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.”

Defiance Chapter Two

Chapter 2

Charlotte had been on board Valkerie for four hours and already it was becoming a nightmare. Lieutenant Commander Harkins' had irritated her within three minutes of meeting her. He had lined up the new navigational officers and inspected them, he had assigned the two attractive women the glamorous bridge position, the two men were sent to rest break and she had been lumbered with recalibrating the navigational array. It had taken her two hours to locate the damn thing and a further hour to clear out all the faulty readings.

She had now been detailed to report to stellar cartography to aid the ship's helm officer to familiarise themselves with the area of space in the Oberon sector. That had been an hour ago and she was still wandering the ship, rage had overtaken her and coursed through her as she balled her fists at her side.

The corridors were large and spacious, bigger than the box like cabin she had been assigned, and practically empty. She stormed around the corner straight through two officers. She noticed they were wearing the blue-grey uniforms of the fleet air arm with yellow patches denoting them as fighter pilots.

"Wow... Sorry miss." The first pilot said defensively taking a step back and raising his hands. He was a bit taller than her with short read hair, a playful smile spread across his lips. Was he mocking her?

"Excuse me." She said quickly in an acidic tone, she turned her gaze to the floor and started to power off down the corridor.

"Wonder where the fire is?" The blonde female pilot half laughed.

The laugh tore through Charlotte like a razor blade, she could feel herself shaking with rage and it was all she could do to stop herself from exploding.

"Bite me." She muttered as she continued her journey to nowhere.

Why did all these corridors look the same? Why did the directions seem to lead in circles? Who did those two space jocks think they were?

She had already made up her mind to put in a transfer to the Hercules as soon as her shift had ended. She rounded a corner and there it was; stellar cartography. Exhilaration and relief washed over her calming the heat of her anger like a rain shower on a hot summer’s day. She almost skipped up to the door.

The room was spacious with a giant holosphere in the centre surrounded with shelves of maps and info cds around the walls. A tanned and athletic looking officer was reviewing a set of charts. "He must be the helmsman." She thought.

She hurried to his side and snapped to attention and saluted.

"First lieutenant Charlotte Bell reporting sir."

The man didn't look up. "You're late." His voice was soft and calming.

"Sorry sir. I'm new aboard and managed to get completely lost."

He looked up and smiled, white ivory teeth glinted in the spotlight, shrouded in a perfect smile, his hazel eyes seemed to generate light as they danced hypnotically.

Charlotte felt her heart skip a beat, and then begin to melt. He was one of the - No- the most beautiful men she had ever seen. She had read and dreamt about love at first sight but had rationally told herself that it wasn't possible. No man she had ever met before had generated such a spark within her. She had had crushes before and once a fellow cadet, Jack, had told her he loved her and that he wanted to give up everything for her and wanted to bring her nothing but happiness but he had lied to her. She remembered the day she discovered the truth, something that had destroyed her youth and naivety, the day she met his wife. The pain had been too great for her to take and she almost gave up everything she had worked so hard for and returned home to her mother in tears had it not been for Amy consoling her. Then one night she had an epiphany, a blinding light in the darkness of her hurt. She would never allow this to happen again, she had bared her soul and offered her heart willingly to someone and it had been torn apart before her eyes. From that day onwards she had thrown up a defensive barrier between herself and the rest of the world except for Amy, it often left her isolated and aloof from the other cadets but she no longer cared what they thought, she was there to do her job and to be the best and that was what she would do. Jack had promised to leave his wife for her but she could no longer face him feeling the way she did, torn between wanting to throw her arms around him and ripping him to shreds so she slowly cut him loose from her inner circle. The whole experience had left her cold and hostile to any future advances by potential suitors. But something deep inside her melted under the hazel eyes.

"Don't worry." he smiled "Now... let’s look at the charts shall we?"

*** 

Stacey replaced the rifle into the sergeant’s hands, noting that his jaw was on the floor as he surveyed the fallen targets, each with a smoking “Bull’s eye.”
“I can do it again if you’d like sir?” She offered genuinely.
When she had arrived at the recruitment centre the Sergeant had near enough laughed in her face, she could see in his eyes that he held her in contempt as if a woman could not serve the army in a combat role. He was a giant bull of a man with a neck the thickness of her leg and thick black sunglasses that hid his expression. His uniform was tight across a muscular frame and he towered over her trying to intimidate her with pure masculinity. She had seen this before, in the mines. I t hadn’t worked there and it wouldn’t work now.

