Infamy (The Mythrar War Book 2) Page 9

  "Can't do it, kid. We almost lost you back on the Providence. I'll be damned if I'm going to risk your life again." Wellard strolled down the hallway ahead of Bremerton, who struggled to maintain his pace. He wondered if he was talking the kid out of wanting to go, or if he was signaling ahead hoping someone else could step in and do it for him. It honestly didn't matter what the kid tried to do, he'd find himself on the boarding shuttles either way.

  "Then Lieutenant Commander Wilson. He's one of the few officers on the ship with any formal combat training. Surely he would be a better candidate for a boarding party than you."

  Wellard sighed and came to a stop. The kid's going to hound me all the way down to the shuttle bay, isn't he? "Look, Jason, I understand your concern. When I was your age, I would've tried to do the same thing. What you aren't seeing is how I am trying to protect you and everyone else on the crew. I may not have a ton of combat training, but I also don't have your mind. I also don't have the drive and determination the rest of the crew shows. But I have enough sense to know when it's time for the king to get his hands dirty. You and the rest of your command staff are the future of the NEC. Excuse the horrible metaphor, but you are the Endeavor's queen, and no good player is going to sacrifice his queen doing pawn work."

  "No good player is going to risk his king either."

  Wellard grinned. "True. But my order stands. You and the rest of the crew are to stay on the Endeavor. Continue recovery operations in the sector while we try to steal us some new toys." The main lift opened, and he stepped inside. "And send a message to Admiral Flannigan. Tell her she'll want to send a few more recovery ships to the sector to go through the debris. Apparently, there is something important left in the mess."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Medaca Sector

  Bridge, Infamy

  Vice-Imperator Kretch of the vessel formerly known as the York, poured through the piles of papers stacked in piles on his desk as one of the lowly human subjects entered the room. The man's jacket was ruffled and torn in places, exposing his underclothes in spots or his skin in others and desperately needed repairs.

  Some of the rest of the crew had already cleaned up and returned to duty wearing another set of cleaned uniforms, but not this one. This one seemed to not care if he looked like death would take him at any time. Normally he would have such a servant killed to prove a point, but this one had proven useful. It was he who had put together the stacks of reports. Each pile representing critical assets in no less than a dozen human systems. In one stack alone there was enough data to destroy a system in a matter of days, not weeks or months it would usually take.

  Vice-Imperator Kretch raised his head to acknowledge the human. "Yes?"

  "I'm sorry to interrupt your studies, Vice-Imperator, but I felt it important to tell you that all but seven of our scavengers have returned safely."

  "And what of the seven? Have they found anything useful?"

  "No, Vice-Imperator," he said, hesitantly. "I mean, we haven't had contact with the scavengers for six hours."

  "Odd," Kretch said, stroking the stubble on his chin. "Where is the location of their last position?"

  "Gibraltar Station, Vice-Imperator. They were searching the debris for the information you were looking for."

  Kretch sighed. "Then I am to assume their search came up empty-handed?"

  The servant bowed. "I am afraid we have no way to know with any certainty. If they have sent a transmission, it may be some time before we receive it." The man stood up straight and moved a few feet into the room. "If you would like, I could send in another clutch to determine the problem. Perhaps they've forgotten to check in."

  "Doubtful. It's more likely the humans sent a ship to investigate the attack and that they've been destroyed."

  "Then it's even more prudent to send in a unit to investigate. Perhaps they could even destroy the ships that have caused the problem, or attach a pod and take the vessel as our own."

  "If they have destroyed seven of our scavengers, it's likely the ships in the sector are capable of destroying five more." Kretch shuffled through the piles of paperwork, pulled out a single sheet, and held it in the air. "Besides, you have brought me what I was searching for. With this, we can finally bring humanity to their knees. They will either bow before us or be slaughtered."

  The human servant looked at him questioningly, his eyes focused on the small lettering at the top of the page. Kretch smiled and handed the servant the paper.

  "We must set a course to New Earth."

  The servant glanced at the paper, then at Kretch, then at the paper once again. "By the gates or should we test the sacred tech?"

  "I believe the tech should be sufficient," Kretch replied. "And more practical seeing as how the humans are patrolling the jump gates more often. We can least afford to be sloppy now when we are close to achieving success."

  The servant tapped a button on his shoulder, enabling his personal comm device. "Simmons to the bridge. Vice-Imperator Kretch has ordered us to plot a course to New Earth using the jump drive. Avoid getting too close to known human settlements as we require the element of surprise."

  "Understood, Commander. Plotting the course now." There was silence on the line for a minute before the human spoke again. "As long as everything goes as planned, we should arrive at the outskirts of New Earth sector in thirty-six hours."

  Servant Simmons looked at Kretch expectantly, waiting for his command. The estimated time of arrival left much to be desired, but he supposed it was the fault with the ships. While they could do extraordinary things, they weren't efficient with their energy usage or production. That would be one of the first things that would change once the Mythrar took over humanity for good. If they were to be an ally of the people, then they would require technology to match their own.

