Defiant (The Mythrar War Book 4) Page 14

  Jenkins dropped to a knee and retrieved his blaster. "Fine, then I'm going, too."

  "Not sure that's such a good idea," Walker said. "The battle out in the hall was just the first of many. If you come with us, I can't guarantee you won't die."

  "I'm not asking you to," Jenkins retorted. "But I have an obligation to the New Earth government to at least bring him in for a trial. So, wherever he goes, I go."

  Jason smirked. "When this is all over, I'll go with you of my own accord. You have my word."

  Chapter Forty-Four

  New Earth Sector

  Cockpit, X-71 Fighter

  A beam lanced out from the NECS Odyssey, narrowly missing Fireball's fighter as he flew by. His eyes focused on a single point of light a few kilometers ahead of his ship, the exhaust port of a Mythrar drone.

  Cross and Tater flew by his side in a rough V-formation, firing at any drones that flew past. They were a force to be reckoned with, destroying any drones they came across.

  The battle was changing, and not for the better. The advance of the main Mythrar lines had brought with it hundreds of additional drones. Far too many for the NEC fleet to hope to deal with efficiently. The massive swarm was allowing the Mythrar fleet to move unabated towards the NEC front.

  Fireball could see the writing on the wall. There was no way humanity could survive this encounter, not without giving in. So the way he saw it, his job wasn't to escort Switch into the traitorous NEC ships, his job was to destroy as many drones as he could before he died.

  "Picking up three drones coming in at four o'clock," Cross said as he unleashed a volley of fire upon another drone. The beam pierced the craft's center mass, causing a catastrophic failure of its engine core. The subsequent blast took out two drones flying nearby.

  Fireball's viewport was pelted with shrapnel as he flew through the debris field. He fired off a volley of his own at his target. The drone seemed to sense it coming and swerved before the shots hit. Fireball cursed and nearly slammed his fist into his console as he struggled to adjust.

  Nearby, the three drones fired their weapons on his squadron as they closed in. A shot caught Tater's wing, sending the young pilot into a deadly spin.

  "Cut power to your port-side thrusters," Fireball ordered as he flew by. "You'll have issues maneuvering, but you can still fly."

  Tater continued his death spiral a few seconds longer before he gained control. He leveled his craft out and brought it in line with Fireball's fighter. "Thanks, boss, I owe…" The words were cut off as a massive explosion tore the X-71 apart.

  "Damnit!" Fireball cursed as Tater's blip disappeared from his screen. He didn't have any delusions that Tater would survive the battle, but his death felt like a punch in the gut anyway. In a rage, he cut all power to his port thruster while increasing power to his starboard side. The sudden change of power sent his craft into a tailspin and brought the three incoming fighters into view.

  Without hesitating, he sent a burst of fire in their direction. The lead ship seemed to swerve and avoid the blasts, but the two in the rear failed to dodge and were destroyed.

  Fireball thought the move was odd but brushed it off to focus on the threat. He brought his craft around more, putting the center mass of the drone in the center of his view. His console beeped with the sound of a confirmed torpedo lock. For a moment, he considered ignoring the lock to deal with the threat on his own. But then he remembered the drones trailing Switch's squad and decided against it. As much as he wanted to make the kill personal, it was more important to help keep his friend alive.

  Pressing the button on his yoke, he released the torpedo from its harness. Free from its moorings, it ignited and raced off towards the target. Resisting the urge to watch the drone go down, he switched his thrusters to bring his craft back on a frontal approach. As it veered back into position, he focused his attention on the drones still speeding off to catch Switch. Not wanting them to get away, he punched the throttle, forcing his fighter up to full burn.

  The controls shook in his hand, as he struggled to keep his craft under control. On his display, he noticed Cross attempting to do the same. The G-forces were doing a number on his stomach, so he could only imagine what they were doing to the kid.

  "Pull back. I got this," Fireball said, confidently.

  "I'm fine," Cross insisted. "Besides, we never leave a squadmate behind."

  Fireball winced at the comment, not knowing if it was a jab against his maneuver or for suggesting the kid back off. In any case, if Cross was intent on keeping the pace, he wasn't about to call him off.

  "Fine," Fireball conceded. "Swing around that wreckage to the right. I'll lead them over to you."

  "Copy." Cross veered off around the debris field while Fireball kept on course. Every second that passed brought him closer to the drones. The way they were flying, he was almost sure he would catch them on his own. An explosion on the Odyssey caused them to veer off to the side to avoid being caught in the blast.

  Fireball adjusted his course, bringing the drones back in his crosshairs. They were still well out of the range of his weapons, but he needed to keep them off Switch's trail.

  He pulled back on the trigger, unleashing a stream of laser fire towards the drones as he sped towards them at blazing speed. The drones swerved hard to the right, to avoid the beams, and right into Cross's counterfire. The drones were torn apart as the beams connected.

  "Two more coming from my ten," Cross said as he adjusted course to intercept the new targets.

  "I'm right behind you." Fireball pulled back on the throttle and brought his fighter around towards the new targets.