“What can you offer us?” He had asked in a condescending way. He had almost laughed at her when she told him in deadpan that she could shoot a rifle better than any of his recruits and that she could carry a kit bag further and longer. The man had grinned at her and talked to her like she was a child, taking her out to an improvised shooting range at the back of the building and handed her the rifle.

“This is my rifle civilian. You will treat with respect and I will treat you with respect.”

She had dropped to one knee and taken careful aim, feeling the wood against her and her eyes quickly getting used to the sights, she felt the rifle become a natural extension of herself and her mind cleared, all there was was her and the target. She held her breath and pulled the trigger. Within moments she pulled herself back to the real world and saw the targets all struck.

"Sergeant?" She prompted. "Do I get in?"

The man mumbled something inaudible, his eyes still fixed on the targets.

"Sir?"

Something seemed to wash over the Sergeant and he snapped to attention as his military mode overtook his temporary speechlessness.

"Congratulations Recruit." He adopted his drill sergeant voice and thrust the rifle at her and pointed back at the grey concrete building. "This is your rifle now. Get inside and see Corperal Davis, he will kit you out and assign you to your unit. Understood?"

She took the rifle, holding it with reverance, she felt a glow deep inside her rising at the man's acceptance of her.

"Yes sir!"

She glanced over her shoulder as she entered the building and saw the Sergeant remove his hat and glasses to stare at the targets, he still looked shocked but a smile of approval was growing on his face.

*** 

Jonathon and Claire moved into the main docking bay amongst a sea of other pilots. The entire 51st fighter division had somehow squeezed into the space and were all talking at once. The loud din filled their ears as it roared and echoed all around them. Jonathon noticed that Claire had slipped her hand into his and gently squeezed. He told himself it was so they wouldn't get separated.

There were officers shouting from raised platforms and waving signs, their voices lost in the sea of noise. He turned to look at Claire and smiled, her eyes betrayed fear as she looked around.

"Don't worry." he mouthed, gently shaking his head.

She looked straight at him and smiled her usual enchanting smile and winked her left eye. "Ok."

An officer grabbed Jonathon's left shoulder and roughly turned him around. "Unit?" he barked.

"Fourteenth." Jonathon snapped reflexively.

A look of disgust briefly crossed his face, "Training? You want Campion...Over by the fuel barrels."

With a rough gesture the officer disappeared into the crowd. Jonathon threw Claire a quick glance and she shrugged.

Both began scanning the sea of Blue-grey uniforms and finally managed to see a glint of yellow that hopefully was a fuel barrel. Claire's grip tightened on his left hand as they advanced through the pressing crowd, gently barging other pilots and rebuffing their shoves. All the time trying to maintain a course for the barrels and all the time Claire's grip never faltered. Only once was their umbilical cord almost broken but Jonathon had turned around and pushed the offending pilot aside.

"Excuse us." he said, false anger rose in his eyes as the two men briefly stared each other down.

"Sorry lieutenant." the man eventually conceded before disappearing with the crowd. Claire gave his hand an appreciative squeeze and shot him a smile.

He began to push forward again and soon the fuel barrels were in clear sight. A tall blonde officer paced up and down, a board with the number 14 lay next to him. He had obviously become tired of shouting and had decided to wait instead.

Jonathon pulled Claire forward and pushed her up first, they both halted in front of their new commander.

"Lieutenants Doolan and Eldon reporting sir." Claire quickly saluted.

The officer looked up contemptuously, briefly noting they were still holding hands.

"You...Doolan. You're the first cadet here. You are now in charge of flight two. You Eldon, you are her second. Don't drop the ball." his voice was curt and no nonsense. Something told Jonathon this was going to be a tough assignment.

"Now stop holding hands like frightened children and sit over there."

They quickly released each other and went over to the corner Campion had indicated and perched on a barrel. Claire looked around nervously at the throng in the docking bay.

"So promotion already." Jonathon smiled, playfully punching her on the arm, her brow was furrowed and she looked far away, as if mulling over a great issue. "Doolz?"

"Hmmm?" She quickly turned back to reality and smiled at him. "We're what now?"

"What's up mate?" He was concerned. She was always bright and attentive; it wasn't like her to zone out.

"Nothing." She smiled, "I'm five by five. Just waiting for this to end. I don't like the crowds."

"I know." he smiled and patted her knee. "It'll be over soon."

