Taster of Everlasting (book 2)

The sun slowly rose above the horizon, its' bright light playing up shadows and silhouettes across the desert and touching all in its' path with its' path with a pinkish taint.
Jonathon sat atop a dune overlooking the HAB staring out across the shifting sands, his jacket loosely held about his shoulders, the new born light was dancing on the silver rank insignia.
His mind meandered and he wondered about the last time he had seen a sunrise, he scolded himself for being in Space for too long. He ran his fingers absently across the Galactic cross at his throat, the cold metal sending a shiver down his spine and he pulled his jacket close around himself and tightening his grip on his copy of Werther with his left hand.
Claire would have thought this was truly beautiful. Her lose still hung heavy in his heart as if it were yesterday, though the searing white hot pain had lessened to a dull pounding ache that hung on him. The Galactic cross was all he had left of her now, in fact apart from her parent's house and the grave at Zosen there was little in the galaxy to show she had existed at all.
He could still see her now in his mind's eye with her mischievous smile, the light dancing in her eyes, so full of life. He clenched his fist around the medal feeling the metal dig into his palm.
Charlotte was stood behind him. He had sensed her approach, even on the sand he had heard her, now he could see her out of the corner of his eye, the sun highlighting her features and the warm morning breeze tousling her mousy blond hair. He didn't want to acknowledge her yet, she had a way of disrupting his pool of calm like a storm front that brings deadly undercurrents and whips up the surface water into a swirling maelstrom- But why?

"I was worried." her voice broke through the silence, soft but firm and he wondered if she genuinely had been worried or if it was just observing polite convention. "Have you checked the trap?"
"Not yet." his voice sounded alien to him, dry and croaking. "I was just watching the sun rise and thinking."
"About Claire."
He felt her name sluice through him to the bone. He had spoken to people about Claire's death before but something about Charlotte asking him seemed like a fresh wound. He wondered how she did that.
"You were close." It really wasn't a question but he nodded in response anyway. He really didn't want to have this conversation with her. Claire was his memory, his pain and he kept it close in his heart.
"She was an amazing person. It is indeed rare for me to connect with someone so easily but... she was open and friendly despite my barriers. I wish I had had the chance to know her better." She said wistfully.
Jonathon  just stared forward, his mind wandering back to that cursed air raid, the explosion, the death.
"JONATHON!!!" he heard that scream every day in his mind first thing - yanking him from his restful slumber.
"I don't want to talk about it." he muttered as he closed his eyes.

Defiance Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jonathon jumped down from his Nautilus with a loud metallic crunch that made his head hurt. He wasn’t sure how he had survived the last battle or what had happened but he was still alive and so was Grant. He adopted his usual grin and walked towards Claire’s fighter. He watched as she took off her helmet and shook out her blonde hair, the light dancing across it as she moved. A warm feeling washed over him, he was glad she was here with him; he didn’t know where he would be without her. He watched her dismount and slide off the wing delicately landing on the deck.

“Doolz.” he waved at her.

She caught his eye and he could see the rage in her them as she stormed over.

“What the frick do you think you are playing at? You almost got us both killed!”
He took a step back under the onslaught. “But we’re both still alive.”
“No thanks to you!”

He could see the anger and disappointment in her eyes raging and swirling like a storm. “Claire I’m-”
She shook her head “I don’t want to hear it!”
“But...”
“You’re a good pilot but… But you’re going to get us both killed.” her tone changed briefly. “What you did was reckless and irresponsible, we’re not students anymore, we could die out here.”
“I’m sorry” he said meekly. “It won’t happen again.”
“It had better not if Pentlow hadn’t intervened I’d...”

She was interrupted by a familiar smug tone. “Be scattered over a wide area.”

“Pentlow.” Jonathon muttered as the other approached, the reassured swagger and arrogant grin all grated on him. Why couldn’t it have been anyone but Pentlow?

Claire turned and forced a smile. “Thanks again Matt.”
“Sure thing.” he nodded at her. “Where was your wingman? Seems odd she had no cover eh Eldon?”

“I was on my way.” Jonathon said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah keep telling yourself that champ.” Pentlow clapped a hand on his shoulder. “But let’s face it if it wasn’t for me your little girlfriend would be toast.”

Jonathon turned to face him. “Hey! She is not my girlfriend!”

Claire looked down and muttered. “Leave it Jonathon.”
“Yeah.” Matt smiled. “Listen to your girlfriend Eldon. Claire I’ll see you at seven?”

Claire shot Matt a look “Maybe.”

“I look forward to it.” He turned to face Jonathon. “Maybe I’ll take her from you too.”

Jonathon turned to square up to him, Pentlow’s smug attitude had pushed him too far, and it was time for someone to take him down a peg.

A light hand gently touched his shoulder. “Jonathon...” Her voice filled his ears. “Leave it.”

He took a step back and turned to look into those soft blue eyes. She was right of course; brawling on duty was a serious charge.

“We’ll see.” Jonathon looked up into his rival’s eyes before following Claire’s lead in walking from the hanger. She walked with her head down, shoulders slumped forward, something was on her mind.

“Probably the whole dogfight thing.” He thought

Suddenly she turned on him. “Why can’t you just leave it?”

“He infuriates me, I wasn’t going to let him talk to us like that.”
“Damn it Jonathon this isn’t the school yard and we are not twelve.”
“But...”
“Just...” She looked exasperated at him before taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Look don’t worry. Go get some sleep yeah?” Her smile returned and she gently touched his shoulder.

“Ok.” He smiled back at her. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Have to report to the GCap for the restructuring of the group.

“Enjoy that.” He laughed. He had no idea how she could put up with those sorts of meetings.

“I’ll try.”

Stacey kicked the door to the tenement open and was greeted with a shrill female scream as she dived to the side for cover. Eddie looked over at her from the opposite wall, a smoke grenade in his right hand; he was mentally counting down, concentration etched onto his face.

“Everybody on the floor!” Stacey called into the house as Eddie rolled the small grenade in. Moments later the reassuring fizzing of smoke through the filters echoed out.

“Give it a second or two.” Stacey muttered to herself. “Eddie, go to night vision.”
They both pulled down their visors and suddenly everything went a grainy green and black. She turned to the other two troopers. “Jackson, Cooke. You’re up to. Cooke take the habitation rooms, Jackson the kitchens, Eddie and I will take upstairs.” She didn’t wait for an acknowledgement. With one fluid flourish she was through the door into the tenements reception room, furniture was overturned and broken, blood was sprayed up the far wall and she could see feet sticking out from under the table.
She swung around levelling her shotgun at the stair case and then over to face the back passages. “No sign of anything.” She sighed with relief.

She heard the cautious approach of boots and in her periphery she saw the others approaching.
“Right you guys know what to do?”

“Yes Corp.” Came the measured response.
“Get to it. Eddie it’s your turn to go first.”

Eddie quickly wiped the expression of panic from his face. “Sure Stace.”

They moved towards the staircase to the right, Stacey crouched by the table and checked the feet protruding from under the table. She felt her stomach clench as she saw the remains of the former occupant, her throat had been cut but only after she had been disembowelled.

“Is she?” Cooke asked.

“Yeah.” Stacey nodded. “She’s dead. Let’s find this guy.”

Jackson moved into the kitchen, his shotgun swinging nervously from side to side in the cramped conditions. The small rectangular room could not hold more than three people at any one time. The work surface was littered with the detritus of daily life, open food boxes, dirty plates and general clutter. It reminded him of his home on the other side of the city, his wife singing as she chopped fresh herbs from his garden, the children laughing and playing underfoot. He sighed with regret. Why did the N’kell have to come and spoil his perfect life? He reached the end of the work surface and came to the semi glazed back door next to a large cupboard. He glanced out into the small garden. He could see what looked like foot prints across the small patch of grass and dark hand prints on the fence.

“Jackson to Nash.” He pressed in his comm. gently and whispered. “Looks like he’s flown the nest, no sign in the kitchen.”
“Secure the back entry and wait by the front door for extraction.”

“Yes sir.” He deactivated his comm. And took a final look around.

The Cupboard door burst open and a large dark shape charged him, pure brute force and momentum knocked the trooper off balance and against the far wall, his shotgun clattering uselessly to the floor. Jackson felt a pair of large hands tighten around his throat, he tried to struggle but the iron grip crushed his larynx, he spluttered and gasped as he stared into the hate filled eyes of his attacker. A metallic silver object glinted in the moonlight catching Jackson’s eye, it looked like a bayonet blade.
With a loud wet thud the blade passed into him and into the wooden panel behind. Jackson felt searing pain as the blade punctured his body, he could feel his life’s blood draining away but he could do nothing more than groan with his last breath.

Cooke stood looking out of the front door at the night’s street. This was the fourth home on this street they had checked so far tonight. The intruder had done his work here and gone, they were wasting time. He inhaled another lung full of smoke from his cigarette and looked up at the stars. It was a beautiful night; he would rather be outside or up on the hills on one of his late night strolls than here. This was a waste of time.
Movement caught his eye, when he turned around though the lounge was empty.
“Jackson?” he asked.

