Contents
Defiant
Copyright
Dedication
Intrepid
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Intrepid
Author's Notes
About the Author
More Reading
Defiant
The Mythrar War Series
Book Four
Luke Simms
Douglas Wayne
DEFIANT
THE MYTHRAR WAR SERIES
BOOK FOUR
Luke Simms
Douglas Wayne
Copyright © 2017 by Luke Simms and Douglas Wayne. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Chapter One
Volgograd Sector
Bridge, Russian Battlecruiser Tarasenko
Captain of the First Rank Dmitri Federov stared in awe at the massive formation of Russian ships on his viewscreen. Never in his life had he seen so many ships massed together in one spot, nor did he expect to again.
Nearly half of the Russian Federation's fleet had been brought together for a singular, momentous occasion. To take back what was rightfully theirs.
Unlike the rest of humanity, which seemed hellbent on taking Earth back from the aliens that had stolen it a century before, the Russians wanted something more rewarding. They wanted to make the West pay for millennia of subjugation. For the first time in their conceited lives, the Westerners needed to fall, if only to allow another faction of humanity to survive.
And if that faction just so happened to be the Russians, that was fine.
In fact, Dmitri intended it to be that way.
"Captain. Receiving a transmission from Admiral Petrov aboard the Sochi. Should I patch it to your console?" Junior Lieutenant Stella Vedrine glanced at Federov's station while waiting for his nod.
"No, Lieutenant. Put it on the main viewscreen." Federov stood up and straightened his uniform as Vedrine initiated the command.
Seconds later, the familiar form of Admiral Nicolai Petrov appeared on the screen. The man stood proudly at the center of the bridge, leaving the rest of his command staff in the shot.
When he noticed Petrov, Federov had to do a double take. It seemed the end of subjugation by the West was a momentous enough occasion to warrant the man wearing his full-dress blacks, including the hat.
"Admiral Petrov, the crew of the Tarasenko is at your command."
The older man stared at the screen for a long moment before cracking a smile. "Ahh, old friend. Glad to see they pulled you out of retirement for this. What did it take to lure you away from your fishing hole on Brandenburg?"
"Nothing," Federov insisted. "When they told me about the mission, I practically had to beg them to let me come along." Federov stretched his arms to his sides and spun in a circle. "Who would've thought that was the way into one of your new battlecruisers?"
"If we are going to win this, I need our best captains in our best ships."
"So now I'm one of your best?" Federov's grin melted into a frown as he came to a stop. He had many things he wanted to say to the Admiral about his previous years of service, but he didn't want to say them now. Especially with him being at the head of Russia's biggest fleet.
"Of course, Dmitri. This attack wouldn't be possible without you. The intelligence you brought back from Europa and New Earth was invaluable for planning out this attack."
Federov held his gaze for a long moment before shooting Petrov a reluctant smile. It was good to know the time he spent at the helm of a frigate, posing as a trader, had paid off. For a few long years, it had seemed his efforts would be in vain. It almost seemed as if they had waited for him to retire before starting their plans. But in any case, he was glad they had asked him to come along.
"So, what is our plan of attack?" Federov asked.
It was Petrov's turn to remain silent. For a while, it almost seemed as if Petrov wasn't going to fill him in, but after a moment he spoke. "We are splitting the fleet into three parts. One part will head off and attack Europa while the second hits New Earth. We have received intelligence from one of our frigates near New Earth. A good portion of their fleet was decimated near Entropa within the last week."
"They attacked the Xandar, so soon after the Battle of Bellan? You would think they would've been building up their forces instead."
"Yes, you would," Petrov agreed. "In any case, if we act soon, we should be able to bring them to their knees with minimal losses."
Federov grunted his agreement, then nodded. "Then perhaps we should get this show on the road."
Petrov grinned. "You will be in charge of the first task force attacking New Earth. My assistant is sending you your fleet assignments now."
Federov glanced to his communications officer, who nodded in return. "I assume you are sending me your battle plans as well?"
"For what it is worth. If rumors are to be believed, the NEC is massing their remaining ships near New Earth. If that is the case, I'm afraid you will have to figure things out on the fly."
"Just like old times," Federov said. He glanced at his console and noticed the data streaming to it. "We will do our part. Just make sure the others do theirs."
