Infamy (The Mythrar War Book 2)

by Douglas Wayne

  Richards pulled out a small laser torch from the box. After throwing on a set of light filtering goggles, he began trimming away the tungsten plating. He started on one edge and worked his way around the device until he ended where he began. As he made the final cut, the tungsten sheeting sprung up away from the device with a twang, startling them.

  Before their hearts settled down, the door to the room opened. Clutching her chest, Tegan turned to see the rest of her squadron standing on the other side of the door.

  "What the hell are you guys doing here?" She asked, struggling to breathe.

  "Saw the two of you sneaking into here a while ago. Had to make sure the two of you weren't engaging in any unsanctioned extracurricular activities." Switch grinned as he knelt down next to the anomaly. He twisted a pair of metal picks in his hand before placing them in his shirt pocket.

  Tegan snorted. "Richards asked for a hand with the anomaly. He's trying to figure out what makes it tick."

  "Well," Lancer said, locking the door behind him. "What makes it tick?"

  Richards pulled the goggles from his head and placed them back on the counter along with the laser torch. "Give us a hand with this sheet, and we can see for ourselves."

  The five of them split up, each positioning themselves on one of the four sides of the device. Richards, the odd man out, stood back out of the way, ready to grab his torch if he needed to make another cut. The pilots counted back from four before lifting the sheet away from the anomaly. A few thin wires dangled from the plate, but it was otherwise free.

  "Set the plate over here," Richards said, indicating an open space off to the side of the device. The pilots grunted and moved when the door opened again. A blaster rang out before any of them could react to the new presence. The shot tore through Lancer, cutting a hole through his abdomen before continuing on to hit Fireball in the leg. Without support, the plate slammed to the ground in front of Lancer with a hollow thud. Tegan pushed herself away from the plate to keep it from landing on her feet. Resting her back against the wall, she recognized the man at the door holding the gun as Cadet Marco Capelli, the new engineering recruit.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Unknown Space

  Cargo Compartment, Scavenger

  Wellard winced from the intensely bright light as he opened his eyes. Images formed at the edge of his vision as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. He leaned up against the wall in what looked to be a storage compartment of some sort. Crates and Boxes were arranged in neat stacks along the floor, spaced far enough apart to allow a hydraulic lift to get around.

  Squinting, he scanned the room for signs of someone, anyone. The room looked vaguely familiar though in the way that one storage compartment resembled another. Across seventy-eight colonized planets and seven different governments, this was the one thing they all had in common. When space and efficiency are at a premium, you don't mess with the tried and true.

  "Look who's awake," Walker said as he walked around a crate. He held his blaster rifle at the ready as if he were expecting a threat to emerge at any moment.

  "What happened?" Wellard grabbed the top of one of the smaller crates and tried to pull himself up only to find his right leg uncooperative. He looked down and noticed the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his thigh.

  "You took a blaster round to your leg right as you got into the door. Your momentum sent you head first into a crate which explains the bandages on your head."

  "And my splitting headache."

  Walker grinned, reached into his pouch and pulled out a syringe and handed it to Wellard. "That will help with the pain."

  Wellard shook his head and handed it back. "Rather deal with the pain than be in a stupor."

  Walker hesitated, then nodded before placing the syringe back into his pack.

  "What's our situation?"

  "Our situation is about as dire as they come. We are surrounded by dozens of Klyptons. They haven't moved on our position, but suspect they will at any time. What men we have left are set up strategically throughout the room waiting for the inevitable attack. Not only that, the ship has jumped at least three times since you were out. We've tried to patch into the shipboard computer systems to figure out where we are. The good news is that their level of encryption on the ship isn't anywhere near what we've come to expect from our little boarding parties."

  "And the bad?"

  "The bad news is that the computer system language is completely foreign. Without an expert linguist, we simply are unable to translate anything it says."

  "I knew we should've brought Richards along. That man could've re-calibrated the computer to set the display in the King's English if we needed him to."

  "Normally I'd agree, but I think we are better off without him. Not only is the man about as worthless as tits on a boar in combat, but they also need him more back on the Endeavor."

  "True, he is about the only man I know capable of figuring this whole mess out."

  "That and the commander."

  Wellard's mind drifted back to Bremerton. He wondered how he was handling the situation without him, other than being ticked. The commander was right, and this exact situation was the reason, but even as he leaned against the crate, he couldn't help believing he'd done the right thing.

  "So, Sergeant, what's our plan?"

  "Now that you're awake we need to get out of this room. Other than the crates there aren't many strategic places to use for cover. Not only that, but we need to reevaluate our mission."

  "Explain."

  "I understand your desire to head down to the lower decks to where the anomaly would be if there was one, but I believe it's more prudent to take the bridge to keep them from taking us wherever they are."

  "I agree," Wellard grunted as he struggled to get to his feet, his injured leg protested with every move. "But it seems I'll be about as much help as Richards storming the bridge."

