Defiant (The Mythrar War Book 4) Page 4

  There was a quiet murmur in the room as some of the captains discussed the option with their peers. Normally, the breach of decorum would've been dealt with harshly, but something about this meeting was different. It almost felt as if the Admiralty wasn't prepared to send their people out to die, even if President Alvarez ordered it herself.

  Through the commotion, Wellard sat silent. Part of him agreed with Captain Reynolds, on the need to evacuate New Earth. If they had enough time to prepare, it made sense to take the civilians away. Given the likely outcome of the upcoming encounter, it made sense to get as many people away from the battle as possible. But doing so would tie up assets humanity could hardly afford to lose.

  Besides, he knew running was pointless. Humanity ran a century before, and it still hadn't saved them. The only thing it had done was give humanity hope.

  Hope for a better tomorrow.

  Hope for technology to give them a chance to defend themselves if the Mythrar returned.

  Hope the aliens were content with Earth.

  Wellard waited for things to settle down before standing. "I agree with our need to get the civilians away from the conflict, but we can't afford to use military assets to make it happen. I suggest we contact some of the corporations to see if they can give us a hand."

  "Corporations, Wellard? You can't be serious." Nelson slammed his hand against the table and feigned a laugh. "Last I checked, Capelli Enterprises has cut ties with the NEC and New Earth. We stand a better chance of getting the Russians to give us a hand."

  "That's not a bad idea," Wellard said half-heartedly. "But I'm afraid they'll never reach us in time."

  "Enough." Admiral Stacey Flannigan snapped to her feet, stomping her boot against the floor as she did. "We're exploring options to get as many civilians off the planet as possible. President Alvarez has been in contact with a few dozen of our corporate sponsors and independent ship owners. In the meantime, we have to prepare for many of them to be here."

  Flannigan motioned to her aide. The young woman shut off the lights before bringing up a tactical map of the system. Many of the captains, including Wellard, pulled up the same file on their datapads.

  "We expect the fleet to be here in the next twenty-four hours." She pressed a button on her console, bringing up a new file. "We have compiled all the data we have on both the Mythrar and their flagships. Many of their ships will look familiar. Others will not. Regardless of your ties to any people who may, or may not, be on any of those ships, rest assured they are not in control."

  Some of the captains looked unsettled by the information. As much as Wellard wanted to agree, this was the new reality. Humanity now lived in a universe where it was impossible to tell friend from foe before it was too late. Wellard and the rest of the crew of the Endeavor had made the hard calls. Like the others in the room, they'd had to destroy ships that were supposed to have been controlled by their friends.

  "Using the information gathered from the Battle of Entropa, we know the smaller vessels lack any cohesive strategy. Many of those ships were heavily damaged before the battle, and likely operating with a skeleton crew. Their tactics involve trying to overwhelm a single target with focused fire. Where possible, they will try to fly in groups of three to five ships, for maximum effect." Stacey pressed a button, furthering the file again. "Fighter usage is not consistent. We have not found a discernible pattern to determine if a ship has fighters, or not. So we need to be prepared for the worst."

  Wellard raised his hand in the air and waited for Flannigan's approval before speaking. "There is some good news about the fighters. With few exceptions, they seem to be operated remotely. The danger to our fighter corps comes from the massive number of fighters they can bring to bear."

  Flannigan studied the room for a moment before advancing the display one more time.

  A knock at the room's door captured everyone's attention. Flannigan nodded to an aide to check on it, but before she could, a platoon of Marines burst through the door. Each of the men held a blaster and aimed it into the room. Most of the captains didn't bat an eye at the disruption, though the ones that did made up for the rest.

  Flannigan's face reddened at the Marines. For a moment, Wellard swore she would rear back and clock the closest one, but to her credit, she kept her arms at her sides. "This is a classified meeting. Any business you have with me will wait until we are done. Am I clear?"

  The group of Marines seemed to split in the middle as their leader stepped to the front of the room. Once he reached the admirals' table, he pulled a single slip of paper from his inside pocket. "I've been sent by the authority of the president. We're looking for someone who should be in here, right now. A Commander Jason Bremerton."

  Wellard turned and glared at the man. What the hell are they doing here, and what do they want with Jason? Hundreds of other questions ran through his mind as he watched Flannigan's reaction.

  She studied the letter intently, only removing her eyes from the document one time. That one time was enough to tell Wellard everything he needed to know. Something had gone wrong, and Jason was in the middle of it all.

  Chapter Ten

  New Earth Sector

  Flight Deck CIC, NECS Reliant

  Tegan Bradley punched in the final few keystrokes to activate the simulation. Afterward, she watched the screen as each of the pilots came online. Out of the two hundred fighter pilots under her command, she had sixty of them in the simulation.

  Split up into two groups of thirty, their task was a simple dogfight. No massive space battle to get their way. Not even so much as a capital ship. Just sixty of her newest pilots gunning for each other.

  It'd taken her a while to get used to the idea of having the pilots dogfight each other. After all, the Mythrar hadn't been sending live pilots at them, only drones. But the way she saw it, if a pilot could survive in a live-combat situation, it didn't matter if they were facing live pilots or drones. The result would be the same.

