Defiant (Lightship Chronicles) Read online

  Ten minutes later, he skillfully docked the yacht into the port vacated by Gracel. Full power immediately returned to all of Defiant’s shut-down systems. I insisted he do the same for the other ships from his console, and he complied.

  Once up on the top level again, I opened the yacht’s main doors and walked through. Babayan was there to meet me with a security force of thirty very pissed-off-looking marines. Serosian followed me through and was immediately restrained by two marines.

  “What’ll we do with him, sir?” asked Babayan. I looked at him.

  “All systems restored on all three Lightships?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “And all ships’ systems once again autonomous from the yacht?”

  “Yes,” he said again. I looked at Babayan.

  “Confine him to a stateroom, but not on the senior officers’ deck. He’s to have no technology or access to any of our systems, even coms. Four guards on the door at all times,” I said.

  “Understood, Captain,” said Babayan.

  “Peter, I can still help you,” Serosian protested. I looked him in the eyes.

  “I know that. But I don’t trust you, nor am I ever likely to again. But you might eventually be useful. I will let you know when and if that time comes,” I said. Then I turned back to Babayan. “Eject and destroy the yacht,” I ordered her.

  “No!” said Serosian. “That would be very unwise. That ship can be another weapon in your fight! You will need all you have in the battle to come.”

  “Perhaps,” I said to him, “but right now it’s a risk and a symbol of betrayal, one I need to get rid of.” Then I ordered the marines to take him away, and he didn’t protest further. My watch beeped in with a longwave notification. “Captains’ conference in fifteen minutes,” I said to Babayan. “I want that yacht destroyed before then.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said, and then she was off. I sent Karina a com message to let her know I was okay, then agreed to meet her in our stateroom. I didn’t really have time for any of this, but I hoped I could reassure her at least a little bit.

  Once we were alone she hugged me, and I hugged her back with equal weight.

  “Thank god you came back,” she said, then kissed me. Just as quickly she broke away again and asked, “What happened down there?” I sat her down on the edge of the bed, holding her hands as I explained.

  “They offered me an empire,” I said.

  “What?” She was surprised. “How—”

  “Karina, it will be a lot easier if you just listen. They literally offered me a new Second Corporate Empire with me as the titular head. One they claimed would be more just and that they would help me to run.”

  “And?”

  “And I turned them down.” She tilted her head at me.

  “Why?” she asked. I smiled.

  “Because what we have, the Union, is better than that.”

  “But . . . how do you know? I mean, you could be the one to unite humanity again. I can’t think of anyone else I would trust more,” she said. “Did it come with strings attached? Some sort of poison pill you couldn’t accept?” I nodded.

  “Many, I’m sure. We didn’t get that far into details. But the biggest revelation—and there were many that I can’t talk about right now—was that the Founders are returning.”

  “Returning?”

  “Coming back to human space.”

  She looked perplexed. “From where?”

  I shook my head. “From wherever they went when their civilization collapsed. Thousands of light-years away, I’m sure. And here’s the weird part: there was never any old empire for us to fight against. At least no humans, anyway. It was always those automatons, robots left over from the Founders’ time, led and programmed by Arin and his followers. But the Historians lost control of the automatons and eventually of Arin, and now he’s waiting for us at Corant with his fleet, and we have to go fight him.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head and getting up to pace around our stateroom. “No more fighting. I’ve had enough, Peter.”

  “This is a fight we have to accept. I promised your father—”

  She turned back to me abruptly. “He’s dead, Peter, and we’re alive. As much as I hate Arin for what he did to Carinthia, you and I should go on living.”

  “But we’ll never be safe until he’s gone. This is a job I have to finish,” I said. Her hands went to her hips.

  “Go, then. Finish the war you started. Finish Arin. Then I want us off this ship and out of this fight forever,” she said. I thought about the Founders and how we might have to fight them for our sovereignty or our very survival.

  “That may not be possible,” I said. She looked at me with that steely Carinthian determination.

