Defiance: Defiance, #1

By Jason Krumbine

One hundred years ago they came. We reached out to them with a hand of friendship and they returned the gesture by nearly destroying us all.

After a single encounter with the mysterious alien race identified only as Species 4876, the United Planetary Alliance was nearly decimated. Stopping their lone vessel was almost a hollow victory in the aftermath of the haunting mystery that Species 4876 presented: Where had they come from? Why did they attack us? And most of all, what if they came back?

But they never did.

Today, the threat of Species 4876 is a distant memory, a nearly forgotten footnote in the history books.

Or is it?

On the outer rim, cut off from any backup, ignored by Fleet Admiralty and surrounded by a hostile empire and an interstellar crime syndicate, Captain Mitchell and his crew of the USS Defiance find themselves as the first, and possibly only, defense against an alien menace that the rest of the galaxy has all but forgotten about.

"Firefly" meets "Battlestar Galactica" via "Star Trek" in this addictive, fast-paced military sci-fi adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Krumbine
• Release date: May 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393163404

Jason Krumbine

Jason Krumbine loves to write! He's happily married and lives in Manhattan, NY where he enjoys reading in Central Park, going to movies and discovering new stand-up comedians. You can connect with Jason at either his website, www.jasonkrumbine.com, Facebook, Twitter (@jasonkrumbine) or good ole' fashion email [e-mail]. He's always up for a talk about the newest Star Trek movie or what's happening in the world of comic books and TV. 

Book preview

NOW

STARBASE ATLANTIC

1

Please state your name for the record. The officer, a man in his late thirties with a flat, almost squat face placed his datapad in the center of the table and tapped the screen as he spoke. Immediately the lights lining walls of the small room dimmed as the overhead blue glow grew a little brighter. A circular recording hologram sprang up from the datapad, its center flashing a dull red.

Captain Mitchell paused. He was approaching fifty, his hair mostly gray, although there were still dark streaks running through. His face was covered in a dark five o’clock shadow that didn’t so much as have a hint of gray. He had a square jaw and piercing green eyes that convinced two different women to marry him and also started far too many bar fights. His Alliance Fleet uniform, a silver and black jumpsuit with white piping along the shoulders, zippered pockets at his hips, arms and right breast, was rumpled and the collar was unzipped. The elongated diamond shaped badge on his left breast was scuffed with dirt and scratches that were older than both of the men sitting across from him. That can’t possibly be necessary, he said finally.

The officer on the left, younger, but not by much, looked up from his own datapad with something resembling a frown. If it wasn’t necessary, sir, we wouldn’t ask for it.

Except, we all know who I am, Mitchell said. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now. The two of you, on the other hand, I’m less familiar with. Which one of you is Wright and which was Abrams again?

The squat face officer pointed to the recording datapad. The record, sir.

Mitchell shifted in his seat, a futile attempt to get more comfortable. Right. Because the base’s systems, logging everyone currently present on it, isn’t known to be very accurate.

Neither of the officers responded to the sarcasm.

Mitchell sighed and leaned forward towards the flashing red light on the recording projection in the center of the table. He raised his voice slightly and said, "This is Captain Gavin C Mitchell. Serial number Alpha-Six-Four-Eight-Nine-Thirty-two-Delta. Currently the commanding officer of the USS Defiance. My office is located on deck 4 and my personal quarters are located aft on deck three"

The squat faced officer frowned. You don’t need to do that.

I wanted to make sure it was nice and clear, Mitchell said. "You know, for the record."

The two officers shared a look. It was brief and while Mitchell had never met these two men before, they wore the neatly pressed uniforms of two who didn’t get out into space very often, he knew exactly what the look meant: Neither one of them had much of a sense of humor.

Mitchell leaned forward again and said into the datapad, Also, for the record, across from me are sitting officers Wright and Abrams. I didn’t get any first names or serial numbers. I also can’t remember which one was which. I’m thinking Abrams is the one whose face looks like it got caught in a gravity compressor.

Whereas the Fleet badge that Mitchell wore was the dull gold of command, the men across from him had badges that had a flat, brushed nickel appearance to them. It took Mitchell a second, but eventually, he recognized the badges. Lawyers. They were UPA lawyers.

Sir, the squat man cut him off.

Mitchell looked up at him. Yes.

"Please."

Mitchell sat back and gestured to the datapad. I’m just doing my part for the record.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the small room as the two officers shared another look. Mitchell sat back in his chair and pretended not to notice.

After some silent deliberation between the two of them, it was apparently decided that the officer on the left, Wright, would take the lead. He set his datapad down on the table and quietly cleared his throat.

Captain Mitchell, first off, we’d like to thank you for taking the time to speak with us today.

