Defiant (The Mythrar War Book 4)

by Douglas Wayne

  "You came," she said, sounding hoarse. "Figured you'd be busy on the bridge for a while yet. Was kinda hoping you wouldn't have to see me like this."

  "I was," he admitted. "Took a while to get the remaining drones under control. Admiral Flannigan wanted me to park most of them inside the station shuttle bays. The rest have been packed in any ship that had room." With the loss of so many fighter pilots during the battle, room for drones was easy to find. It was a bigger problem getting the captains of the ships to agree to use their flight decks for drone storage. It was only after learning they could be shut off did any agree.

  "Sounds like fun," she said. She leaned back into her pillow, allowing her eyes to shut. "But that's not why you're here."

  It was Richards' turn to close his eyes. "No," he admitted. "Admiral Flannigan and Captain Wellard have ordered me to study the Mythrar flagship. The one Captain Miller controlled."

  "A flagship survived?" Tegan sat up in the bed. Her vitals spiked with the effort, causing the alarms to blare. She sighed at the console before lowering herself back onto the bed.

  "Barely." He studied her face, wondering how much to reveal to her in her state. It was clear she wasn't in any condition to deal with significant data. But he couldn't keep her wondering, either. He decided he would tell her, hoping the alarms would keep her excitement in check. "When your pilot…"

  "Fireball. His name was Fireball." Tegan's eyes watered to the point of tears, but she held Richards' gaze.

  Richards nodded. "When Fireball flew into the flagship, he damaged a component that not only allowed them to control the drones remotely, it also controlled the crew. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to study that device. It would be nice to have a counter for it in case we run into another."

  Tegan nodded at him to continue.

  "It's the rest of their technology Flannigan wants to study. Especially their power cores, armor modulators, and their antimatter beam."

  "Antimatter? Is it confirmed?"

  Richards bit his lip and reluctantly shook his head. "It's not. At least not completely. Early scans say the beam is a mixture of…" Richards trailed off when he noticed her blank stares. While she was smart, science and technology were above her head. At least to the point of caring how it worked. Instead, she focused on the fact that it did. "Whatever it is, I believe we can recreate the technology, if we get enough time to study it."

  Tegan gave him a thoughtful smile. "We can use any edge we can get."

  That was true of many things. They'd made significant advancements, thanks to their alliance with the Xandar, but due to the Mythrar threat, they hadn't had time to incorporate the Xandars’ technology onto their ships. That included the Xandars’ modified Alcubierre drive, amongst a few dozen others.

  Richards leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. "As much as I want to stay and chat, I was supposed to be in the shuttle bay ten minutes ago. Stay safe?"

  Tegan smiled. "Hard to do anything else in a hospital bed."

  Richards leaned in and kissed her again, this time on the lips. It wasn't as passionately as he would've liked, but he doubted the crew would approve of them if it went any further.

  "I'll call you when I can." Before she, or his nerves, could protest, he turned and strode to the door. Before entering the hall, he turned and took her in one last time, waiting on the other side until the whir of the door shutting blurred his view.

  And just like that, he was back on his own. Hopefully, the flagship is more cooperative than the Xandar were, he thought as he jogged through the halls.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  New Earth Sector

  Flannigan's Ready room, New Earth Station

  "Sorry I'm late," Wellard said as he entered Flannigan's ready room. He strode to the open seat near the front. Bremerton sat in the chair next to him, bruises lining his face, making him look more exhausted than he probably was. Wellard didn't know what the kid had been through, but he was sure it had been hell. "Had some last-minute things to attend to on the Reliant."

  Flannigan nodded and motioned him to sit. She, like his XO, looked like she'd been on the wrong side of a fight, but sat up tall and sure all the same. "We were just discussing the battle. What we saw of it, anyway."

  "It was pure hell for a while there," Wellard said, taking his seat. "With the defensive array and Captain Florence on one side, and the Mythrar on the other, we were in quite a spot. At least until Miller helped."