Time seemed to trudge on slowly and still the crowds and noise didn't subside, one by one new people arrived, bright eyed and terrified. They all sat on the floor cross legged like frightened children. No one spoke. Campion continued to pace, his expression of anger still frozen onto his icy face. Jonathon tried to read into his new commander but got nothing. There was no betrayal of emotion, save for anger, nor outlook ore even general demeanour just a blank angry slate.

Claire sat motionless next to him, almost in a daze. He had seen her like this once before but that was a long time ago, back on the first day at the academy.

She had been frozen at the back of the sign up hall, overwhelmed by the throng of new sights and sounds. Seeing her alone, an island in a sea of pushing and shoving cadets he had gone over to introduce himself to her and see if she was alright. He had talked inanely to the petite pretty blonde woman for a while whilst she silently watched the crowd move around them. Presently she muttered an apology and disappeared into the mass leaving him alone again.

“Always had a way with the ladies.” he had thought to himself.

He had been surprised to find her back in his dorm room sat on the end of one of the bunks staring into her hands.

"How did you find me?" she looked up at him in shock. He had thought about it a lot afterwards, it may have seemed like he was a crazy stalker that had latched onto the pretty blonde girl and followed her back to her room.

"This is my room." he had said defensively moving over and flopping down on the bunk he had already picked out as his.

"Do you mind if I put some music on?"

"What do you have?" Her eyes had lit up and she had moved over to his collection.

That had been the opening of the flood gates and the start of something amazing. Wherever he was - Claire was. Wherever Claire was partying he was buying the drinks. If he was working late she made the coffee; if she was on disciplinary he would serve the punishment with her, whether he deserved it or not.

The Lecturers and officers always paired them up; they had given up trying to separate them and accepted them as a single entity. Major Braxham had assigned them to different flights once but to his surprise twenty four hours later, through a complicated system of favours and swaps they had got back together. The Major had forbidden them from working on the same courses but they both pulled double the work and Jonathon did the same course work as her and vice versa so they could help each other. Eventually Braxham just gave up and they just got on and did things they way they always had. At their graduation he had pulled them aside and gloated.

"Now you two... You're finally on your own; let’s see how well you can cope."

But he had underestimated Claire. She had managed to swap and transfer the same day so they could cling on one more time.

He reached out and slid his hand over hers. She looked up and smiled at him, her eyes regaining their sparkle.

People had often intimated that they were actually a couple and that sharing a dorm was a cover for sharing a bed. His friend Mark had been deeply surprised when he had fallen for Lucy.

"What about Claire?" he had asked.

Jonathon had just smiled and shook his head. They had been close but never more than that. There was no reason why he had never fallen for her and on more than one occasion he had thought that he would like to meet a woman like Claire or that something would develop between them but there had never been a spark or developed, she had never shown similar feelings and they had existed in a quasi brother-sister relationship.

"Right!" Campion's voice ripped through his reminiscence "Let's go training Squadron. You Doolan pick three pilots and fall in. Jackson, Flately do the same."

Claire leapt to her feet and looked around, settling on two faces at random, she pointed at them and said firmly. "You and you come with me."

One of the other officers touched Jonathon's shoulder. He looked at the dark-haired woman in front of him slightly quizzically.

"You like you can handle yourself." She observed with a  wink. "Why don't you come with me?"

Jonathon turned to face her and was about to apologise when Claire pushed in-between them and put a testing finger on the others shoulder. Her eyes glowered and her voice sounded different.

"Back off! He's spoken for." came an ice maiden's voice frozen tone from Claire.

"I don't see your name on him. He's free to choose." The other protested weakly.

"No he isn't and he's mine. His tag is under his uniform." Claire, despite her small stature had puffed herself up and spoke with such venom as to be as imposing as she could. It was a sight rarely seen by anyone; in fact Jonathon hadn't seen her like this since she had confronted Lucy in the academy cafeteria.

 Lucy had been making light of Jonathon's admission of love for her to her sister and Claire had heard. Her face had flushed red and her eyes seemed to glow with rage as she quietly got to her feet and strode towards the blonde twins. In a calm but venom laced voice she had told her in no uncertain terms that;

"If you pulled your head out of your arse for one minute you would see that Jonathon Eldon is a fantastic man and any woman would be lucky to have him."

Lucy had retorted successfully silencing Claire. Jonathon had never found out what was said but it had taken the wind out of Claire's sails and she had backed down and quietly walked out of the Cafeteria.