  She'd been running the simulations nonstop the last two weeks to get her newer pilots up to snuff. Massive losses the previous few months had necessitated a change in policy for the NEC. Anybody with an inkling of flight experience was expected to spend time in a fighter craft unless they had other critical skills to offer the crew. It wasn't an ideal situation, but neither was being at war.

  After the final ship came online, she leaned back in her chair to watch the action play out on the main screen. The two groups of fighters started ten kilometers apart, simulating what they should expect in battle. As the two sets of birds approached each other, they split off into their usual squadron formations. Normally the squads were split into groups of four fighters each that flew in a rough diamond formation. This time around, however, she had set things up differently. Instead of the standard group of four for every squadron, some of them had less. Two squads on each side had as few as two. She was doing this to simulate losses in the unit and how they might not be replaced before the next engagement.

  Losing squadmates was a fact of life during battle. While she had been lucky throughout her career, some of her friends had not been as fortunate. Fireball, for example, had been losing squadmates at an alarming rate. The deaths weren't his fault. If it was up to him, each one of those pilots would still be alive. He'd done everything in his power to keep it that way, but sometimes death had its own agenda.

  She’d left Fireball out of this batch of training, even though his three new squadmates were still involved. She would've preferred to have him around to teach the new cadets the ropes, but she questioned his mental state. While he was always a damned good pilot, he had taken Lancer's death hard. Part of her considered recommending him for a psychiatric evaluation, but she couldn't pull the trigger. Deep inside, she held the hope he would snap out of it. But with each passing day, it looked less likely.

  Tegan watched the screen as dozens of small explosions erupted against the backdrop of space as the first batch of pilots engaged with another. Soon a
fter, the rest of the fighters followed suit.

  A knock at the door broke her concentration. She glanced between her console to the door a few times before standing up. Reluctantly, she stepped away from her console to answer the door.

  Three burly Marines who she hadn't seen on the ship before stood on the other side. Each of the men was armed with a military issue blaster, though none were aimed at her.

  "Is there a problem?" Tegan said.

  "Actually, yes," the closest Marines said, Avera if his name tag was correct. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to her.

  Tegan stared at the letter for a moment before opening it. She got as far as the third line before she folded the paper and handed it back. "Commander Jason Bremerton has no reason to be on my flight deck. In fact, he has no reason to be on the ship. So if you’ll excuse me, I have a simulation to run." Tegan turned and was about to enter the room when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  "Your simulation is on hold. We’re here under the authority of the president. So you can either stand aside and let us search your flight deck, or we can arrest you and then search it. Your call." Avera sneered at her, tempting her to make a move.

  "Fine. Just leave my computers and the simulation pods alone." As long as the pilots could finish the simulation, their training would be fine. But the second one pod was opened prematurely, the data would become corrupt. Apparently, the computers couldn't differentiate an equipment malfunction from a jackass opening the doors, which meant the impacted cadet was likely to be counted as KIA, even if it wasn't the case. From there, the problem would trickle down to the rest of the squad, forcing them to adapt to a problem that shouldn't exist.

  Avera laughed. "Yeah, right." He glanced back to the two Marines standing behind him. "Check the pods first. He's probably there."

  The three men marched past Tegan and into her control room before making their way down to the main flight deck. They weren't on the deck for more than a minute before the first pod went off-line. It was followed by two more as Avera and the other Marine opened two more pods. Tegan watched her screen in disgust as each one of the training pilots was booted from the simulation. She let the display go on for a minute longer before she pulled the plug herself. At least this way some of her data would still be pure, not that it would do any good. It wasn't like she was preparing a bunch of green recruits for war, after all.

  She thought about opening a comm with the flight deck, to tell the pilots to take a break before she started the simulation again, but decided against it. Instead, she sat at her console and typed out the message herself before sending it to their datapads, cursing Avera and his goons in her mind as she did.

  Chapter Eleven

  New Earth Sector

  Bremerton Residence, New Earth

  Jason gingerly placed David down in his crib, not wanting to wake him. Once David was in his crib, Jason carefully backed towards the door. Having not been home in six months, the trek across the darkened room was difficult, but he made it without having made a sound.

  "Is he asleep?" Violet peered through the doorway.

  Jason turned and kissed her on the forehead before quietly shutting the door. "Finally. I was starting to think he'd stay up all night."

  "Just like his father." Violet returned the kiss and took Jason's hand in her own before they made their way down the hallway and into the living room.

  A steaming mug of coffee sat atop the end table next to a plate with a sandwich. Jason sat down on the couch before grabbing the cup. "I think I could get used to this."

  Violet snorted. "I doubt that. You can't sit still for more than five minutes before going stir crazy."

  Jason smiled, it was true. His life had been nothing but work. First, it was the constant studies in school and the academy before the NEC. In every case, he'd spent most of his time working, and little of it resting. Part of that had to do with the constant nightmares about his past. A past that had, for the most part, been blocked from his memory.