  "Reliant fighters, disengage from your targets and return to the Reliant. I repeat, disengage from your targets and return to the Reliant." Fireball had to do a double take. Why would they recall them to the ship during the battle? Were they planning on running like they did before? It wouldn't have surprised him. In fact, considering the odds, it was probably the best call. Still, he decided now wasn't the time to question the order.

  "You heard the man, form up and head back."

  "But what about Switch?" Cross replied.

  "He'll be fine. We'll meet him back on the flight deck."

  The comm crackled with the sounds of another transmission. "CAG to all Reliant fighters. You are to form up alongside the Reliant, not return to the fighter bays. We are making a run at the main flagship. Targeting priorities are being sent to your fighters as we speak. Once we engage, you are to rush the target and hit it with everything you have. Torpedoes, lasers, the works. Details will follow. CAG, out."

  "Do you think it's important, Fireball?"

  "Not my place to question, kid. She wants us to shoot something off the bloody flagship, and I'm going to make sure it gets done."

  Chapter Forty-Five

  New Earth Sector

  Bridge, Flagship Koniva

  The green energy beam lanced out from Flagship Koniva and into one of the incoming NEC heavy cruisers. Miller didn't bother checking the transponder signals from the ship as he knew it would be gone in a matter of minutes.

  But the ship wasn't about to go down without a fight. It unleashed its full array of frontal weaponry at the flagship. Dozens of smaller explosions ripped across the hull, where the gauss cannon rounds found their mark, while the two red beams slammed into the hull. But the combined effect did little to the stability or the structure of the massive flagship.

  Three of the ships flanking the flagship opened up on the heavy cruiser as it closed the gap, adding their fire to the single beam of the flagship and before long, the ship succumbed in an explosion that was quickly quenched by the vacuum of space.

  Robbins quickly chose another target, one of the light cruisers that had been flanking the last target. Without the cover of the larger ship, the vessel didn't stand a chance. Sparks erupted from the ship's hull as the beam cut a hole through the tungsten plating. Moments later, it too exploded.

  With their backs
against the wall, the rest of humanity had started fighting back, but it was too little, too late. Caught between the traitorous vessels around the station, and the advancing Mythrar lines, there was little chance any of them would survive. Still, Miller watched the battle rage with a sense of pride, knowing his people were doing their best.

  Part of him wanted to lash out and destroy his oppressors. He wanted nothing more than to join the rest of his people. To be out there with the others, teaching the Mythrar that humanity is not to be messed with, even if that lesson cost him his life.

  Sitting in his command chair, he wished there was something he could do to help, but as long as Koniva was still alive, there was little he could do. For the most part, the Mythrar allowed him and the crew to act on their own accord. As long as he performed with the best interests of the flagship and the collective in mind, he had little to worry about.

  Deep down, he knew the best thing he could do for the flagship, and his people was to kill Koniva. Once he was dead, he could turn the ship on the rest of the Mythrar fleet. Sure, he would likely die to one of the other flagships, but it might just be enough to give his people a chance.

  But it wasn't to be. Killing an emissary was said to be difficult at the best of times. On one of the flagships, he knew it would be downright impossible. There were far too many safeguards in place around Koniva's floor to let anyone get close, him least of all.

  Even if he could, there was still the matter of dealing with his Klypton honor guard. He didn't have access to enough firepower to even consider that.

  If he couldn't help them by turning on the fleet, he would do the only other thing he could. Give them a quick death, so they wouldn't be forced to make the same decisions as he had.

  "Move in on their fleet. Prioritize fire on their heavy cruisers. One of them has to be directing the battle for the humans. If it falls, so will the others. Find that ship and destroy it."

  Chapter Forty-Six

  New Earth Sector

  Bridge, NECS Reliant

  "Turn the ship hard to port. Try to shield as many of the smaller ships as we can. Tactical, focus our weapons…" Before Wellard could finish, the screen turned a dazzling shade of white as the display overcompensated for a nearby blast. When the screen settled, all that remained of the nearby ship was a rapidly expanding debris field. Some of the larger pieces slammed into the NECS Navajo, rupturing its hull. The ship belched flame and debris into the void until it too exploded.

  "Sir, we're getting torn up out here. At this pace, our entourage will be destroyed long before we reach the flagship." Wilson spoke confidently, though his expression told the truth. They were all going to die, and there was nothing they could do that would change it.

  Wellard had believed it to be true from the start. If they'd sat back with the rest of the NEC lines, it was just a matter of time until they were all dead. At least this way he could give the rest of humanity a fighting chance. As long as they could destroy the damned device on the flagship, their deaths wouldn't be in vain.

  "We were getting torn up back there, too. Tell me, Lieutenant, would you rather die back there with the others, or up here engaging the Mythrar lines? Because, the way I see it, those are our only choices." Wellard noticed the grim looks on the rest of their crew as they struggled to come to terms with the realization that their deaths were imminent. The odds were bad enough long before they’d lost control of the station, or before the traitorous captains made their moves. Now, they were downright impossible. "Personally, if we're going to die, I want to make sure those bastards earn it. In the meantime, I want to give the rest of our people a fighting chance. If we can disrupt the signal controlling the drones, we give the rest of the fleet a fighting chance."