The other officer backed away from Claire's accusing finger, her hands up defensively. "Alright if you want him so bad.”

Claire shot him a smile and a wink before they moved off with the rest of the squadron as they filed off towards the briefing rooms.

***

The second salamander exploded. Jenkins looked over her shoulder and saw the remnants of Adeogan's craft burning and flash freezing.

"Damn it Holman keep closer or we've both had it/"

The target, a N'kell cruiser filled her cockpit glazing as she careened towards it. Her targeting computer had selected the main shield generator, she was waiting for the range meter to hit optimum but it was taking an eternity.

She was still confused as to where the N'kell had come from; this was supposed to be Oaten's fleet at the rendezvous.

Green light!

"Payload released." She squeezed the fire control and four medium rockets blazed away from her wings.

"Holman target their bridge.... Holman?"

There was no response, and as a reflexive glance she saw his fighter had gone to.

"Frick!"

Her hands tightened around the control stick and she pulled out of the attack dive and back into the swirling maelstrom of fighters.

"Black group report in?"

"Here sir." Gibson chimed in.

"Kinda busy Jinx but here." Sams sounded combat fatigued but Jenkins knew he operated best in those circumstances.

She was glad her new wingman had never reported for duty, a cadet would have been slaughtered no matter how good she was supposed to be.

"Ok Ace of spade wing... Numbers?"

The whole fighter group tried to report into her as they whirled and danced with the N'kell 901 fighters. To her horror and grudging respect she had seen a squadron of the heavier 904 "destroyer" fighters marked with black triangle markings of the N'kell 97th. She had fought them before aboard the Olympia. Their commander Mahltz was a cunning and ruthless individual who knew how to coordinate his group effectively. Jenkins had met him personally once - through the bars of the brig, there had been a meeting of minds and comradeship and eventually she had let him go when she had heard he was to be executed for crimes committed by his senior officer just because he was a N'kell. It was times like this though that she had wished she hadn't. Seeing those black triangles always filled her with dread and she knew she would be losing her men... her friends that day.

There was an explosion to her port and the Hercules began to break up. Jenkins locked her jaw as she thought of her captain, crew and friends suddenly perishing in the fiery instant. She could see the other great ships of the line trying to break formation and flee. Proud names like Ramillies, Plassey and Mongelheda tried to turn on their axis and escape the carnage like frightened children. With Admiral Stimson gone it was understandable, the captains didn't know what to do and with no voice to coordinate them chaos ensued as they tried to save the lives of their crew and their vessels.

She saw the trap as it sprang. Why had she not seen the signs before? The port flank had been far too quiet and her sensors had been clear. All signs pointed to a sensor shroud. Out of the manufactured blackness they came, like creatures spawning from a nightmare the N'kell fleet descended in vast numbers, their pulse cannons firing.

"53rd BREAK!" she screamed. "Stay away from their capital ships..," she was cut off by an explosion on her starboard wing. A 904 with a red tail fin cruised past her.

"Mahltz..." She whispered.

Accelerating her craft she moved to pursue. They had agreed all those years ago to settle their score, it had been at one a piece and now she world get the best of three.

"Everyone leave my target. He's mine." She would have no one else claim this scalp.

The N'kell weaved through the swirling maelstrom of dog fights, individual battles locked away in concentration from the big battles. Every time she got a lock on him and fractionally squeezed the trigger he would wave slightly and she would lose the lock. He was toying with her. She pictured his smug face taunting her and her blood ran like lava through her veins.

Then suddenly his fighter dived away and span off to port. Not expecting it Jenkins struggled to turn in time and locate him.

"Jinx... I've got one on my tail! I can’t shake him..." Sams’ voice echoed in her ears.

"Calm down black four." She bit back. She scanned space for her stricken friend finally seeing the burning fighter being pursued by... "Oh no." She cursed.

"I've lost starboard thrust... I can't evade... Jinx...JINX!"

Another star erupted in the darkness of the sky. For a brief moment her friend and colleague joined the eternal number of bright spots.

Mahltz broke from the combat and withdrew towards the safety of the N'kell flagship screened by a new wave of reinforcements.

She bit back a curse and a tear filled her eye. Regaining composure she toggled comms.

"All right guys... we... let’s get out of here. Withdrawal pattern alpha to the nearest cap ship..."

She gave a quick scan and saw the Messiah, Heretic and Valiance were on fire. The destroyer Phobos had nearly reached a safe distance, she was small enough to be missed by the N'kell ships.