"We will," Petrov assured. "Today marks the eve of our golden age. Our people have waited far too long for this to fail now."
Chapter Two
Volgograd Sector
Bridge, Russian Battlecruiser Tarasenko
"What the hell is that?" asked Federov. He stared at the screen in disbelief as the image of the massive ship jumped into view. Just moments ago, there were Russian warships as far as his eyes could see. Now their formation was split by the gigantic ship.
"I don't know, Captain. Perhaps it is one of the new NEC Heavy Cruisers. They are making them very big these days." Dmitri's XO, Captain of the Second Rank Nikon Maslow, said from his control terminal.
"NEC? No way. Where would they build one of those? That thing is larger than New Earth Station." As far as Dmitri knew, there wasn't a shipyard in existence that could build a ship so large. Nothing humanity controlled, anyways. That could only mean one thing.
The realization hit him seconds later, but only as another wave of ships appeared out of nowhere. Immediately, the ship's klaxons blared as the first of the new arrivals targeted one of the smaller ships in the Russian convoy. Soon, Dmitri's console lit up as dozens of new contacts entered the sector, each vessel different from the last. It was almost as if someone had made a fleet using ships of every design in existence and had brought it here, on the edge of Russian space.
The Tarasenko shuddered as one of the nearby ships unleashed its full complement of forward weapons into it. The smaller vessel, an EU light cruiser, sped off towards the front line of the Russian fleet as it fired. Then the violent shaking stopped as fast it had started, as the light cruiser focused its attention on the next ship in the line.
"Captain, Admiral Petrov is ordering us to fire on the large cruiser. Should I set a course?" The words came out stilted as if Nikon hadn't expected to receive the order. A quick glance around the bridge suggested the rest of the crew felt the same.
Dmitri didn't want to question Petrov's orders, especially in front of the rest of the crew, but deep down, he knew such an assault was insane. From his estimation, there were two hundred ships his size or smaller they could've targeted and had a chance against, but they were being sent against the biggest of the bunch. They should've been whittling down the number of smaller vessels before going after something so large.
But this was a conversation for another time, assuming he lived long enough to bring the issue up with the Admiral.
"Lieutenant Lebdev, move the ship into position." He stared at the massive vessel on the main viewscreen, looking for points of attack. That was when he noticed the massive barrel near the front of the ship. "Maslow, have our weapons crews attack this point. Let us see if we can knock that piece of shit off the ship."
The rest of the bridge crew went to work, relaying his commands to the rest of the crew and the weapons teams.
The view of the battle shifted as they lumbered towards the massive ship.
Hundreds of laser blasts streaked by the Tarasenko as the enemy warships fired at the Russian fleet. Soon, the Tarasenko was joined by thirty other ships, each moving towards the massive ship. Before long, each of the ships opened fire on the frontal weapon.
Dozens of explosions erupted from the insane amount of firepower being thrown at the ship, while the Russian fleet's combined lasers tore into the damaged section of the hull. Dmitri's knuckles went white as he gripped his armrests, allowing the vibrations to rattle the bones in his wrists.
While that happened, the rest of the Russian fleet engaged the other enemy vessels. Divided into fireteams, each one of the Russian units tore through their targets with ease while taking minimal casualties in return. But for all their luck against the smaller vessels, the fireteam attacking the larger ship wasn't faring as well.
Bits of armor and debris rocketed away from the massive ship where it took the worst of the damage, but otherwise, the ship was little worse for the wear. Still, it wasn't the ship's apparent invulnerability that drew Federov's attention.
"Why the hell isn't that ship fighting back?" Federov said, scratching his chin. He paced the bridge, looking at each member of the crew for an answer he knew wouldn't come. There wasn't a person in their right mind that could give him a logical explanation. The only reason he believed they might not be firing is that whoever was aboard thought they were immune to the damage to their ship.
"Unknown, sir," Maslow replied. "Power readings on the ship read normal. Maybe they are waiting on something."
"Waiting on what?" Federov slammed his fist into his console, cracking the screen. "We have thirty of our best vessels pounding on it."
Captain of the Third Rank, Alexandra Karin, laughed nervously.
Federov stomped across the bridge and stopped at her station. "What the hell is so funny?"
She continued laughing for a moment before she could regain her composure. "I'm sorry, Captain. It's just that you are the first person I know to complain that you weren't being shot at. Most people would love to be in your position, yet you want something worse."
