice rattling against the fighter’s fuselage as it eased between the tumbling clouds.

  The larger rock was over a thousand cubits long and five hundred deep according to Segei’s instruments, and likely partially hollow as its mass did not match its predicted volume. It glowed a strange, misty white in the harsh glare of the Raython’s landing lights as his fighter ed
ged closer.

  ‘Segei, hold position,’ Evelyn called across to him. ‘There’s too much debris.’

  Segei saw something flicker briefly on his radar screen. ‘I’ve got something, a weak signal.’

  ‘Hold position,’ Evelyn repeated.

  Segei saw the signal flicker again, a minute heat source, as though perhaps a candle flame was gusting in the wind that he knew could not exist in the brutal vacuum of space. A sense of dread enveloped him as he retarded the throttles and engaged reverse thrust.

  ‘There’s something in here!’ he shouted.

  The tiny heat signal flared suddenly on Segei’s screen and his gaze flashed to the view outside his cockpit as from the massive icy rock a blast of ice crystals were ejected into space and a huge, pulsating black tentacle of oily liquid rushed out toward his fighter.

  ‘Renegade Four, there’s something here, it’s coming for me!’

  Segie slammed his throttles to maximum power and his Raython lurched into reverse. Sergie saw the vast, swarming black tentacle writhe toward his cockpit, its surface undulating like a sea of oil, billions of countless waves. And then he realized what he was looking at.

  ‘The Legion!’

  Segei’s head slammed into his headrest as the Raython plowed backward into a tumbling chunk of rock and spun over, out of control. Segei rocked the throttles and tried to right the fighter, and as it spun back over so the blackened swarm of Hunters smashed into his cockpit screen.

  Segei screamed and fired his plasma cannons at the massive cloud of tiny machines, each no larger than his thumb, but already his canopy was disintegrating as it was instantly fogged by a million tiny pincers scratching at the glass. His Raython’s engines failed as the Hunter poured inside and tore through power cables and fuel cells, and Segei reached for his service pistol to take his own life before the Hunters broke through.

  The canopy failed and Segei screamed one last time, his cry snatched away as the atmosphere was ripped from the cockpit and the Hunters poured inside in their thousands. Segie felt a moment of unimaginable pain as they tore into his body, his flesh ripped apart and his limbs and neck severed within seconds as the Hunters literally tore his fighter to shreds.