"Flight controller Phobos we will cover and join you over?"

"Affirmative a fighter screen is more than welcome."

Jenkins looked at the great cloud of N'kell fighters swarming like angry locusts on the last human ship.

"We have to get to you first." She muttered.

***

Aboard the N'kell cruiser Bloodletter, Keister watched the single human vessel and the last of the human fighters trying to flee.

"We're in position now sir." Sperrle his aid croaked.

"Let them go commander." He waved a hand dismissively. "They can report what they have seen."

"But sir!" Sperrle hissed with rage.

"They are of no threat to us." Keister Mused "The fear they can carry will spread through their lines. We shall strike in 72 hours."

Sperrle nodded in eager agreement. "Yes Admiral."

Keister regarded his juniors’ enthusiasm fuelled with religious fervour.

"Have Mahltz sent to me and all three of us shall prepare for the invasion."

Serialisation of "Defiance" Chapter 1

The four Salamander fighters roared overhead in a low pass saluting the recent graduates. The freshly promoted second lieutenant Jonathon Eldon looked up at them. His heart leapt with pride and excitement. Clutching his dispatch papers and graduation roll he began to relive the same day dreams that had got him through the bad times here at the academy and a spur for the endless testing. Being a fighter pilot in the "Service" had been his dream and ambition since he was a small youth growing up on the Agri world of Rowlatt, staring up at the blue sky on a warm summer’s day dreaming of dog fights and medals.
"Hey John!" A familiar voice cut into his reality. Looking across the "Quadrangle" he saw her walking towards him.
Lieutenant Claire Doolan, his bunk mate smiled as she drew near. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sun light with a youthful playfulness. They had been billeted together for three years now and had become nigh on inseparable, she was always on his wing.
"Did you get your orders Freya?"
Freya was her pet name for him; she said that he snored like the sounds of a dying Freya night beast. He never quite believed her, nor knew how she knew what a dying night beast sounded like but had grown to like the name.
"Yes indeed. 51st." He smiled broadly "Stationed on the Valkerie. What did you get?"
"53rd, Ace of Spades on the Hercules. I'm shipping out in two hours." She shifted her eyes down to the grass below.
A wave of shock washed over him. He and Claire had been friends for so long and been such a major part of each other’s lives that he couldn't imagine being separate from her.
"That was fast." He managed to murmur. All thought of glory and achievement lost under the dark waves of loss and regret.
"Yeah I know." She tried to manage a half smile. "Something about fleet movement into the Oberon Sector and needing the best pilot for the job!"
"Then surely..." he began but stopped, looking her straight in the eye he smiled "They have chosen well."
She punched his arm lightly "Don't get all mushy on me Freya."
They grew silent and started walking to the dorm. "Are you all packed?" His voice was tight and lacked its usual light heartedness.
"I don't think in the three years I've been here I've unpacked everything." She said wistfully, "Anyway, all that crap in the dorm is yours!"
They laughed again and he put an arm around her shoulder.
"I'm going to miss you Doolz."
Her step faltered and her eyes rolled up to meet his, a touch of remorse nagged her features.
"Going to miss you too Freya." She half whispered.

***

Charlotte sat on the end of her bed, her kit bag at her feet. How could her entire life be fitted into such a small bag? The room lay bear save for a book left casually in the middle of her bunk.
The Room's emptiness seemed to resonate around her and permeate her soul. Amy, her roommate and best friend had shipped out that morning. She had been second top of her class and received promotion to the cruiser Hercules. It was a prestigious assignment. Second Navigational officer on the Command ship of the Zosen sector.
Charlotte hadn't wanted to see her go. Where ever there were pranks her and Amy had started it. Where ever there was a party her and Amy had planned, publicised and starred in it. Amy was the brash out going one, Charlotte the insular studious one but when she was with Amy she had become a mirror of her charismatic nature and was one of the twin stars at the centre of their own galaxy.
Her three years here had been a rollercoaster ride of dizzying highs and crushing lows. She had fought and won the title of "Top of the class" and majored in Astro navigation with a ground breaking study on Quagor Nebulonic formations. A theory so complicated she had managed to dazzle her lecturers with guess work and supposition.
A brief smile played across her lips as she remembered Doctor Cubb's face as she argued the point he was making failed to stand up to the laws of physics and then proceeded to explain to the aging professor, who had dedicated his life to the study of this field, that the basis of his ideas was:
    A) Dated and flawed by current research, and;
 B) If the "Presumptions" were followed by a crew in the field they would all end up dead.
To her surprise he agreed -to an extent- before sending her to report to the head of the department.
She fidgeted, pushing her light brown hair behind her ears and scooped up her muster sheet again. There was no need to read it, she had read it four times, had committed it to memory but found solace in reading it one last time.
"1st Lieutenant Charlotte. M. Bell Navigational officer first class - Report to chief navigator Harkins aboard Valkerie in 48 hours (0900 27-4)
Shuttle 0745 departs Rantru academy 16.00 25-4"
Short but simple. She glanced at her watch. 14:55. With a sigh she stood up and scooped up her bag and book. How could her life feel so light?
Approaching the door she turned to take one last glance around at the gunboat grey walls and metal bunks. She could hear her and Amy laughing; the sound resonated and seemed to escape from the walls. She smiled gently. The room had been so full of life now lay in state.
"Good bye Room." Her voice was soft and tinged with remorse.
Forcing another smile she flicked the light switch plunging the room into darkness, save for the white glow of the door, which slowly faded to black as she closed it.
One chapter ends, however much you loved it, another begins.