There was no reply and still no one there. He brought his shotgun up and moved slowly towards the kitchen door.

“Jackson?”

Still nothing. Something wasn’t right, he moved quicker.

As he passed behind an arm chair a dark figure darted out and Cooke felt a cold metal blade slide across his throat and a spray of blood shot across the room. He tried to call out but could only gasp as consciousness flowed out of him.

Stacey kicked open the second bedroom door and ducked to the side. Eddie dived through and took cover behind a chest of drawers. There had been nothing in the master bedroom, only signs of a struggle.

“It was strange,” Stacey noted, “this tenement could and was furnished for a family of four but so far only one body. Where were the others?”
She moved to the door and dropped to her knee and covered Eddie.

“Clear.” Eddie’s voice rang out loud and clear from the darkened room. Stacey sighed, they had wasted time and their target had got away. He was probably out butchering another innocent family.

She could see Eddie’s grainy green visage get up and move into the room. What was he looking at?

“Ed!” She rasped. “Come on.”
He came out visibly shaken, his hands shaking as he tried to grip his shotgun.
“Well I’ve located the children... What’s left.” His voice was tear choked.

Stacey jumped to her feet and pushed him aside. He tried to catch her as she pushed past protesting “Stace No.”

The room was quiet and tidy. A wooden dolls house lay under the window next to an open chest of toys. The twin beds to her left were nearly undisturbed, save for the two figures tucked up as if they were asleep. She swallowed hard and walked closer to them, a growing dread filled her, she knew they were dead and didn’t want to see the horror on their faces, nor the blood that would be soaking the bed linen.

“Stace!” Ed called after her. “I can’t reach Jackson or Cooke on the comm.”
With a sigh of relief she turned back. She hadn’t seen the children. She looked at her friend as he stood in the door way, his finger holding his ear piece in.

“That’s odd...” She was cut short. An arm reached into the room and grabbed Eddie by the throat and ripped him out onto the landing, she heard a muffled shout and the sound of breaking wood then silence.

“Ed?” She called out “Ed!”
No reply.

She brought her shotgun up and took a slow step towards the door, sweat broke out across her forehead and her throat dried out. How could they have been so wrong? They had done everything so carefully, followed all their training.

Like an explosion the shadow burst through the door, a dark wraith full of speed. She managed to fire her shotgun twice through reflex but neither blast seemed to slow him. It hit her like a train and she fell to the floor as the arm hit her across the chest knocking the wind from her. Her brain swam with shock as countless possibilities whirled through her mind. The sight of the silver blade quickly snapped her back to the reality of the situation. She reached out with her right hand and caught the blade arm, she felt the strength in him as he pressed down, it was all she could do to slow the blade and fight the urge to bring her left arm to hold him. She grabbed frantically at her flak jacket for her knife; her hand grabbed at the Velcro pockets and came down on something hard, it was the butt of a pistol. Relief flooded through her as she gripped it and pulled it free of the Velcro with a satisfying tearing sound. The blade was descending closer and closer to her chest, she had to act quickly, and she twisted the barrel around to point into the assailant’s chest.

“Game over.”

Before she could pull the trigger the N’kell shifted and knocked the gun clattering across the floor. She thought quickly and caught him off balance with a sharp knee to the chest forcing him to rollaway to her right. She lunged forward for the gun that lay a mere three feet away. She felt powerful hands grab her shoulders and lift her from the floor. She looked into the eyes of the creature that had killed her friends and these innocents and saw only hatred burning, even through the grainy green night vision. For the first time she felt fear. The right fist took her by surprise as it struck her across the face; the force of it knocked her to the ground. She lay clutching her left cheek, tears welling up in her eyes. The drive in this man was unstoppable; she feared he would not rest until they were all dead.
“Now... I have finished toying with you.” The creature could speak English but in a very broken accent.

He raised his blade and took slow deliberate steps towards her.
“This is it.” Stacey thought. “What’s that?”

Something lay under her back digging into her spine, she fumbled quickly under her and to her relief she pulled out the gun, she saw surprise wash over the face of her foe and his pace quicken but it was too late. She pulled the trigger.
The flare discharged into the man’s chest in a ball of white hot light. She cursed as the light burnt her retinas through the night vision, she closed her eyes and batted at the visor but all she could see was a white glare. She heard him screamed a scream that chilled Stacey’s blood as he began to flail around the room as she crawled away, feeling out towards the door way. She opened her eyes and could make out the outlines of the door frame but her eyes still hurt.
The landing was covered with broken wood splinters from the ruptured banisters, something had been hurled through with quite some force, and then she saw him. Eddie lay sprawled on the stairs below on a bed of banister and splinters staring up at the ceiling.

“Ed!” she called through her own pain.

“Stace?” the voice was weak. “Are you ok?”

She smiled and pulled herself to her feet. How had he survived that fall? She had always thought he was lucky. She stumbled towards him, slipping on the wood and stairs as she gingerly felt her way forward trying desperately not to pitch herself down the stairs.
“You alright?”

He looked at her with that infectious youthful smile of his. “Not bad. I’ve had better.... think my leg is broken though.”

She reached his side and sat down next to his head cradling her head and her burning eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered.

“What for? We did nothing wrong. He was just stronger than us.”

She shook her head in denial. “Tell that to Cooke and Jackson.”

“Don’t beat yourself up Stace... even Sergeant Wild would have suffered similar losses....”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand and tapped her comm. Unit. “Echo seven to command, need first aid team to search 4 Over.”

There was a garbled response that she hoped was an affirmative. She caught the smell of burning cloth and what she assumed was flesh. The flare must have set fire to the rest of the room. She glanced up at the room to see if the fire was spreading.

Her eyes widened in terror.

The shape, a burning man, his uniform and flesh blackening and flaking off as the flare emanated from his chest, moved forward clutching Stacey’s shotgun.

“Holly Frick!!!” She screamed.

Eddie looked up at the burning spectre, his eyes widening with fear. “How is he not dead?”

Stacey moved quickly. Sliding down the stairs she swung Eddie over her shoulder and moved for the door. He was surprisingly light. - Or was it the adrenaline? Stacey wasn’t sure.
He screamed out in pain as his broken leg flapped ineffectively against her back.

“Hold on mate. I’ll get you out of here.”
She heard the shotgun fire and something tore into the flesh of her back, Eddie whimpered in her ear.

The door, their salvation grew ever closer. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the N’kell walking slowly, even more laboured down the stairs, he had discarded the shotgun in favour of his knife, and she could see her gun, smoking with singed flesh on the stock, lying on the landing. What was driving this man?
Suddenly she was outside in the cold night air but she was still moving.
“Corp!” Her rank caught her attention. Two troopers clattered towards her.

“Sir are you ok? Jeeze Ed your arse is full of buck-shot.” Exclaimed the first one. “You got caught running away at last?”

“Shut up Watson.” Eddie muttered disdainfully.

“Holly frick.” The second trooper tapped Watson on the shoulder and he span around.
The N’kell had reached the door, his movements even more laboured, his breathing slowing as he gripped the door frame for support.
“Shoot him!”

The night air filled with cordite rich smoke and gun shots.

Caroline sat in the officer’s men watching people float past and observing them in their own worlds. There were a mixed crowd in tonight. A group of engineers sat in the corner discussing their theories about crystalline drives and efficiency- Very dull. One officer sat reading some ancient philosophy, his ale hardly touched. He was the inverse of a pilot at the bar who was toasting a full shot glass at the bar with his ninth whisky- obviously lost a friend today.

Her eyes fell on another couple at the bar. She recognised the woman; it was Doolan, the woman from the other day that Bevan had been chewing out. She sat opposite another pilot, a tall dark haired man who was talking incessantly to the bored looking Doolan. It was funny, she had heard a rumour that she was seeing a red haired pilot; apparently she had swapped assignments to serve with him, which is what she had been disciplined for. Caroline didn’t usually put stock in rumours, usually hate or jealous spiked lies spread with venom or boredom but every now and then there was a grain of truth but she quite liked this story though. It appealed to the romantic in her soul that existed under her armour. She wondered who the other man was, they looked like they could be on a date but by the way she kept glancing at her watch and staring into her drink not a very successful one. Caroline wondered about the to her man, maybe the rumour was false, it was all idle speculation, she didn’t care about Doolan or anyone in this room really after all they didn’t care about her.

“Your drink Miss Bell.”

She glanced up at the man in front of her. Andrew held out a cocktail glass for her, it held a sparkling orange drink with an umbrella stuck into a lemon slice; he held a pint of ale in the other hand.

“What is it?” She asked as she took it into her hand.

