Infamy (The Mythrar War Book 2) Read online

  "What if we end up letting the wrong people out?" he countered. "We can't know for sure we're doing the right thing. Never can. But I'll be damned if I'm going to spit on the liberties of our people in the name of safety."

  "Sorry, Commander."

  "Nothing to be sorry about. Your heart is in the right place." He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "What do you say we get this nasty business over with so we can get on with our real jobs?"

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Unknown Space

  Brig, Scavenger

  "On your knees, maggot," an unusually large Klypton said before slamming his gun into the back of Wellard's knee.

  The joint protested with the hit and even more with the added pressure of his body weight resting on top of it. He bit his lip to keep from crying out loud. The last thing he wanted to do was let them know he was in pain.

  They had placed him in the center of the group which comprised the marines they hadn't killed or already found. Black, on his left, uttered a curse under his breath just loud enough for Wellard to hear. Walker kept his features almost stoic, refusing to allow the aliens to get under his skin.

  Once everyone was in position on the floor, the Klyptons fanned around the group while keeping their weapons trained on the men. If anyone had thoughts of trying to escape, seeing the larger aliens take up a defensive front kicked them to the rear.

  After a few moments, the scrawny man from below entered the room holding what looked to be an ancient datapad. The device was huge, nearly the size of the computer terminals stationed around the room. Pushing between two Klyptons he made his way to a single chair in the center.

  "The captain regretfully informed me he cannot join us for our little session. Seems he has been given direct orders to not engage with you at this time. So he has given me a handful of questions to ask in the meantime."

  "Tell your pathetic masters, whoever the hell they are, they can take their questions and shove them up their collective asses. The only information we are at liberty to share is our name and rank, but frankly, I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that."

  The scrawny man smiled. "He told me you would say that. He also advised me that I may order Lothar here to break your leg. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be the one to test his strength. So, let's try this again. Who are you, and why are you here?"

  "Why are we here? I thought that would be pretty damned clear."

  "Indulge me," he said with a grin. "Or indulge Lothar. Your call."

  Wellard thought about keeping silent, but the thought of having the Klypton snap his leg in half didn't sound all that pleasing. But what was he going to tell him that he would believe? Telling him the truth was probably the best option, and most believable. He was already a prisoner of war, so it wasn't like his punishment was going to be any worse. Besides, Wellard knew his rank and position in the NEC made him a valuable prize with more information about key operations than why he was here.

  The only thing that kept him from giving that story was the men with him. If he told them they were here to take the ship, then the marines might be killed on the spot. At the least, they would be imprisoned indefinitely before being relegated to radiation detection from down below.

  That left only one option. One that wasn't quite the truth, but also not a lie. He just hoped it was good enough.

  The scrawny man tapped his foot impatiently. "Time is wasting."

  "Fine," he said before taking in a long breath. "We were here looking for survivors of the battle in the Gibraltar sector."

  "It would seem you found survivors the moment you stepped off your shuttles," he said, keying something into the datapad. "They aren't survivors anymore, however. So perhaps you would like to tell me why that is?"

  "We were attacked the second the doors opened. Our only option was to defend ourselves or to die, and no offense we weren't going to die without a fight."

  "Understandable. Any honest person would do the same. Yet you remained on the ship instead of leaving." He looked up from his datapad and stared at Wellard. "That either means you weren't here to look for survivors, or that you were here to kill any survivors you found."

  "Perhaps I need to inform you of my definition of a survivor."

  "Might be prudent, considering the circumstances."

  "To me, a survivor is a person of my species held on this ship against their will. Like those men and women you were holding in the cargo bay. The Klyptons you have behind you are nothing more than an enemy combatant here in human space without our consent. Not only that, but they have also been engaging in guerrilla warfare with multiple NEC ships including my ship, the NECS Endeavor."

  "The Klyptons are an alien race, I'll give you that. No amount of data I provide would prove otherwise. But I assure you this is a human controlled ship. The aliens are here as our honored guests and our most valuable allies."

  "Allies?" Wellard spat. "Those damned things are responsible for thousands of NEC deaths over the last two months."

  "Indirectly, I suppose. But I assure you humans are responsible for much more than that. And each of those deaths is the direct result of those actions. Including the actions of the ship you reside on."

  "You're telling me these things work for you?"

  The man smiled. "I'm afraid I may have said too much. My esteemed colleagues here will escort you to your home for the next few hours if not longer. You will get that answer when we rendezvous with the Infamy."

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Lebrea Sector

  Bridge, NECS Endeavor

  Bremerton stared into the marine's eyes, one Corporal Lance Crawford. He was one of the handful who hadn't been caught doing a thing. In fact, he was probably the only one who was doing what he was supposed to. His primary duty was to guard the engine core, to keep unauthorized personnel from getting in, exposing themselves to lethal levels of radiation. The fact that he was being held with the other marines was proof Bradley was taking things too far.

  "Tell me, again, what your duties are Corporal." Jason glanced at his datapad to verify the information for the fifth time.

  Crawford sighed. "Commander, is this necessary? I don't get why I'm getting questioned for doing my job."