  "Do we know why he had a change of heart?" Bremerton asked. "From what I can tell, we were on our heels. There was no tactical reason for it."

  "He said we did something when we destroyed the communications array. Something about freeing his mind. It sounded like bullshit at the time, but I wasn't about to complain when he turned his flagship on the others."

  "I suspect we will be able to ask him ourselves in the next few days." Flannigan tapped on her tablet, bringing up Miller's medical report on the screen. She slid the device across the table to Wellard.

  "So he made it. Didn't think he'd pull out of that one."

  "Barely," Flannigan said, watching Wellard's face. "Engines and life support were out. If Admiral Whitehead's ships hadn't made it there as quickly as they did, Miller's crew would have suffocated."

  "Speaking about changes of heart." Wellard stopped, leaving the question unasked. The appearance and assistance from the EU ships had been a welcome surprise. Especially after the Mythrar's attempts at getting the two factions at each other's throats. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what the admiral's real motives were.

  "Admiral Whitehead said he was hunting the Mythrar fleet. I'm not sure how true that is, but his intentions seemed pure." Flannigan leaned back in her chair, her fingers drummed against the wooden table. "Of course, he mentioned that he was also here to talk to me."

  "And?"

  "I haven't had time to talk to him yet, but I intend to within the next few hours. Given his willingness to help against the Mythrar fleets, I'm inclined to hear him out." The tapping stopped as she leaned forward in her seat. "Still, he and the rest of the EU have plenty they need to answer for."

  And so do we, Wellard thought.

  Flannigan's gaze went to Bremerton, who seemed to fidget in his chair. "Is there a problem, Commander?"

  Bremerton stopped and closed his eyes. He drew in a breath and held it a long moment before releasing it slowly. "I have things I need to answer for, too."

  "Phaw," Flannigan spat. "You are innocent, and we all know it."

  Wellard's eyes darted back and forth between Flannigan and his XO. "So the rumors…"

  "Are just rumors," Bremerton said, finishing the statement. "But the evidence is there."

  "Fabricated, I'm sure." Flannigan's face seemed to redden, though she remained calm.

  "In any case, I made a promise to answer for it once New Earth was safe." Bremerton gathered his things in front of him. "Special Agent Jenkins is waiting on me in the shuttle bay. If we don't have anything else to discuss, I should be going."

  "You know, I could pull some strings, make sure nothing comes of it until after the war with the Mythrar. Your actions the last few months would put the public on your side, regardless of what happened while you were on leave."

  "If you do that, we are no better than the Mythrar." Bremerton stood and brushed dust and debris from his uniform. "If you plan on making Landry answer for his crimes, then I need to answer for those levied against me. Trust that the system will work the way we intended it to."

  "And if it doesn't?" Wellard asked. "We stand a better chance with you on a ship instead of in prison."

  "You will do what you must. One man won't make a difference."

  Flannigan seemed to smile. "One man already has." She stood, stepped over to Bremerton and shook his hand. "The universe could use a thousand more like you."

  Bremerton blushed with the comment, but otherwise, his features remained stoic, as if turning himself into the Secret Service was no different
than reporting to the bridge. The kid turned to Wellard and reached out to shake his hand, as well. Wellard took it, only to pull Bremerton in for a hug. They held for a few moments before both men backed out.

  "Wilson is a good XO. He won't let you down."

  "Yes, he is," Wellard agreed. "And he hasn't yet. But he is only keeping your seat warm. I doubt you will be gone longer than a few days. It will take at least a week to patch up the holes in the Reliant, not to mention the rest of the ships."

  Flannigan nodded. "I'll place a few calls. Have our best lawyers down there working on your case. If the evidence is as sketchy as you say, there's no way they can formally charge you."

  "Thanks," he stepped over the threshold and turned to face Wellard and Flannigan one last time before the door whirred shut.

  Once he was sure it was clear, Wellard turned to face Flannigan. "Is it true? About the clone?"

