Defiant Read online

  “He wore this when he played in the Rugby Sevens Grand National Final. New Zee versus New Queens. He was an eighteen-year-old amateur. Had a promising career if he’d wanted to go pro, but he gave it up to enlist in the Union Navy,” Layton said. That struck a chord.

  “Just like me. Only my game was soccer. All this time and I never knew that about him,” I said. I wanted to pour another shot of the scotch, but Layton handed me the jersey instead. I looked at it closely.

  “It still has grass stains on it,” I said. Layton nodded.

  “He never washed it. Claimed he never would. He said the ground at National Stadium was holy.” He was right about that. I had never been lucky enough to play there, but John had.

  I said, “Bring it, George. It’s something everyone deserves to see.”

  With that we started to pack up. Layton promised to take the items to the briefing room, where Lena was going to set up a display. I thanked him, then headed off toward the lifter. My next stop was the sickbay.

  I entered the sickbay, buried in the depths of Defiant, and nodded to the doctor on duty, who nodded back. His name was Samkange, and he was a large man of African descent. I wondered absently how he operated with such big hands. Rumors were he was the most skilled surgeon aboard.

  “Yes, Captain, may I help you?” Dr. Samkange asked.

  “Doctor, thank you. I’m looking for Corporal Verhunce. Is she able to speak?” I asked. He nodded.

  “She’s doing well, sir. Recovering nicely. And fully able to express her opinions,” he said. “Bay Five.” I smiled and thanked him, then started down the hall.

  “Captain,” said Samkange. I stopped and turned back.

  “Is there something else, Doctor?”

  “Yes, sir. Her injuries were significant, at least in the area she was hit. Much of her rib cage was disintegrated, and her left breast will have to be regenerated,” he said.

  “That is severe,” I said. “What can we do for her?”

  “Well, we’re keeping her lightly sedated so that the regeneration process can do its magic, but I’m afraid with that bone damage . . .”

  “Just spill it, Doctor,” I said. He sighed.

  “It’s just that she won’t be able to serve in the Union Marines as a combat officer with an injury like that, I’m sorry to say. I can’t certify her,” he said.

  “Ah,” I replied. “I see. So what can she do?”

  “Administrative work. Strategy and tactics. She can even teach if she wants to, but she can’t fight again,” said Dr. Samkange.

  “That will probably hurt her worse than the rifle shot,” I said.

  “I understand.” I thought about the situation for a second.

  “Can she fly?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Can she fly a shuttle?”

  The doctor eyed me, stuck between what I figured was probably the truth and loyalty to his captain.

  “I could approve that level of duty status. But if she gets transferred or reexamined by another doctor, I can guarantee they’ll ground her, sir,” he said.

  “Thank you for that, Doctor,” I said, then made my way down the hall to Bay Five. I knocked on the door.

  “May I come in, Corporal?” I asked. Verhunce tried to sit up, and a maze of tubes and wires descending from the ceiling moved with her. She looked very good, I decided, for a woman who had been shot in the chest by a killer robot while protecting me. She scrambled to find a more dignified pose.

  “Sir,” she said.

  “At ease, Corporal. May I sit with you?”

  “Of course, sir,” she said. I sat in a chair next to the bed.

  “Well, you’re getting the full treatment, aren’t you? Please tell me you’re not in any pain?”

  “No, sir. They keep me plied with the best stuff they have.”

  “That’s good,” I said. Then there was an awkward silence. “I just wanted to thank you for protecting me and apologize for you having to take that laser shot.”

  “No need to apologize, sir. Just doing my duty.” I smiled. Marines always said that.

  “I know you were, but protecting me was out of the ordinary. You took a shot for me, and I can never repay that,” I said.

  “It’s done, sir. Don’t give it a second thought,” Verhunce said. “I’m just anxious to get back in the fray, sir.”

  I cleared my throat. “About that—”

  “Doc says I’ll be good to go in a week, sir.”