Mitchell took a deep breath. His chest puffed out momentarily and then he exhaled. Well, anything to help a couple of swell guys like you. I’m not exactly a busy man, anyway. In fact, I find myself with a lot of time on my hands these days. As a captain, my crew doesn’t exactly feel comfortable just talking to me. You know, shooting the breeze. So, being able to sit here with you two and just, you know, talk. He nodded. It’s nice. For the record, that is.

Wright looked at his partner, Abrams and, again, another silent communication past between them, carried across through their blatant expressions. As if to punctuate it, Abrams simply just shrugged.

Wright turned back to Mitchell and pressed his hands together under his nose. Captain Mitchell, I’m concerned there might be some confusion as to why we’ve asked to speak with you this afternoon. I’d like to assure you that this isn’t anything personal.

I should hope not, Mitchell said. Considering I only met the two of you twenty minutes ago. I’ve been told I don’t always make a great first impression, but this would be a new record even for me.

We’re just doing our job, Wright tried to explain. You have a job to do. We have a job to do.

Except that your job seems to be keeping me from my job, Mitchell pointed out.

Well, maybe we wouldn’t keep you so long if you would lay off the attitude, Abrams said, brushing right up against what was considered appropriate conduct with a superior officer.

Well, you know, Mitchell replied, gesturing towards the recorder. I’m just trying to make sure that the record is as accurate as possible. For record keeping purposes.

Wright cleared his throat again and picked up his datapad, trying to steer them back on topic before they both ended up facing court-martial for insubordination. Why don’t we go ahead and just get started.

And where would you like to start? Mitchell asked.

The beginning, Abrams said. Obviously.

Mitchell looked at the younger man for a long moment, wondering if it would help his case or not if he just reached across the table and knocked the officer upside his head.

Well, if you’re looking for the beginning, Mitchell said, with a touch of forced pleasantness. I suppose it started with our course through the Veneer system.

The temperature in the room changed drastically.

Captain, are you aware of the Alliance’s current status with the Veneers? Wright asked.

That’s a rather insulting question, gentlemen, Mitchell replied. I’m a highly decorated officer in the Fleet. I know our status with the Veneer Empire.

We’re at war with them, Wright said.

Technically, we’re currently under a flag of truce, Mitchell said.

A truce that’s been in place for the last one hundred years.

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. Now I’m confused. Are you defending me or trying to ream me out? I have to warn you, though, I still outrank you by a long mile. So if you’re trying to do the latter, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

Wright bristled, fidgeting in his seat. He was clearly a man who focused on the letter of the law. Captain. There was just a hint of frustrated impatience in his tone. Mitchell tried not to smirk at the sound of it. The official policy of the United Planetary Alliance is that no Fleet vessel or UPA aligned ship is to cross the Neutral Zone between us and the Veneers, Wright explained. We haven’t even so much as spoken to anyone from the Veneer Empire in the last one hundred years.

In other words, our flag of truce is kind of on the honor system, Abrams said.

Mitchell nodded. Yes, well, my helmsman knew a shortcut.

THEN

THE USS DEFIANCE

Taking a Shortcut

2

The helm exploded in a shower of sparks and the ship tilted sharply as the bald, orange skinned Natuzzi pilot of the Defiance rapidly worked his fingers across what was left of his station in an attempt to keep the ship from being blasted apart.

Captain! Ensign Calloway had to shout from her station near the rear of the bridge to be heard over the blaring klaxon and the panels exploding across the bridge. They’re still not answering our hails! The ship rattled and Calloway gripped the sides of her console to keep from flying across the bridge. She was a fresh-faced freckled redhead straight out of the academy.

I think they are, Ensign Captain Mitchell replied, gripping the armrests of his command chair. They’re just not doing it in a way that’s going to be great for our long-term health prospects. Mr. Nax-! He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the orange helmsmen banked the ship hard to starboard and then into a sharp barrel. Mitchell could feel the inertial dampers scream as they fought to keep his vessel from being torn apart and judging by the noises the bridge was making, it didn’t sound like they were winning.

Just another minute, sir, I am rather in the middle of something, Lieutenant Commander Kinlin Nax replied, sounding remarkably calm for a man who was likely going to be demoted back to ensign if he didn’t get the ship blown up first.

"Not to sound like a backseat driver, but I’m not entirely certain we have a minute," Mitchell said, glancing at his XO for confirmation.

The statuesque brunette at the science station tried to say something, but when the Defiance rocked violently to port, Commander Hawkins decided her focus would be better spent holding on to her console and making sure she didn’t go flying across the bridge. So she simply just shook her head at her commanding officer.