“It’s a... well I’ve not named it yet.” He looked away embarrassed. “It’s a peach schnapps mixed with orange, mango and lime, shaken and poured over ice with a slice.”
“Interesting.” She smiled as she took the glass from him; her nose caught the gentle citrus flavours and the aroma of peach schnapps. She took a gentle sip, dubious of the concoction. Her taste buds tingled as the chilled liquid ran across her tongue. Logic told her that this drink shouldn’t work but it did.

“So... Rough day?” He took his seat opposite her.

She rolled her eyes as she remembered that idiot Harkins moving her.

“Something like that.” She muttered bitterly as she stared down at her drink. She brought her gaze up to look on him and a smile broke out across her lips. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about it.”
“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She beamed. “The days of our youth are the days of our glory. If one day is horrendous it’s probably best to skirt over it and think of tomorrow.” She didn’t believe that tomorrow would be much better, in fact the more she thought of her future the more she saw gloom.

He smiled at her, those ivory white teeth flashed under the white light. “If you say so.”

Claire looked at her watch for the seventh time; she thought for a moment that she had seen the hand moving backwards. She sighed and took another mouthful of her drink.
“So what’s up?” Matt, who had finally stopped talking about various simulations and flights piped up again.

“I’m just tired.” She muttered.

“Ah-huh” he nodded. “But really? Come on Claire I know you well enough to know.”
“You don’t know me at all.” She countered angrily as the frustration and boredom gnawed at her.

“No I guess not.” He looked down at his beverage. “I want to though... I know we’ve had our differences in the past but... well we’re on the same team now.”
“Matt! Is that an apology?” She looked up at him wondering if he was as bad as she had thought.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” That tone edged back, oozing out of his words like a noxious pollutant. “Let’s just say we’ll wipe the slate clean? You forget the pork chops in the exhaust incident and I’ll forget the rigged ejection seat.”

She beamed remembering the look on his face. On finals day, sat in his salamander, prepped for launch in front of all the top brass, Pentlow had flipped the ignition and was fired out by the ejection system. Jonathon had bribed the band to play “The world turned upside down.” as Pentlow drifted back towards the earth on a parachute. It was a prank that would live on in infamy.

“It was a good prank.” She smiled nostalgically.

“Yes well.” He looked away crossly, obviously still stung by the memory.

“What about Jonathon?” She asked “Will the slate get washed off there?”

“That depends on him.” Matt said bitterly.
“I’ll talk to him.” She smiled. “It may take some time but I can convince him.”

Matt took another mouthful of ale and levelled another accusing glance at her.
“What is the deal between you two? Are you together or are you friends with benefits?”

Claire’s hackles raised on the back of her neck. This wasn’t the first time she had been asked about her relationship with Jonathon but it was the first time that it had been phrased so bluntly and raised her anger. Normally she was able to shrug it off with one of her sweet disarming smiles that made everyone think it was a rumour but the bluntness of Matt’s accusation made her feel as if she was under a direct attack as if a relationship with Jonathon was tantamount to treason.

“We are just good friends.” She said through gritted teeth.

“You love him don’t you?” She felt as if his very gaze was forcing information out of her and she wilted away from him but her anger still burnt within her.

“We are just good friends.” She repeated.

“That may be but you still love him.”

She brought her head up sharply, pooling her reserves of strength and unleashing her anger. “We are just good friends and in the spirit of the amnesty I’m telling you to drop it.”

Matt nodded, he would concede this point.  “Alright, but one last question on the subject.”

“If it will shut you up.” She snapped.

“Why did you transfer here?”
“I wanted to fly with the best.” Came the well rehearsed answer. Matt didn’t believe her but he knew the truth, he’d seen the way she had looked at Jonathon even if he hadn’t.

Andrew laughed and put his pint glass down onto the table.
“The just fell over and we couldn’t stop laughing!” Caroline finished, her face was etched with tears as she reminisced.

“How did you get away with it?”

“I think he was too embarrassed.” She beamed staring into her drink, her mind sifting back the years to a better and happier time far from here.

She had really enjoyed herself, for the first time since she had arrived on the ship. Her heart pounded on the inside of her chest as she looked into those hazel eyes.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight. Thanks for taking my mind off things.”
He looked up at her. Those hazel eyes meeting hers across the table and a smile broke out on his lips. “You are more than welcome Miss Bell, what are friends for?”

She felt like a school girl as she stifled a giggle and tried to mask her excitement. How could he see straight through her, past her defences? Why did she let him through?

“I’m –Erm going to freshen up.” She rose from her chair a little too quickly and a look of concern briefly crossed his visage. She didn’t want him to think she was trying to escape.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” She said as reassuringly as possible.

She floated across the mess and into the women’s restroom and stood by the mirrors looking at her reflection.
A young woman with flushed cheeks and a youthful grin looked back at her. Who was this stranger? Caroline couldn’t remember her, she had seen likenesses, not quite as happy but similar recently. Although she did vaguely remember her from photographs she had in her quarters and at her parent’s house but now she was all but a stranger.

“How’s your date?” A cubicle behind her opened and the pilot Doolan stepped towards the sinks.

“It is not a date!” Caroline snapped. How dare this woman presume to interfere with her life?

“Whatever.” Doolan shrugged before turning the tap on. “Is it a good evening?”

Was it? Caroline began t beam again as she straightened her hair and checked her eye makeup.
“Good thank you. How is your date?”

Doolan scoffed “He wishes!”
“Whatever.” Caroline shot back. “Thought you were seeing someone else.”
Doolan’s head shot up. “Where did you hear that?”

Caroline shrugged indifferently. “Grape vine says you ignored orders and came here to be with some guy you are in love with.”

Doolan’s eyes flicked nervously from her reflection to Caroline’s. “That’s not... What I mean is...”
Caroline turned to face her and waved a hand dismissively. “Look, I don’t particularly care, I’m just guessing that the guy you want is not the guy you are with. If you do love someone else you should be with him surely?”

She wheeled on her heels and strode from the restroom.
“Lieutenant Bell!” Doolan’s voice made her pause at the door. How had she remembered her name?

“When you are having a night like the one you are having... The trick is to keep breathing.”
Caroline turned to face her, saw a deep sadness in her eyes before she returned to washing her hands. Caroline sensed moment they had shared, Doolan had briefly opened her soul to a complete stranger, something Caroline hadn’t seen in a long time.
“See you around Doolan.” She nodded

It was early morning. The sun shone brightly over the city, its warmth still just a fraction of what I would become, gently touched his skin in the coolness left over from the night. The light reflected on windows and the metallic fixtures on roofs creating hundreds of false suns that tried to blind him as he surveyed the city.
“Such unimaginable calm and tranquillity.” He thought “Citizens a slumber, unaware of the carnage I must bring. The chaos that precedes a new order. I hope one day I can be forgiven this trespass.”
“What are your orders sir?”

The Obst had asked that question every hour on the hour since the first red light had touched the horizon. His eagerness and fervour, although commendable, were beginning to grate on Teuber. Had he been this eager and impatient in his youth? He couldn’t remember – It seemed so long ago?

“Distance?”

“Half a kilometre east. Numbers eighty-five. Four heavy repeaters with one thousand rounds each, seven snipers, two medics, three grenade launchers and an engineering team.” The obst reeled off their tactical strength without prompting. He was eager. Teuber smiled to himself. They would be out numbered and out gunned for an undetermined amount of time. This was the kind of combat an infantry officer dreaded. How many of his men would be lost? How would he survive?  As a guards officer though he yearned to prove himself as more than able to guard the Gefuht’s bathroom and he knew his men were willing to do the same, willing to die for pride and honour, for the regiment, for the Gefuht and for the Empire.

He pulled his officer’s cap from his head and placed it in his kit bag at his feet.
“We move in five minutes. Tell the men to make one last weapons check. No wasting ammunition. We take no civilian prisoners or wounded, we have not the means to care for them.”
“Yes sir.”

“That doesn’t mean we kill them. They maybe unworthy but that is for God to deal with. It is not our plan to carry out his judgement.”
The young subaltern nodded slowly. “Understood sir.”

Teuber turned his attention to his steel helmet in his hands, pulling it over his head and fastening the strap. He knew it would offer little protection but it was better than his cap. He felt the weight and the tightness of the webbing. He knew soon he would not even notice it.

He ran through the standard routine checks of ammunition and gear. His water bottle was nearly full; he had enough ammunition for ten hundred shots.  It would be enough for taking the star port but how long until they were relieved?

What mattered now was the star port; he would worry about later, later. The high command had promised relief within forty four hours but he had heard those promises before only to be told that the righteous could always hold out longer.

“We’ll see.” He thought as he holstered his pistol.

He could hear the muttered voices of his men in their basement hiding place. There was a wave of patriotic oaths and muttered prayers for protection and victory. Teuber wondered how many of his enemy would be doing the same? Whose god would will out? He knew most of his men would claim to know victory was theirs.
“The righteous always triumph over the heathen.” Or “God wills it!”
Teuber had often wondered how these men knew the will of the almighty so intently.

