Defiant (The Mythrar War Book 4) Page 6

  "What's going on, Bobcat?"

  "You've been acting strange lately. Want to tell me what's going on?"

  Fireball's eyes met Tegan's before they darted away. At that point, she knew she had hit the mark, but now needed to get him to talk.

  "I've seen how you've been acting the last few weeks. Ever since…"

  Fireball nodded. "I miss him, you know? We'd been friends since we were kids. Both grew up back on Terivar Prime, in a little community called Thermon." He took in a deep breath and slumped back in his seat. His eyes lifted to the ceiling as if he were deep in thought. "Back then things were easy. We both used to imagine we were flying fighters back in the first Mythrar War."

  Tegan smiled at him as the story reminded her of her time as a child. She did many of the same things, though probably for much different reasons. Instead of acting like a fighter pilot to play with her friends, she was doing it to prove she was just as good as anyone else, regardless of her race, sex, or social standing. Unfortunately for her, it had taken her joining up with the corporations to escape her situation. While she wouldn't have traded the experience for anything in the world, she couldn't help wishing things had gone differently.

  Realizing her mind had drifted, she returned her gaze to Fireball, who was engrossed in the telling of his story. She listened to the last part with renewed interest, trying to find something she could pull out of it all, but he finished too soon.

  She allowed his final words to linger on his lips, giving his story some time to breathe on its own. During the silence, she tried to come up with something to say that would help ease his mind. It was clear from his features that he was an emotional wreck. He shouldn't have been in a fighter craft any more than he probably wanted to be. Still, she wasn't going to force the issue on him. If he wanted time off, she would make sure it happened. It didn't matter that there was an enemy fleet bearing down on them or not. She had plenty of people to put in his place if it came to that.

  "You know, you don't have to go out there. You can join me in the CIC and give me a hand. Lord knows I can use it up there." It wasn't entirely true, but she wasn't going to back down on her offer.

  "I'll be fine," he said. "If it's not me, it will be someone else." He stood up and wiped the tears off his face. "Besides. This is what I signed up for. A chance to kick the Mythrar's asses."

  Tegan stood up and moved to him to hug him, but backed away before she could. This was the part of her new job she hated the most. The fine line where professionalism ran up against her desires. But instead of fighting herself about it, she allowed him to take a few more steps away.

  "If anything changes, let me know. I can make sure you get all the time you need."

  Fireball turned and smiled, his eyes lighting up in a way she hadn't seen in a long time. "I will." He turned and took a few steps towards the door before stopping again. "Thank you." He turned his head and shot her another smile. "For everything."

  And like that, he was gone. Out of the ready room and onto the flight deck to meet the rest of the squad, leaving Tegan all alone. As she stood there by herself, she couldn't help feeling like she had talked to him for the last time. She hoped her intuition was wrong, but something deep down told her it was true.

  Chapter Seventeen

  New Earth Sector

  Conference Room, New Earth Station

  Wellard sat back in his chair that was in the corner of the large conference room in the center of the station. The non-stop meetings were grating on his nerves, though he knew they were for the best. While he understood the need for discussing plans and tactics before the battle, he hated doing it away from his crew, as anything they determined here would just have to be relayed down the chain.

  "Captain Wellard, you have faced the Mythrar threat more than most, care to fill us in on what to expect?" Admiral Parks stood in the center of the room, eyes focused on Wellard.

  Wellard nodded, then stood. "Well, sir. My crew and I have faced the threat a handful of times, each far different from the last. From what I've seen, the Mythrar and their allies can adapt to the ever-changing conditions of war. I've seen them maneuver small numbers of ships in a traditional short-range battle and the intricate maneuvers of a larger conflict. We've even seen them use guerrilla tactics from the husks of damaged ships. No two battles against them have been the same, making it impossible to plan for."

  Admiral Parks pursed his lips. "We have dealt with much of the same. Other than a smattering of tactics they seem to use regularly, no two reports were even closely related."

  "Then why are we here?" Captain Lee of the NECS Dakota said. "We should be back on our ships, preparing our crews for battle."

  "Because, Captain, they use one tactic, in particular, we need to be ready for." Wellard grabbed his datapad and pulled up video footage from the Battle of Entropa and put it on the room's main viewscreen. "As many of you know, my crew and I recently fought the Mythrar over the Xandar homeworld of Entropa. We faced a similar fleet to the one we have bearing down on us now. One hundred smaller ships led by one of their massive flagships.

  "For the most part, the battle played out much like any other pitched battle you have trained for. Dozens of small-scale skirmishes that helped determine the outcome of the larger battle. This is the part of the upcoming engagement we should fear the least. Our ships are vastly superior to those we will face in the first wave. Their main advantage will be in numbers, which they have in spades. But as long as we can keep from being overwhelmed, we should be fine."

  Wellard grabbed a glass of water and took a sip. "Our main concern will be an elite group of vessels with the ability to make short-range jumps in the system. Their goal is to disrupt our lines where it hurts us the most." He pressed a button on his datapad, starting the video of the ships. They watched as the ships in question performed the maneuver Wellard had just described to jump behind the Xandar lines. It didn't take long for the first of the Xandar to fall. It was followed by two more before the unit jumped away, leaving the Xandar lines in tatters.

