"Sir, incoming transmission from the Achilles."
"Patch it through."
The screen cut out, replaced by an image of Captain Nelson on the bridge of his ship. The chaotic scene that had played out nearly an hour before replaced by that of a crew preparing for something.
Nelson held his chin in his hands and was shaking his head towards something offscreen. As soon as he noticed Wellard, the man's features shifted to one of concern.
"Vince, I take it your men haven't had any luck securing Landry."
"That's correct, Travis. We've been unable to contact any of our crews for some time now. As I'm sure you're aware, we sent three shuttles to the Providence loaded to the gills with marines. They are working their way through the ship as we speak trying to not only secure Landry, but to find our away teams. The moment we hear from them I'll let you know."
"Vince, I'm not sure you are fully aware of our situation over here. Unless you believe in miracles, we aren't going to be any good against three ships even if the tech is a century old. The Achilles is being held together by duct tape and pure grit. All it's going to take is one good shot to blow it to shit."
"I know Travis, and I'm glad you're still here with us. Most other captains would've turned tail and ran by now." Nelson nodded, emphasizing his point. "I know we're pushing things to the wire, but I'd be grateful if you could give us another twenty minutes. By then we should have a better grasp on the situation."
"In twenty minutes we're going to be neck deep in the shit," Nelson said, much louder than he meant. "Look, your men aboard the Providence are doing their best to secure the ship, but our time is up. In another twenty minutes I plan to be on my way back to New Earth Station. Someone needs to report this attack to the admiralty."
"You're a good man, Travis. I assure you my crew and I appreciate you sticking around."
"I only hope it's enough. Nelson out."
Wellard glanced around the bridge, noticing every single set of eyes was on him. Each begging to ask why he was letting Nelson out. Not only that, they had to be wondering why they weren't getting out of the sector themselves. The truth was that they were outnumbered, and likely outgunned. Too many lives had been lost already. There was no sense in risking any more.
The faces on his crew told him the grim truth. They were worried. The academy had trained them to not openly voice their concerns as to not risk the morale of the crew, but each of them wore the same grim expression on their faces. They believed they were going to die. He was holding them together by a string and if he wanted to keep it that way, they needed a nudge in the right direction.
"I know what you are thinking. How could I let Captain Nelson leave minutes before the battle? If I were in your shoes, I would be asking the same thing. The truth is that one more ship, especially the battered Achilles is hardly going to make a difference in battle when those ships arrive. At least this way they can take news of today back to the NEC so they prepare for what is coming."
"If I may," Commander Wilson said, stepping away from his console. To the man's credit, he didn't say another word until Wellard nodded his approval. One day he was going to make a great XO and possibly CO as long as they survived to see tomorrow. "What do you believe is coming?"
"Call it a hunch, but I believe this to be a precursor to the invasion of New Earth. We've spent the last hundred years on the run from the foe that took our homeland. We spent the next two decades building up or defenses on the outer colonies in case they followed us out of the system. Fast forward eighty years and we're back to the levels of contentment we had during the initial invasion. Sure, there are whispers up top about an assault on Earth, but they are nothing more than the pipe dreams of the staunchest believers.
"After a century we believed ourselves safe from the threat of the Mythrar. We believed, by destroying each and every gate under five jumps from Sol they would not be able to find us. That our new homeworld would be safe from attack.
"Believe it or not, there are only a handful of people still alive during that initial attack. If you were to talk to them today, I'm sure they will tell you how safe they felt before the invasion. Some of them will tell you how they believed humanity was alone.
"A lot has happened in the last hundred years. Most importantly, we learned of two other sentient species out in the galaxy and we once again believed we were safe. Now we are facing the truth. That our enemies are willing to go through extraordinary lengths to wipe us from existence."
His speech was running long. He needed to pull it together in a final punch that would unite the crew for one last stand.
"We may have time to turn tail and run, but I'm sure as shit not about to leave members of this crew to die on a disabled ship without doing what we can to save them. If that means I have to give my life so they can have a chance to live, it's a gamble I'm willing to take. I understand your desire to get out of harms way, but let me ask you a serious question. If you were on that ship, would you want the ship to stick around, or would you prefer we left you to die? I know how I feel about it, but if the rest of you believe otherwise. Well, I'm not about to stop you."
Wellard made his way back to his command chair and plopped in front of his console. He did his best to keep his eyes focused on his screen, acting as if he wasn't worried about what his crew was going to do next. It was hard to tell with fleet recruits. They didn't have a long enough track record to even gauge their response. He was, as they say, in the dark. So he focused on the only part of the situation he had control of. Preparing his mind for battle.
"I vote we stay," Midshipman Ritter said from her post. Her voice was followed by Midshipman Rayne and then Ensign Price. Within seconds the rest of the crew agreed with the others. All but one crucial voice.