  “I want a normal life for us and our future children, Peter. And I’m going to have it as best we can manage. Now go to your Captains’ conference, and let’s get this over with,” she said.

  So we went our separate ways—me to my conference, Karina back to her station on the bridge.

  Neither of us was happy.

  The virtual conference filled up again with the images of Maclintock, Dobrina, and their XOs, along with me and Babayan. This time Serosian and Karina were excluded, for obvious but very different reasons.

  We were already underway for egress back through the gate to Levant, as Maclintock wanted us out of this system as quickly as possible. I didn’t blame him.

  “We’ve all heard your report of what happened down on Altos, Captain Cochrane,” Maclintock started. “Now, if you’d please give your opinion of what it really means?”

  I leaned forward on the table, thinking. “It’s all been very confusing to me, sir, quite honestly. It seems as if the Union was an experiment and Prince Arin of Carinthia and I were pitted against each other during this experiment,” I said.

  “To what end?” asked Dobrina.

  “To determine whether humanity stood a better chance of survival against the Founders if we were led by someone who relied on empathy and intuition or by a dictator, someone with an iron hand. All of these battles over the last few years, all of the conflicts and the casualties, have been orchestrated as part of this experiment. Even my brother’s death was part of the plan, to allow me to ascend when the fucking Historians determined he was unfit.” I knew that last part would shock Dobrina, but I couldn’t hold back vital information from my commanding officer.

  “So this fight is all about you?” asked Maclintock, an undertone of anger in his voice.

  “Myself and Prince Arin, apparently. Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “So what are we to do with this information? Do you consider it reliable?” he pressed.

  “I consider nothing a Historian says reliable anymore. I’ve always worried they had their own agenda because of the way they doled out technology to us piece by piece, but for want of any other data to conflict with their tale, I’d have to say yes, we have to trust it,” I said.

  “And what about Arin?” asked Dobrina, cutting back into the conversation. “How much power does he wield?”

  “A considerable amount, I’d say. Since the Historians have given us instructions to reprogram the jump gate and the coordinates for Corant, I’d say the battle lines are clearly drawn, Captain. And I would also say the Historians have made it as even a battle as possible. It will come down to will, strategy, and tactics, and a bit of luck, as it always does,” I said.

  “The question is, does Arin have the power to stop our Lightships like the Historians did? Are we walking into an ambush?” asked the commodore. I considered this.

  “We can put that question to Serosian, sir, but I would say he doesn’t. With the destruction of the final yacht”—I looked to Babayan, who nodded slightly to confirm—“I would say that ability is off the table. I think it will be a fair fight,�
�� I finished.

  “You’re assuming the Historians want it to be a fair fight,” said Dobrina. I looked at her image on the display screen.

  “Captain Kierkopf, at this point most of the Historian Order is preparing to evacuate the Earth to go and join the remnants of the First Empire on its quest to find and reconnect with the Founders. I doubt they care much about the outcome of this fight. At least not enough to tilt the field to one side or the other.” I turned back to Maclintock’s image. “In my opinion, sir, this fight is ours to win or lose, and our immediate future will be determined by its outcome.”

  Maclintock nodded at me. “Duly noted, Captain,” he said. And that was that.

  Nothing left to do now but fight.

  To our surprise, when we arrived back at Levant, we were greeted by the whole Union Navy. Our three Lightships plus Valiant, Vanguard, Fearless, and Avenger, along with thirty-two Wasps and assorted local naval auxiliaries.

  Wesley commed in indicating they had received the data packet Tralfane had given me and that the gate technicians were already well into reprogramming it for Corant’s coordinates. It turned out the old Imperial capitol was in a cluster of stars known as the Hyades, only 150 light-years from Earth. There was a group of eight white dwarfs, and Corant was the only planet orbiting the most central of the eight, “almost as if it were placed there,” Wesley commented. It didn’t matter if it was or not; it was where we were going.