He glanced at his Chronometer. Two minutes to go. He took one last look at the cityscape and turned to walk down the steps to the cellar.

The Sentries on the west perimeter fell quietly and quickly. Teuber’s men moved stealthily and quickly to secure the west command bunker, taking care to disable the security cameras without appearing. Moments later the combat engineers disabled the power generator to the main complex plunging the whole port into chaos.

Commander Baker was fretting. He was a natural worrier but this time there was a just reason. He had transports on final descent and no computer navigation programs to bring them in, his west perimeter bunker was not answering calls and neither the mechanics sent to repair the generator.
“Do you think it’s a N’kell attack?” He asked wringing his hands as he paced.

Lieutenant Kramer, his adjutant was used to this continued self doubt and worry; it was one reason why his predecessor had been promoted over Baker. “I wouldn’t have thought so sir. Most of the landings took place on the other side of the city and command reckons they are contained in small pockets of resistance. They aren’t a threat.”
Baker nodded but continued pacing. “Still- Should I put in a call to GHQ?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the commander!” Kramer wondered.

“I mean just to be sure.” Baker continued after a moment’s pause.

Kramer shook his head. “Give it another five minutes sir, what is the worse that could happen?”

“You’re right... Of course.” He smiled as he tried to convince himself. “Probably nothing...”

The door to the command centre annexe burst open and two well placed silenced blasts caught the defenders unawares. The two guards slumped forward in their seats.

The four N’kell troopers stepped into the room and fanned out, expertly covering the doors. Their orders were simple. Whilst the power to the cameras and other security systems were disabled by the combat engineers they would move to the central command point and neutralise the command staff and take control of the internal communications.
The Obst checked their positions on his data up link. He turned to the other three men and pointed at the left door and they all formed around it silently, they all knew what to do –it was what they were trained for. The Obst gave it a solid kick and the wooden portal exploded inwards to reveal the main command point.

NCO’s were working behind consuls so intently that at first they did not notice the door explodes inwards, a few glanced up and panic suddenly took over. One of the human commanders squealed and hid under his desk; the second shouted a couple of orders and drew his laser pistol.

The four death commando’s began to fire their silenced pistols with well placed single shots putting the desk bound NCO’s down quickly before they could mount any serious resistance. Within moments the dead littered the command desks. The last to fall was Kramer, his valiant defence and accurate shooting had claimed the life of one of the commandos but yet no one had witnessed it and he went to his death unrewarded for his efforts.

The Obst turned with a satisfied smile to the two remaining soldiers.

“All too easy.”

Teuber received the commando's message of success with a sigh of relief. He was taking an awful risk but he did what he had to. His men had taken the western bunker, the power generators and the central complex all within twenty minutes.

He had dispatched teams to subdue the hangers and any if the transports that had landed on the turf fields. He was watching one of the teams now through his field glasses from the relative safety of the western bunker's observation tower.

The five man group waited for the engines of the space borne leviathan to begin their irreversible cooling cycle before moving up to the lowering cargo ramp.

"Sir." his adjutant tapped him on his shoulder disturbing him from the unfolding drama.

"What is it Cera?" he snapped irritably. Cera was fresh from the military academy on Bauer, he was one of the Gefuht's loyal goose steppers with no military pedigree, his eyes were still closed to the reality of war.

"The Radio..."

"What about it?" Teuber snapped, interrupting the younger officer.

Cera blinked quickly and recomposed himself. "Sir. We have established communications with Admiral Keister." He held out the receiver to his irritated commander.

"Teuber?" The voice demanded across the stars. "Report!"

Cera wondered if the higher your rank the more grumpy and irritable you became; he fought unsuccessfully against the grin that was spreading across his lips.

Commander Baker crawled from under his desk and took in his surroundings. They were all dead, slumped over where they had worked. Kramer lay crumpled over a chair at the far end of the computer bank. Fear still coursed through Baker's arms veins as he began to shake uncontrollably again.

"What am I going to do now?" his eyes began to well up as fear dissolved to panic, a panic that blocked his senses. He didn't hear the jack boots that crunched across the glinting sea of broken glass that covered the floor. He didn't know the N'kell was there until the boots came to a halt in front of his face.

He looked up at the alien. The N'kell's uniform was immaculate with buttons that shone like miniature suns across his chest and laced with silver braid on his epaulettes and collar patches. "This is someone of importance." Baker thought.

Then he saw the barrel of a light repeater pointed at his face and suddenly a wave of calm washed over him as if the inevitable had arrived with this jackbooted invader. Baker stood up and straightened his jacket before brushing shards of glass from his uniform and snapping to attention.

"My name is Commander Baker 1622832335." He said calmly as he stared into the enemy's cold dispassionate eyes. "I am willing to cooperate in any way I can and here by surrender this field and myself to you without condition."

The alien smiled and levelled his gun.

Lieutenant Chris Cawdor jumped down into the entrance of the east bunker and took cover. How had the field been overrun by the N'kell so quickly?

The large metal door opened with a cold scraping noise as it grated across the wet concrete and two soldiers rushed out, their faces grim.

"Sir!" We have lost communications with complex." The first soldier spat out quickly.

"What are our orders?" The second garbled.

Cawdor looked out across the field. In the distance he could see another group of N'kell were storming a transport that had hit the turf, the repeater bolts shining in the morning light.

"Send three runners to GHQ tell them we've lost the star port."

"YEs sir." The first soldier saluted and ran back into the bunker.

"Graves... We need to sabotage these facilities so they are useless to the N'kell. We need to mine the fuel refinery to the north." Cawdor pointed across the field to a large industrial complex half a mile away from them, its great fuel tanks and miles of piping made it look imposing but Cawdor knew that a few well placed explosives would bring the whole thing crashing down.

“Then... We should try and do something about the complex. Maybe bring down the power grid permanently.” He squinted as he looked at the silver tower at the heart of the star port, uncertainty slowly taking over his thoughts, this sort of scenario was not in his training, he was a mere lieutenant not a Commander or General.  “We’ll wait for orders on that.” He said finally.

“Yes sir.”

Cawdor took turned his gaze to the field again settling on the now burning transport on its pad, helplessness filled him as he thought of the unsuspecting crew as they had walked quietly into this ambush and even their deaths, like lambs to the slaughter, blissfully unaware there was a problem and here he was stood watching their funeral pyre burn, filling the air with belching black smoke. What could he do?

“Get a sniper up here.” He snapped “Try and pick off their teams as they assault.” Cawdor took one last look across the field and turned towards the entrance of the bunker shaking his head with despair.

The N’kell had taken them by surprise, people were dying and there was nothing they could do

Chapter 3 of Defiance.

Chapter 3

 Charlotte stood to attention in First officer Bevan's office. She didn't know why she had been summoned from her peaceful rest period. Why did they always call her on her own time?

The young female fighter pilot looked equally concerned as she stared obediently forward. Charlotte thought she recognised her from a week ago but wasn't sure. She had seen so many people on her pointless rounds of the ship and routine sensor maintenance. She was already tired of this ship and her duties. She was after all top of her class in astro navigation and she had been spoken to as if she was a moron by lieutenant commander Harkins and practically ignored by everyone else except for Helmsman Loadman... Andrew. Her heart fluttered as she thought of his smiling face and those hazel eyes. He had been friendly and chatty during their daily chart reviews, he had confided in her that he had requested her as his liaison and looked forward to their encounters, but not an iota as much as she did.

The door opened and a large middle aged man burst in cursing under his breath as he came. He tossed a folder onto his already cluttered desk and collapsed into his large leather chair, it visibly sank under his impact. He exhaled hard and then looked up at them.

"Right." He began, turning to Charlotte. "Lieutenant Bell. Your transfer to the Hercules is rejected. This information is classified, which means you'll all know by tomorrow, Hercules was destroyed by the N'kell, all hands were lost."

Charlotte's jaw dropped open in shock and grief. "Amy." She gasped.

"You had friends aboard?" His voice softened slightly, it was obviously a tone he was unaccustomed to.

She nodded dumbfounded. "Amy... Lieutenant Grey - Navigator third class."

"I'm sorry girl." He looked at her genuinely. "You're excused duty for the rest of the day, with the preparations that are... Frick it you'll know soon enough. the N'kell are coming and they are coming here so I can't spare you for any longer."

She forced a smile through the wall of tears that were forming in her. "Thank you sir." She nodded, her voice cracking. Amy was gone? Her heart began o crack and she felt her world start to lose cohesion.

"As for you Lieutenant Doolan... I don't know if you are telling the truth, why would a cadet purposefully lie and chose the wrong assignment!" He rose from his seat, his voice rising to a bellow. Doolan stood perfectly still, her eyes wide with terror and her cheeks flushing.

"I'm sorry sir I-" She stammered

"I haven't finished yet!" he continued "How the hell you could read 51st Valkerie when it clearly says 53rd Hercules?"