Commander Wilson glanced around the bridge, noting the voices as they spoke. He kept quiet, allowing the crew their chance to speak up for themselves. As the last voice chimed in, he took in a deep breath and nodded.
"I may believe staying is foolish. I may believe we would do the NEC more good by leaving those on the Providence to their fate to fight another day. But I also believe I would be throughly pissed off if I were on that ship and you left me to die. So if the rest of the crew is in, who am I to say otherwise. What is your command?"
Wellard allowed traces of a grin to form at the corners of his mouth. He had the crew right where he needed them to be.
"Put our ship ahead both the Providence and Achilles. I want to ensure we take the brunt of any initial volley they may send. Perhaps then Captain Nelson will stick around a while longer."
Chapter Forty-Four
Atroxxin Sector
Middle Decks, NECS Providence
"Thanks for the save," Bremerton said as he helped Richards to his feet. "It wasn't looking too good for us in there."
"And it wouldn't have if we hadn't been diverted to the upper bay. We ran into thirty of the ugly bastards converging on your position from the upper decks. If we hadn't arrived when we did, you would've been dead within minutes if not shorter." Sergeant Walker shouldered his blaster and walked out into the hall.
Other than around ten alien bodies, there was nothing but marines lining the hall as far as Bremerton could see. They had been saved in grandiose fashion, which was fitting for the old sergeant. Jason had known the man since he was a child, back when his father commanded the NECS Lincoln. Even back then the man had a penchant for doing things big or not at all. Celebrations where he shot off three years of credits in the matter of minutes was the norm. After all, why eat a hamburger when the situation called for a steak.
Stopping at the door, Jason pulled Richards' tablet free from the console and handed to the sergeant.
"What is this?"
"Seems our junior engineer has a way with computers. Specifically alien encryption. He's found a way to open the locked doors on the ship."
Walker handed the tablet to another man, who shot him a skeptical look. "Have our men upload the encr
yption to their tablets then sweep the hall from room to room. We need to know if there are any survivors on the ship or if they left bodies scattered everywhere."
"Don't go too far with that thing," Jason said, nodding to the tablet. "He was also gained access to the shipboard computers with a similar code. With that, we might be able to take control of the ship."
"Opening a door and accessing databases is hardly the same as taking control of the ship. I'd be willing to bet it'll take more than some fancy program for that to happen." Walker smiled and glanced back at his men. "Lucky for you, it seems I brought the right tool for that job and it just so happens the men are just itching for a fight. If some alien bastards think they can do what they want to our ships, they have another thing coming."
"You said you were diverted to the upper bay," Jason asked. "Safe to assume you were supposed to be heading to the lower?"
"Indeed. Wellard wanted to send every marine we had at the anomaly. He believed it's the cause of all your troubles over here."
Richards grunted as a combat medic applied some ointment to the hole in his arm. "Sir, I don't believe we need to disable the anomaly to take control of the ship. Sure, it would be nice to restore communications, but I don't believe there is anything there that would physically stop us."
"Well, it's not like I can contact the teams below to have them stop. So when they succeed we can consider the ability to communicate across radio as a bonus. In the meantime, I suggest we make our way to the axillary bridge, considering the York did a number to the primary."
"It's confirmed then? The bridge was destroyed?" Jason asked.
Walker shook his head. "Nothing confirmed. Call it a soldier's intuition. If the bridge crew was still alive, the ship wouldn't be holding its position. At last check, this bird hasn't moved since it hopped through the gate."
"That also means it's just as likely the aliens either haven't found the auxiliary bridge or at the least haven't figured out how to fly her."
"That would also be safe to assume."
Richards grunted in pain again as the combat medic wrapped his shoulder and placed his arm in a sling. He'd still be able to use the thing if he had to, but doing so wouldn't be the most pleasant experience.
Jason stopped outside the door and noticed an NEC uniform at the bottom of a pile of alien bodies. He pulled the creatures of the man and saw Adams' mangled form lying in a heap on the floor. Bending over, he placed his hands on the man's throat but couldn't find a pulse. The man had given his life to save his. Jason wished he had a way to repay the man for his sacrifice, but there wasn't much he could do other than close his eyes and offer a silent prayer in respect.
Walker placed his hand on Jason's shoulder and nodded. "All things considered, it would be best to get this show on the road. Considering you outrank me, it seems you have operational authority on this mission."
Jason nearly choked, hearing the man who had once served under his father defer to him. But he pulled himself together before he did.
"In matters of directing your men, I defer to your experience. As for our destination, we should make our way to the auxiliary bridge. While I respect your desire to search every room, we should limit our search to the rooms on our way up, if only to ensure we are not heading into an ambush. A full sweep of the ship will commence once we take the bridge."
Walker's lips contorted into a smile. He then stood up to address the men. "You heard the commander. I want four men on point and another four on rear guard. The rest of you will split up in teams of two. As we pass a room, these smaller teams will stop and search for any survivors. If you find an enemy contact, you are hereby ordered to blast the ugly son of a bitch into the next life. Do I make myself clear?"
