Starship Guardian (The Galactic Wars Book 4)

by Ellis,Tripp

  The rest of the group mulled this over.

  “How are a handful of us gonna take control of the ship?”

  “It’s not that hard. There’s maybe two Marines in the detention block. We rescue Rourke, then overtake the CIC. It’s not guarded right now. The hatch is open. We can stroll right in. Once we barricade ourselves in the CIC, it’s virtually impenetrable. There’s no way in. It’s designed to be secure.”

  “I don’t know,” Dodson said. “What you’re talking about could get us life in a maximum-security slam.”

  Davies laughed. “If we don’t do it, we could get life in a maximum-security slam. That’s what I think.” He paused and drew them in. “Look, I know at least 50 people who came over from the Intrepid that feel the same way. And not just enlisted either. High-level officers. They all think putting Rourke back in charge is the right thing. The military works because we have a chain of command. Right now, that chain of command is broken.” Davies paused a moment. “So, what do you say? Are you guys in?”

  The group of sailors looked at each other.

  “I’m in,” one of them said.

  “Me too,” said another.

  One by one, they agreed.

  Dodson was the last one to chime in. “Fine. Count me in.”

  Davies grinned from ear to ear. He spent the next few hours gathering support from guys he knew from the Intrepid. He got commitments from 25 of the 50 sailors he approached.

  There were roughly 1600 crew aboard the Revenant. Most of them supported Slade. It was a bold move to try and take the ship.

  Lieutenant Zach Parker became the de facto leader of the group by virtue of his rank. But it was Davies’ show.

  Parker was a tall gangly man. He had graduated from Vanden with an Engineering degree. He was a by the books kind of guy. And the current, unorthodox situation didn’t sit well with him.

  The mutineers stocked up on weapons from the armory. Some headed toward engineering. Others to the reactor room. The rest headed toward the detention center.

  They needed to keep things quiet. Triggering an alarm would put the CIC on alert. The last thing they needed was a raucous exchange of fire in the detention center.

  The squad stormed the cellblock, and caught the Marines off guard. Nobody was expecting an attack from within. Simultaneous coups were happing in the propulsion compartments.

  “Drop your weapons. Now!” Davies tried to sound like a bad ass as the mutineers flooded in to the detention center with their weapons in the firing position. The barrels of their RK 909s drew down on the unsuspecting Marines. It wasn’t like a Marine to go out without a fight, but this was a no-win situation. There were too many of them. The two devil dogs exchanged a wary glance, then slowly set their weapons on the deck. They raised their hands in the air.

  Davies moved to the command console, and unlocked Rourke’s cell. The hatch buzzed, then slid open.

  Rourke’s eyes went wide. He stepped into the corridor to see the squad of mutineers. A slight grin crawled on his craggy lips.

  “Sir, we are restoring your command,” Davies said.

  “Son, you just got yourself a promotion,” Rourke said with glee.

  “Come with us, sir.” Davies restrained Rourke with handcuffs to give the impression that he was still a prisoner, then marched Rourke toward the CIC. Davies explained the plan to Rourke along the way.

  They had left the Marines in Rourke’s old cell. So far, no one else on the ship was the wiser. The mutineers received a few odd looks as they marched through the corridors, but no one paid them much attention. People were worried about their own business, and the war. The crew was either scurrying about in the course of their duties, or bleary-eyed after getting off a long shift.

  The mutineers flooded into the CIC without any resistance. The gang of mutineers were nervous sailors with their fingers wrapped tight around the triggers of high-powered assault rifles. Most of them had never seen combat before. Some of them were scared shitless. Some of them were just itching to fire off a few rounds.

  Davies sealed and locked the hatch behind them. No one was going to be able to get into the CIC from the outside.

  “I’m Captain Rourke. Senior officer of the fleet. I’m taking my rightful place as captain of the ship. Anyone who resists will be shot for treason.”

  Zoey clenched her jaw and scowled at him.

  25

  New Earth

  "We've got company,” Levi said. He leaned over the crater, calling to the basement below.