"I-"

Bevan held up a hand to silence her. Turning his head slightly he smiled at Charlotte.

"Thank you lieutenant, you may go..." he smiled gently.

Charlotte forced a smile and nodded. As the door closed behind her Bevan erupted like a volcano in a torrent of prophanity and rage. Normally Charlotte would eavesdrop a little, find out what was being said but now... She ran faster than she had run in years, she wasn't sure where to go she just had to go. She hated this place, these people, this life! She had studied hard, she was qualified to run the whole navigation suite by herself and all she ever found herself doing was menial tasks that no one else wanted to do. She was ignored by the other officers, treated by indifference by the enlisted crew and treated like dirt by her superiors.

She ran up to a door and found herself knocking manically on it. Her brain began to work again as she tried to figure out where she was, she recognised the number but where did she know it from?

The door opened and she threw herself forward into the person and wrapped her arms around him.

"Charlotte?" Andrew looked foggily down at her rubbing his sleep filled eyes. "What the?"

She lifted her head from his naked chest and stared up into those hazel eyes.

"I-I didn't know where else to go." She whimpered. She had never broken down like this before, not even near a friend. She didn't want to appear crazy in front of him but she was to open. The death of Amy had rocked her very core, broke her support structure and crushed her hope. Her best friend was gone and she was alone.

"What's happened?" he stroked the hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.

She tried to speak but couldn't, she just stammered. "She... She..."

If she admitted what Mr Bevan had said she would be admitting it was true. Deep down she clung to the belief that she was alive, that she had escaped but it was a fading star in a sea of black acceptance.

Andrew put his arms around her in a comforting hug. She sank closer to him putting her arms around his wais and then the flood gates opened and the grief flowed.

He held her. It seemed an age and she could have stayed there forever. Deep down she had dream of him holding her for a while but under better circumstances.

"Ssssh." he whispered. "It'll be all right." He looked down the corridors and gently ushered her into his quarters. "Come in and tell me all about it.

Claire stepped into the pilot briefing room. Jonathon looked up from his desk and greeted her with a smile and a wave, catching her eye. She moved across to the seat he had saved for her and collapsed into it.

"You alright mate?"

She flicked her hair and side glanced at him. "Yeah. Just wanted to give me the Galactic cross."

He laughed. That had always been their cover for a disciplinary.

"What for this time?"

"Nothing you wouldn't have done in my place." She said calmly staring empty eyed ahead of her. Something had upset her. He'd known her long enough to pick up the tell tale signs , her hands were shaking, it was always a give away and she always wrung her hands to hide it but this time they lay on the desk before her gently shivering. Reaching over he took her hand in his and gently caressed it. A brief smile touched her lips and vanished.

"You ok?

She snatched her hand back and plunge it into her jacket pocket. "I'm fine." She snapped.

Now was not the time to press the issue. Something had upset her but if she wouldn't talk now there was no point in pressing.

"Right." Campion's voice cut through his thoughts. "Training squadron 15 have been assigned to this briefing as well so all tr and be friends." His voice was cold and sarcastic as he indicated the other twelve pilots in the room. Campion moved to the lectern at the front of the room and lent on it lazily whilst he activated the projector. A blue hologramatic schematic of a twin engined heavy fighter appeared behind him.

"Ok listen up rookies. You are being issued with the new Nautilus heavy fighter."

"But sir!" Jonathon found himself protesting. "We've been trained on Salamanders."

Campion rolled his eyes in disgust. "Can anyone tell me the difference between a Salamander and the Nautilus?"

"The Nautilus is more heavily armed and armoured with a a tail gunner but sacrifices speed and manoeuvre ."

Both Claire and Jonathon  turned to follow the familiar voice of Pentlow. The young, dark haired pilot sat with an air of confidence and a cocky smile.

"Yes." Campion nodded. "Any way. Your mission is to escort the bombers from the fourth bomber groups to strike the forward N'kell observation point at the edge of the Jopson Nebla. You will be flying Nautilus D's with the modified extra fuel tank and to lessen weight you will fly without the usual tail gunner."

Doolan and Jonathon exchanged nervous glances.

"We evaluate little to no enemy interference."

Claire rolled her eyes and looked down at her hands. Jonathon's stomach rolled and constricted with fear. A new craft into enemy space without gunners or Salamander escorts. What more could go wrong with the mission?"

Stacey moved through the panicked streets. Word had leaked out from somewhere that the fleet had been destroyed and the N'kell were coming. She didn't believe half the rumours that were circulating but somewhere beneath all thee exaggeration was a grain of truth, although she didn't know which grain it was.

Between the frightened looking people she could just make out her new posting, an 88 anti star fighter gun. The planetary governor, Crawford, had ordered the armament factory to mass produce the weapon for civil defence and the militia were rapidly deployed to the guns in case of raids by N'kell bombers and, if the military advisors were correct, even light N'kell armoured vehicles.

The citizens all pressed into the street carrying as much of their belongings as they could. Couples carried a chest between them, others large bags and random keep sakes. The star port had become over run by the tide of desperate people fleeing. Governor Crawford had dispatched the militia to force people away and Stacey had spent four days compassionately marshalling people away but she had seen a few of her comrades being more "persuasive" with their rifle butts. It had been a thankless and heart breaking task but the port had to be kept clear for military reinforcements and priority food deliveries. High command had said that there was going to be an organised evacuation from the Dracon port fifteen miles away and now the tide of refugees turned and fled due south towards a new haven.

She had been relieved when her orders came through saying she had been reassigned to a flak battery, it felt more like fighting the N'kell rather than their own civilians.

A young Navy officer stood amongst the chaos like an island. His uniform pristine and his boots shinning in the sunlight. The gunnery team were all fresh faced youths in militia uniforms. Stacey recognised one of the young men from Alpha shift, he was only sixteen years old and looked every bit the boy.

"Sir. Corporal Nash reporting." She threw a quick salute at the officer.

He looked too young to shave let alone have a commission.

"Lieutenant Rune." he nodded tersely. "Stow your pack over by the ammo trailer but keep your rifle handy."

She understood that. The population were getting more than restless, if one got hold of a rifle who knew what would happen. She pulled off her pack and moved over towards the two wheeled tow trailer. She hoped she wouldn't see a N'kell invasion force, she hoped that this nightmare would soon end as a false alarm, she hoped she would get out of this alive.

The small fleet of attack craft cleared the Jopson nebula. Jonathon's Nautilus hung loosely behind Claire's in their formation's "finger four." He had begun to get a feel for this heavy fighter, its cruising speed was lower than he was used to but she handled well at top speed and he was impressed by the amount of firepower she had. Four heavy cannon, six wing mounted blasters and provision for eight medium rockets.

"Al right 14, 15 pick up your visuals. We are approaching the target area." Campion's icy tones filled his ears. Something was nagging Jonathon, deep in the pit of his stomach. He toggled to channel seven on his comms unit. He knew Claire would have already flicked it to their channel.

"Blue leader this is blue two... You alright?"

"All good Blue two." Her voice betrayed her nerves. "Just like training."

He smiled broadly. That was what worried him.

"This is Hammer leader to lightening wing. We are approaching N'kell space... Time to target twenty minutes." The bomber leader's voice cut across all twenty one channels.

"Keep an eye out for fighters and stay clear of our formation."

Jonathon glanced across at the one hundred two-engined Versaille class bombers as they moved into a looser arrow head formation.

"This is lightening leader to all fighters. We are not expecting trouble but keep your eyes open. there may be a rogue patrol . Training squadrons keep back and get acclimatised to your birds."

Colonel Molders, the 51st's CO and resident ace was leading this first sortie personally. His Nautilus, a yellow nosed grey fighter hung in front of the formation. He was a living legend amongst the cadets and Jonathon's personal hero. His exploits and flying achievements spoke wonders, especially considering his relatively young age and that at the beginning of his career he had suffered from severe motion sickness.

"Everyone sounds confident." Claire muttered.

"Why shouldn't we?" He tried to echo their commander's tone. "What is the worse that could happen?"

Claire snorted. "They mail the tiny bit of wreckage they find of you back to your mother on that backward agri world you're from."

He laughed. "Love you too Doolan."

Jonathon heard her intercom pop as she clicked off. Not like her to just sign off like that. He adjusted the comm set to channel nine for his squadron's channel.

"Lightning leader! Red nosed bastards coming out the Nebula now!" A nervous voice cut across the channel. Jonathon craned his neck and saw them. Two hundred red painted 901's poured out like a hive of angry insects. His heart leapt at the anticipation of action. This is what he had been waiting for!

!Lightening wing break! Keep them away from our bombers! Molders kept his calm.

"Blue group move to point seven."

"Aye sir."

The orders flew around between all the sections, an air of panic set in as some of the other cadets saw action and wanted to bolt for the safety of the Valkerie.