Mitchell made the mistake of looking back at the viewscreen which was showing real time footage of the Veneer vessels that were chasing them down. The way that Nax kept maneuvering the ship it was like watching them through a violently rolling barrel. Mitchell quickly looked away from the viewscreen, deciding that it wouldn’t do much for his crew’s faith in him if he suddenly vomited.

From the tactical station, a dark haired man with brown eyes and a patchy beard shouted excitedly, Captain, I have a weapons lock on one of the Veneer vessels!

"Do not fire, Mr. Keane," Mitchell snapped at his chief security officer.

But, sir- Keane started to argue.

I’m not looking to add war criminal to my resume, Mitchell cut him off. "We’re trespassing on their front lawn. That doesn’t really give us much of a leg to stand on."

Yes, because getting blown up while looking for a shortcut is definitely what the moral high ground looks like, Hawkins said in a voice just low enough that only the captain could hear.

Mitchell turned to his first officer. Something you want to share with the group, Commander?

There was a squawking chime, almost imperceptible over the blaring klaxon and the sound of his ship almost being blasted apart. The voice that followed the squawking chime was easier to key in on.

Engineering to the bridge! Chief Engineer Jaxson Warrick sounded like he had been inhaling smoke directly from the ion engines. "What the hell is that walking orange peel doing to my engines? They’re screaming like a pair of Qeebvaven water seals strangling to death on a Qryyhq silk thread."

Mitchell opened his mouth to say something, but Nax beat him to it. Oh, come on now, Mr. Warrick, Nax said, pitching the ship into a forward dive to avoid two Veneer fighters that had just appeared in front of them. You assured me that these engines of yours could handle cruising across the event horizon of a black hole.

The Defiance shook violently again under another barrage of fire.

Shields at sixty percent! Keane shouted.

Are we cruising across the bloody event horizon of a black hole? Warrick shot back.

Well, no, not at this particular moment, Nax admitted. But I can’t imagine that it would be any worse than this.

Over the comm there was a loud, high pitched squeal followed by the sound of something exploding. "Listen to me, you oversized walking carrot stick, whatever you’re doing, stop it."

That, Nax said as he spun the Defiance around on a ninety-degree angle, wouldn’t be very advisable at this juncture.

Warrick started cursing up a storm as a new alarm started blaring. That’s the inertial dampeners getting ready to fail. You keep this up and the whole ship is gonna get torn apart like a bloody Vrakkyhz chew toy!

Would that be before or after the engines blow up? Nax asked calmly.

Warrick growled over the intercom. I swear, if we don’t end up as space debris-

Gentlemen, Mitchell finally spoke up, nearly shouting to be heard over the alarms and barrage his ship was under. I can appreciate a difference in opinion over tactical options. But now really isn’t the time to be having this conversation.

Captain, if we don’t get out of whatever it is we’re in, there isn’t going to be another time to have this conversation, Warrick said.

Shield’s at fifty percent! Keane shouted.

Mitchell cut the channel to engineering as the Defiance shook again. He carefully got up from his seat and made it to Nax’s console without being tossed across the bridge. He grabbed the back of his helmsman’s seat for support. Leaning in so that he didn’t have to shout he said, Mr. Nax, I don’t want you to think that I have anything less than a hundred percent faith in your abilities, but I would like to remind you that these supplies aren’t going to do the Carlock Colony any good if they’re scattered across the empty void of space.

I completely understand, sir, Nax replied. To be perfectly honest, I was not anticipating the Veneer’s patrol to be this close to the Neutral Zone considering where we are in the Veneer calendar.

Everybody’s allowed to make a mistake, Mitchell said. I just prefer it when they don’t result in my ship being blasted into space rubble.

Of course, Captain, Nax replied. I will endeavor to make sure your faith in me isn’t misplaced.

That’s all I ask. The Defiance shook again and Mitchell weighed his chances of making it back to his command chair without making a fool of himself. Wait a minute. Why’s this date so important on the Veneer calendar?

Nax’s orange fingers danced across his console, oblivious to exploding sparks and the rattling of the ship. It is their mating season.

And then, as if to punctuate his statement, there was a fresh barrage of fire on the ship.

Mitchell nearly lost his footing and grabbed Nax’s headrest with both of his hands to keep from falling into the helm face first. Well, that certainly explains the ferocity of the attack.

Here we are, Captain, Nax said.

Mitchell felt the ship almost glide through what was apparently the only patch of space where the Veneers weren’t firing on them. On the viewscreen the image changed to an approaching nebula.

I’m not sure what I expected when you told me you knew a shortcut, Mitchell said, doing his best to study the hazy clouds of red and white space dust that clung together. But at the very least I thought there’d be a little more, I don’t know, cosmic shenanigans.

