Endeavor (The Mythrar War Book 1) Page 2

  Bridge, NECS Aplin

  "I'm not sure, Captain," Rogers said befuddled. "Sensors didn't pick up any debris near the gate."

  "Did it come from our friends out here?" Singer demanded.

  "Negative. Neither one of their ships have so much as turned on a light since we've arrived."

  Singer considered having Clark slow their approach, but it was too late to turn back now. By the time he could reverse the thrusters the ship would be into the gate, materializing twenty light years away in the Milne Sector. While it might be too late to keep from hitting the gate, it wasn't too late to figure out what happened to her ship.

  "Midshipman, focus your scans on the Aplin. I want to know what we hit and where it came from the moment we're on the other side of the gate."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Midshipman Rogers went to work frantically pressing buttons on her console, converting her scans onto the Aplin. She was good at her job, one of the best. So good, she would have her answers within moments of passing through the gate.

  "Gate open, Captain. Contact with the wormhole in ten seconds."

  "Acknowledged."

  Singer counted the seconds in her head with a sense of dread she hadn't felt in years. She'd seen combat. Knew better than most the toll it could take on a captain and her crew.

  She was an ensign in those days. Once one of the best pilots born on New Earth. But back then the war had been straightforward. A pitched battle between a few dozen NEC ships and nearly as many Russians. Back then she'd seen the attack coming. She'd been briefed on it days before and knew what she was getting into before they arrived.

  Not like now.

  The countdown hit zero as her ship pierced the wavering bubble of the wormhole. The view of the LaTierre space was replaced with blurred lines before shifting to a view of Milne Four. The gray planet was home to mining operations that provided both the NEC and EU with metals for their ships.

  "Captain," Midshipman Rogers said once recovered from jump sickness. "The scan of the ship is complete. There are no signs of damage, but the ship is sending a signal from the lower decks."

  "A signal?" Singer barely had time for the news to register before a new set of klaxons rang out.

  "Two ships appeared to our rear, Captain," Commander Adams said.

  "Put the crew on alert. I want weapon crews ready to fire at my mark. If these bastards want a fight, we'll sure as hell give them one."

  "Captain, the lead ship is hailing us."

  "On screen."

  The face that appeared on the screen was vaguely humanoid, but not of a species she knew. It had long tentacle-like appendages coming from its head that moved and wiggled much like the videos of octopus she'd seen from Earth before the invasion. The being had pale white skin, two large, round eyes alongside two narrow slits she imagined made up its nose, with a wide mouth with thick purple sausage-like lips. The screen held its position on the being's head for a long moment before it opened its mouth to speak.

  "Your ship has entered Mythrar space. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded."

  Chapter Five

  Milne Sector

  Bridge, NECS Aplin

  "What do you mean Mythrar space?" Singer questioned. "Last time I checked Milne is NEC territory."

  "Was, Captain," the alien said matter-of-factly. "Now their territory belongs to the glorious Mythrar Contingent. You will do as I command or you and those aboard the Aplin will perish."

  "We'll take our chances." Singer slammed her fist against her console, bringing the connection to an abrupt close. "Commander, prepare to fire torpedoes at the lead ship. Have our laser batteries and gauss weaponry target their starboard flank. If these bastards think we're going to roll over and die, they have another thing coming."

  She switched the view of the main screen back to the view of space in front of the ship, putting the two mysterious ships front and center on her screen. From her encounter back in LaTierre she half-expected the new contacts to be EU ships, but was surprised to see they were almost human in appearance.

  An ancient design to be sure, but human nonetheless.

  In her studies of Earth history back in the academy, she vaguely remembered staring at the few images of Mythrar ships the NEA captured before the full out evacuation of Earth. Her memory of the class could've been fading, but neither of these ships looked close. This could've been a new design, she conceded, or one that hadn't been cataloged before the fall of Earth.