"Jonathon! You with me?" Claire's voice was its usual calm and practiced,

"Roger that." He smiled. "Lets go get them." This would be fun. He had been itching to get into battle with a real foe since he bested 17 enemy craft in the simulator on his second day. His palms started to sweat as the adrenaline made his heart beat faster.

Blue group turned in a long swooping arc and turned to face the enemy.

"Blue 3 and 4 climb to five hundred feet above and behind. Blue 2 and I will fly through, then you come down from above and hit them again. Clear?"

"Understood." The unison reply came through from Cole and Frankland.

The red nosed 901's  closed in, their formation tight and disciplined. Jonathon admired their training but he didn't think it would help them against him and Claire. He checked his weapons system one last time out of habit.

Four seconds until they were in range.

He closed his eyes in a silent prayer.

Three seconds.

"You must be faster, quicker and more accurate!" Major Braxham's lecture resounded in his head. "If you slip by one percent... He's got you. Even an ace can fall to a cadet on a bad day."

Two seconds.

"Freya.... Good luck." Claire said coolly.

"You too."

They fired their heavy cannon at the lead N'kell fighters taking out the leader and his wingman. Both Claire and Jonathon split and dived away as Frankland and Cole dived through to take the second pair.

Jonathon smiled smugly, this was easy.

He turned to look behind him and saw Cole's Nautilus erupt. In the distance he could see Frankland had also been destroyed.

"Frick." he muttered. "Doolz you there?"

"I’m kinda busy at the moment. Can it wait?" She spat acidicly through gritted teeth.

At least she was alive.

Blaster fire shot past his cockpit glazing. His sensors showed a 901 on his tail. He pulled back hard but the craft barely moved rather it started a long sweeping arc. More blaster rounds tore across his wings. The N'kell was toying with him, he knew he had all the time he wanted to end Jonathon's career.

"Blue 2 you've got one on your tail! Pull out!"

Jonathon muttered his appreciation for Campion's assistance. He looked up and saw another Nautilus diving towards him firing it forward blasters. He instinctively ducked and then admonished himself for being stupid.

"You're clear Freya!" Claire's craft shot past him.

"Good shooting Blue 1" Campion almost sounded magnanimous in his praise.

Major Worns tightened his grip on his yoke. Intelligence had said that there would be no enemy resistance. Luckily Molders' 51st were his escort, although one third were cadets. Still the wing were more than capable of defending them from this many enemy fighters.

"Is the target on our scopes?" he asked his navigator.

"Not yet sir..." The man sounded nervous, he knew that it was dangerous to let doubt enter your mind in situations like this and reprimanded himself for feeling the same. They were a long way from home and heavily out numbered.

"Concentrate." He told himself. The mission was the most important thing. He cleared his mind of all the doubts and focused on his course and target.

"Hammer leader to wing. Stay sharp and watch out for enemy-"

His navigator grabbed his shoulder cutting him off. He was pointing out of the glazed nose.

"904's! What are we going to do?" Around his flying mask Worns could see terror taking the young man in his grip.

Angrily Worns pushed the man off him and towards the forward weaponry. "Get a grip Jones! Man the guns!" He toggled the radio back on.

"Hold formation all of you! Lightening wing... Assistance please!"

"Unescorted bombers." Mahltz smiled. "Too easy." He toggled his safety off and aligned his targeting sensor. The second bomber glowed red in his optical lens and he squeezed the trigger. Red lances shot fourth and hit the grey fuselage dead centre turning it to a cloud of fire and wreckage.

"Gamma group keep an eye on those Nautilus'. The rest of you... take your time."

"Where the hell is Freya?" Claire bit back a curse. There were so many 901's in the void she had lost sight of him. This was her first proper fire fight and she was terrified. She had always done well in the simulators and in the laser tag flights but there was always the safety net of invulnerability. She swallowed what little moisture was in her throat.

Where was he? He had a habit  of swanning off, indulging in his "Boyish Japes" but this was serious. People had died, were dying. It had suddenly occurred to her that she had been mentally on auto pilot whilst she had been thinking about him. She sharpened her sensors and focused on the dogfight around her.

There were a lot of them. Luckily for her the N'kell got in each others way.

"Doolz I'm on four!" The familiar voice was filled with elation as he broadcast his score.

"Well at least he's alive." She muttered angrily but deep down relief filtered through her tempering her anger.

She saw Campion's Nautilus in front of her, the red wing tips denoting his rank. He was in a close run fight with three 901's and more than holding his own.  She briefly marvelled at the ability of her frosty flught leader. A split second later he was gone. It looked like a bolt had clipped his extra belly fuel tank that ignited the fuel inside.

Shock washed through her but quickly her mind worked to take control and make serious decisions. She was after all an officer, a section chief and a pilot. Without their commander they would all surely die here.

“14’s this is blue 1. Leader down. Am assuming command. Count in.”

Silence filled her ears. There had to be someone left.
“Freya?” she whispered.

“Looks like its just you and me Doolz. I’m on your six.”

She turned to see the familiar shape of a Nautilus standing sentry behind her.

“Thanks Freya.” She smiled. It was right where she wanted him and where he belonged; with her.

Worns gripped the yoke with one hand, his other gripped the gaping hole in his gut. A piece of plating had run through Jones and embedded itself in the pilot. His starboard engine was gone and the tail gunner had ceased firing a long time ago, presumably dead as well.

Only three other bombers maintained their course. It was fruitless.

“Hammers… Return to base…” he managed to force out the order. “Lightening wing… Abort…” His voice was laboured by the pain and an exhaustion that was draining his body.

He looked up from his controls just in time to see the 904 make its attack run. His eyes widened as he saw the deadly red bolts come towards him but then came the grim acceptance. There was no way he could evade his fate.

Mahltz watched the lead bomber explode into a thousand particles. He derived no pleasure from the kill anymore, especially from destroying bombers. They were no challenge anymore.
His scopes counted twenty six surviving fighters and ten bombers. Not bad for a mornings work.
“All right. Group withdraw. Let them go.”

“But sir!” It was Grelk the 901 commander. “If we keep killing them then they will stop coming.”
“True but if we kill the all today whom will we kill tomorrow?”

“They are retreating! Wow!” Jonathon cheered.

“Shut up Freya.” Claire snapped.

 Not like her to get snappy He glanced around at the remnants of the 51^st’s attack group. Only one third remained.

“Can’t believe they are all gone.” Claire almost whispered to herself.

“Ok lightening. We’re getting out too.” Molders sounded tired. “Good job today. There will be a couple of kegs of beer on the bar for you… We’ll drink to the fallen.”

“AAAAAALLLLLLLAAAAAARRRRRRMMMMMM!!!!” Deck officer Jung screamed into the intercom.

All along the Valkerie’s pilot quarters the crew jumped from their bunks.

Jonathon awoke with a start and sat bolt upright, his head pounding. It took him a moment to remember where he was and why he felt like he had been in a fight with a Rhondak tiger. The ale. So few had returned that he had consumed a large amount to celebrate  his four kills. Of course Pentlow had got six!
He looked at the opposite bunk and noticed Claire had already scrambled and left. She had, like most of the others, not felt like celebrating and had retired early. Now he wished he had followed her lead. Stumbling to the deck he grabbed his trousers and roughly tugged them on.
“You! What are you doing? Alarm means scramble not amble!” Jung’s reddened face appeared in the door way. “Come the frick on!”

Jonathon grabbed his jacket and his boots before following the offices gloved point down the corridor.

Charlotte awoke as the alarm klaxon filled the cabin. She realised quickly that this was not her cabin, she was still in Andrew’s. Memories drifted out of the fog of sleep. She remembered crying for hours, bearing her soul to a perfect stranger. Andrew had sat opposite her and listened quickly and intently, never interrupting just those hazel eyes locked on her.

When a comfortable silence set in he had held her in his arms again. She had felt so safe and content that she had begun to doze as stress and fatigue set in. He had scooped her up and laid her on his bed as she dozed. She vaguely remembered him standing in the doorway watching her briefly before turning and closing the door quietly behind him as he left.
She rose from the bed and straightened her jacket. Her uniform was creased and her hair was chaotic but in the state of emergency she doubted anyone would notice. She walked out into the reception area and saw a hand written note for her on the sofa.

A smile touched her lips for the first time since graduation. She reached out and slipped it into her pocket before running out of the empty quarters and into the busy corridor. She was swept away into  a tide of people as the entire compliment of the cruiser tried to move in the opposite direction to her. At first she tried to fight it  but eventually managed to turn around and let herself be washed away in the tide. Her mind wandered back to Andrew and the way he had simply held her in his arms until her tears had run dry. She had unleashed the “crazy” as she had referred to her personality and he dint blink.

“Lieutenant Bell!!”

It was the idiot Harkins. Her bubble of serenity burst with a short sharp prick.

“Sir?” She snapped to attention and was promptly barged out of the way by an engineering officer.