"Hoorah!" the men said in unison.
"Good. Let's move out."
Chapter Forty-Five
Atroxxin Sector
Bridge, NECS Achilles
"Sir, the Endeavor is moving between us and the approaching ships."
"Put it on screen." The image of the approaching ships was replaced with that of the Endeavor lumbering to put itself in front of the two damaged ships. Travis nodded at nothing in particular, but was glad to see his friend was going to buy the Achilles more time. "Status of the lasers?"
"Another three have become operational in the last twenty minutes, putting our total at six. The techs are still working on repairing the rest, but we'll be lucky to have another two operational by the time they arrive. The good news is that Chief Engineer Brown has rerouted power to the thrusters so they no longer appear to draw on the same power lines as the laser batteries."
"Good man. We can't expect to sit still and be of any use in this fight." Nelson pressed a button on his console, opening a line to the CAG's office. "Garcia, please tell me our fighters are back in top fighting shape."
"Dear God, no," Garcia replied. "It's going to take a week in drydock to even think about starting any serious repairs. That being said, they are as flight worthy as they have been for the last two years. My crews should have them armed and ready for combat in under five minutes. The pilots are already on the flight deck awaiting your command."
"Good work, Nancy," Nelson replied. "How many fighters do we have operational?"
"After the battle with the drones, we are down to just under sixty. Combined with the survivors from the Endeavor we have just over one hundred and ten."
One hundred and ten fighters, just over the full complement of either ship. It wouldn't be enough. They'd fought against nasty odds twice today and won, but the thought of asking them to do it again was horrifying. It was still too early to tell, but he had to assume each one of those ships held a complement of one hundred fighters, like the ships a century ago. Even if those fighters had the same capabilities as the old X-23s, they'd still be outnumbered three-to-one. If any of those ships was a carrier, the odds were even worse.
Still, without the fighters to run interference, the capitol ships would have difficulty focusing on the larger threats. So, he was going to have to send them into battle again.
"It's not ideal, but it's what we have. We're expecting contact in the next thirty minutes. I want your pilots out there in twenty-five. Captain Wellard has put the Endeavor in front of us like a shield. I want every fighter hiding behind its hull when they get here."
"Understood. I'll make sure they're ready."
Chapter Forty-Six
Atroxxin Sector
Upper Decks, NECS Providence
"Hallway clear," Jacobs shouted from the front of the group.
Bremerton stood up from his defensive position before reaching over to help Richards to his feet. The young engineer was growing pale as the full extent of his injuries settled in. While the marines had done a stellar job of patching the man on the fly, he needed medical attention. As it was, he was lucky to still be on his feet. The only reason he could still stand was because of the nature of the wound. He hadn't lost a lot of blood, but the Jason could tell the pain was horrendous.
"You going to be OK?" Jason asked.
"I'll live," Richards replied. "Plenty of time to rest once we're off this heap."
Jason wasn't so sure, but if the man wanted to play tough, he was going to let it go. At least until his performance started to suffer.
Jason and Richards held their position in the middle of the hallway while the marines searched the rooms. They moved in groups of two which allowed them to clear the hall a few minutes later. For their efforts they found two more rooms full of bodies piled up much the same as they had found earlier. Unfortunately, they had yet to find even a single survivor.
It was expected, given their encounter earlier in the day, but still they held hope of finding someone left alive.
The teams made their way to the stairwell where they moved up to the final floor. The first group of marines pushed through the upper threshold and into the hallway, weapons leveled as to cover every conceivable direction of attack. They held that position for a
long moment before issuing all clear to the rest of the teams behind. The first marines moved further into the hall, allowing another group to filter in close behind. The rest of the platoon followed suit until the entire unit was in the hall.
"Auxiliary bridge is ahead," Jason said, pointing to the closed door at the end of the hall. "You sure that program of yours can break the encryption."
"Can't make any promises, but I don't see why it shouldn't. The base codes seemed to be the same earlier. Unless they tampered with the signal, we should be golden."
"Well then," Walker said, taking the lead. "What do you say we get this dirty business over with?"
Jason nodded and followed the sergeant with Richards following a close third. The marines searched the rooms as the three men made their way to the door, each group giving the all clear as they found every single room empty. That wasn't much of a surprise. The rooms this high up were usually reserved for the bridge crews which were likely either dead, or perhaps even captured. Without checking the credentials of every body they passed, they'd never know for sure.
Walker took a knee in the middle of the locked doorway and aimed his weapon dead center on the door. Two marines followed suit, taking a knee to either side. Finally, three more marines moved in, each standing behind the three men already in place.
Richards fumbled with the tablet in his pocket as his injured shoulder failed to cooperate. Jason, seeing the man's struggle, grabbed the tablet and attached it to the control panel on the side of the door. Richards thanked the commander and took the tablet and got to work.
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