  "Still," he said, "I can get used to this. Not having to worry about a ship or hundreds of people. Just the two of you, here, in our house."

  Violet leaned over and kissed him. It lasted nearly a minute before she collapsed back in her seat. Jason was about to lean back in for another when the lights flickered. It continued for a few seconds before the power went out entirely.

  "What was that?" Violet asked, eyes scanning the room.

  "Not sure." Jason squeezed Violet's hand before standing and walking to the window. Peering through the blinds, he scanned the street and noticed the rest of the houses were the same. The sight made him uneasy. It had been a long time since he'd witnessed a block-wide power outage. Quietly he wondered if it stretched further, or if it was contained in their small section of town.

  Violet slid in next to him, her arm wrapping around his waist as she moved in to get a look. "The whole street is out." The sound of her voice was as much awe as it was surprise. "That never happens around here. Never."

  "Maybe they're working on the power plant. Might be correcting a problem with the generators."

  "I doubt it," she replied. "They would've sent a notice."

  To the right of his house, Jason noticed a cone of light hit the tree. Reflexively, he ducked back, pulling Violet with him as he let the blinds go. The blinds returned to their original position, sheltering the couple from the view of the outside.

  Jason felt the tug of anxiety in his chest. He had hardly seen the light before understanding what it was and what was happening. The power hadn't gone out on its own, or to repair a problem in the town's main power supply. It had been cut to give an assault team cover.

  "Something is wrong. Are any of your neighbors wanted by the police?"

  Violet shrugged. "Not that I know of. Why?"

  "I can't tell for sure, but it almost looked like the military is practicing an exercise outside. Full SWAT maneuvers using the cover of darkness to move in on their target."

  "Military? Here? What’s going on?"

  Jason didn't know how to answer the question. If they had power, he could turn on the local news, but even then, he doubted he would get any answers. Not until the maneuvers were over. Then he remembered his Fleet-issued datapad back in the bedroom. If this was a military maneuver, surely it would at least fill him in on what was going on.

  "Stay here," he said. "I'm going to…"

  Before he could finish the sentence, the door burst open in a spray of splinters as an explosion rocked the front of the house. Instinctively, Jason covered Violet with his body and pushed her onto the floor, shielding her from the worst of the debris.

  Dozens, maybe even hundreds, of small red dots appeared on the wall where Jason had been standing mere moments before. They darted around the room, flying around the walls like a swarm of angry hornets before settling on Jason's back.

  Violet raised her head above Jason's shoulder and screamed. Jason turned to see a man wearing dark-colored fatigues holding a military issued blaster. He considered asking what was going on but kept quiet once he noticed three more men stepping through the destroyed doorway.

  "Commander Jason Bremerton, you're under arrest for the assassination of President Celia Alvarez."

  Chapter Twelve

  New Earth Sector

  NEC Conference Room, New Earth Station

  "Most of the information we have on the Mythrar is secondhand. We have spent the previous two months scouring our databases and comparing it to the most recent reports to determine what we can consider facts, and what we need to disregard. For the most part, we know their ships are near-impervious to damage." Admiral Flannigan nodded to her aide, who brought up a video of the Battle of Entropa up on the room's main viewscreen. "Captain Wellard and the combined Xandar and human fleet focused their weapons on a single point on the Mythrar flagship and hardly made a dent. It was only after firing nukes at the ship that they even opened a hole."

&n
bsp; "I see the damage was focused on the flagship's frontal cannon. Did your fleet attempt to fire at another point on the ship? Maybe they had that section more heavily armored for a reason."

  Flannigan shook her head. "I'm afraid we did not, but I assure you, it crossed my mind. Still, we have reason to believe the armor on the rest of the ship is as strong as around the weapon, making it our primary target."

  Wellard was about to speak up on the matter when an alert scrolled across his datapad. Scanning the room, he noticed many others had seen the same. He considered pushing the datapad off to the side to resume the meeting when he saw an ever-increasing number of eyes focusing on him. Immediately, he knew the information had to be about Jason. Why else would they be staring at him?

  He allowed his eyes to drift down to his datapad where he saw the message's headline.

  Commander Jason Bremerton arrested for the assassination of President Alvarez.

  Wellard stared at the datapad in disbelief. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no way the kid was guilty. He knew Jason was down on New Earth, spending time with his wife and newborn son and not on the station, where Alvarez was supposed to be. That meant someone high up in the NEC had set him up or was at least involved.

  But regardless of his feelings about the kid, there was still a battle to plan. Unless they could defeat the incoming fleet, there wasn't any reason to concern himself about his XO's fate.

  As much as Wellard was willing to write off his XO for the duration of the battle, it was clear the rest of the captains weren't ready to do the same. What started as a quiet murmur quickly grew louder, until Flannigan silenced them all by clearing her throat.

  "That message has nothing to do with us," she assured. "Unless we can stop the Mythrar fleet from taking New Earth, Commander Bremerton and President Alvarez's fates don't concern us." She glanced over at Captain Wellard and urged him to speak.