The encryption on the access panel was similar to that of the doorways, but much like the primary access terminal in the room it was just different enough to make it difficult. He fumbled with the commands as the marines watched on, each looking ready to blast whatever they found on the other side to whatever end they believed in.
Jason, on the other hand, hoped the program would work. They'd been on the Providence for a few hours now. Far longer than anyone had hoped. And until this point they had seemingly gotten nowhere. Now they are on the cusp of at least seeing if there was any way to control the ship. If nothing else, get it the hell out of the system before the unknown contacts reached the battle lines he knew Wellard would be forming. It would have been nice to have a better support crew with him, to make the ship battle ready, but he'd settle for getting the ship out of the system in one piece.
"Sometime today, son," Walker said, sounding irritated for having knelt for five minutes. While the rest of the firing line held their tongues, it was clear by the look on their faces they felt like the sergeant. Even Jason was becoming impatient, but that was due more to having been on the ship for this long than anything Richards was doing. The fact the engineer was still pushing forward was nothing short of amazing. Most people would've caved by now and let someone else carry the torch. Jason was glad he hadn't, however as there wasn't anyone else on the ship who could handle a computer the same way.
"Almost there," Richards said as he tapped on the tablet. "One last line of code and..."
Before he finished the sentence, the doors swung open revealing the large cavernous space of the auxiliary bridge which was, amazingly, free of damage. Even more amazing was how the bridge was fully staffed, as each chair had someone not only sitting in it, but another standing close by. Unfortunately, most of the crew were the same ugly aliens they had encountered a few decks prior.
And if matters couldn't get any worse, Vice President Landry was standing in the middle of it all, speaking to one of the creatures as they entered the room.
Without hesitation, Landry turned around and pointed at Jason and the marines and said two simple words.
"Kill them."
Chapter Forty-Seven
Atroxxin Sector
Bridge, NECS Endeavor
"At present speed, contacts are thirty minutes out," Ritter said, his fingers rapidly pressing the keys on her console for the command she knew was next. Before Wellard had a chance to even ask her to do it, she brought up the magnified visual of the approaching ships.
The scene was like something out of the history books. Three ancient ships lumbered towards the gate. To the naked eye, the ships looked like the same designs of the last century, but the closer he looked the more he noticed slight changes.
On one ship the thrusters were in odd places, or missing entirely. Those that were there were typically larger than even those on NEA ships today.
Weapons emplacements were also different or missing entirely. During the Mythrar invasion the forces of Earth were heavily reliant on laser technology. Against other human made ships, it had enough penetrating force to do significant damage. Most ships also had weapon embankments for conventional gauss based weaponry, but they were less prevalent then. But now, after seeing just how inefficient laser based weaponry was on the Mythrar ships, the focus went back to equipping the ships with mass transfer weaponry, even though it would cost the ship valuable space and weight. Lasers were still built onto the ships, just not to the levels they had been before the war.
"Now that they're in decent range, hail the lead ship. We need to make their intentions loud and clear. In the meantime, put the crew on full alert in case they don't answer." Not that the last command was necessary. The whole ship had been on edge for the last few hours. It was doubtful anyone could focus on anything but the looming battle.
"Lead ship refused our hail. Should I try one of the others?"
"Negative Lieutenant. I believe it's safe to assume they are ignoring us. That being said, try the hail one more time when the ships are fifteen minutes out just in case their communications equipment isn't up to task."
"Shall I inform the CAG of the situation?" Wilson asked, face showing signs of concern.
"Not yet. Our fighter pilots have been through enough the last few hours. Another fifteen minute break won't hurt anything. Besides, Thompson is probably already on it. I'd be willing to bet the pilots are sitting in the briefing room now."
Wellard scanned the room, noting the concerned faces of the rest of the crew. He wished there was something he could do to relieve their nervous jitters, but it was too late for anything too drastic. That was the problem with space battles. It included far more waiting than anything else in life to draw an apt comparison. Sure, things were about to get interesting, but unless they moved away from the two damaged ships and towards the contacts, there was little more to do than wait.