***

Admiral Stimson regarded the star maps on the situation report table. He would get the glory he knew he deserved. Those fools in central command had overlooked a golden opportunity. Since the human Empire had reached N'kell space they had stopped. The original exploration vessel that had opened up the way to the Galactic core had returned with comprehensive intelligence reports and many encounters.
Captain Bond had engaged the same flotilla of craft time and time again but had never been defeated. This alien "Menace" was obviously a paper tiger and not worth worrying about. Stimson looked at the Zoden gap. His superiors had worried their heads over this patch of space and millions of credits had been diverted to planetary defences but the answer was more simple than that. A battle group under the more than capable Vice Admiral Oaten would smash through the door and the whole rotten structure would collapse.
Oaten's fleet was the most powerful reconnaissance force put together, mainly from the Zosen defence force. Twenty heavy cruisers with the cream of the navy and fighter force all led by the flagship Vengeful.
The N'kell didn't stand a chance.
A second fleet to be led by Stimson would follow up and mop up survivors. The rewards for Oaten and himself by a grateful Parliament and Emperor would be far reaching. Glory and wealth would be his forever and the Human Empire would move another step towards greatness.

***

Zosen IV was a hive of activity. The colony on this far flung, temperate world had been founded five years previously and had rapidly increased in size. Settlers from all over the Empire had been drawn to the rich mineral deposits and the endless employment in the defence factories. The Admiralty required a constant stream of warships, star fighters, and a defence force garrison. The population had grown from the first few thousand settlers who had emerged from the seeding ships to forty million in just five years.
Unlike so many other worlds forcibly settled by Parliament, Zosen IV had a rich wealth of minerals and a good temperate climate and no surprises. The memory of Partolli II was still fresh in the mind of every Galactic Scout and colonist. The planet scans showed a similar template as Alpha prime and rich in minerals with fertile soil. Four nights into the colonies existence all nine thousand settlers were killed, as was the battalion of soldiers sent to investigate. It was a month before the next military vessel passed by and landed more troops. Lieutenant Herrick, the sole survivor reported to his Captain that nocturnal Ogre like creatures rose from the caves and culled everyone.
Luckily for the millions on Zosen nothing like that existed here.
At eighteen years old Stacey Nash had already seen much of the Galaxy. Her father had been assigned as a navigator on a civilian Survey ship and had taken his family with him. Stacey had seen the birth of a star, looked into the eternal darkness of a black hole and the deep purple haze of a Quagor Nebula. Life on the "Aurora" had been educational and an experience that had moulded her view of the galaxy.
Now... Now she was stuck here. Her mother had died four years previously and her father had deteriorate and almost penniless took the emperor's golden credit and became a miner on Zone. After the accident that had left his left side paralysed she had taken a job as a pit worker too. Two years of scratching a living from rock and taking care of her two younger brothers had left her with a wistful melancholy but with a chipper sense of humour. She had learnt to swing a pick and operate heavy machinery quickly and to defend herself from the advances of the other miners even quicker. More than one man had reported to the infirmary with a broken jaw or arm and the whisper "Leave Stacey Nash" ran quickly through them. She loved the respect she had earned but it came at a price, people were often too scared of her and she was often treated as a pariah by most. Her only real friends were Eddie and George, two other pit workers from the same watch. George was like a surrogate father who constantly looked out for her where as Eddie was a young lad, a newbie. She' saved him from a fight two years previous and since then they'd become inseparable.
