Admiral Parks regarded him skeptically. Then he turned his head as someone on his ship got his attention. He said something Wellard couldn't make out before turning back to the screen. "Seems the Maine, Atlantic, and Yellowstone followed your lead."
"Then move the others behind us. The longer they survive, the better off we will be." Even if the Reliant were destroyed promptly, it was likely the rest wouldn’t survive the hour, let alone see the battle to its end. Best to keep that thought to himself.
"Fine. If you want to paint a target on your hull, we'll play along. Just don't come crying when the Reliant doesn't get priority repair authorization."
Wellard laughed inwardly. "We'll talk about that tomorrow. Until then, let's see that we get a chance to have that talk."
Parks nodded. "Agreed. Parks, out."
A quick glance at Wellard's screen confirmed the admiral's observations. Across the NEC lines, the heavy cruisers were pushing ahead to take the brunt of the punishment for the rest of the NEC fleet. While the heavy cruisers were more than capable of handling the lesser targets, with the help of the smaller vessels, they were making quick work of the enemy lines. At their current pace, there wouldn't be any of the shattered husks left after an hour. Considering the rear portion of the Mythrar lines had yet to make a move, Wellard wished it wouldn't take that long.
Best to focus on things you could control.
Chapter Thirty-One
New Earth Sector
Flight Deck CIC, NECS Reliant
Tegan Bradley watched her console, trying to keep up with the erratic movements of her fighter crews. To this point, the Mythrar lines had yet to deploy any of their drones, but she knew it was just a matter of time until they did. When that happened, it would be damned near impossible to keep up with the battle. All she could hope to do would be to assist her teams with targeting priorities, and even that wasn't a guarantee.
On average, her pilots could expect to spend twenty to thirty hours inside simulations a week. That number could be increased or decreased to adjust for specific circumstances. Raw cadets, for example, were likely to spend most of their waking hours running simulations, while a decorated veteran may only spend a few hours a week as a refresher. Even then, most of them understood the need to keep their mind and wits sharp. Constant drills ensured every movement was as natural as walking, making it less likely they would make a mistake.
Three of the damaged hulks exploded nearly simultaneously as the Reliant and its entourage spread their fire in a wide swath. Tegan adjusted her threat board. She needed to get her pilots out of the way before the Reliant and the smaller ships switched targets, catching them in the crossfire, or perhaps in the death throes of one of the already damaged ships.
Just like the admirals leading the fleet, she needed to ensure as many of her fighters as possible survived the first wave of attacks. It would be foolish to lose more than a handful now before having time to focus on a target more their size.
Her thoughts drifted to the drones. She wondered just how many of them they would face this time around. In each of her encounters with the remotely piloted ships, the number of vessels they faced was staggering. And that was with capital ship numbers similar to their own. She couldn't imagine how many the Mythrar had at their command this time.
As if they'd been summoned by her thoughts, the first wave of enemy fighters exited the formation of Mythrar ships in the back of the lines. Within moments, the space between the flagships and damaged hulks was flooded with thousands of the smaller vessels. The fighters seemed to move in a rough configuration, almost acting as if they were being controlled by a singular source. Tegan was willing to bet that source was one of the three flagships, which meant they would have to deal with the fighters on their own.
Tegan turned to her communications terminal and opened a channel with each of her birds.
"All fighters are to break off of fire support to focus on the enemy drones headed your way. Form up in your standard formations and stay with your team. I know things will seem dicey for a few minutes, but remember your training and you will be fine. Each one of you has more skill in your little fingers than half of those drones do combined. What we lack in numbers we make up with brass determination. Squadron leaders, I'll leave targeting solutions up to you. CAG, out."
With that, she cut the comm. She wished she had a better solution than leaving targeting to her squadron commanders, but there wasn't any way she could keep up with the threat board on her own. She could clone herself fifty times over and still not have the help she would need to handle the job.
The threat board turned solid red as the drones charged toward the NEC lines. For the first time in her career, she was glad she wasn't out there in that mess. She couldn't imagine what had to be going through her pilots' heads as they moved to engage the swarm. They might hold the upper hand in terms of skill and firepower, but that was trumped by the sheer volume of enemy targets.
Onscreen, a giant wave of blue rocketed towards a wave of red twice its size, each group breaking off from the capital ships as they moved to engage. Tegan clenched her hands around her armrests as the lines grew close and a wave of anxiety threatened to take hold. Over the years, she'd lost her fair share of pilots, but nothing near on the scale she was about to lose. She wondered if she could handle that level of loss, or if her emotions would overwhelm her. Standing up, she pushed the thoughts aside to focus on the screen.
There is nothing you can do about that now. Just focus on your damned job and bring as many of them back as you can. The thoughts rang hollow in her mind, even as the two waves met, creating a swirl of color on her screen.
Chapter Thirty-Two
New Earth Sector
New Earth Station
The deck plates pulsed as Walker and his unit of Marines worked their way through the halls. The sounds of distant explosions were prominent over the backdrop of cannon rounds being fired from the station. Walker had been on many ships during a naval battle, but nothing before had sounded like this. The echoes from the blasts were a constant, almost regular occurrence, even through the thick armor plating and insulation.