  "We don't have the video to back it up, but the few reports we got from the Battle of Bellan confirm Wellard's reports. We believe a similar unit was used to wipe out all NEC and EU assets down to a man." Admiral Parks paced the room, rubbing his chin. "While we know this unit exists, the problem we have is how to combat it."

  "Simple," Wellard replied. "We have to set up a feint, a diversion to make them think part of our line is weaker than what it is. Then when they see it, we set up an ambush of our own."

  "Interesting." Parks stopped for a moment and scanned the room. "Captains O'Bannon, Payne, and Blayne, your ships are equipped with long-range lasers and torpedoes. You will be in charge of destroying those bastards when they show up."

  The three captains nodded their agreement.

  "That's all well and good, Admiral, but who is going to take their beating?" Captain Lee said.

  "Leave that to me," Wellard said. "We may not have the range, or speed, of your ships, but we do have some of the thickest armor in the fleet. She took a pounding from that unit over Entropa and lived to tell the tale. I have no doubt she can do it again."

  "Then it is settled. We'll set up the feint near the Reliant. The Michigan, Missouri, and Ohio will be stationed far enough away to sell the maneuver, but close enough to punish the unit when they show up. The rest of you will focus on taking out as many of those smaller vessels as you can." Admiral Parks stopped at the front of the room. "I won't lie and tell you this will be easy. We're outnumbered and outgunned. Unlike the last war, we are not in a position to run. And this time, if New Earth falls, so does humanity. But this time, we have an advantage our forefathers didn't. We know they can bleed. Captain Wellard proved that back at Entropa. And as we know, anything that bleeds can die." He paused for a minute to let the captains take it all in. "You are dismissed. Head back to your ships and get them ready for war. We expect contact in less than twelve hours."

  Chapter Eighteen


  New Earth Sector

  Vice President's Quarters, New Earth Station

  Vice President Landry drummed his fingers on his desk as he stared out the window into space. If the rumors were true, the masters were already well on their way to the system, to bring the rest of humanity into the fold. But it was happening too soon. He was supposed to have another month to enact his part of the plan. As long as Celia Alvarez remained in power, humanity would stand and fight.

  It wasn't for lack of effort. He'd contracted out no less than ten hits against her, but the woman was resilient. Just when he thought there was no way she could escape, she'd come out of an explosion seemingly unharmed. If Landry didn't know better, he'd swear she was a Mythrar agent, here to test his loyalty.

  A red light pulsed on his console, followed by an annoying beep. Landry sat upright in his chair and glanced at the screen. It was an urgent message, marked for his eyes only.

  He allowed himself to slump back in his chair, defeated. He'd had messages like this before, each written like the last. Another failed attempt at taking Alvarez's life. Still, he had to open the message to make sure.

  As soon as the message flashed on the screen, he could tell this one was different. Unlike the others that were written in a somber tone, this one seemed to be rushed. It almost seemed as if the writer was on the run. Clipped words and phrases made it difficult to read, but Landry forced himself to sift through the message to determine its meaning. After all, he had nothing but time.

  It took him twenty minutes to decipher. Each new word seemed to invigorate him like never before, until he could read the message in its entirety.

  President Alvarez is dead. Blaster shot to her head. Secret service after me. Retreating to the planet.

  A wide grin formed on Landry's face. Finally, after all these years, he'd seen his task through, and with enough time to call off the defense of New Earth.

  Landry tapped on his console, opening a channel to the leader of the NECS fleet herself, Admiral Stacey Flannigan.

  "Mr. Vice President, is there a problem?" she asked, the concern in her voice apparent over the comm. Normally he would've guessed that she'd already learned the news, but the fact that she called him 'Mr. Vice President' threw him off.

  "Actually, Admiral, there is. Celia Alvarez is dead. I would've thought you'd have heard by now."

  "I'm sorry," she said, sounding more irritated than sincere. "But as I'm sure you're aware, we have a Mythrar fleet bearing down on New Earth. I'll leave the formalities of your office to you. In the meantime, I have a battle to prepare for."

  Landry laughed. "About that. You and your fleet are hereby ordered to stand down. The Mythrar are here on a mission of peace. We will give them the council they deserve."

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He was about to give the order again when Flannigan spoke. "Understood." Unlike before, her voice came out flat and almost emotionless. He may not have been an expert with members of the military, but he understood enough about people to know when they were not sincere. While he suspected that was the case with the Admiral, he decided it was best to keep that information close to the vest. Best not to spoil any secrets too soon.

  "Good. Have someone contact me when they are close so that I can arrange a proper meeting." And with that, Landry ended the call. He allowed himself a smug grin before getting back to work. No time to relax now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  New Earth Sector

  Interrogation Room, New Earth Station

  Jason Bremerton shielded his eyes from the intense white lights that were focused on him, threatening to burn his corneas. He'd spent much of the previous few hours alone in a cell, until recently, when a pair of Secret Service agents came to escort him down the hall. Jason had spent much of the trip silent, not wanting to give the agents more ammunition to use against him, since they already seemed hellbent on making him take the fall. He'd been in the room for at least thirty minutes, left to sweat under the insufferable lights while the agents built their case.