  Jason frowned. "I understand your confusion over the situation, Corporal. I really do. But a handful of your fellow marines tried to wrest control of the ship away from my crew and me. As you can imagine, I cannot allow that to happen again. While it's unfortunate, we cannot afford to let such things go unchecked."

  "I get that, Commander. What I don't get is why you are lumping all of us with those traitorous pieces of shit. Some of us are here to do our job."

  "Which is why we're interviewing everyone." Jason's comm beeped alerting him to a call. He held a finger up to the marine and stepped into the hall. "Bremerton here."

  The voice on the other end belonged to Commander Vaughn. "Commander, crews report half the auxiliary thrusters are now operational, the rest will take more significant repairs."

  "How about the mains? Tell me you can get some of them back soon."

  "I'm afraid not. I'm not sure if you saw the extent of the damage to the rear portion of the ship."

  "Only the early images." Which weren't of much help considering the images were obscured by fire and smoke, making it difficult to see just how bad it was. Still, he remembered seeing a few of the thrusters through the obstructions. Surely they all couldn't have been that bad.

  "Well, let's just say there isn't much back there to work with. Most of the thrusters were completely devastated by the explosion. Those that remain have been severed from the system, and there's simply no way for us to reattach them at the moment. We are in dire need of repair and retrofitting immediately."

  "We don't have time for repairs. Not until we find the captain," Jason said, resigned. Then he remembered the anomaly. The last report stated that they had successfully integrated the device with the ship and it was building power. Surely
they've made progress since then. "If the thrusters aren't going to do us any good, then fill me in on your progress with the anomaly."

  "I'm afraid there isn't anything new to report. We've stabilized the power drain on our systems, though to be fair we are pulling from the power that was reserved for the main thrusters. Richards is working to decode the device's computer system and hopes to have it operational within the hour."

  "Within the hour?" he asked, skeptically. "Is he positive it will help us make the same jumps as the scavengers?"

  "Positive, Commander?" Vaughn laughed. "We can't be positive that thing isn't a bomb. What little we know is the information he and you retrieved from the Providence, so, for now, it's all a guessing game."

  "A guessing game played by two of the best. Very well, Commander. Excellent work so far. Let me know the moment that thing is ready."

  "Will do, Commander. Vaughn, Out."

  Bremerton opened a channel with the bridge. "Ensign Price, some of your thrusters are back online. Please resume our previous course, regardless of the speed."

  "Resuming now, Commander. I should warn you that at our current speed…"

  "Save it, Ensign," he interrupted. "I know we are moving at a crawl. Just do your best. Bremerton, out."

  Bremerton stood up and strolled to the door. "What do you think?"

  Tegan shrugged. "He sounds convincing, but should we take the chance?"

  "I don't see what choice we have. The computer says he was back at the engine core during the attack."

  Tegan nodded. "It's your call."

  Bremerton closed the door and returned to the table. "Corporal, you are free to go. We are restricting your access to the armory, but you otherwise have the same access to the ship you had before."

  Crawford smiled. "I understand. Thank you, sir."

  "No, Corporal. Thank you."

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Lebrea Sector

  Bridge, NECS Endeavor

  Brendan Richards slammed his fist against the workshop wall in frustration. He'd been working on the project for an hour and wasn't any closer to getting it to work than the moment he'd cut it open.

  Part of the problem was the language. While the computer had similarities to the language he discovered on the Providence, it was just different enough to be a pain in the ass. He was just about to give up and take a break from it all when Vaughn entered the room.

  "Any luck?" he said, staring at the device. He knelt and rifled through the tangle of cables inside.

  "None. It's like they designed the damned thing to keep me from hacking in."

  Vaughn laughed. "Imagine that. They put safeguards in place."

  "Not standard safeguards," he countered. He stepped over to Vaughn and handed him his datapad. "I got through those immediately. The problem I'm having now is activating the damned thing. As you can see, I have three commands available. One tells the device to store power in the collectors while another turns it off. The third should turn the thing on and prepare it for the jump."

  "Are you sure all the connections are pure?" Vaughn asked. He handed back the datapad and fumbled through the wires. "You have to remember we found the thing in a battle site. We do not understand the true extent of the damage to it."

  Richards sighed. "Not really. Everything looked fine, so I figured it was a problem on my end." It wasn't quite the truth. He'd thought it was an issue with the anomaly itself twenty minutes prior when he'd gotten to the command screen and wasn't able to get the third command to work. But instead of trying to fumble with the wires, he kept working on the decryption hoping someone a little more knowledgeable about wiring would figure it out.

  "I found a few loose wires already," Gray said. "I bet there are a few more inside." She held up one of the loose connections to emphasize her point.

  "You probably have the device decoded. Perhaps you should help Petty Officer Gray find and repair the rest of the…" Before Vaughn could finish the machine hummed to life. Gray looked up with one of the largest grins Richards had ever seen in his life. Her elation lasted only a moment until her face contorted and turned pale before she collapsed into the anomaly.

