Defiant (The Mythrar War Book 4)

by Douglas Wayne

  Walker nodded. "Have to say I agree." He turned to the hallway and motioned Bremerton to the door. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I'm afraid now isn't the time."

  Bremerton pursed his lips before allowing hints of a smile to form. "We should return to the planet. Once they learn I escaped, they will go for my wife and kid."

  "I'm not sure that's wise. Captain Wellard and the rest of the fleet are lined up against a massive Mythrar fleet. I was ordered to find you and bring you to the CIC to help the admiral."

  Bremerton's eyes darted down the hallway and back to Walker. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Not now."

  "Not now?" Walker stepped back and took in a deep breath to keep from doing something he'd only regret later. Not that he didn't understand Bremerton's situation. But this wasn't a time to back down from your duty. It was the time to double down and give the bastards everything you have, including your life if it came down to it. Not the time to escape the battle and return to your family. That was what you did after it was over. Once the war was won. "I don't know what has gotten into you. You have a duty to the fleet. To your people. You signed up for this. Not to run."

  Bremerton's eyes darted between Walker and the Marines covering the rear guard before returning to the floor. "Those people who did this to me…" He trailed off as his eyes drifted to the ceiling. "They are the real enemy, not the Mythrar. How many flagships did they bring this time? Two? Three?"

  "And a few hundred other ships," Walker finished. "I'm failing to see your point."

  "That's my point. Each of those ships is piloted and crewed by people like you and me. Even then, those ships aren't the real threat."

  "If they aren't the threat, then what is?"

  Bremerton seemed to smile but seemed to relax after a moment. "What if I told you the Mythrar controls nearly a third of our fleet, too?"

  Walker stared at Bremerton incredulously. What was he talking about? Traitors in the fleet? Normally, he'd give the kid the benefit of the doubt, but this seemed to come out of the blue. Surely if someone had been turned, the Admiralty would know. Wouldn't they?

  The more he allowed his mind to puzzle the situation, the more he thought the kid had a point. This was the same NEC that had a known traitor as their second in command, or perhaps even first, if rumors were true. If the Mythrar could penetrate that deep into the NEC government, it was possible for them to infiltrate the fleet.

  "Fine, say I believe you. Why should we return to New Earth? We should head to the CIC to help Flannigan weed out the traitors."

  "It's too late for that. Even if we were to point them out, they are already in position to strike. The collective doesn't ask for its people to survive their tasks, only that they achieve them." Bremerton seemed to pause for a moment, searching for the words. "You ever wonder why they ordered the Marines down to the surface? It was to remove you as a threat. With the Marine guard off the ships, it is much easier for an opposing force to take over."

  "You telling me the Mythrar will attack using those pod things, like back in Atroxxin?"

  Bremerton nodded. "They'll use those to attack the ships not under their control. You may think the Mythrar are a conquering force. They are anything but. They are more slavers than conquerors. They need people like you and me to man their war machine. Their ships have superior size, speed, armor, and firepower, but they are outnumbered. They know this. They've worked in the background for years for this moment. We may be too late to change the outcome of the battle here, but we can get to the surface in time to help them there."

  Walker considered Bremerton's words for a moment. Was the kid telling the truth about the traitors and the Mythrar's grand plan? Considering what he'd already seen since boarding the Endeavor a few months ago, he was inclined to accept them. He wasn't ready to go all in, but it was enough to hear the kid out.

  "Fine," Walker turned to address his squad. "New plan. Form up and move back to the flight deck. It looks like we're heading to the surface."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  New Earth Sector

  Flight Deck, NECS Reliant

  Fireball's heart raced as he waited for the command to launch. Out of all the experiences in the fleet, he hated the anxiety most of all. The countless hours spent in his cockpit, waiting for Captain Wellard to issue the command to launch, were more than he could take. He wanted nothing more than to ignore the order and head out into the fray or go back to his quarters. Shit or get off the pot, as his mother used to say.