  Not only that, the thing that had spoken to her was wrong. By all accounts the Mythrar were a giant four-legged race with blue-tinged skin, not the yellow octopus-looking thing that had appeared on her screen a moment ago.

  "Torpedoes primed and ready to fire on your command," Adams said, now back at his console.

  She held her gaze at the enemy ships, waiting for them to make the first move. As much as she hated it, she wasn't going to risk her freedom, or the lives of her family, because an alien came into NEC space and started talking shit.

  She was about to ask Rogers to rush her scan of the hostile ships when a series of loud pops rang out over the bridge. It sounded as if her ship was being torn apart from the inside.

  "Did any of those ships fire?" Singer demanded.

  "No, sir," Adams said. "Other than the transmission, both ships are quiet."

  Another loud pop, this one reverberating the deck plates, sending any loose objects tumbling to the floor.

  "Then what the hell is doing that?"

  "Captain, multiple hull breeches of decks eighteen through twenty-two. Ship sensors are showing no life readings from any of the effected decks. Seventeen through eleven are dealing with atmospheric decompression and unless damage teams are quick, will be without oxygen in under a minute."

  Other than engineering, and the flight decks, those levels were primarily personnel living quarters. If the sensors were correct, Singer had just lost nearly sixty percent of her crew, with another fifteen in danger of losing their lives in the next few minutes.

  "What the hell hit us then?"

  "The blast came from the beacon we picked up at the gate," Rogers said grimly. "It's the only explanation why it stopped sending the signal the moment the blasts began."

  "Do we have power to the engines?" Singer asked.

  "Negative, Captain," Clark said. "The engines are dark."

  Singer pressed a button, opening a line to engineering. "Is anyone alive down there?"

  Static.

  She tried the button again, but had the same result.

  "What are we going to do?" Adams asked.

  Singer slumped back in her chair. "Hail the enemy ship. Ask for their terms."

  As if an answer to her request, the viewscreen changed from the ships back to a view of the being she had been talking to just minutes before.

  "Captain Singer, we have already given you our terms, and you refused. All that's left for you to do is make peace with whatever gods your people worship before you die. I'll give you two minutes to make your peace."

  "There has to be something we can do," Adams said, darting in front of the screen.

  "Commander Adams, I presume."

  Adams stood in place in shock wondering how the alien creature had known his name. It was odd enough for anyone outside his ship to know who he was, let alone another species.

  "It is," he replied.

  "I am willing to give those on your crew who haven't perished a chance to survive. It will require an act of faith on your part, but you can find we can be very amicable." He held his hands in front of him, fingers intertwined as he spoke the last word.

  Adams nodded for him to continue.

  "What are you doing?" Singer demanded. "It's not our place to negotiate with him."

  Adams stared back, casting her a glare that would've killed if it were possible. "What are we supposed to do then? Die?"

  "If we must. These," she turned her head back at the viewscreen in disgust, "things have taken Earth fro
m us, and are now trying to take the rest."

  "I'm sorry, Captain. I have a wife and three little girls to think about." He pushed Singer off to the side and put himself in the middle of the camera.

  "I have a husband and two kids too, damnit. Everyone here has family. We signed on the dotted line to protect them."

  "Which is what I'm doing now." He turned his attention to the alien standing in the middle of the screen who seemed amused at the scene playing out on the bridge. "What can I do to assure the safety of me and my crew?"

  The alien's lips curled into what could only be a smile. He held his gaze for a long moment before speaking again. "I presume you and the rest of the bridge crew are armed, Commander."

  Instinctively, his hand went to the portable blaster in its holster on his hip. The ancient thing meant to defend the bridge in case a boarding party were to get past all the defenses. As far as he knew, the damned thing had only been there for decoration; A custom long since passed down from the first humans crazy enough to sail Earth's seas. The blaster, while accurate from short range, wasn't up to the task of taking out anything that got past the rest of the bridge crew and the marines holed up on the bottom floors. To him, that made the darned thing a fancy trinket at best, and dead weight they carried around at worst.