  "Yeah, I was afraid of that. While I'm all gung-ho about getting the hell of this ship, I'm not about to leave a man behind to do it."

  "Which leads me back to our destination. While I agree with you about our need to take the bridge, I believe it may still be prudent to take the lower decks. Not only could we get a better look at the power source, but we may also be able to disable it while we're down there."

  Walker nodded. "It would be a hell of a lot easier to set up a defensive perimeter than to go on the offensive." He glanced down to Wellard's injured leg. "Unfortunately, that route won't be any more pleasant on your leg."

  "I'll survive." Biting my tongue to keep from screaming in agony with every step, but I will survive.

  In truth, he wasn't sure he could make it at all. Every movement, even minor, sent a jolt of pain up his leg that threatened to make him black out. If he could manage the pain in short stints, they might cover a deck in an hour, maybe two. Hardly a suitable pace for taking the ship, but it was the best he could do considering his circumstances.

  "Then it's settled." Walker stepped into the room and signaled for the marine posting watch at the door. "Pull the men from the halls. We are to meet in here in fifteen minutes to go over the plan." The marine nodded before rushing away and into the corridor. "As for you. You better get off that leg until we are ready. Hate to see the pain take you before we even leave the room."

  "No complaints from me."

  Walker grabbed a small crate from the center of the room and placed it on the ground under Wellard. The captain eased himself onto the crate, the pain easing as the pressure on the wound decreased. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  How the hell am I going to get out of this one?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Gibraltar Sector

  Flight Deck, NECS Endeavor

  "Minus the unlucky bastard with the hole in his chest, the rest of you move away from the device. If any of you so much as tries to make a move, I'll send a pair of slugs into the girl," Capelli said, his weapon trained on Bobcat's chest.
<
br />   "What the hell, Capelli!" Richards said, raising his hands in the air. "We're all on the same team."

  "Hardly. Just because we're human doesn't mean we are on the same side." Capelli motioned with the gun for them to move into the corner. They did so with their hands raised in the air, moving deliberately towards the location.

  "So you're a traitor too," Richards said. "Like Landry."

  "If it makes you feel better to say, then sure. But I prefer to be called a visionary."

  "Psychopath is more like it," Tegan countered.

  Capelli grinned. "Some of the greatest minds in history have been called both, though the prevailing point of view often determines which moniker will stick. I believe my term to be most appropriate, given your present circumstances."

  "Whatever," Tegan spat. "What the hell do you want with us?"

  "That's simple. I want you to stop trying to dissect the device. The secrets contained within were not meant for our eyes. Our place is not to learn the secrets of our masters, but to obey their will."

  "Obey their will? You mean by giving more of our worlds to them." Tegan inched closer, eyes focused on the gun and Capelli's eyes. The man, while young, looked like he actually believed the bullshit that was coming out of his mouth. Not only that, his grin suggested he was just begging for a reason to pull the trigger. No matter how badly she wanted to get out of the room, she wasn't about to give one to him.

  "That would be a good start." He relaxed his grip on the gun as two armed marines entered the room. Tegan had seen them around the ship a time or two before but hadn't caught either of their names. Considering they were here helping Capelli detain them, she knew she no longer had to worry about that little formality. "What they want more than anything is for us to join with them. To take our place at their side."

  "Is that why they swooped in and destroyed ninety percent of our fleet a hundred years ago? Because they wanted peace?"

  "No," Capelli admitted. "They destroyed Earth's fleets to stop our people from leaving. They knew we had already colonized new planets, but knew Earth was the seat of humanity's power. They believed by taking Earth, they could take us as well."

  "Didn't work as planned, did it?" Tegan said, traces of a smile forming at the corner of her lips. While she liked goading the man, she knew she had to be careful. Lancer's broken form was all the reminder she needed that he meant business. And if he, a puny engineer, was willing to pull the trigger, she knew his two marine friends would be even less hesitant.

  "No. Instead our people retreated from Earth like a bunch of cowards."

  "What were they supposed to do? I'd say put yourself in their shoes, but it's clear you only see things from your point of view."

  "Because my view is the most valid. I've lived my whole life under Mythrar rule. They are an amazing race that wants nothing more than for us to thrive. If you give them a chance, you will understand."

  "Then let them explain it to us and give us a choice, instead of hijacking our ships and sending another alien race out to subjugate us."

  "The Klyptons have been given a directive separate from our own. I am not in a position to speak on their behalf other than to say they are merely enforcing the will of our benevolent rulers."

  "If that's what we have to deal with, then we'll take our chances on our own."

  Capelli grinned, his white teeth glistened in the bright light of the makeshift workroom. "I'm afraid they have other plans for you." He lifted his weapon, aiming it at Tegan's head. "The two of you have become a major thorn in our sides. I'm afraid that means you won't be leaving this room alive."