  “That’s true, Corporal. But it’s not that simple.” She looked away from me.

  “Don’t take me off active duty, sir,” she said, her voice quavering and going quiet. It was a statement, not a plea of any kind.

  “Corporal, normally in these situations—”

  “Sir, I’m asking you, as a woman who saved your life—”

  “Wait,” I said, holding my hand up to stop her. I took a deep breath before continuing. “Normally in this situation you would be grounded from active duty and we would have to drop you at the next official Union Navy outpost. But this isn’t normal. I came in here to tell you that I’ve negotiated limited field duty terms with the doctor. You’ll stay active as my shuttle pilot, but no more hand-to-hand stuff,” I said.

  “So I can still fly?”

  “Yes.”

  “And shoot the coil cannons?”

  I smiled. “If required.”

  “And I can still carry a coil rifle?”

  I nodded. “But only in situations where you’d be guarding the shuttle. Do you understand these limitations, Corporal?” She smiled and nodded affirmative.

  “I do, sir,” she said. I stood.

  “Then when you get out of here, I’m ordering you to do a week of physical therapy before I return you to limited duty,” I said.

  “Thank you, sir!” she replied. There was a moment’s hesitation. “Sir, about the battle—how many did we lose?”

  “Twelve dead, nine more injured. But . . . one of the dead was John Marker.” I watched as all of her health monitors started to rise out of the safety zone.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” Verhunce said, looking away from me again. “He was . . . a great Marine commander.”

  “He was,” I agreed. “Did you . . .” I wanted to be delicate here, “Did you know him well?” She looked up at me again and smiled.

  “Not that well, sir. He . . . he wasn’t my type.” I smiled back, knowing exactly what she meant.

  “I get you, Corporal,” I said. At that the doctor came in, no doubt having been alerted by the spike in her vital signs. After some brief checking, he reclined her bed flat and pumped up her pain meds to allow the medical machines to do their work. Her eyelids started to droop, and I knew I would lose her soon. The doctor stepped out of the room again, and I went up to her and kissed her on the forehead before I left.

  “Thank you for saving my life, Corporal,” I said.

  “You’re welcome, Captain,” she said, then drifted off to sleep.

  As I left I stopped to shake the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Samkange,” I said. “I owe you one.” He smiled as we walked back to the doctor’s station.

  “Yes, sir, I believe you do,” he said.

  The command deck briefing room was decked out to honor John Marker. Lena Babayan had done an excellent job. Marker’s Marine portrait was hanging on the far wall with the rugby shirt underneath, and a large table had been set up to display his medals. Many people had dropped off personal mementos on the display table. His scotch was also set out with hors d’oeuvres and finger food from the galley. It was a nice layout, and well attended. Almost all of the first shift bridge crew was there, along with many of his marine comrades. Karina came up to me and took me by the arm.

  “Should the captain make a speech?” she asked.

&nb
sp; I looked around the room. “He should, but he should also show leadership.” I went over to the untouched scotch at the table and poured it into one of the glasses, then another and another. Karina started pouring as well until everyone in the room had a glass. I took a fork and tapped on my glass for attention. I looked around the room at the young faces, realizing that in many ways, I had their lives in my hands. Then I began.

  “John Marker was a friend of mine for more than three years. I took my Marine training with him at the Lightship Academy and quickly decided that I would stay in the officer’s corps.” There was a small laugh at that. “He saved my ass aboard Impulse, and I don’t know how many other times. What he did for all of us, sacrificing himself, was something only true heroes do. John Marker was a true Quantar hero, and I will always be grateful to have known him . . . and to call him my friend.” At that I could feel the water forming in my eyes, and I couldn’t stop it, so I decided not to. I raised my glass.

  “To John,” I said in a weak and cracking voice.