The squad moved as a singular unit, sweeping any adjacent halls and opened rooms they passed. While it was vital for them to get to the shuttles in a hurry, it wouldn't do them any good if they got ambushed on the way.
This hadn't made Commander Bremerton feel any more at ease. If anything, the slow progress seemed to irritate him to no end.
It was odd to see Bremerton like that. Even during the worst of times, the kid seemed to have a singular focus on the task at hand. Shit, Walker had watched the kid take one hell of a beating and remain intent on the prize. It made Walker wonder just what the agents had done to him in that room.
Austin held his hand up, stopping the group in their tracks. Weapon aimed down the hall, Adams moved to investigate the problem while the rest of the Marines dropped to a knee, their guns raised towards the end of the hall in case things went sour. And as they'd learned in the past few months, things always had a way of going sour.
Bremerton bit down on his lip, his face turning crimson as he held his position against the wall. He wasn't carrying a weapon, though he seemed to fidget with something in his pocket. A blade? His comm device? Without getting closer, Walker had no way of knowing. Instead, he kept an eye on the commander while keeping the other on Adams down the hall.
Up ahead, Adams signaled the all-clear to the rest of the squad. To a man, the Marines returned to their feet and began the slow march to the shuttle bay.
"Sergeant, I don't mean to sound ungrateful or anything, but do you think we can speed this up? In case you couldn't tell, there's a battle raging outside." Jason removed his hands from his pocket. His left hand seemed to clutch something, though Walker couldn't make it out. Whatever it was, it had to be small. Not a dagger, though it could've been a small knife.
"Son, I respect your authority as commander of the Reliant. I do, but this is a
Marine unit, which puts it under my control. I'm more than willing to take suggestions, but NOT at the expense of the safety of my men. Am I clear?" Walker bit down to keep from telling Bremerton how he felt. That if he was in such a damned hurry, he could catch the shuttle himself. But he realized that would be irrational.
Bremerton opened his mouth to utter a retort but closed it without allowing a single word to come out.
Silently, Walker wondered if he'd gone too far. While he did have operational authority on this mission, it was always good form to take suggestions from the command staff, if only to reduce or eliminate tensions on the ship.
But if he was honest, his original suggestion had come from Captain Wellard, Bremerton's superior. By escorting the commander back down to the surface, he was already breaking one person's trust.
In any case, he wasn't about to do anything that further risked himself or his crew, regardless of who was making the suggestions. There was enough of a threat of ambushes or enemy soldiers as it was, not to mention those nasty looking Klyptons he'd faced a handful of times before.
To Bremerton's credit, he nodded and fell in line with the rest of the squad. The kid was many things, but dumb wasn't one of them. He knew when it was time to speak up, and just as important, knew when it was time to shut up and dig in. This was proving to be one of those latter times.
Walker held his position for a moment, allowing a few of his Marines to move past, before resuming his pace. After a few minutes, Talbot stepped into line with him.
"Something isn't right with him," Talbot suggested. "He isn't anything like those last few times we've worked with him."
Walker nodded. "Something has him rattled. I'm sure the agents are part of that, with the charges of murder being most of the other. He just wants to get out of here to see his family one more time."
"Still, that doesn't sound like him. Every time I've worked with him, he came off as the family-is-second kind of guy, if you know what I mean."
Walker did. Over the years, he'd watched more than his fair share of good men isolate their loved ones to further their career. Walker, on the other hand, had avoided the trap. Women could wait until his term of service was up. When he had more than enough time, and money, to live the rest of his life in luxury.
"I would've half expected him to want to lead the charge into the CIC himself. Hard to believe he's turning down the chance to be the hero again." Walker motioned for Talbot to hang back a few steps, allowing Bremerton to get further away. Once he was sure it was clear, he spoke. "Patch yourself through to Rhodes. Tell him to take the scenic route through the station."
Talbot's lips curled, almost into a smile. "You know, that's just going to piss him off even more."
Walker shrugged. "The more I think about it, the more I think something isn't right. I'd just like a little more time to figure out what that is before we let him loose on New Earth." At least here, they'd have an easier chance finding him, though their chances of long-term survival were much more limited with the battle playing out in the sector. Still, it was the least crazy option.
Talbot held a finger to his earpiece and began to relay the order, only to stop halfway in. He kept his head sideways as he listened to something coming through his unit. "One moment." He removed his finger from his earpiece and turned to Walker. "Sir, you'll want to hear this."
Walker waited for Talbot to patch him into the channel.
"This is some crazy ass shit," Adams said. Walker couldn't make him out from his position in the hall. It likely meant he had turned around a corner or was searching one of the rooms. "What are the odds of that?"
"We have a problem?" Walker asked.
"Well, sir. Yes and no." Adams was silent for a moment before speaking again. "I think it would be easier if you saw for yourself."