  "As far as I can tell." Flannigan stepped around the table and to the wooden cabinet behind her desk. Opening the doors, she pulled out a flask of whiskey and two crystal glasses before returning to the table. "I've been searching the security feed for proof, but I haven't found anything." She poured two fingers of the amber liquid in both glasses and slid one across the table. "In fact, there is nothing to find. It's like someone wiped the system."

  "And the body?"

  "Gone." She tipped the glass back, wincing as the contents slid down her throat. "It's like it didn't exist." Leaning forward, she poured another drink. "The thing is, I saw the body with my own eyes. It looked just like him, down to the scar on his neck."

  Wellard spun the glass around, mulling it over. Finally, he downed the contents in a single gulp before returning the glass to the table. "Have they modified the database?"

  "No," she replied calmly. "It's like they only cared about covering their tracks. Jason's leave is still well-documented, as were his two trips through customs on the planet. It should be enough to get him acquitted of any charges."

  "Perhaps." Wellard pushed the glass forward, and Flannigan poured another drink. "But how long until they try something like that again?"

  "Who knows? As far as we know, that was the only clone."

  "Our experience with Landry proves otherwise."

  "Still, we don't have any evidence to prove it." Flannigan took a sip and leaned back in her seat. "The thing is, that isn't the question we need to be asking."

  Without her saying, he knew what she was implying. Was Commander Jason Bremerton an agent of the Mythrar? Had he been sent to New Earth and the NEC to infiltrate its leadership, allowing the Mythrar to bring down humanity with less of a fight?

  The kid's actions the last few months had proven otherwise, but still, the question remained.

  "I don't believe he's on their side. If anything, his willingness to risk his life to save us proves otherwise." Wellard ran his fingers along his chin. "The problem is his background. Or rather, the lack of it."

  "Precisely. We have no information about his childhood beyond the years he spent at NEC Naval Academy. He was a teenager by then. As far as we know, he could've been planted on that mining station ahead of time, knowing someone would come and find him."

  Wellard pursed his lips and considered it. The thought made sense. A lot more than his parents willingly giving him up out of the blue. Parents that, to his knowledge, weren't documented either. It wasn't odd to know that people on the fringes of controlled space weren't documented. That still happened today. It was strange that the kid had not only been born to undocumented parents, but also had been placed in a position to advance to one of the highest ranks in the NEC.

  Just like Nicholas Landry.

  "Captain Miller might know something about it," Wellard suggested. "At least he'd have a better idea than us."

  "I'll make a note to ask him myself when he wakes up. In the meantime, I plan on learning everything we have about our young commander. He has been one of our best assets in this war. It would be a damned shame if he was playing for the other side."

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  New Earth Sector

  Shuttle Bay, New Earth Station

  Bremerton took in a deep breath and held it as he entered the shuttle bay. This was absolutely the moment he'd been most looking forward to, and dreading, since his agreement with Jenkins. He knew damned well he was innocent, so he shouldn't have anything to fear, but the clone had changed things, made him wonder if he hadn't been involved in some way.

  To this point, his life had been meticulously planned. Every step had been designed with one thing in mind. Becoming the head of the NEC. His mind had always been fixated on the long game, sure not to do anything that would put that in jeopardy. It made sure every ‘I’ was dotted, and every ‘T’ crossed. Anything that made him look lazy or sloppy was ignored.

  But in the time after the battle, he'd had plenty of time to think about that plan. Specifically, when the idea had formed in his head. He'd had that goal as far back as he could remember, but the remembrance only went back into his mid-teens. Anything beyond that was a blur.

  Before today, his past hadn’t mattered. He'd written it off, believing something had happened on the mining station to give him some form of amnesia. But the more he'd looked into it, the more he realized there was more to it.

  As he walked to the shuttle bay, he'd logged into the NEC database and searched for the truth. But the truth seemed to dead end at the same point as his memories, to a life that hadn’t happened and parents that didn't seem to exist.

  Still, he had to have come from somewhere, didn't he?