  “To John,” the room replied. And then we drank, and the room grew silent. I felt the tears run down my cheeks, but I did nothing to stop them. Neither did anyone else. The silence lasted for a long while, broken only by the occasional sob. Then I spoke again, my voice breaking.

  “Enjoy this time. Tell your stories about him. And by all means, finish his scotch,” I said, then raised my glass one more time. At that Karina came up to me, took my glass, and set it on the table.

  “Let’s go home,” she whispered in my ear, “and let them celebrate him.” I nodded and led her by the hand out the door to the lifter, wiping my eyes free of tears.

  My meditations didn’t help at all this time. Karina slept quietly beside me, but I tossed and turned for half the duration of my allotted sleeping period. I was restless, both over the heavy loss of my friend and for being stuck in interdimensional space while god-knows-what transpired in the greater universe around me. I felt helpless, powerless, and then the anxiety came. The doctors had diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder after I’d killed—there was no other way to put it—more than thirty thousand people on board the Imperial dreadnoughts while fighting at Levant, Pendax, Carinthia . . .

  I washed with warm water in our sink basin, then wiped my face dry and soaked up the sweat around my neck. I opened the medicine drawer and once again had my standoff with the medications the doctors had given me. This time I opened a bottle and took two pills in my hand, clutching them tightly as if they were precious jewels.

  Karina’s soft and loving hands covering my own stopped me. “I’ve watched you fight taking this medication for months now, Peter. If this was the solution for you, you would have taken that route long ago,” she said. Slowly my hand opened, revealing the two yellow pills I had been holding onto so tightly. She took them and put them back into the bottle, leading me by my free hand back to our bed, where her gentle breathing and soothing touch released a heavy weight off my chest. I drifted off in her arms, surrounded by love, light, and visions of my friend as I would forever remember him: young, strong, and vital.

  And with my sleep finally came peace.

  At Pendax

  After a few hours of sleep I was back up and on the bridge with Karina and the first-shift day crew. We were due to come out of traverse space and back into our own reality in just a few minutes’ time.

  “XO,” I called to Lena Babayan. She came up to stand next to me at my bridge console.

  “Sir,” she said, sounding eager and ready to go.

  “We need to be prepared for any eventuality when we drop in at Pendax. If Zander kept to his schedule, he should be docked for resupply at High Station Pendax, but we’re going to have to push him out to get Impulse II into the repair dock as fast as possible,” I said.

  “You’re expecting more trouble, sir?” I nodded.

  “Much more, XO. This has the feel of an endgame move by the Imperial forces. Trying to take down not one but two Lightships at Skondar, building a ground army of robot fighters. On the surface, it couldn’t be worse circumstances,” I said honestly.

  “Do you think they’re attacking core Union worlds, sir?” she asked. I nodded again.

  “I would; try and create as much destabilization as possible, make us question our every move. Our first job will be to get Impulse to the repair dock. After that, our options are wide open, and I want us to be ready to move,” I said.

  “Possible direct jump, sir?” Babayan asked.

  “You read my mind. Prep us now, XO. We could have to move fast.”

  “Aye, sir.” I turned my attention to George Layton, walking up until I was standing over his helm station, looking down at him from the railing. He turned and looked up at me.

  “Ready to go, George?” I asked.

  “Anytime, sir. Just give the orders,” he said. I smiled and gestured toward his console.

  “Keep the steering wheel hot. I want us ready for action the moment we’re in normal space again.”

  “Aye, sir,” he said. My next stop was Propulsion.

  “Duane, make sure we hit the ground running. Full impellers the moment we hit normal space,” I said.

  “Aye, sir. Should I prep the hybrid drive as well, sir?” Longer asked. The hybrid drive, a mix of chemical impellers and a sub-light hyperdimensional drive, was still occasionally unstable, but it had saved our bacon more than once. It was reliable enough for my tastes.

  “As you said, Mr. Longer,” I replied.

  My last stop was the longscope and my wife. “Preparations, Lieutenant?”