  There was no natural jump space for us to navigate to, our top astrogators told us. Those eight white dwarfs had put out enough energy during their decline to wipe the area clean of safe jump space, so our coordinates had to be precise to within just a few thousand kilometers. And Corant orbited very close to its cool, dense, dwarf star.

  Battle plans had already been made up and distributed, but as far as I was concerned, they were going to be useless once we got to the system. We had never been there, never even explored a white dwarf star system, and we knew nothing of the size or distribution of the fleet we were going to face.

  Different groups from each discipline met to try and coordinate plans. The astrogators worked with the techs to try and refine the coordinates of Corant closely enough that we could jump in and attain some level of surprise while also keeping a potential buffer from our enemies. This came down to how fast we were moving when we entered the gate and what speed we expected to operate at when we got in-system. We were only going to get one shot at this, and we needed to hit a bull’s-eye.

  I met with my fellow captains and command crews on a daily basis, and nothing was going as fast as I would have liked. On our third day of planning, coordinating, and general hobnobbing about nothing, Dobrina Kierkopf took me aside during one of our breaks. I agreed to meet with her in an anteroom to the main conference space we were using on Artemis.

  “I wanted to ask you something,” she started once we had sat down.

  “About Derrick,” I said, anticipating her question. “Actually, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to approach me.”

  “Peter . . .” She hesitated. “This is very difficult for me to talk about, you understand.”

  “I do,” I said. Then I prodded her gently. “Tell me what you remember about that day.” I knew she wanted answers. I just didn’t know if I could give them to her.

  “Derrick was at the con, in command on the night shift. I was in my cabin relaxing, I think. He and I were deeply involved in an affair by that time. We had fallen for each other hard, even though we knew the complications it presented.” She stopped there, struggling, I thought, to bring up the emotions again.

  “There was a fire alert in Propulsion—some sort of fuel leak had started and ignited. I always monitored the com traffic, and my normal day shift included a sweep of Propulsion, so I knew the equipment. I just listened for a long while, but the fire got worse. Then Derrick woke the captain and gave up the con to head down there. When I heard that call come over the com line, I reacted instinctively. I went to help. I went to where my man was. We fought the fire for what seemed like hours, but in reality it must have been only a few minutes. Then one of the fuel lines ignited, and the fire protection bulkheads started to drop. I tried to pull him out, but he pushed me away, pushed several others out, and ordered me to leave, but I wouldn’t go. Finally he pushed me beyond the bulkhead wall and slammed it shut. Thirteen crew continued to fight the fire, but then a second fuel line burst, and . . . I watched him burn, Peter, watched him get consumed by the flames. The sight . . . it almost broke me.” I reached out and grasped her hand, trying to comfort her. “Tell me what the Historians told you about Derrick,” she asked me.

  I sat back in my chair, contemplating how to tell her what I knew. I decided to just come out with it. “He fell in love. With you. They claim that bent his empathy, something they see as key in a leader, and began distorting his judgment. You told me once long ago that there was a chance the fire that day was sabotage. It was. A test, really. They wanted to see how Derrick would react if you were placed in danger near him, if he would pick his ship and his crew over you. They said—or so Serosian has told me—that when he made the choice to save you, to get you out of that room, that he sacrificed precious seconds that could have put the fire out. But because he hesitated, the second line lit up, and . . . thirteen people died, including him,” I finished.

  Tears flowed freely down Dobrina’s cheeks. There was nothing for me to say or do, really, but I moved close and held her, letting her cry it out. She covered her face with her hands, crying tears that were years old, I supposed, and leaned into me. She cried for a long time before the sobbing stopped. Then she came back out of it, eventually wiping her face clean of the tears.

  “So after this kind of betrayal, why does Serosian still live?” she asked. That was a hard question to answer, but I tried.