  But it was too late for that. The constant vibrations and distant explosions told him all he needed to know. That the battle had already begun. If they were still nestled in their cockpits and not out in the fight, that could only mean one thing., that Captain Wellard was waiting for the best possible moment to unleash the birds.

  To get his mind off the looming battle, Fireball scanned his display. To make things simple, Bobcat had uploaded a program to the fighters’ HUDs. The algorithm helped the pilots achieve a faster lock while minimizing the clutter on the display. It was supposed to help the pilots when their targeting systems would be overwhelmed with the massive amount of data coming in.

  Fireball wasn't sure how much it would help. Most of the time they had to react instantaneously to the ever-changing combat. In the few cases where they achieved a positive lock, their target was often eliminated before they fired. Unless Bobcat's algorithm could compensate for that, he was best operating as he always had. Fire at anything that remotely looked like the enemy and pray you were right, all while avoiding the massive amount of shit doing the same to you.

  How he'd survived nearly a dozen skirmishes was beyond him. All around him, better pilots would often die, leaving him as one of the last left standing. The more it happened, the more it felt as if he'd been cheated. As if those other pilots had been taken to a better place, leaving him alone in this hell.

  Fireball's thoughts drifted to Lancer, like they always did when things went dark. Out of the many friends he'd lost, he missed him the most. Lancer had taught him everything he knew, even surpassing him as Bobcat's second in command. But that was all before the traitorous Marines attempted to hijack the Endeavor, killing Lancer and shooting Fireball in the leg.

  The joint ached with the memory. Fireball wiped away a tear and rubbed the throbbing leg. While he hated the pain, he hated the reminder that came with it more.

  "OK boys, T minus five minutes until launch. Just like we went over earlier. Hit them hard where they can least afford it. Trust your squadron and your wing to bring you back home." Just as suddenly as it had started, Bobcat's voice went silent over the comm. This was the part where he was supposed to issue support to his squad, but he had none to give.

  Nothing as motivational as Bobcat's, anyways. What was he supposed to say? Kill shit and don't die? As much as it had been his motto since entering the fleet, he didn't believe it was fitting as a speech.

  Fireball closed his eyes and attempted to focus on the upcoming battle. He tried to envision himself out there in the chaos that would surely be playing out in the sector. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't make it out. Every time he'd get close to seeing the battle, his mind would drift back to his encounter with Capelli.

  Instead of dealing with the memory, he opened his eyes and focused on his cockpit. One by one, he checked the switches and dials to make sure everything was in order. He'd already done it ten times before strapping in, but another time wouldn't hurt.

  Before he could focus on the dials, an alarm blared on his console, signaling an oncoming launch. He pushed the stray thoughts to the side to focus on it, not wanting to crash into another fighter or the bay doors as he exited the ship.

  As the timer counted down the final seconds, he tried to focus on his job, forcing his mind to hone in on the basics, the tried-and-true maneuvers that had kept him alive all this time.

  "Launch," the console blared, breaking his concentration. He gripped the controls as the fighter's thrusters ignited, sendi
ng him into space.

  Seeing a group of enemy fighters approaching ahead, he twisted his fighter into a tight spiral and spun around an NEC heavy cruiser before pulling back on the trigger, unleashing a torrent of fire on the enemy squadron.

  For the first time in weeks, he was back in his element. At least now his mind had no choice but to focus on the task at hand. Failure to focus would lead to his death, which was also acceptable. In either case, it allowed him to keep his thoughts away from the dark spots.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  New Earth Sector

  Prison Cell, New Earth Station

  Ignoring the pain in his jaw, Jason leaned back against the cell wall and relaxed. The past few hours had been taxing to him, both physically and mentally. Special Officers Jenkins and Rolling had tried everything in the book to break him. To get him to confess to killing President Alvarez.

  But they hadn't done it. Jenkins could bring all the proof he wanted, no court in the universe would convict him. Not when they had to travel down to the planet to arrest him in the first place, during his well-documented personal leave.