  He crawled back and hugged the wall, keeping a low profile. He hoped the Decluvian squad wouldn't see the rope tied to the pillar.

  The squad strolled casually through the street. This area had already been secured. They were just keeping an eye on things.

  Levi watched them with nervous eyes. His heart leapt into his throat when one of the soldiers stopped and looked toward the museum. Levi crouched even farther down behind the wall and tried to make himself small.

  The soldier marched up the steps and into the ruins of the museum.

  Levi’s eyes were wide.

  The soldier zigzagged through the rubble, marching to the painting that remained on the wall. He seemed amused at the fact it had survived. Then he did something you're never supposed to do in a museum—he reached out and touched the canvas. He ran his long, slender finger down the textured surface. It was as if he'd never seen a painting before. Certainly not one like this.

  Surely, the Decluvian’s had art. But who knew in what context or form.

  The soldier lifted the painting from the wall and slung it under his arm. He was going to walk off with it. The spoils of war. As he turned back to the street he caught sight of Levi. He dropped the painting and slung his weapon into the firing position.

  But Levi beat him to the punch. He put the reticle of the sight in the center of the Decluvian’s chest, just like Presley had taught him.

  BANG! BANG!

  He double tapped the bastard. Green blood exploded from his chest. It splattered all over the painting, but it seemed to match the color scheme. The soldier fell to the ground and dropped the painting. It clattered against the concrete slab. The museum curators would be turning over in their graves. But they weren't in graves—they were probably buried in the rubble somewhere.

  The rest of the Decluvian squad snapped their weapons in Levi's direction. He ducked behind the wall as several rounds blazed over his head.

  He sprang up and fired a couple rounds, then dropped back down behind the rubble. A slew of projectiles streamed toward him, impacting the wall. Concrete chips sprayed out.

  The squad leader motioned for his team to flank Levi. One of the soldiers dashed off to the left, the other to the right. The squad leader took cover behind a pile of rubble and laid down a continuous barrage of fire.

  Levi wasn't trained for this kind of thing. He had mere seconds to react. Soon he was going to be taking fire from 3 positions. If he stayed put, he’d be dead. He waited for a break in the shower of plasma projectiles, then sprang to his feet. He dashed for another section of cover as blue streaks whizzed all around him.

  He hugged a wall, then slung his rifle around and fired a few shots back at the squad leader. Levi took off running again and dashed behind a pillar. He kept moving and firing, drawing them away from Presley and the others in the basement.

  Presley could hear the commotion on the street above. She grabbed the rope and climbed to the surface. She poked her head up and glanced around. All of the focus was on Levi.

  Plasma projectiles streaked through the air.

  She pulled herself out of the hole and crawled to a wall. She slowly slung her weapon over the ridge and took aim at the squad leader. He was completely unaware of her presence. With his head in the crosshairs, Presley squeezed the trigger. His blue spotted head exploded.

  Presley spun the barrel around, taking aim at one of the soldiers attempting to flank Levi. But her first shot had given away her position, and th
e soldier turned to fire at her.

  Presley blasted off a few rounds and took out the Decluvian before he could get a shot off.

  Levi exchanged fire with the remaining soldier. It was Presley's turn to try and flank the alien. She dashed through the rubble, moving from piles of debris to the remains of pillars and fragments of demolished walls. She circled around until she had a clear view of the alien. But before she could squeeze off a round, the Decluvian took a hit to the shoulder that spun him around. Another blast exploded his chest. Green blood splattered the ground. Levi had scored a hit.

  Presley couldn’t help but smile a bit. She ran through the debris to find Levi. He was clutching his arm, wincing with pain.

  “You okay?” Presley said, her face twisted up with worry.

  “Yeah, I'm fine. I just got grazed." He moved his hand away from the wound—it was a seared groove of flesh. The skin around it was red and blistered. "I don't think it even hit me. It was just pretty damn close."