  "Pull out your weapon and kill Captain Singer. If she is dead in the next minute, I won't give the order to fire on your ship."

  Naomi shook her head at him, her eyes begging the XO to not go through with it. Their eyes met, his soft blue irises she might have fallen in love with in another life stared back indifferently, as if he were considering going through with it.

  Then she noticed the single tear forming in the corner of his eye and knew he didn't have it in him to go through with it. The thought made her happy and sad alike, knowing the rest of the crew would perish because he held a sense of loyalty to her.

  "I'm sorry," he said, voice wavering. Adams turned his head back to the viewscreen, eyes full on in tears. "I appreciate the offer, Captain, but I'll have to refuse. Me and my crew will see you in whatever hell you are sending us to."

  The alien stood still studying the pair who were standing side by side in defiance of the threat. In that moment, she knew she had won. Sure, victory tasted like sour bile begging to burst out of her gut, but they had won.

  Damn this bastard for trying to tear her bridge crew apart in their final hours. Final minutes.

  Damn him for coming out of nowhere to attack them like this.

  Mostly, damn the crews of the Belfast and Lochlainn for putting them in this predicament in the first place, with their exploding tracking beacon that left them defenseless.

  Then the alien's lips curled back into a smile.

  "It seems I underestimated the pair of you. It's a shame for you another member of your crew is willing to take my offer."

  Singer's jaw dropped in surprise. She turned around in time to see Midshipman Clark standing behind her, blaster shaking in her hands, yet aimed at her chest.

  "The offer stands, Midshipman," the alien said.

  Naomi opened her mouth in protest when Clark pulled the trigger. Its blinding red light overpowering the otherwise soft white of the bridge as the beam left the muzzle of the weapon, only to become muffled as the charge struck Singer's chest. The hit tore a hole in her abdomen, cleanly removing everything the beam touched, leaving her with a two-inch wide hole in the center of her chest.

  Naomi stood there for a moment, in shock more than anything, body struggling to process what was happening. After a few short seconds, blood and gore oozed from the wound. It turned her white shirt a dark shade of crimson before trailing down her legs and coalescing on the floor at her feet.

  "Somebody call sickbay," Adams commanded as he rushed to Naomi's side. Wrapping his arms tight around her body, he guided what was going to be an uncontrolled fall.

  Naomi's eyes glossed over, the edges of her vision turning dark. In her final moments, her thoughts no longer focused on her ship or the attack. Shit, she had just been shot and hadn't even thought about Clark or the blaster. Instead, her mind drifted to her kids. The last view of her homeworld. The last conversation with her husband two weeks prior. These were the important things.

  As much as it pained her to think about, the survivors of the ship would get to cherish these things a little longer.

  In her final moments, she listened as her XO barked commands at her crew. His crew now, she supposed, not that the ship was in any condition to command. As her strength faded, she caught another one of the bridge crew, the new kid she guessed, blaster out and aimed at a new threat.

  The room glowed red one last time before Adams collapsed to his knees, falling on top of her as her world turned dark.

  Chapter Six

  New Earth Station

  Bridge, NECS Endeavor

  "Evasive Maneuvers. Redirect unnecessary energy to the thrusters, we can't let these bastards get in a lucky shot." Commander Jason Bremerton paced the bridge, stopping at the various viewscreens to monitor his crew's performance.

  They had never been tested under fire. The various training programs they rand back at NEC headquarters wasn't equipped to have each recruit battle-ready upon graduation. All it took was one hotshot commander to give away his strategy for the rest of the class to follow suit, passing the simulation with ease. Sure, the algorithms of the test fluctuated with each admission, but in the end you were fighting against the computer, not a flesh and blood being who fought to survive.

  The crew leapt into action, handling his requests or transferring them to the appropriate personnel as they'd been trained.

  "Commander, the CAG reports fighters on standby. Waiting for your mark," his XO, Lieutenant Commander Mark Wilson said as he feverishly tapped his screen.