  "Sorry, sir. I…"

  "No need to apologize, Lieutenant. Your concern is warranted, but now is the time to act. If you want to discuss tactics after this is over, I'm up for it, but that means we have to live through the day." Live through the next few hours was more like it, or in their case, the next few minutes.

  "Understood," Wilson replied.

  Good, Wellard thought. The last thing he needed was the crew questioning his decisions, suicidal or not.

  "Order the entourage to fire on the lead frigate." Wellard pulled up the schematic of the ship on his console, indicated a single point on the ship, and sent the display over to Wilson's station. "Have them fire at that point. If they haven't changed the design, that should be the location of the bridge."

  Without saying a word, Wilson forwarded the command to the rest of the entourage. Moments later the frigate seemed to light up as the entourage pounded the vessel with everything it had. An explosion from the forward section of the hull was all the confirmation Wellard needed that the target was disabled. Then, as if to confirm his suspicions, the weapons on the ship went silent.

  "Target destroyed," Wilson confirmed. "Ordering the entourage to fire on the next ship."

  "Good call, but keep a close eye on that ship. If it warms up weapons, order the entourage to finish the job." Wellard doubted the command would be necessary. If the ships comprising the Mythrar lines were anything like the ships they'd faced over the past few months, they were all operating with a skeleton crew. By destroying the bridge, they should be able to eliminate most of the threat while the fighter corps handled the rest.

  The entourage worked this method down the line. No sooner than they'd crippled one ship, Wilson would send the command to target the next. At their pace, it was just a matter of time until the flagship was the only ship standing in their way.

  "Incoming message from Captain Jordan of the Obama," McRee said.

  "Patch it through." The viewscreen shifted, allowing a side-by-side view of the battle on one half, and Captain Jordan on the other. Her long, blond hair was pulled back in a bun, though some of the strands had fallen out of place. Blood trickled down her face from a gash on her cheek, staining the white collar of her undershirt.

  "Wellard, why the hell aren't we finishing off those ships? Once the flagships realize what we’re doing, it's just a matter of time until they strike us from behind."

  "I understand your concern, but our target is the flagship. As long as it can direct the drones, we don't stand a chance."

  "If we allow the Mythrar fleet to survive, we won't stand a chance, either."

  Wellard's brow furrowed. She had a valid point, but it was too late to turn back. "The longer we take to disable the device, the more likely it is we all die. My orders stand."

  "We'll see about that." The screen blinked before shifting back to a full view of the battle.

  "Sir, the Obama is pulling away from the entourage to engage one of the damaged frigates," Ritter said from the sensors station.

  "Damnit." Wellard pounded a fist against his armrest. Why was she choosing now, of all times, to ignore his orders? Sure, they hadn't been on the best terms since their time in the academy, but they weren't enemies. Surely she understood the need to get control of the situation before things spiraled further out of control. "Let her go. Our objective remains the same. Issue the order to the entourage to continue as planned."

  Wilson barked his acknowledgment before passing the orders down the chain. As he did, Wellard hoped more than anything that the rest of the entourage would follow him. The Reliant may have been one of the most advanced NEC ships on the battlefield, but it wasn't a match for the flagship.

  "Richards, any luck deciphering the signal?"

  Richards pursed his lips. "I'm afraid not. Thanks to Midshipman Ritter's fine work, I can at least see the signal, but the code is gibberish. It's too early to tell now, but it almost looks like the device is responsible for much more than controlling the drones. If I had a little more time, I'm sure I could isolate the exact signal they are using to control the drones."

  "Are you trying to tell me…"

  "Yes," Richards interrupted. "I believe it may also control some of the ships, though I'm not entirely sure."


  "I hope your theory is right. In the meantime, keep trying to isolate the signal to the drones. I want you to have control of as many of them as possible when we knock that piece of crap off the ship."

  "Sir." Richards regarded Wellard for a second before returning to his work.

  The kid was good, but Wellard couldn't help thinking Richards was in over his head. Trying to find and isolate one signal would be difficult enough, without adding other signals to the mix. With all his heart, Wellard hoped he was up to the task. Now, more than ever, humanity needed a little luck.

  "Sir, the flagship just took down the Des Moines. It's now targeting…" before he could answer, the Reliant listed hard to port as the power from the intense green beam hit home. Lights flickered on the bridge as the armor modulators redirected power to limit the damage as much as they could.

  "Is the flagship in range?" Wellard asked, arms gripping his armrests.

  "Barely," Wilson replied.

  "Then, open fire."

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  New Earth Sector

  New Earth Station

  Bremerton's swollen cheeks throbbed as they made their way through the station, the result of the intense beating at the hands of the rogue agents. The depth of the Mythrar's reach had become evident over the previous few months. What had first seemed an isolated incident involving Vice President Landry had become much, much broader. Bremerton vowed to make the aliens pay. Not for trying to subjugate them in the first place. No, he supposed that was their right, having the edge in both technology and age. But turning humanity against itself was another matter entirely.

  "Hold up," Walker said, grabbing Jason's arm. He nodded forward to Murphy's hand, held up at an angle.