“What are you doing down here? You should have been on duty two hours ago!” His face turned an unhealthy shade of maroon, Charlotte thought and the dark side of her secretly hoped, he would keel over.

“I-I…” She stammered as she tried to think on her feet.

“John.” Andrew appeared behind Harkins and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry I requisitioned her. She is a very talented navigational officer.”
Charlotte locked eyes with him and smiled gratefully. He was really becoming her white knight.
Harkins nodded. “Aye. Well… Get to your post young miss.”

“Yes Mr Harkins.” She saluted smartly and returned to the flow of people. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Andrew wave gently before getting into a lift.

A small girlish giggle escaped her and she briefly reprimanded herself for her lack of professionalism before giggling again.

Claire was already in her Nautilus  and had finished her pre-flight checks when she saw Jonathon stager into the launch bay.
“Someone overslept.” Snellgrove, her new tail gunner smiled.
“Sounds right.” Claire nodded.

She despaired of Jonathon sometimes, he could be his own wose enemy and at the moment his jocular attitude to the war was likely to get him killed. The thought stabbed her through the heart like an icepick. She would protect him, she always had. As far as she could remember she had covered up his mistakes and carried him through the odd exam. Most of them had been a joint effort but more than a few were her personal interventions.

She remembered what Lucy had said to her that day in the campus cafeteria and knew that she had been right, she had accepted it a long time ago, it had given her new focus and she knew her mind more firmly.
She had nearly told him on a few occasions but something always stopped her. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Sounded cliché but she had never been this close to another person in her life. Their bond  was stronger than most and she hoped that one day he would realise, as she had, that they were soul mates. Sometimes the pain of seeing him with Lucy would gnaw at her and she was very protective over him as Lucy spurned his advances and she still nursed the image of the two of them dancing together deep in her soul wrapped in hurt and pain. Now Lucy was gone though.

“Going to launch.” She said wistfully.

“Standing by.” Snellgrove reported.

“Good luck Freya.” she whispered.

She hit the accelerator and opened up the twin throttles to maximum. The Nautilus struggled forward in its launch rail as the twin DB 106 engines whirred into life.
“Come on you bitch… If you were a Salamander you would be up by now!”
The Nautilus grudgingly responded to her criticism and picked up sped. The launch tube started  to blur as they reached maximum thrust and then they hit the hard vacuum of space.

“Holy Hell.” Snellgrove gasped. The sight before the was terrifying.

As if the gates of Hades had opened and spilled their worst nightmare onto the white tapestry of their lives, the N’kell had come. Claire counted fifty heavy troop transports, two hundred 904’s  and three hundred 901’s. This was it; the first wave of their invasion.

The graceful streamlined vessels were pressing hard to reach Zosen whilst the fighters swarmed the human capital ships.

She reactivated her radio and quickly  turned down the volume as the unintelligible babble screamed into her ear.

“Gold group form up on my left.”
“Where is that?”

“51^st focus!” Molders’ voice rose above the rest. “Squadron leaders take control.”

A thought suddenly hit her, she had no squadron leader and there weren’t that many pilots left from the day before.

“Urm… 14^th form up on me at point niner echo.”
“Roger that.”
“Yeah. On your wing Doolz.” a tired and groggy sounding Jonathon radioed in.
“Freya… You five by five?” Concern edged into her voice. Today was not a day for his special breed of heroics or his special breed of incompetence.
“Kinda… I’ll be ok.”
She watched his approach on her scopes. It was a little scruffy and shaky but he seemed alright.

“Alright.. Just try to keep up Jonathon.”

Charlotte reported to the bridge and hurried to her post at navigation. The bridge was a shanmbles with different sections shouting orders and abuse at each other. Captain Hessanthaler stood in the centre, an island of calm in a sea of chaos.

Commander Hill, second officer was running between departments gathering information before reporting to the Captain. After a few minutes deliberation the Captain gave a few short words and the Hill would rush off again.
“Lieutenant Bell reporting for duty. What do you need?” She thrived under this sort of pressure. It got her heart pumping and her mind racing with thousands of possibilities whirring at once.

A young  woman with short auburn hair turned around to face her. Charlotte recognised her with a hint of contempt. She was a new recruit that had started with her and been promoted by Harkins on the first day.

“Help…” She emplored, her voice was shaking with fear and confusion

Under normal circumstances Charlotte would have left the woman to it but today was a disaster and sink or swim. Charlotte was a swimmer.

“Right. What’s our name?”

The woman looked wide eyed at her.

“Damn it woman what is your name? I can’t communicate with you if I don’t know you.”

“Georgina… Lieutenant Niblett.” She stammered.

“Right Georgina. Take a deep breath and tell me what the Captain wants.”
Georgina followed Charlotte’s instruction, inhaling deeply before expelling her breath audibly.

“A list of possible navigational anomalies.” She started.

“You Crewman.” Charlotte snapped at a man walking past. “Go to the file marked local anomalies. Draw up red files and pass them to the Helm.”
“Attack vectors for the fighters.”
“Ours or theirs?” Charlotte asked quickly.

“Urm…” Georgina stammered.

“Doesn’t matter. Pass it to Lieutenant Hastings the fighter coordinator.”
“Cooperation with helm for any ship movements.”

“Right.” Charlotte wheeled on two yeomen who had been busy trying to look busy.

“You. Get to helm, the minute they have a course comm it here and we can check it.” She wheeled on the second. “You call up the system chart, zoom to IV and flag all those anomalies and features so we can reference them quickly.”
“Aye Lieutenant.”
Where there had been chaos there was now order. Charlotte regarded Georgina. She had only been promoted to bridge navigational officer as she had caught Harkins’ eye, she obviously was a liability in a situation like this. She wasn’t saying she was a better officer than Georgina but her record did show she had a strong ability in crisis situations and if Harkins had pulled his libido out of the equation and did his job then they wouldn’t have been this costly mistake.

“Navigational features.” Commander Hill barked. He had just appeared from the throng of chaos.

Charlotte saw the print out on the consul and quickly scooped it up. “Here sir.”
Hill looked impressed briefly. She had made an impression , however fleeting. Someone might remember who she was, in fact she was sure that when Hill handed the report to the Captain that he gave a nod of approval. Her heart sang with pride. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad assignment.

Jonathon squinted along the sights, his head throbbing and banging like a bass drum in a military band, even his eyes were sore.

“You alright sir?” Grant, his gunner touched his shoulder concern clearly audible.

“Should be.” Jonathon squeezed the trigger and sent two rockets into the targeted transport. Grant looked unconvinced and turned away to the gunnery position.
“I’m fine.” Jonathon told himself as he turned the craft in a long sweeping arc. His stomach disagreed and rolled over itself and squeezed. His mouth watered as his body prepared to vomit. His grip tightened on his yoke as he willed himself to contain it.
“Freya! Where’s my cover”

He remembered he was supposed to be on Claire’s six. He had lost track of her in the melee and distracted by a transport ship. This was not good.

Raceful streamline hull was defined by  N’kell flagship Fracht’or, which translated as “Meat grinder”, lay amongst the transport sips, its graceful streamline hull was defined by two pectoral fins which added to its shark like appearance.

Commodore Kuhr regarded the holo map of the battle. They had taken the humans by surprise they had punctured through the outer defences and reached the gravity well of Zosen IV The Shik’lar would easily be wiped out. How dare they stand in the way of the N’kell’s God given quest. The Gefuht had willed this assault personally and his own genius had been scattered on the planning stages and now he was watching those who implemented the plan, victory was always rewarded, failure was never an option.

“Commodore. Our transports are in range.”

Kuhr smiled proudly. So far their losses were acceptable, but then the first wave had only to get the door open  for the heavier second wave.

Kuhr reached for the comm and activated the inter-ship toggle.

“Soldiers of the Empire. Today is your ay and the Gefuht is watching. Make him proud.”

The Transports formed a defensive circle over the equator. They had taken a lot of heavy fire from the Valkerie as she advanced as well as from the orbital batteries. Burning hulks littered their entry vector.

Kuhr had given them the launch code and now they carried out their primary mission. Great doors along the hull pulled open and revealed clutches of drop pods hanging like eggs from a mother beetle. Gathering in number their engines ignited and the craft burst free from the mother craf falling like rain on the planet below.

“Did you see that?” Claire was incredulous. “Permission to engage drop craft sir?”

“No 14 leader. You’d burn up on the atmosphere chasing them. Leave it to the gunners. Concentrate on the fighters.”

“Quickly gunnery control need the projections of those craft.” Commander Hill held out his hand to Charlotte.

“Two seconds sir.” She smiled smugly. She had already foreseen the order and had set the computer to work on it moments before.

A familiar voice broke through and burst her bubble. “Lieutenant Bell. What are you doing here?”

She turned and saw Harkins, the poison dwarf standing beside her wide eyed, his face a deep purple with rage. “Why are you not at your post?”

“Sir? I thought-” she stammered in shock.