  Behind the trio of men, Tegan noticed movement from inside the fighter bay. A pair of guns appeared behind the two marines, the weapons held by two of her fellow pilots while a third gun was aimed at Capelli's head. That weapon was held by none other than Commander Thompson, her face resolute as she pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Unknown Space

  Scavenger

  "You sure this will work?" Wellard asked as he poured through Walker's plans on his datapad.

  "What part of it don't you like?"

  "The part where you leave half of your marines behind to guard me. Pardon my bluntness, but you'll need every man we have including me. If you intend to so much as leave one man behind, the plan is as good as toast."

  Wellard hated being so blunt, but someone had to say it. While it would've been a great plan against a human-controlled starship, against one controlled by the Klyptons, it was bound to fail. Even without considering that the aliens were stronger and faster than they were, they were in for an uphill battle.

  For starters, the aliens had to be intimate with the layout of the ship. While they'd been able to pull up some rudimentary designs from the network, they had no way to know how accurate they were. After the first encounter or the first repairs, no ship ever remained the same. A ship that was as old as the scavenger class… well, it was assumed by everyone that the layout was all wrong.

  "Then what do you propose? Push everyone downstairs at the cargo bay with guns blazing?"

  "Something like that," Wellard said as he struggled to get to his feet. He waved off the first marine that attempted to give him a hand, and then another before using the wall to maintain his balance.

  "Impossible, Captain. You can barely stay on your feet, yet you want to lead the charge."

  "I'm not going to lead the charge. You are." Wellard pulled up the schematics of the lower decks and placed it on the crate between them. "You and most the marines will take point, doing a quick search of any rooms we pass on the way to avoid getting ourselves ambushed. We will make our way down below slowly and deliberately, keeping together as one large unit." He raised a hand before a marine could protest. "I realize that means we are abandoning our shuttles, but it is only temporary. Besides, they simply don't have enough speed to get us far enough away before they shoot us down."

  Walker nodded. "I'd be surprised if they didn't have some of their guns back online by now. That means retreat isn't an option."

  The marines all grunted in agreement.

  "Your plan is fine, Captain, but it still doesn't explain what your role in the attack will be."

  "Simple. I'll be part of the rear guard." Wellard waited for a moment while the shock of the words washed over the men before he continued. "Two of your best men will join me in the back. As long as the lead group doesn't move too fast, I shouldn't have a problem keeping up. This way I stay with the group, and we move together as a team."

  "Fine, let's say I sign off on this. What happens when we get attacked from behind?"

  "Then, Sergeant, we pray my firearms training pays off."

  There was commotion from the other side of the bay. One of the two marines stationed at the door sprinted across the room and stopped next to Walker.

  "Sir, three Klyptons in the hall. They are searching every room on their way to us. They should be here in less than three minutes."

  Walker stared at Wellard, his eyes searching for any signs of doubt in him. "Fine. Johnson and Reeks, you two are on escort duty. I need not remind you how important keeping the captain alive is, do I?"

  "No sir," the two men grunted.

  Walker nodded. "Black, barricade the door the best you can and join us in the hall. The rest of you, move out."

  Black shut the door softly, then grabbed a thick metal bar from its holder on the wall and jammed it between the handles. He then secured the bar to the handles with a length of rope to keep it from moving free.

  Limping towards the steel doors, Wellard hefted his weapon and aimed it back inside the room. He kept his aim at the barricaded doorway in case something got through.

  When was more like it. With under a minute to spare, no amount of barricading the door would make a difference against the speed and strength of the aliens. It would, however, buy them a few critical moments to get the marines out of the hall.

  Reaching the doors, John
son took a knee on the left side of the corridor while Reeks took position on the right. Wellard, unsure of where he fit in their firing path, stood against the wall a few feet behind Johnson. Gun trained on the door and ready to fire, he watched as the doors swayed inward. With a clang, the handles caught on the bar, keeping the door from opening any more than a few inches. Seconds later the aliens tried again, this time much more quickly than the first. Each successive push weakened the rope, allowing the bar to shift a few inches more.

  Taking a deep breath, Wellard watched as the bar slid, inch by inch out of the handles. He nearly pulled the trigger when static crackled in his earpiece. The noise was replaced with Walker's voice.

  "Hallway secure. Move your ass in here, Captain. Double time."

  "You heard the man," Wellard said, barely above a whisper. "Into the hall."

  Wellard kept his gun trained on the door as he backpedaled a few steps, pain shot up his leg with every slight movement. Gritting his teeth, he kept up the pace until Reeks shut and secured the rear doors, at which point he lowered his gun and let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

  "Eyes forward from here, Captain," Johnson said, reaching his side. "If we need your help, you'll be the first to know."

  Reeks grunted in agreement. "No way in hell you're going to keep that shit up down three flights of stairs."

  Wellard forced a thin-lipped smile. "Be lucky to keep it up to the end of the hall." Hand still on the trigger, he lowered his pistol and allowed it to rest against his good leg. "Just say the word, and I'll flip around to cover your back."

  "Let's try to keep up with the group, so you don't have to." Johnson motioned for Wellard to move forward.