  It was a question he didn't want the answer to. He was afraid of the truth. That he might not be any more different than Landry. Born in some tube back on Earth as a weapon for the Mythrar. To be used against humanity when and where the Mythrar saw fit.

  But it didn't seem right. Until now, he'd been a thorn in the Mythrars’ side. In fact, it was he that had destroyed the first flagship over Entropa, proving they weren't as invulnerable as they'd seemed. It also didn't explain why he'd planned and commanded attacks against rogue elements intent on sowing discord amongst his people. Surely they wouldn't want their plans disrupted without cause, right?

  Even that had a simple answer. They could've allowed him to win those skirmishes to prove his loyalty to the NEC. Allow him a few petty victories only to have him turn when humanity needed him the most.

  But he hadn't turned. The Mythrar had attacked New Earth, and he had fought back, both on the ground and at the command of the fleet. If he was a Mythrar agent, he was doing a piss poor job.

  Special Agent Jenkins startled when he noticed Bremerton. "I didn't expect you to come. Figured the admiral would send someone down here to tell me you were going to stay."

  "She wanted to," Bremerton said, stepping over the threshold. "But I made you a promise. I have to trust that the system works the way it is supposed to."

  Jenkins nodded. "It will. I've gone over the evidence a few times while you were in the CIC. There isn't a judge or jury alive that will think you did it. Especially when they hear my side of the story."

  Bremerton brightened to the point of a smile. He kept running over the information he had in his head as he took his seat in the shuttle. Not over the evidence being used against him or the assassination, but on his past. There was plenty for him to answer to. He hoped he could get to the bottom of it all before it was too late. Humanity was at a tipping point. The Battle for New Earth could either be the event that pushed humanity over the edge, allowing them to take control in the larger war, or it could be the point that allowed the Mythrar to rally, enslaving humanity for good.

  Somehow, he knew it rested on a single point.

  Him.

  He hoped he could figure it all out before it was too late.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Sol Sector

  Bridge, Flagship Pleium

  Emissary Pleium, second in rank only below the first, watched in disgust as Flagship K
oniva went dark. His stomach boiled over as he watched the remaining flagships follow suit.

  Five flagships had been sent to bring the rest of humanity into the fold, only to be lost in the span of a few weeks. It would take decades for the ships to be replaced if they could be at all. Resources back at the homeworld were becoming scarce. The planet, abundant as it was, had been mined to the point of collapse, as had numerous worlds since. If not for the subjugation of nearly a dozen races, the Mythrar would be extinct or near the brink. It was a byproduct of rapid expansion combined with their long breeding cycles.

  To survive, they needed to expand.

  To expand, they needed labor.

  And to get that labor, they needed to make war.

  Their tactics had always been to move in with unimaginable force. Bring such power to bear on a system and its people that their only possible recourse was to submit. It had worked countless times before, for the species that continued to serve his people and those they had driven to extinction.

  But humanity had proven difficult. Part of the population seemed willing to submit. In fact, they seemed to relish the thought of allying with a superior race. The rest seemed intent on fighting back, even if it meant their end.

  It would, Pleium realized long before Koniva's assault. Humanity was too divided to be properly cowed. Even the slaves they created in the tubes seemed to have a mind of their own. No amount of programming, training, or threats could change that. Humanity, at its whole, seemed intent on division, even if it meant their end. This was, perhaps, why they hadn't progressed far as a people. Their short breeding cycles, ability to adapt to their environment, and their unwillingness to back down, made them a force. If they were able to band together as a people, there was little the Mythrar, or any other species in the known galaxy, could do to stop them.

  But now they were as divided as ever. Those not under the Mythrar's thumb were at each other's throats. They fought against each other, even as a greater force invaded. It was why they needed to strike now before humanity could recover. Koniva's failures would bolster their confidence. But that confidence would prove their end. All Pleium needed to do was sow the distrust once again. Once humanity was back to fighting amongst themselves, he would strike in force. This time they wouldn't fail.