  He didn't know what they had to pin the assassination on him but was sure it was all a bunch of shit. Considering the president had been killed in the last twelve hours, his alibi was as rock solid as they came. All anyone had to do was check the station logs to know where he'd been. Shit, anyone in the NEC would've been able to tell them he was on leave and not on the station when it happened.

  Light from the hallway stood out against the otherwise darkened wall. The light retreated as a set of agents entered the room. Unlike the men who had led him down the hall, these two were unarmed. Not only that, they hadn't bothered to bring any note-taking equipment in with them. That meant one of two things. One, someone outside of the room was recording the conversation. Or two, they weren't here to talk.

  One agent took a seat across from Jason while the other made his way around the table. He stopped a few feet in front of Jason, smiled, and gave him a quick jab to the ribs. Before Jason could recover, he delivered two more blows to Jason's jaw before retreating to his side of the table.

  Jason leaned forward at the edge of his restraints and gritted his teeth to lessen the pain. For a fleeting moment, he considered spitting a wad of blood in the agent's face, but decided it wouldn't do anything to help his case. Instead, he spat the wad onto the floor before sitting back up in his chair.

  "Some people have the audacity to call you a war hero." The agent in the chair turned to the other that was still standing, and the pair laughed. "What I'd like to know is how your captain allows the stories to persist. Surely, he was the one doing the heroic deeds, not his subordinate."

  Jason pursed his lips to keep from telling them off. While he held a healthy respect for the Secret Service, the statement had proven how little research they'd done on him. It was becoming clear they intended him to be a patsy, regardless of his innocence.

  "Not much of a talker, are you, Commander?" The agent leaned forward in his chair and smiled. "Perhaps we should try this again." The agent leaned back in his chair while the second took a seat next to him. "I'm Special Officer Jenkins, and my companion is Special Officer Rolling. As you have probably figured out, we are in charge of the investigation."

  "Witch hunt is more like it," Jason said, before reining his words back. He had so much more he wanted to say to the men, but he kept it to himself. Being too mouthy now would only make it much harder on him.

  "Oh, come now, Commander. I assure you, you are getting the same treatment anyone else in your position would."

  "More," Rolling quipped. "You sure he's still a commander? Scum is more like it."

  "For now." Jenkins leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "You do know why you are here, correct?"

  Jason kept his features blank. The last thing he wanted to do was give them anything more.

  Jenkins grinned. "You are here because of the assassination of President Celia Alvarez." Jenkins held his gaze for a moment as he studied Jason's eyes. "We know you did it. Have plenty of proof to back our case. What we want to know is how the hell you escaped. That room had one entrance. An entrance with no less than twenty of our best agents protecting it."

  Rolling cracked his knuckles and stood. "I'll get the bastard to talk." He stepped around the table, then once in range, wrapped his hands around Jason's neck and lifted him up.

  Jason avoided struggling, though his mind was begging him to try. His whole body was. He wanted nothing more than to stand up and teach these two bastards a lesson. But there wasn't a lesson to teach. He was the one in handcuffs. Even attempting something now would only make his situation worse. So instead, he stared Rolling in the eyes and waited for the blow to hit home.

  Rolling reared back with his right.

  He was about to throw the punch when Jenkins cleared his throat. "Fine. Your way it is."

  Rolling grunted, then let Jason's neck go, allowing him to crumple into the chair. "Next time, I don't stop."

  Jenkins c
huckled. "Next time, I don't stop him."

  The pair walked out of the room, leaving him alone once again. He wasn't sure how he would get out of this mess, or even if he ever would. The best he could hope for was for the trial to wait until after the battle. Otherwise, his chances of survival were going to be grim.

  Chapter Twenty

  New Earth Sector

  Corridors, New Earth Station

  Walker held his left hand up, bringing his unit to a halt. He kept his eyes focused forward, watching the activity down the hall.

  A pair of Secret Service agents entered the corridor from a nearby room. They scanned the hallway in either direction before signaling for the rest of their unit to come out. Soon, the hall was flooded with Secret Service agents surrounding a single person at their center.

  Vice President Landry. President, if rumors were true. There wasn't a doubt in Walker's mind that Landry was responsible for President Alvarez's murder, even if he wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. As sad as it was to say, those were problems for another day. After he found Jason, and more importantly, after they won the battle, if by some miracle they came out of this alive, he would join the charge to bring the traitor Landry to justice.

  The group of agents flowed down the hallway away from Walker and his group of Marines and soon they were around the corner and out of sight.

  "All clear," Walker said in a whisper.

  The rest of his unit seemed to relax behind him.

  "VP?" Talbot asked as he scanned his datapad.

  "Would be my guess," Walker replied. "Not our problem. Ours is the kid. Any luck finding where they're holding him?"