  “Ready and able, sir,” she replied with a snap to her voice.

  “I’ll want a tactical assessment and longwave coms in place when we arrive at Pendax,” I said. She nodded affirmative.

  “Understood and prepared, sir,” she said. I gave her a smile and walked away, past the empty Historian’s station. One more call to make. The ship’s clock showed we had twenty-two minutes until the drop out of traverse space, if Lieutenant Arasan at the navigation station was correct in his estimates, and he usually was. I went into my office and activated the aural shield before calling down to Gracel.

  “Sitting this one out, Historian?” I asked when she answered my call chime.

  “On the contrary, Captain. I’ll be on the bridge presently,” she said.

  “Any thoughts on what we might expect when we arrive?” I queried.

  “I can’t give you any specifics, Captain, because I don’t have them. But I can monitor the level of chatter along the ansible networks while we’re in traverse space. I will only characterize it by saying it is extremely active,” Gracel said.

  “Thank you, Historian,” I replied, then switched our com link off. I stood and made my way to my station, observing each of my junior officers in turn one more time as they conducted their business. Finally I turned to Babayan.

  “Are we ready, XO?”

  “Ready, Captain.” I sat in my chair.

  “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

  We jumped back out of traverse space precisely on time and at the standard Pendax jump space coordinates. Defiant came under almost immediate fire, as did Impulse II, which followed us out by only a few seconds. Luckily for both of us, by standard protocol we had our Hoagland Fields activated until we cleared the jump space area.

  The attackers were unmanned Imperial HuKs of varying sizes and displacement, lined up in a staggered picket formation at the jump point.

  “XO, call battle stations!” I declared from my safety couch.

  “Aye, sir!” Babayan replied, then took to the shipwide com to make her call. I turned to Karina.

  “Longscope officer, get me a view of Vanguard. I need to know how many ships we’re facing in-system and what displacement,” I said.

  “Aye, sir,” she replied. I looked over at
the weapons station. I was missing John Marker already.

  “Propulsion, full reverse impellers. Give us some distance from those HuKs,” I said to Duane Longer. Instead of streaking in-system as originally planned, we now had to change tactics and back away from the HuKs. Longer gave an “Aye, sir” in response, and I moved on to my helmsman. “Mr. Layton, plot us a course out of this battlefield.”

  “Where to, sir?” asked Layton.

  “Inbound, toward the star and High Station Pendax. I don’t want to fight these HuKs out here. Let’s use our speed to outrun them.”

  “What about Impulse, sir?” asked Layton. I checked her out on the local tactical display. Dobrina was firing missile volleys every few seconds.

  “She’s fit enough to fight. Pass your best course on to them and tell them to follow us in.”

  “Aye, sir,” Layton said. I turned back to Babayan.

  “XO,” I said, “take the weapons station.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said, and she made her way without hesitating to the weapons console.

  “Longscope officer, report,” I demanded of my wife.

  “Transferring tactical situation to the main display, sir,” Karina said. Then she stepped out from under the hood and began narrating as she flipped through her visuals. “There are six HuKs in the general vicinity of the jump point, sir. We are bigger, faster, and better trimmed than any of them by a long way. Against two Lightships, it’s a terrible mismatch.”

  “Irrelevant, since I am ordering us to ignore them and proceed in-system,” I snapped at her.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, obviously trying to ignore my tone. “From a tactical standpoint, they were probably left here to confront any incoming Wasp reinforcements, sir.”

  “What’s the tactical situation near High Station and Vanguard?” I asked. She switched displays to go in-system by about a dozen AUs. High Station Pendax and the Lightship Vanguard appeared on the display.

  “They’re being kept busy by about a dozen automated ships, sir. Eight HuKs with heavier weaponry and at least four suicide drones, although I can see enough evidence in the battle debris to account for at least two more destroyed drones. They’re facing off against Vanguard and three Wasp frigates, sir, as well as the High Station,” Karina said.