  “We've got to hurry. I'm afraid our little firefight will draw some unwanted attention." Presley raced back to the hole in the slab. She slid down the rope.

  Levi kept watch up top.

  There were 23 students in the basement, along with their teacher, Ms. Vance. Presley had the unfortunate experience of having Ms. Vance as a teacher when she was Timmy’s age. It seems Ms. Vance’s only joy in life was handing out detentions, of which Presley had gotten many. Half a second late—detention. Pass a note—detention. Chewing gum—detention. Breathing—detention.

  Presley couldn't help but take a little satisfaction in the fact that she was the one to save Ms. Vance. There was just a hint of a smug grin on Presley's face.

  Ms. Vance still had that sour scowl. She looked pretty much the same, only a few years older. The same crooked nose and thin lips. The same thin face and sunken eyes. Dark, greying hair that she always wore in a bun. And the mole with the long black hair sprouting out of it that you just couldn’t help but stare at—and doing so would earn you a… detention.

  “Okay, it's gonna be just like gym class,” Presley said. “I need you to climb the rope, be quiet, and stick together. We don't have a lot of time.”

  “Excuse me,” Ms. Vance said in a grating shrill voice. “This is my class, and my students will do as I say.”

  Presley stood slack-jawed. She had a look of utter disbelief on her face. It was the end of the world, and Ms. Vance was going to pull this nonsense? “Well, please tell your students it's time to evacuate.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  26

  Revenant

  It was business as usual. Except for the crew in the the CIC, engineering, and the reactor room, no one knew the mutiny had taken place.

  Rourke had one small problem. None of his band of mutineers were part of the command crew. They were mostly enlisted, with the exception of Lieutenant Parker. Not one of them knew how to fly, or navigate, a star destroyer. He was going to have to rely solely on the compliance of the existing command crew. And all of them were loyal to Slade.

  “Officer Bishop,” Rourke barked. “Plot a jump for New Earth. We’re not going down without a fight.”

  Bishop didn’t reply.

  Rourke’s eyes narrowed. “I gave you a direct order. Plot a jump for New Earth.”

  Bishop trembled. He cleared his throat. “No, sir. I do not recognize you as the Captain of this ship.”

  Rourke clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared. His face turned red. “Spaceman Davies. Shoot this traitor.”

  “Aye, sir,” Davies stammered. He advanced and put the barrel of his assault rifle against Bishop’s head. Davies hesitated a moment. He had never shot anyone before. It was easy to talk tough, but to kill a man in cold blood? A fellow warrior? That was a different story altogether.

  “Do it, son!” Rourke snarled.

  Davies squeezed the trigger.

  Bishop’s head exploded. Blood splattered everywhere. It painted the tactical console and sprayed Davies in the face. Bishop’s body smacked the deck. Bits of his skull and brain matter scattered about. Blood pooled around his body.

  Everyone in the room gasped in horror.

  Zoey’s eyes brimmed. Her throat tightened and burned with rage.

  Davies wiped the blood from his face. His skin went pale, and he looked a little shocked at what he had done.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Humans weren’t supposed to be killing each other. Especially when there were so few of them left.

  “I will not tolerate insubordination. Is that understood?”

  Slade emerged from slide-space and headed toward one of the Revenant’s flight decks. “Revenant, Cobra Two Niner, request permission to land?”

  A few moments later the LSO’s voice crackled back over the comm line. “Permission granted, Cobra Two Niner.”

  Slade could see the Optical Landing System, and she had the Skylark in the groove.

  “Cobra, call the ball,” the LSO said.

  “Cobra Two Niner, Skylark Ball, 3.2”

  “Roger ball,” said the LSO.

  Slade made a textbook landing. She climbed out of the pilot seat and lowered the back ramp of the gunship. Walker was waiting for her on the deck. She couldn’t help but be a little glad to see him. After what she had been through, she needed a friendly face. But Walker’s face looked anything but friendly. She knew right away something was wrong.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Walker said. The two marched across the flight deck. Mitch and Violet hurried to keep up.