  "Very good, Lieutenant. Tell the CAG to deploy once the ship comes to port. They are to focus their firepower on the enemy weaponry. Have them start with known torpedo bays before picking off the laser batteries."

  "Understood."

  Bremerton allowed a trace of a smile to reach his lips. To this point, everything he had done had gone according to plan. He had studied the books, including every memoir devoted to the Mythrar war a hundred years ago. He understood not only how to make key maneuvers, he knew when to use them and why they were important. This devotion allowed him to graduate at the top of his class, achieving the rank of commander at graduation. A feat few before had accomplished.

  He studied the screen, noting the position of the enemy ship as he pondered his next move. This ship had long warmed up its weapon systems before moving close, which had raised tensions to the level they stood now.

  The ship he was facing was a Russian battlecruiser. On the surface the ship looked similar to the Endeavor, but looks is where the comparisons stopped. In the years since humanity fled Earth the Russians had put a premium on speed over firepower. That meant their ships were faster than their NEC counterparts, but packed less of a punch. They relied on laser technology to damage key systems instead of the ballistic technology the NEC had invested in. Their speed allowed them to focus their weapons on a single point while they evaded enemy weaponry, maximizing the damage they inflicted.

  Bremerton held his breath as he waited for the Russian cruiser to close the gap. There was no avoiding a close range encounter with the ship, so there was no sense in even trying. He hoped was to keep the ship from hitting any critical components while maximizing the effect the Endeavor's potent weaponry.

  After a few moments, Bremerton made his move.

  "Turn hard to port. Let this bastard go to town on the lower decks."

  By turning the ship he was exposing the belly of the ship to the Russian battlecruiser, giving it a larger target to hit without exposing critical components. In order for the laser batteries to do any serious damage, they not only have to cut through seven meters of tungsten plating, they had to cut through nearly levels of the ship. By the time the laser could cut that fa
r, the Russian ship would be a floating pile of scrap.

  "Ensign Price, hail the enemy ship."

  As expected, the response only took a few moments. The computers were programmed to speed up the simulation more than to mimic reality.

  The image of the Russian captain was staring back at him from his bridge, which was a carbon copy of the Endeavor down to the color of the fabric lining the chairs. His hands were behind his back as he approached the camera as his eyes focused on his screen.

  "Russian ship, you are violating NEC airspace. I demand you power down your weapons and make for the Andromeda sector. Any attempt to fire a weapon will be considered an act of war and dealt with accordingly."

  The Russian's face was stoic in response and didn't show an ounce of emotion as he spoke. "Such hostility from the NEC these days. Tell me, are you so afraid of one Russian battlecruiser you warm up your own weapons at the first sight of one?"

  Bremerton's face flushed. He wasn't used to being mocked by anyone, let alone a member of an opposing fleet. It took every ounce of restraint he had to keep from telling the Russian captain off and giving the command to fire on the ship.

  He knew this was part of the test. His response would be recorded and analyzed by both the NEC and the captain himself. A captain who was, thus far, away from the bridge and unaware of the threat positioned a few dozen kilometers away.

  He considered his response while watching the battlecruiser's slow, but deliberate movement. For what it was worth, it looked as if the enemy captain didn't care he was violating a half-dozen laws by piloting his ship this deep into NEC space. Still, he needed to stop the ship without firing the first shots of another intergalactic war.

  "Last chance. Power down your weapons and head towards the Andromeda gate or..."

  "Or what, Commander?" the Russian captain interrupted. "You'll shoot us down? I'll tell you what. You Americans lack the stones to do the work that needs done, so I'll make this easy on you." The enemy captain cut the transmission, causing the screen to go black. Before he could so much as take a breath, klaxons blared out as the battlecruiser launched the first wave of torpedoes. His fire crews destroyed half the volley, but three still made it past, impacting the hull with enough force to knock out half the lights on the bridge.