  Vaughn moved to help the engineer but stopped when his head started spinning. "Radiation levels are through the roof. We need to get out of here before it gets any worse."

  "What about Gray? We can't leave her in there," Richards said.

  "There's nothing we can do for her until we put on our suits. Adding our bodies to hers won't do anyone any good."

  Richards pursed his lips, then nodded. Vaughn was right. If the device was sending enough radiation into the room to drop Gray near instantly, there wasn't anything anyone could do to get her out without wearing hazmat suits.

  Vaughn grabbed Richards by the arm and pulled him out of the room as a wave of nausea hit Richards like a brick. It took every ounce of willpower in his body to keep from dropping to his knees and losing his lunch. When they reached the door, Vaughn let go of Richards and moved further into the flight bay. A handful of technicians were repairing the birds after their most recent flight, their grease covered bodies weren't suitable for retrieving the engineer even if they had the suits nearby. Vaughn and Richards each had their own hazmat suits, but they were back in their quarters on the engineering deck. If they went back to those Gray would be dead when they returned.

  He then caught a glimpse of a pilot standing near the door. The man was armed, which was odd, but seemed to be the reality of the day. Crimson stained the leg of his pants, but to the pilot's credit, he stood diligently at the door protecting the bay.

  "Fireball, where do you guys keep your hazmat suits."

  "Hazmat suits? Can't say we have much of a reason to keep those around here, but there are a few spare flight suits in the CAG's office. Might work for whatever you have in mind."

  "Doubtful. We need something to protect ourselves from radiation." Richards' eyes trailed back to his makeshift workshop.

  "It should help curb the short-term effects of the radiation, we have to deal with some nasty shit out there sometimes."

  Richards glanced back to Vaughn, who's aged face held a stoic grin.

  "That'll work in a pinch," Vaughn replied as he sprinted towards the room. Richards and Fireball followed close behind.

  Reaching Thompson's office, they found the spare suits hanging on a rack alongside the far wall. The men rushed to the suits, grabbed one that looked close enough to their size and slipped it on. To Richards' amazement, the suits were not as bulky and restricting as they seemed from a distance. He suspected it was to give the pilots maximum mobility while reducing their chance of accidentally hitting their controls with the extra bulk. For what they needed it for, it might do the trick, but it was missing one key thing.

  "Fireball, what about helmets?"

  "Shit," the pilot replied. "Those are in the storage locker down the hall. Only the CAG and the chief have a key to that room. She's up on the bridge while the chief is in sickbay." Fireball glanced around the fighter bay, his eyes coming to a stop on a fighter stationed a few hundred feet away. "Looks like it's our lucky day."

  The pilot sprinted across the room though it was more like a high-speed hobble, which was amazing considering he'd been shot a few hours before. Whatever the medics gave him for the pain had to be working on overdrive to keep him mobile.

  Once they swung around the side of the fighter, Richards saw what Fireball was after. A half-dozen glass-domed helmets were scattered along the wall, discarded when the pilots returned to the bay after the last engagement. Why they were there was another matter though he suspected it had something to do with the firefight not long before. Their owners were likely dead, or at the very least handling security duty.

  "Is the size universal?" Vaughn asked as he slipped on a helmet.

  "Unless you have an extraordinarily large head."

  Richards picked up a helmet and held it up to the lights before slipping it over his head. Fireball, allowed
the rifle to hang by its strap and helped the two men secure the seal.

  "We good?" Vaughn asked, eying the room. When Fireball nodded, he took off towards Gray at a full on sprint while Richards followed close behind.

  Upon reaching the doorway, they noticed Gray's lifeless form resting halfway on top of the opened anomaly. Vaughn stepped through the threshold first. Gliding around the edges of the anomaly, he reached the young engineer in moments. Bending down, he didn't bother trying to check her pulse before hefting her up off the floor. Richards entered the room a short time after and rushed to the side to help Vaughn carry her out.

  Her body was limp and lifeless as if every ounce of will had been sapped out of it. Richards noticed the faint rise and fall of her chest. He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing she was still alive. He didn't know what he would do if she'd died because he was too lazy to mess with the wires himself.

  "Holy shit," Fireball said, approaching at a limp. "Is she going to be fine?"

  "Maybe," Vaughn replied. "Not sure about the rest of us. Get everyone out of the fighter bay that doesn't need to be here." Vaughn considered the order for a moment before continuing. "Better yet, evacuate the floor. Anyone who has critical work to do here must wear full radiation suits. No exceptions."

  "That won't make the CAG happy."

  "Valarie can take it up with me. Until then my order stands."

  The pair continued down the hall until they were in the main lift. They punched in the command to take them up to level eight, the nearest sickbay annex. Each hoping they'd gotten her out in time.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Lebrea Sector

  Bridge, NECS Endeavor

  Bremerton resisted the urge to slam his fist into the console. With every passing second, the scavenger was getting farther and farther away, making it more unlikely they'd find the captain in time. Even worse, it seemed the bulk of the loyal marines had joined the scavenger with the captain, leaving the ship with a contingent of armed fighter pilots as its sole means of defense.