It had been another gruelling day in the mines. The government had upped the quota of ore required, they were obviously gearing up for something and the supervisors were taking it out on the workers. Stacey and Eddie were walking down the escalator to the habitation sector. The sound of martial music carried across the crisp cool morning air. Stacey strained her eyes in the direction it came from. From their lofty vantage point she could see the columns of figures marching along the main street. Green helmets bobbed like a sea whilst silver plates glinted and sparkled in the sun.
"Looks like a parade." Eddie said incredulously
"Well Yeah..." Her dry sense of humour often relied on Eddie's stupid comments and was rarely left wanting.
"Do you want to take a closer look?"
She didn't even have to answer, this was excitement and standing in the darkness all day carving out chunks of rock was an occupation that needed any form of excitement
The hurried down the hill and into the shanty town of grotty prefabs, lean-to's and unsanitary tenements that lived under the grandiose name of habitation sector. Jumping a burst sewer main and its stinking discharge they picked their way through the slime towards the merchant sector and the aortic road that was the "Main Street."
Stacey had become accustomed to this place. She hated it and yearned to leave but the sights, sounds and smells had long been engrained in her mind and she had acclimatised.
Eddie still curled his nose in disgust at the effluent that flowed down the street and tried to avoid stepping in slime. His attitude would change but Stacey hoped that would take a long time, when others had lost their standards and embraced their lot they had lost a part of themselves.
They crossed the rusting bridge into the "Merchant sector" and walked down the dark ally into the cheering crowd.
Through the mass of citizens Stacey could make out the soldiers of the fourth Zosen light infantry, their pulse rifles held to the port, the regimental band playing with a jaunty number that kept everyone in step behind the red regimental standard. Behind the column of men came the APCs and light tanks. Their engines roared a throaty cough as they rolled down the black tarmac streets.
It was an impressive sight especially for the civilians who rarely saw such a spectacle.
"Fools" a familiar voice filled her ears. George stepped out of one of the doorways and up to her and Eddie.
“Come on George they’re the shield of the Empire.” Eddie scoffed
“They’re dead men walking.” His voice was as cold and crisp as the morning air. “I’ve fought the N’kell boy, they are ruthless and efficient killers bent on one thing- the annihilation of the enemy. When their Admiralty has finished wiping these boys out they will come for us here.”
“Do you really think so George?” Stacey half smiled as she tried to make light of the dark prediction.
“No” Eddie pointed at the proud looking infantry column “They’ll deal with them easily.”
George shook his head, his eyes fixed on the troops. “Their high command has known this day was coming and have prepared for any incursion by us. Then once our shield is cut off they’ll stab deep into our heart.”
Stacey’s blood ran cold. What if George was right?
“You mark my words… Death will come to us all if they cross the border.”