Federov pursed his lips, then nodded. She had a point. A quick glance at the main viewscreen showed him there were dozens of other captains all begging for the same luck. As far as his eyes could see, death surrounded the massive vessel. While it might not have been adding to the destruction itself, it was becoming clear that it was the reason it was happening.
"Your point is noted," he replied as he returned his attention to the battle. "Just tell me we're affecting that damned weapon."
"Yes, and no," Maslow replied. "Our combined fire is doing damage to it, but from what our sensors are telling us, the weapon can still fire. Perhaps we should focus our attention on another spot."
"No. Our lasers should be close to cutting through. If we give them a few more minutes…"
"We don't have a few more minutes," Lieutenant Roman Zakharov said from the sensor station. "Three more of those ships just arrived in the sector."
Chapter Three
Volgograd Sector
Bridge, Russian Battlecruiser Tarasenko
"Three more?" Federov questioned. "Where the hell are they coming from?"
"Unknown, sir," Zakharov replied. "But they seem to be hanging back from the rest of their fleet."
"Interesting." Federov rubbed his chin as he paced the bridge. There had to be something he was missing. Something that would make sense out of the recent development. As far as he knew, the NEC hadn't developed FTL travel. Nor had their counterparts in the EU. Unless they had hidden their technology from the public's eye, there was something else at play.
Slowly his mind put the pieces together. Ships that could appear out of nowhere, a fleet comprising dozens of different vessels without belonging to any specific faction, and the massive ships. Either this was the largest band of mercenaries in existence, or these ships belonged to the Mythrar.
"Son of a bitch!" Dmitri rushed across the bridge and took a seat at his station. "Lieutenant Lebdev, turn the ship around and make for the gate."
"But sir, Admiral Petrov ordered us to attack that ship."
Federov's face turned beet red as he gripped the arms of his seat. "Screw Admiral Petrov, and screw you." He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his portable blaster, and aimed it at the pilot. "Take us to the gate, or I'll save those bastards some time."
Maslow approached Federov with his arms in the air. Federov stood and took a few steps back to keep both men in his sights.
"What is going on, Dmitri? It's not like you to question orders."
"You don't realize what that is?" Federov used one hand to point at the screen. "Those are the same ships that attacked earth one hundred years ago. The same aliens that handed us our asses and forced us to live all the way out here."
"Impossible. The Americans destr
oyed the gates. There's no way…"
Dmitri turned the weapon on his XO, silencing him in an instant. "No way they could be here? Why else would those ships be so damned large?"
Maslow laughed. "Why wouldn't they? Our ships would be that large if we had a way to build them. Just imagine the amount of firepower we could get onto a ship that size."
"Yet they don't fire on us. Why is that?"
Maslow shot Federov a sideways glance and pursed his lips. "Maybe it is because they know we are not a threat?"
Federov allowed his grip to relax on the blaster and brought the weapon to his side. Maslow's eyes followed the blaster for a moment. No sooner had Federov brought the weapon towards his pocket than Maslow sprung forward. The larger man crashed into Federov with an audible thud as the two men went sprawling to the floor. The rest of the bridge crew abandoned their stations and formed a circle around the two men.
Federov scoffed at the breach of decorum. And just think, I was willing to go to war with these bastards. They seemed more interested in watching two men fight than the battle playing out mere kilometers away from their ship.
Federov reached for the weapon, only to be rewarded with a kick to the ribs that sent him into the wall. Reeling against the pain, it took everything he had to put up his hands to keep from being caught with a second.
"What the hell are you doing, Nikon? We're on the same side."
Maslow took a step back and grinned. "Hardly. You thought this mission was all about you. How you were going to use the battle to further your career." He took a step towards Federov before threatening another kick. "This mission is much bigger than you. Bigger than all of us. Even bigger than the motherland itself." He faked another kick before rushing in with a jab that caught Federov in the gut. The older man curled around at the waist as he struggled for air.
"Nothing is bigger than the motherland," Federov protested. "Not the mission, this ship, or even me."
Maslow grinned. Then, as if dismissing Federov as a threat, turned his attention to the main viewscreen. "Oh, I think I see four things that are much bigger than Mother Russia herself."
Defiant (The Mythrar War Book 4) Page 1