  “Serosian has informed me that he did not have direct involvement in the incident, and I believe him, but that his sect of the Historian Order did. He did not approve or condone the test. Instead he moved to protect me. For what it’s worth, regardless of the outcome, Derrick saved seven crewmen, including you. I can’t fault him for that, nor do I question his motivations. I’d have done the exact same thing in his position, probably, and then the Historians would have had no use for me. But they did have plans. When I grew old enough, they tested me for empathy and intuition, and I scored even higher than Derrick. So the fact that they saw me as a better candidate was as much to blame as Serosian was for Derrick being put to the test. He could have survived, could have saved himself and ordered some of the other crewmen out. Then only a few would have died. But that wasn’t good enough for him. He wanted to save them all, and you. He died a hero, and we should always remember that,” I said.

  She nodded silently, then stood. I stood with her. “Thank you, Peter. Talking with you helps, but I will always miss him,” she said.

  “I will, too,” I said. “And your feelings toward Serosian?”

  “Unchanged,” she replied, “as I assume yours are. He is your problem now, and I’ll have nothing to do with him, with any of them, again.”

  I accepted her statement with a nod, and she went back into the main conference room. I stayed a moment longer, contemplating everything that had happened, everything I’d been through and the choices I had made. I wasn’t satisfied, and where the Union found itself wasn’t enough for me. A reckoning was coming.

  And I intended to be the instrument of that reckoning.

  To Corant

  By the end of the day, the final plans had been drawn up and agreed upon. I would lead about half of the fleet through the gate to a point 12.2 AUs from Corant to observe and report and hopefully draw some attention from our enemy. That would put us at about three hours from Corant at .55 light. Maclintock would lead the second group through an hour later, and they would flash in much closer to the ancient Imperial capitol—only 3.3 AUs dista
nt, less than an hour away from the planet if they matched our speed. It would be a tricky deceleration for both groups but nothing our ships couldn’t handle when asked.

  Maclintock’s flotilla would engage first by virtue of their arriving closer to Corant. It was a decision I didn’t care for, but our speed would allow us to close fast on the battlefield. We hoped this two-pronged approach would lead to some sort of tactical advantage, though I was uncertain what that advantage was supposed to be.

  I would go in first with a Lightship group of Defiant, Resolution (captained by Dobrina), and Vanguard (captained by Lucius Zander.) Commodore Maclintock would get his flagship, Starbound, plus Avenger, Valiant (captained for battle by his friend Devin Tannace), and Fearless (with Dietar Von Zimmermann in command.) With one fewer Lightship than Maclintock, I got the bulk of the Wasps, twenty to his twelve. I didn’t mind getting the lesser total firepower, though. We both had highly capable task forces, and we’d get our shots in. Against what was the question.

  The plan also included bringing local navy auxiliaries to each jump location for repair and resupply, plus smaller support gunships to protect the auxiliaries from things like suicide drones. The Quantar Royal Navy had the best of these gunships, in my opinion, and I asked for one to be put aboard in place of one of my marine bulwark shuttles. I doubted there would be much cause for hand-to-hand combat in this encounter, but you never knew, so I kept on sixty marines but swapped out the other thirty for more technicians and damage control specialists.

  We shut down the conference at midnight and scheduled the first wave—my wave—for 0700 departure through the gate. I should have been excited, but instead I felt a sense of detachment. I just wanted this ordeal over one way or another.

  After signing off with my command staff, I went back to my stateroom at 0130. Karina was sleeping, and I lay down next to her, but trying to sleep was futile for me. I changed out of my duty uniform and into relaxed-fitting recreational clothes and made my way one last time to the observation lounge. I checked in for thirty minutes, sat in the lotus position, and emptied my mind. I searched deeply for my emotions, but I felt they were being blocked, by what I didn’t know. After a few minutes of cleansing breathing, I realized something: my anxiety and depression over the deaths of the human beings aboard the dreadnoughts were gone. In their place I found a steely determination to finish things, especially with Prince Arin, the Butcher of Carinthia, and fulfill my promise to the grand duke. I wanted to rid the universe of Arin, and I was so close to getting that opportunity. I felt like a child on Reunion Day, unable to wait to open my presents. At that point I realized no other preparation was necessary. I was as ready as I would ever be.