  "The estimates are acceptable. Please tell your navigations officer to recalibrate the route every three jumps. We need to make sure the technology is integrated properly."

  Simmons nodded and relayed the information back to the bridge. "They're initiating the tech now." Seconds later the room seemed to blink before Kretch's eyes as the York made the first of many jumps. Within seconds his mind had come to grips with the change in position and began to rest.

  He couldn't, however, say the same thing about his servant. He'd seen the effects of jump lag on the crew on more than one occasion, but this was something worse. For a moment he wondered if this weak species was ready for the gifts they were about to bestow on them. After all, if they couldn't handle a short jump, how would they react when the distances no less than tripled.

  A few moments later the servant used the wall to pull himself upright then put his hands on the side of his head. Before he could do anything else, his communications device beeped once again. He let the device go off for nearly a minute before pressing the button, ending the horrid noise.

  "Commander, we reappeared about a hundred kilometers away from the NECS Davenport. They are hailing us."

  The servant glanced over at Kretch. The alien contemplated his choices, now that their new device had been seen. He'd hoped to make it to New Earth without causing a scene, but he couldn't risk letting the ship get away with the knowledge the technology existed. He needed to keep that secret close to the vest a while longer.

  "Open fire on the ship. Leave no survivors."

  The servant nodded, relayed the information, and left the room. In the servant's hands was the information about the New Earth Shipyards. He thought about stopping the human before he got too far but figured it was a waste of time. The paper was unimportant now that he knew where to look. The only thing it could be used for at this point was for the human servant to attempt to start an uprising on the ship. Kretch knew how pointless such an uprising would be as his Klypton servants were begging for a fight. They would spring into action at the first sign of a mutiny, decapitating its leadership in minutes.

  No, that paper wasn't worth anything to anyone still alive o
n the ship. Only to the dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Gibraltar Sector

  Shuttle Bay, Scavenger

  The door to the shuttle opened with a hiss as the seal to the envirolock was broken, venting atmosphere into the scavenger's shuttle bay. Wellard stepped to look outside but found himself pushed back against a pile of marines as the room erupted into blaster fire.

  "We're under attack, Captain. Stay back in here with Lucas while we clear the threat."

  Wellard nodded and ducked back into the relative safety of the shuttle. Marines set up a perimeter, using whatever they could inside as cover as they returned fire through the personnel hatch.

  Laser blasts peppered the inside of the shuttle, scorching paint and burning plastics wherever they touched. One blast caught a marine in the chest, disintegrating his insides before the man knew he was even hit. He dropped to the floor in a heap as another marine stepped in to take his position.

  Wellard had never seen the marines in action. He'd heard what they were capable of doing against an entrenched foe but wondered how capable they were when they were the ones entrenched. If Bremerton was right, and there were even half as many Klyptons as he suspected, they were in for one hell of a fight.

  Another blast caught a marine in the shoulder, sending his blaster skittering against the floor as his arm ripped free at the socket. He dropped back against the wall as another marine stepped in to look at the wound.

  Less than two minutes into the fight and everything looked hopeless. For a fleeting moment, Wellard considered telling the pilot to shut the damned door and take them back to the Endeavor. But his mind was set on the jump drive, or whatever it was they used to cross the system in an instant. Even if they weren't able to integrate the technology into their ships, there had to be a way to defeat them, or at the very least keep them from jumping in so close before starting a battle.

  "They're retreating to the hall. Set up a defensive perimeter around the shuttles and tend to the wounded. I want three men on each side of the door and two more behind each of the shuttles. If anything so much as opens that door, I want you to drop it before it can say holy shit. Am I clear?" Sergeant Walker paced the bay, looking for threats that might be hidden amongst the piles of debris.

  "Yes, sir!" The marines shouted in unison as they sprung into action.

  Wellard waited for the all clear before stepping out of the shuttle. The bay of the scavenger looked similar to the one on the Endeavor, albeit much smaller. Three of the scavenger's own shuttles were stuffed in the bay alongside two of their own making the space cramped at best, and hazardous at worst.

  He made it to the side of the shuttle where he met Sergeant Walker directing his troops.

  "The shuttle bay is secured. I have two teams of men scouring the halls to secure the rest of the floor. Just waiting on their word to move out."

  "Sounds good, Sergeant. Just let me know when we're ready to go."

  Walker nodded, then reached to a holster on his belt and handed Wellard a pistol. "You ever shot one of these?"

  "Been a while," Wellard said, regarding the weapon. "Back in the academy, I imagine."

  "Figured as much. No real need for the command staff to use one."

  "Oh, they make us carry one." Wellard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his fleet supplied blaster. Compared to the marine's weapon it looked like a kid's trinket. They were supposed to carry it to have a chance at defending themselves in case they were boarded. But he knew they were handed out more out of process than practicality. The odds they were going to be able to protect themselves from a threat that had already gotten through some of the most secure areas of the ship was slim. "But I'll take yours."

  "Where to, Captain?" Walker said once the hallway was clear. "This is your show."