***

Jonathon looked around the small cabin he had been assigned. The shuttle had basic accommodation for the long haul to the rendezvous point. He yawned and ran his hand over his freshly shaved face. It had been a long day and he still had a long journey left. The duty officer had said that there was no reason to wander the ship and he might as well get some sleep. A notion Jonathon was warming too.
He moved over and sat on the small cot and looked over at the empty bunk opposite. The roster showed that the vessel was filled to capacity and yet for some reason this cabin only housed him. Still not always a bad thing. After the calm and friendship of living with Doolan for three years he was dreading a new room mate who would throw his life into chaos.
He reached into his bag and pulled out an old photo, its reflective surface caught the light and briefly dazzled him. He smiled at the familiar faced that glowed back at him.
The photograph was two years old, taken on Valentines day at the campus bar with his dorm mates, all hopeful and eager young fighter pilots. At the centre of the picture was Mark, one of his best friends and the nominal leader of the group, a broad smile lit up his face as he held two thumbs up. Flanking him were the twins Sarah and Lucy, their matching smiles highlighted their natural beauty, their long blonde hair, let down for the casual occasion, cascaded down their backs and over their shoulders.
Sarah was looking at Mark, secretly she had always had a crush on him, something secret and special but never quite realised.
To Lucy's right was Jonathon, he looked younger to his eyes, it seemed an eternity since that time but he still remembered that night. Slow dancing with Lucy, their eyes locked on each other, the smell of her perfume filling his nostrils, he hadn't been able to feel the floor beneath his feet, nor remembered anyone else there, just the two of them. Behind him stood Doolan, she had her arm wrapped around his waist and smiled broadly; a glass of champagne in her right hand, her gaze was a side glance at him. He remembered she had got really drunk that night
and he had carried her back to the dorm and put her into her bed. She had cried the whole way home but wouldn't say why.
He smiled briefly and put the photo on the wall next to his pillow.
The memories of the pas and the good times kept him sane, this one photo had had seen him through many bad times. Just looking at Lucy and the others made his heart swell and the love he had for her would always be with him.
He laid back onto the bed and closed his eyes, the thin mattress stabbed him with every spring in the back but it didn’t matter, it was a bed and fatigue was finally washing over him. He was slowly sinking below the waves into blackness when the door opened and the clomp-clomp of boots on metal floor plating caught his attention. A burst of adrenaline coursed through his arteries and he sat up with a start as if doused in cold water.
"Calm down Freya, its only me." A familiar voice filled his ears as his eye sight cleared. Doolan was sat on the empty bed looking at him, her bag tossed casually on the floor. Jonathon creased his brow as he tried to comprehend what was she doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be heading for the Hercules? This had to be a dream.
"No you aren't dreaming." She half laughed.
His brow furrowed deeper. "Hercules?" He croaked "53rd?"
She shrugged and looked away briefly before her grey eyes rolled up to meet his. "Didn't fancy it."
She let out a ripple of laughter and unbuttoned her jacket revealing the white shirt and loosened her black tie.
"But the ace of spades?" He was stll mumrmering.
"I hear the 51st is the place to be."  she smiled, "So I transferred."
"But Doolz."
She waved a hand dismivily. "Look Freya, you need me on your wing, and I trust no one else to cover me if i slip up."
He smiled warmly at her, he was glad that she was with him, he'd not been able to imagine life in the force without her, they had been together through thick and thin and she was right, he would rather have her on his wing than a thousand other pilots.
"Any way its all ratified now so there's no point arguing." She continued. "I see you've put the picture up." She nodded in the direction of the group portrait. "I hated that night." Her voice filled with bile.
"I'm surprised you remember that night at all, I've never seen you so drunk!"
Claire didn't respond, just stared blankly into open space. Jonathon watched her intently trying to read her thoughts but to no avail.
"You've never told me what was up?"
She nodded silently.
"Two years Doolz, we've told each other everything. You helped me struggle with my feelings for Lucy, I was there when your father died. We told each other everything which is wy we are a good team. But you've never talked of that night, what happened?"
"It was a long time ago." She said looking down at her boots. "I don't even remember."
Her voice was strained and laboured. He knew she was lying but knew her well enough not to push the issue. He was just glad to see her and have her in his squadron.
"Is there anyone else going to the 51st?" he tried to change the subject.
"Only Pentlow." She brought her head back up.
"Pentlow." He scoffed.
Matt Pentlow had bee one of the top fighter pilot trainees in the class. He had carried himself with a confident arrogance and had always been a bit of a nemesis for him. He had hoped he had seen the back of him at the fraduation.
"It'll be fine Jonathon." She smiled. "No point worrying." She removed her jacket and finally took her tie off before loosening her coller. light glinted from the silver chain around her neck. "Any way I'm going to get some shut eye." She said as she flicked the silver cruicifix out from under her coller.
"Ok Doolz." he smiled.
"Lights." She said out loud, the sensors caught her voice and the light level dimmed to near blackness. Jonathon laid back onto his painful matress.
"Hey Doolz?" Glad you're here." he said.
"Freya?" Her voice filled the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"Try not to snore. ok?"

***

The human fleet burned and continued to break up. Keister looked at the devestation his fleet had wrought on the alien incursion. They had been lured further away from their supply lines and then the N'kell had struck. The humans had never expected the "Subs." N'kell scientists had developed a type of vessel able to sit on a dimensional plane below reality but use special weapons to target their real space counterparts.
As yet the humans had yet to develope technology to detect them.
The "Subs" had waited til the human fleet was strung out in pursuit of the bait cruisers and then launched a volley of torpedos into them. The confusion wrought caused as much damage as the volley. Then the main fleet struck out from a sensor shrowd and hit the humans from the opposite flank.
A few elements tried to make a break for freedom but were easilly cut down.
Long range scans and intelligance reports showed that another fleet would arrive in forty eight hours. They would return to their sensor shrowd and await them.
Once the second wave was dealt with they would move on and destroy the Shik'lar.