  Still, no amount of coaxing or proof would do any good. He only hoped to survive long enough for the evidence to be brought up in court. Cringing as his fingers grazed a bruise on his cheek, he realized that would be the challenge.

  The doors to the cell opened, flooding the room with an intense white light. Jason raised his hand to both shield his eyes from the glare and to protect his battered face. Through his fingers, he made out the increasingly familiar form of Special Officer Jenkins. At least he'd left his bruiser back in his office. Perhaps this time he might get out of the encounter with only more verbal abuse.

  "Against my better judgment, I'll give you one more chance to confess. We know you did it. Shit, I've watched them hang a man with less. If you cooperate, perhaps I can talk the judge into letting you rot in jail."

  "Go to hell," Jason spat, careful not to allow his anger to take control. Doing something stupid now would only intensify his problems, instead of making them better. Best to take the verbal lashing and abuse and instead play the long game.

  "Have it your way." Jenkins flipped a light switch outside the door, bathing the room in the same intense white light as before.

  Bremerton closed his eyes to protect them from the worst of it before slowly allowing them to open as they adjusted to the light. He didn't know what Jenkins had in store for him, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be good.

  "I understand why you are keeping your mouth shut. I can't say I wouldn't do the same if I were in your position. But you have to know we have enough evidence to have you locked away for a long time."

  Jason pursed his lips and peered into Jenkins' eyes, studying him. He wanted to speak up and defend himself, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He'd tried that twice before, and all he had to show for it was some bruised ribs and the sore jaw. No, from here on out he would exercise his right to keep quiet, even if it only earned him a few more blows to the gut.

  Jenkins crossed the room, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a set of cuffs. He slapped a band on one wrist before turning Jason around to clasp the other behind his back. Jason felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder as Jenkins turned him toward the door.

  Damn, I don't remember Rolling hurting that. He focused on pushing the pain to the back of his mind to concentrate on his movement, not wanting to injure himself even more. "Where are you taking me?"

  Jenkins snorted. "Oh, sure. Now you talk."

  Jason shrugged.

  Jenkins turned his head, grabbed Jason under his arm, and led him into the hall. "I'm taking you down to New Earth. As much as I would love to keep you on the station under close guard, it's not safe."

  "The Mythrar fleet," Jason said. It was more a statement than a question. He'd known that the fleet had been coming for weeks. Like the rest of humanity, he’d hoped they'd make a turn towards a different system to give the NEC more time to prepare, but it wasn't in the cards. It was clear the Mythrar knew where to best strike at humanity, and they were betting the farm to make sure they fell.

  Jenkins stopped and glared at Jason, seeming to consider the question. Perhaps it wasn't the statement he was considering. He was thinking about how much he should say, given Jason's situation. After a minute, Jenkins doubled his grip on Jason's arm and pulled him along down the hall.

  "It wasn't a question," Jason said, realizing Jenkins wasn't going to give up the goods. "I knew…"

  "You knew, but yet you killed President Alvarez, throwing the government into chaos hours before their attack." Jenkins stopped in the center of the hall. He closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths that seemed to calm him down. "I have a pilot prepping a shuttle to the planet now. You have until we board to confess. Otherwise, my offer is off the table. Capisce?"

  Jason ignored the threat. Jenkins seemed to get the point as he pulled his arm again. Jason didn't like being taken back down to the planet. Then again, he wasn't keen on being helpless on the station, either. Best to get to safety to fight another day. He hoped the fleet could hold up their end of the bargain, giving him another chance to fight. If the Mythrar won… Well, then he'd have better things to worry about than being charged with murder.

  Chapter Thirty

  New Earth Sector

  Bridge, NECS Reliant

  Klaxons blared as another wave of enemy fire lanced into the Reliant. The bridge crew worked feverishly at their stations, passing commands down to the appropriate teams. It was taking every ounce of concentration they could muster to keep the ship operating anywhere near peak efficiency. Considering the battle playing out in the sector, they were doing an amazing job.