“Well you thought wrong missy! Get down to Cartography!”
“Cartography! But I-”
“OUT!” He pointed angrily.
Venom and rage filled her but this was not the time or place. She could hear Amy in the back of her mind counting to ten. She snapped out her right hand and hit the cancel button on the mainframe interface.

“Yes sir.” she silkily moved the hand up in salute.
“Trajectories now!” Hill reminded them of his presence.

Charlotte turned on her heals and moved off towards the lifts, a satisfied grin growing on her lips as she heard Niblett, near to tears, pleading that she didn’t know how to get the information.

A steel capped boot kicked the door to the pod open and the N’kell sergeant stepped out into the Zosen sunlight. He shaded his eyes as he looked down the rows of expensive houses that made up the main street in the merchant sector. All seemed quiet, too quiet.

Behind him his squad climbed out from their field grey drop ship, their packs clattering as they moved. The fist wave troops knew they were alone for an undetermined time and would have to feed and take care of themselves until supplies could be brought in.
The sergeant looked down th street in both directions, it was quiet, too quiet. He trusted no one and this trait had kept  him alive in countless campaigns. God was with them and those that stood against them were abominations and had to be destroyed. They would be cunning and full of tricks but the N’kell were the righteous and would be victorious.

“Feldt!” he barked.

“Obst?” A N’kell trooper with a radio strapped to his back stepped forward.

“Get on the radio and find out where the other squads are.”
“Yes sir!”
He turned to his second and pointed down the street towards a massive sprawling complex set in the middle of a large green field. “There is the star port. We must coordinate with the other squads.”
“Yes.” His second nodded. “We are strong but we are too few on our own.”

The sergeant nodded in agreement.
It was the last thing he did. A single shot rang out and as the second turned to see where it came from his face was covered with a hot spray of blood.

“Sir-” he began but the second shot pierced his throat. Gasping with surprise he fell o the floor clawing at the gaping bloody hole.
The radio officer began to call for immediate assistance but never go to report his position. A screaming shriek filled the street as a rocket rushed towards them leaving a grey plume. The squad tried to scatter but to late, the fiery explosion ripped through the pod in an orange mushroom cloud.

Eddie lowered his rocket launcher, a broad smile played across his lips.
“Did you see that Stace? Nailed them all!”
Stacey didn’t even flinch just stared down her rifle sight. She could see something moving in the smoke but she couldn’t quite tell if it was-

“Wait.” she muttered to herself. Eddie turned to look at her quizzically, he was unsure what she was going on about but he trusted her implicitly.

Stacey’s brow furrowed with concentration. “Come on.” She muttered again conscious that the explosion would attract unwanted attention but not wanting to leave a survivor who could track them.

Then it all became clear. Out of the smoke he flailed, wounded and bleeding but still alive and angry. A single soldier shredded field grey uniform, his eyes wild with rage and pain.

“See ya.” She muttered and pulled the trigger.

After a brief few seconds Eddie looked at the still aiming Stacey.

“Did.. .Is he?”
She released a laugh and lowered her rifle. “Yeah man. Jeeze good work with the rocket! You got them good you psycho!”
“Thanks.” He slapped her shoulder “Hey we better get out of here before more N’kell arrive.”
Stacey grabbed her pack and they moved deeper into their side ally stopping briefly by the sewer grate.

“We aren’t taking the sewer Stace.” Eddie’s nose curled in disgust.

“but its safer.” she pointed at the grate. “No one will look down there for us.”
“No Way am I reporting for duty covered in shi-”

“Alright.” She cut him off. “You big girl. We’ll take the back alleys.”

“They’re retreating!” Jonathon’s excited voice filled Claire’s com. She watched the transports gradually disengaging from their defensive circle and heading for the system edge. She had forgotten all about the transports, the 901’s had been keeping her busy. She thought she had got four but wasn’t sure. She knew that she had been lucky to have survived this long. Jonathon was around but she wasn’t sure where but Snellgrove had proven herself as a good shot and the Nautilus became a much more viable fighter with a tail gun in operation.

She was trying to concentrate on flying and shooting  but all she could think about was Jonathon. His laissez-faire attitude, his irresponsible behaviour- How dae he go and get drunk during a war? He had gotten under her skin and infuriated her, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him and worrying whether he was alive or dead.

“901’s twelve high!” Snellgrove slapped her on the shoulder. Claire glanced up and saw the three attacking fighters in a tight V firing all their weapons at her. It was too late to manoeuvre.

“Holy Cra-”

“Hold on Doolz.” Jonathon chimed in. “I’m on it!”
Her scopes showed his Nautilus moving at full speed towards her. She knew he wouldn’t make it in time. She closed her eyes and prepared for the worse. Was this how it was supposed to end? She felt Snellgrove’s gloved hand on her shoulder.

“Look!”
As she opened her eyes she saw the lead 901 erupt and the two wingmen peal off to port as another Nautilus cut through the burning wreckage.

“Eldon? Doolan? You both owe me one.” Pentlow’s mocking tone cut across the radio.
“Thanks Matt.” She heard herself say.

“Why did it have to be Pentlow? Anyone but Pentlow.” She thought. He would never let her forget it or that she owed him one, but she was glad to still be alive.

“Anytime Blue one. I’ll be in the bar from seven bells, you can buy me a drink.”
She nodded. “Understood.”

“Cut the chit Chat, this is not a dating agency.” Molders’ voice cut in. “51^st pull back and get ready for a second wave of attacks.”
Doolan adjusted course for the Valkerie and finally relaxed. The muscles in her shoulders ached with fatigue and strain.

“Good job today sir.” Snellgrove turned to look forward again.
“You too.” Claire looked up into the rear view mirror at the bright eyed young woman behind her.

Charlotte stormed into cartography and kicked the empty  wastepaper basket across the room. The cavernous map room was empty of personnel and its information terminals flickered on standby. What was the point in being on duty here? She had been doing a good job on the bridge and that idiot Harkins had thrown her back into this dungeon. It was typical. How dare she be treated this way! She had been top of her class, formulated an intricate and ground breaking study, even aced the command simulations and here she was on duty in an empty room in case someone needed a map reference. Her hands shook with rage as she paced. There had to be a way out of this oubliette and to greater things.

“Charlotte?” A familiar voice cut through her rage and made her heart skip that beat again. She turned and Andrew stood before her, concern held his expression in its grip. “Are you ok?

She smiled and held her shaking hands behind her back.
“I’ve had better.” She tried to smile. “Nothing a free rein with a big stick wouldn’t solve.”
“I saw the bin paying for its crimes.” He indicated the bin’s fallen location.
They both laughed and she found herself smiling up at him like a giddy school girl

“Red alert is stood down. Do you fancy grabbing a bite to eat at the officer’s mess?”
He held out his hand in invitation and she found herself taking it without a seconds thought the grin spreading further across her face.

Teuber looked out from the storm drain at the humans as they carried out their daily business and mopped up from the incursion. His party had taken cover not long after hitting the surface. His orders, as the senior officer and of the Guards was to establish the landing field.

“Sir. Our estimations put us four clicks from our objective.” His Obst reported.

Teuber looked at the map and the sewer schematics. “Numbers?”
“Twenty  four of us with the 28^th and 17^th on their way. Say 300 within striking distance. As ordered most are laying low and preparing diversions.”
Teuber knew that the human military would be looking fo them and had dissipated sacrificial diversions and raids, small scale strikes on power stations, small military facilities and hit and fade raids on the residential areas. He hoped that the Shik’lar would be so busy bush fire fighting that they would be unable to mount a coordinated search before and his men could strike.

He straightened his immaculate field grey jacket and looked around his surroundings- hardly fitting for the commanding officer of the Parliamentary Guards. He thought of his luxurious billet back on Temhoff, a comfortable bed, a copy of “Thoughts on Polity”, his favourite political journal and his feet would be dry. But here… He couldn’t even remember why he had volunteered to lead his regiment out here. He wondered how Gassner, his batman was doing, he had last seen him on the deck before embarkation.

“What are our orders Sir?”

Teuber turned to face the Obst, he could see fervour and eagerness. Teuber knew that most of his men fully believed the indoctrination of the Gefuht and the regimented religious crusade they found themselves on. He was from a formerly aristocratic family that had held office in the senate during the great war against the Vietso, before the defeats, before He came to power. During the great revolt his family lost everything save for their good name and wr records. Now all at home were caught up - one way or the other in this war of religious superiority- these humans were afterall Shik-lar, like the Vietso before them, placed by the God Crayma to defend the Shi’lar race as they fled the righteous. Teuber had been questioning his purpose for a long time, he had seen the carnage on the snowfields against the Vietso, had seen religiously charged officers throwing more and more men against armoured positions telling them the righteous would be victorious, had seen them all die. He had sworn that he would just do his job as a soldier and not let religion cloud his mind or judgement. He would bring as many of his men back as he could.
“We wait for the others and strike at first light.”