  “The Master at Arms found two Marines locked in Rourke’s cell. He’s taken over the CIC and propulsion.”

  Slade’s whole body tensed. “That son-of-a-bitch!”

  The bulkheads rippled and distorted. She felt her stomach twist up in knots. The Revenant had just entered slide-space.

  Slade knew where Rourke was going. “He’s jumping us to New Earth.” Her brow crinkled with worry. “We’ve got to get control of the ship back. He’s reckless and impulsive. He’s going to destroy us.”

  “Is there any other way into the CIC?” Walker asked.

  “No. The hatch and bulkheads are lined with thermally protected composites. You can’t cut through. It’s impossible to override any of the systems externally.”

  “We can try to take the engine room, or the reactor compartment,” Walker said. “Without those he can’t navigate the ship.”

  “He’s going to jump us into the middle of a battlefield. Cutting propulsion could be disastrous. I want a tactical team ready and waiting at the CIC. They can’t stay in there forever. It was designed to withstand short-term assaults. There’s no food or water. And at some point, somebody’s gonna have to take a piss.”

  Walker grinned. “Aye, sir.” He dashed out of the room to assemble his team.

  “Violet, keep working on that virus,” Slade said.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Walker gathered a team of Marines and took position outside the CIC. Rourke could see them on the surveillance monitor. He didn’t seem too concerned. He knew they weren’t going to be able to get in.

  The Revenant emerged from slide-space at New Earth. The bulkheads rippled and warbled. The distorted wave rushed over the CIC, and throughout the ship.

  The LRADDS display lit up with over 30 red icons—the Decluvian invasion fleet. New Earth looked even worse than before.

  “Fire control, target the lead destroyer,” Rourke yelled.

  “Aye, sir,” the officer stammered.

  “I want to hit them with the Widow-Makers. Let’s send four right up their ass.”

  A swarm of Decluvian fighters flowed from several of the enemy warships.

  “I have a firing solution.”

  “Fire!” Rourke shouted.

  Four 50 megaton nukes blasted from the Revenant’s launch tubes. Propellant spewed from their tails as they streaked across the star field.

  The enemy countermeasures took out the nukes with ease before they
impacted the hull. Four blinding explosions dotted space, then faded.

  Rourke grimaced. “Hit them with the Mark 25s!”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The turrets of the Mark 25s swiveled into action. The staccato report of cannon fire rumbled through the Revenant. M79 super sabot rounds blazed toward the lead warship. They impacted the enemy super-carrier. It was hard to ascertain how much damage they were causing, or how deeply they were penetrating the alien structure.

  As the horde of enemy fighters approached, the Mark 25s focused their attention on the incoming threat. This was no longer an offensive assault. The Revenant was on defense. To make matters worse, dozens of incoming nukes rocketed toward the Revenant, launched from multiple warships.

  The auto targeting of the cannons tracked both the inbound fighters and nukes. The turrets swiveled and blasted at the threats. But there were simply too many targets to keep up with.

  Of the dozen nukes, two penetrated the defenses and slammed into the hull. The Revenant quaked and groaned. The blast sent the crew tumbling to the deck. Sparks flew in the CIC as equipment shorted out. Klaxons sounded.

  The blasts tore through the armored bulkheads, incinerating several compartments. The enemy fighters swooped in, strafing the hull. They were blasting at key structures with tactical rockets. The Revenant wasn’t going to last long under this kind of assault.

  Rourke staggered to his feet. It was chaos in the CIC. Rourke’s mutineers were in disarray, trying to regain their footing.

  Zoey’s eyes scanned the CIC—if there was a time to take back control of the ship, this was it. But it was too risky—the crew that was loyal to Slade was just as dazed from the blast.

  “I want a damage report,” Rourke shouted.

  Zoey looked over her terminal. “Hull breech in sections, 109-112 and 134-152.”

  “Seal off those compartments.”

  Small blasts continued to rock the ship.

  The LRADDS display lit up again. Several more incoming nukes were screaming toward the Revenant.