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.”