  "Lower decks, Sergeant. One of our pilots said she found something at the bottom of a few of the scavengers, made her new tracking device go haywire."

  "Think it's one of those anomalies like before?"

  "Not sure, but it's worth taking a look at. Richards believes it might be what's responsible for allowing them to jump."

  "And you believe him?" Walker asked skeptically.

  "He's one of the brightest minds on the ship. If he says something, I think it is smart to listen."

  "Then we head to the lower decks." Walker leaned into the comm device on his shoulder and pressed the button to activate it. "Wellard has ordered us to move to the lower decks. Alpha platoon is to stay on this floor and keep our escape secure while beta works their way to the lower levels. If you run across any contacts, assume they are hostile and fire, human or otherwise. Move out."

  This time it was Wellard that shot Walker the skeptical look. "Fire on sight? Not sure that's wise."

  "Pardon my brashness, Captain, but you weren't on the Providence. In the short time the aliens had to assault the ship, they killed nearly every human they came across. The only ones that were left were utterly in their control."

  "I understand, Sergeant. I just hope it doesn't come to bite us in the ass later on."

  "If it does, you can put that shit on me, but I'll be damned if I give my men a reason to hesitate on the trigger when it could cost them their lives." Walker turned to say something to one of the marines guarding the door before turning back to Wellard. "Let's get a move on. I don't want to be on this heap a moment longer than I have to."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gibraltar Sector

  Bridge, NECS Endeavor

  "Sir, the two marine platoons are splitting up. One is staying on the level of the shuttle bay while the other is moving below."

  "Below? What does he expect to find there?"

  "Sounds like he's looking for whatever caused Bobcat's sensor to go haywire," Richards said. Holding his datapad he made his way across the bridge carefully, stepping over debris. He pressed a few buttons on the device before handing it over to Bremerton.

  Jason stared at the device, watching as massive amounts of data poured over the screen. "What am I looking at?"

  "I had Midshipman Ritter point three of our most powerful sensors at the lower decks. What you are seeing is the constant flow of data they're receiving. At first, the data was static. No different than it would've been on any other ship. But the longer the sensors are pointed at the area, the more they're noticing a subtle amount of power being built up."

  Jason stared at the data a while longer. His eyes trying to notice the data that represented the power build. His years of studying and training on starship simulators hadn't prepared him to notice small details in a sea of data like he was currently seeing. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't they put the power plants of smaller vessels on the lower decks? To keep them as far away from the crew as possible?"

  "They do, but this is not a standard design." Richards leaned into Bremerton and keyed in a series of commands on the datapad. Half the screen shifted to a wire-frame view of the scavenger with a large red dot in the upper portion of the ship, close to where the command section of the craft would be. "The scavenger is an old design dating from 2363. Back then they designed ships in a way that kept all personnel compartments close together. On this particular model, the engine core is on the same deck as the bridge. Just on the other side of the ship."

  "That's insane," Bremerton said. "What if something happens to the core? Wouldn't a simple containment breach compromise the whole ship?"

  Richard's nodded. "That's why this design is no longer in service. Why we're staring at one is another matter entirely."

  "OK, fine. What does this all have to do with the power fluctuations on the lower decks?"

  "I was getting to that," Richards said, expanding the view of the ship to take the whole screen. The wire-frame model showed the full layout of the ship, showing where all the major compartments were expected to be. "Considering the age of the ship, we have to assume they've done extensive modifications. That said, I'd expect most of the major components to be
the same. Doubt anyone is going to put in the time or money to change most of it up."

  Richards glanced up from the datapad with an odd grin, his joke lost on the commander. He coughed and returned to the pad. "The power fluctuations are coming from here. This area is primarily used for securing cargo. Normally that wouldn't stand out, but this design was notorious for not routing power to the cargo compartments. Just enough to power the lift gates and a few dozen lights."

  Bremerton nodded, understanding. "So if you're picking up a power signature from the lower levels, it means there is something else going on."

  "Precisely. I believe they have some sort of device collecting excess power from the ship. Perhaps even leeching power from critical systems. While I can tell you what they are doing, what I can't say is why or how."

  "And that is the question." Bremerton pressed a button on his own console, opening the comm. "Bridge to Captain Wellard."

  "Make it quick, Commander. We're kind of busy over here." The sounds of blaster fire could be heard over the comm. The chaos reminded him of his time on the Providence.

  "Captain, Richards believes they are using the lower decks to store excess power, but we don't have any clue why."

  Richards stepped next to Bremerton getting as close to his microphone as he could. "Not entirely correct, Captain. I believe they are storing power to prepare for a jump."

  Bremerton gasped. "Get out of there, Captain. We can't afford…" Before he could finish the sentence, the communication cut off. He tried to reestablish the connection five more times before giving up. Collapsing into his chair, he placed his face in his palms, trying desperately to keep from losing his temper. The captain had stepped into a trap, and he had allowed it. It should've been him on the ship, not the captain.

  It took him a few seconds to pull himself together, during which time the rest of the bridge stared at him with the same sense of stunned disbelief.