Nax turned to look at him. Shenanigans? The word rolled off his tongue with all the grace of a square wheel."

Mitchell gently turned his helmsmen forward facing again. "I’ll explain later. Now’s really not a good time to take your eyes off the console.

Captain, Commander Hawkins spoke up. This may not seem like an appropriate time to bring this up, but that’s not supposed to be there. She nodded at the nebula.

Okay, well that’s a little more like it. Mitchell nearly toppled over again as the Veneer vessels caught up with them, laying down suppressive fire along their path. That being said, Mitchell added, we can save the cosmic mystery for a later date.

Sir, that nebula isn’t located on any of our available star charts, Hawkins said.

Mitchell turned back to his helmsman. Mr. Nax, is there anything you can say right now that will assuage my first officer’s concerns that we’re flying into a spatial anomaly that’s going to swallow us whole.

That’s not exactly what I was saying, Hawkins said. A ceiling panel exploded just over her head and she ducked at the last second, narrowly avoiding the metal square as it sliced through the air where her head had been a moment earlier. But it’s close enough, she quickly added.

Mr. Nax? Mitchell prompted.

There is a small Durviten cycle wormhole located just inside the nebula, Captain, Nax explained calmly. Its exit point is about five lightyears out from the other side of Veneer system border, putting us only about six hours out from the Carlock Colony.

I’d say that’s damn convenient, except- Mitchell didn’t have to finish his sentence as the Veneer vessels bore down on them, rattling the Defiance.

Yes, Nax agreed. I could have timed this a little better.

Captain, sensors aren’t picking up anything inside that nebula, Hawkins said before her console died out completely.

Mr. Nax, I don’t want to keep saying this, but Commander Hawkins is bringing up some valid points, Mitchell said.

No worries, Captain.

Perhaps you’re not aware of our current situation, Commander?

Nax nodded at his headrest. You may want to hold on a little tighter.

Excuse me?

Nax increased the throttle on the forward thrusters, punching the Defiance into full impulse and suddenly the nebula was surrounding them. The proximity alarms disengaged as they left the Veneer fighters behind. Mitchell jolted backwards, but managed to keep himself from falling.

The Defiance jolted to an abrupt stop. Free from the steady attack of the Veneer fighters, the ship stopped violently shaking. The alarms cut out and the sudden silence was almost deafening.

As the ringing from the alarms faded in his ears, Mitchell focused on the viewscreen. From the outside, the nebula hadn’t looked very impressive. Now inside and surrounded completely, he found, once again, that the universe could still surprise him.

On the inside of Nax’s surprise nebula space was filled with red and white swirling patterns of gas, casually mixing together into explosive patterns of light that sparkled across the viewscreen like an intergalactic fireworks display.

Before Mitchell or anyone could have a moment to take in the sight, a portal of incandescent light and energy unspooled across the front of the ship.

Commander Hawkins? Mitchell called over his shoulder.

Clearly, there is a wormhole located in this nebula that’s not supposed to be here, she replied.

A very small wormhole, Ensign Calloway said. Sir, sensors are showing that it’s only about a hundred and forty meters in diameter.

Can someone remind me how wide our ship is again? Mitchell asked his bridge crew like a college teacher dropping a pop quiz.

A hundred and twenty meters, Hawkins replied.

Cutting it a little close, Mr. Nax, Mitchell said.

I wouldn’t want Commander Warrick to complain that the ride was too smooth, Nax replied.

Shenanigans you don’t know, but sarcasm you’ve got down? Mitchell asked.

I suppose you’ll have to trust me when I say that my people are generally very sarcastic, Nax said.

I’d hate to see what family time was like around your dinner table, Mitchell muttered under his breath.

Captain, I don’t mean to nag, Hawkins spoke up. She had moved one console down and was running through a full sensor sweep. But, while we’ve bought ourselves a little time and while the Veneer ships aren’t as fast as us, they’re still going to be here within the next ten minutes.

Right. Mitchell made his way back to his command chair. Mr. Nax, just exactly how safe is this wormhole of yours?

Nax paused for a moment.

Mr. Nax, I feel as though by this point in our relationship you should know that I’m not fond of long pauses right after I ask one of my crewmen how safe or dangerous something is going to be.

Relatively safe, Nax finally replied.

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. Relatively?

As it has already been pointed out, the quarters are going to be a little…tight.

And is that going to be a problem?

As long as the shields hold and I keep us perfectly centered so we don’t brush up against the ventral thoron membranes, Nax said.

And what happens if you brush us up against the ventral thoron membranes?

As long as the shields hold? Nothing.

Mitchell rubbed his