  Wellard heard a muffled explosion from somewhere below the bridge. Checking the display, he saw the blast hit just three decks below, in a part of the ship that would usually be heavily occupied. But this battle was an all-hands-on-deck scenario. Any able person on the ship was expected to be contributing to the cause. Whether that meant they were running their usual stations, assisting the damage control teams, or helping with ordinance transfers, everyone had their hands full.

  The main viewscreen went white as the sensors struggled to compensate for a massive blast near the Reliant. Likely the Wisconsin or the Seattle had gone critical, eliminating another member from Wellard's battle group.

  Wellard unfastened his restraints and walked over to the screen. "Focus our fire on that ship." He reached up and pointed to one of the damaged NEC cruisers leading the Mythrar charge. The left portion of the ship was a smoldering wreck. Where the ship wasn't belching flame and debris into the void, the support structures were visible against the backdrop of space. It was likely the ship had already taken most of the damage before entering the sector, though it was still a threat on its own.

  "When that ship goes down, focus on the one behind it. Keep working our way down the line."

  "That will take us out of position of the rest of the battle group. Admiral Parks wanted us to stay with the rest of the fleet." Commander Wilson turned to Wellard from his station. From his look, he wasn't openly questioning Wellard's order, more like reminding him of the admiral's standing command. Wellard made a mental note to talk to him if they survived the battle. For now, as long as Wilson obeyed his order, he'd let the transgression stand.

  Besides, Wellard was technically ordering him to go against the admiral's orders, though only just. "We only have a handful of ships capable of taking a beating, and the Reliant is one of them. I'm hoping the other captains will see what I'm doing and move in to attack using us for cover."

  Wilson's glare suggested he didn't like the order, but he shot Wellard a reluctant nod. "Understood."

  Wellard stumbled as the ship accelerated to engage the first enemy ship. Apparently, the inertial dampeners had taken a hit during the encounter. This is going to be a long fight.

  Once in optimal range, the Reliant opened with its full array of forward weapons. The beams
hit first, scorching an already damaged portion of the cruiser's hull. That was followed by a barrage of gauss cannon fire that tore into the new hole. Soon after, the ship exploded in a fiery blast that sent debris careening into the nearby Mythrar ships.

  Wellard felt a hint of a smile form at their success but reined it in. Best to not get too cocky in front of the crew.

  Still, it was clear how outmatched the forward portion of the enemy fleet was. Much of the forward portion of the Mythrar fleet comprised dozens of damaged husks. Some were missing critical parts of the ship. Others weren't even able to fire. The rest… Well, the rest was a shield for the remainder of the Mythrar fleet. Their job was clear. Soften the NEC lines as best they could, making the flagship's task even easier.

  As Wilson directed the fire crews to focus on the next ship, Wellard tried to make out the three flagships in the mess. He found the closest one a hundred kilometers ahead, behind a line of what looked to be heavy cruisers. It was hard to tell from this distance. Full magnification wouldn't have done much better, as the flagship's enormous size made it difficult to approximate scale.

  "Sir, Admiral Parks is on the line. He doesn't sound happy." McRee's expression betrayed her real thoughts on the matter. Parks wasn't just unhappy. He was likely pissed.

  "Patch it through to my console." Wellard took the short stroll to his station and flipped on the screen.

  "What the hell are you playing at, Wellard? You're going to get yourself killed that far away from the line."

  "The first wave is only a threat when we allow it to work as a unit. By taking out the heart of the line, the rest should fall in a matter of minutes. Probably even less." Wellard paused for a moment, assessing the admiral's expression. When it was clear he wasn't going to get chastised over an open channel, he continued. "Besides, the Reliant is a nice fat target for the hulks. The longer we can keep the focus off our light cruisers and missile frigates, the more we'll have when this battle really starts."