Chapter Thirty-Three
New Earth Sector
Bridge, Flagship Koniva
Captain Miller watched the main viewscreen with bated breath as the NEC fleet tore through their front lines. The heavily damaged portion of the fleet was taking a pounding, but they were dishing out some heavy punishment in return. For every five of the damaged vessels that were destroyed, they were taking out one or two of the NEC ships. Mainly light cruisers and frigates, though the occasional heavy cruiser was caught in a blast.
This part of the battle was progressing as planned. This was to be one of the final stages of combat against humanity. As such, they had no place for a fleet of worthless wrecks. They cost the fleet time and resources they couldn't afford to waste if they intended on bringing the final remnants of humanity into the fold. Once New Earth fell, it was just a matter of time until the others followed. Considering the state of the rest of humanity, he would be surprised if they lasted another month.
Then suddenly things shifted on the NEC lines. Instead of maintaining strict firing lines, a handful of ships seemed to move ahead.
"Magnify the image onscreen. Focus on the forward portion of the NEC fleet." Miller watched as the image zoomed into view. It focused on a single ship as it moved ahead of the rest of the fleet. It was hard to make out on the screen, but the ship was bigger than the others. Likely a heavy cruiser if he had to guess. But why were they moving ahead?
Then after a few moments, it made sense. The front line of wrecks had broken their fire on the lines of the NEC fleet to focus on the advancing ships, leaving the smaller vessels free to target the wrecks at will. Every second, it seemed as if the Mythrar's advantage was fading. While the damaged ships weren't the main part of their attack, it was vital that they softened up the NEC lines. Every human ship that was damaged or destroyed in this wave was one less the main fleet had to deal with in the coming hours. It was vital as many ships as possible in the main fleet survived to continue onto Britannia, Stalingrad, and Ming, the remaining power hubs of humanity.
"Damnit," Miller slammed his fist against the wall, sending a jolt of pain up his arm. This was the last thing he needed. Once Koniva found out about the change, he would take control of the fleet himself. He needed to stabilize the situation before things got too dire. "Open a channel to New Earth Station."
"Sir?" Robbins questioned.
"Our front lines are taking a pounding. If we don't stop the bleeding, it's just a matter of time until they engage us. If that happens at this stage of the battle, we will lose too many assets to secure a total victory. Until we can bring the rest of our people into the collective, we will never rest." He never believed the collective bullshit by any stretch of the imagination, but its mention had a way of motivating the crew in ways little else could.
The thing was, the collective was little more than an idea spread by the Mythrar to their earliest captives as a way to bring them into the fold, then later as a way to keep them in line. Similar to organized religion, though much different in its application. It was how the Mythrar got humanity to work as their slaves.
To the Mythrar, humanity was nothing more than a tool. Something to use to further their reach and power, to be discarded once it was no longer useful. Luckily, humanity had a trait that had proven useful to the Mythrar. Otherwise, they might have been destroyed a century before. It was the reason the advance ships could escape, and why they'd been given a century to prepare.
Some would think that trait was their resilience, or willingness to fight to the death for a cause, but it was nothing more than quick birthing cycles. They could reproduce at a rate more appropriate for constant war, and that was without the cloning factories. With them added to the mix, the Mythrar had an endless amount of slave labor to crew their ships. They might not have the strength of the Klyptons or the sharp mind of the Xandar, but their gifts were powerful, nonetheless.
But it was this same gift that was giving the Mythrar so much of its trouble. While the Mythrar had a century to build and crew thousands of ships, they had given the same time to the rest of humanity, and they had used it wisely. In fact, Miller believed the only reason humanity hadn't won th
is war was its natural tendency to form groups that opposed the others.
The fact was evident here more than ever. This was the perfect place to deliver a decisive blow to the Mythrar. Other than Flagship Dotack that had attacked Entropa, and Flagship Jremu that was following the lone survivor of a previous encounter, this was the rest of the Mythrar fleet. Sure, each one of the three remaining flagships was powerful, but they were nothing against massive numbers. Numbers humanity had.
A few minutes later, the image of Nicholas Landry appeared on the main viewscreen.
"Captain Miller, a pleasure as always. I assume you have news from the collective?"
Miller nodded. "I do. It is time to enact our plan. The NEC fleet must not be allowed to engage our main lines this early."
Landry smiled. "My life for the collective. It will be so."
Miller held up a hand, ensuring the connection remained intact. "One more thing. Contact the others. It will mean more coming from you."
"Understood."
Miller lowered his arm, ending the connection. While he didn't like the order, there wasn't another choice. While he'd hoped to use the NECS Odyssey and the others later, he was out of time.
Time was something he couldn't afford to lose. Not if he wanted to see his wife alive.
Chapter Thirty-Four
New Earth Sector
CIC, New Earth Station
Vice President Landry grinned as the communication ceased. He had been waiting on the order since the beginning. In fact, he had hoped to set the battle in motion with this command. But it wasn't his place to question the collective, only to obey its orders, even if it was passed down by scum like Miller.
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