Mentally Wellard was hoping for a miracle on the Providence as his young commander was cutting things too close for comfort. He considered trying to send another broadcast to the ship, but every other attempt had resulted in no response on the other side. Even the three platoons of marines hadn't left anyone stationed in the flight decks to transfer messages the old way. Perhaps it was for the best. Leaving men stationed along the path would do nothing more than spread resources thin. If the anomaly held half as many men as he expected, they needed every able body for the fight.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Atroxxin Sector
Auxiliary Bridge, NECS Providence
Jason leapt out of the threshold as the aliens opened fire, a stray beam missing him by inches as he cleared the door. Sergeant Walker and his wall of marines returned the volley as they darted towards the cover of the doors, but not before two marines were gunned down, both taking shots that penetrated their chest armor.
Hearing the commotion the marines in the back of the hall shifted towards the bridge. Each of the men had their weapons out and were taking shots the moment they had one clear.
Jason fumbled with his own blaster, trying to bring it into position to fire. But his nerves were getting the best of him. As hard as he tried, he couldn't make himself lean into the threshold to take a shot. Thankfully, his weapon would only be an addition to the current mass of firepower being traded between the groups, but knowing that didn't make him feel any better. On the other side of the door Richards wasn't doing any better, but at least he had an excuse.
Jason was the XO damn it. He was supposed to be capable of defending his crew. How could he, as a master of space battle simulations, be such a slouch with a gun?
"If you aren't going to play Commander, give one of my marines your spot and move to the back. We're losing a critical defensive point with you out of play."
"Sorry, Sergeant," Jason said, almost timidly. "I'll be fine."
"Then show me what you got, son." Without saying another word, Walker leaned out from the threshold and fired another burst of shots into the room before returning to the safety of the side.
Jason held his blaster to the ready and took a deep breath. You can do this. Quit being such a little bitch. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head out from the safety of cover and followed with the gun. The sheer act of acting like he was going in blind did wonders for his psyche. That all lasted until the moment he opened them. Panic set in once he had. It took every ounce of willpower in his body to keep his head, and more importantly, his weapon aimed into the room.
Instead of backing out he focused his gaze on a single target, the wrinkled forehead of an alien. The yellow skinned bastard was hiding behind a console and a chair, only occasionally poking his head out to take a shot. But from Jason's vantage point, he was allowing enough of his head exposed for a clear shot.
Jason brought the gun up long enough to sight the damn thing through his scope before opening fire, unleashing three bolts of energy into the room. The bolts caught it in the temple, ripping apart his skull in an explosion of blood and
gore. Then before having the same done to him, he quickly ducked back around the corner.
"It doesn't have to be like this," Landry said, his voice echoing throughout the ship-wide comm. "Drop your weapons to the ground and I'll let you live. Continue to fire on my position and I will cut ever living person down to a man. You have thirty seconds to comply."
"We don't need thirty seconds you traitorous piece of shit," Walker said from his position on the side of the doorway. "The only one who is going to surrender is you. We have you surrounded. There is only one way in and out of that room, and we are smack on the other side of it."
"The thing is," Jason interrupted. "We can't make you the same offer. By commandeering the Providence, they have started a war. Normally we'd offer quarter, but I've seen enough bodies piled up through the ship to make such an offer void. Instead, I'm going to make you an offer, Vice President. You are going to pick up one of their discarded weapons and take out as many of the invaders as you can before they gun you down. In return I'll personally put a slug in your head so you won't have to spend the rest of your pathetic life in the brig."
"When it comes to the Mythrar," Landry countered. "You serve, or you die. So, forgive me if I decline your offer. I must also take my offer off the table as my associates no longer desire your service."
"Those are not the Mythrar," Jason replied. At least, he didn't believe so. None of the history books he studied as a child had a single image of one. Even now, he wasn't sure one even existed. The only things they knew about Mythrar physiology had been passed down from one scientist to another, with the occasional dissertation to show for it. Jason wasn't even sure how many things they considered facts actually were.
But if this weren't the Mythrar, what were they? As if to answer his unspoken question, Landry spoke again.
"You are correct. The Mythrar are a slow and ancient species. They can hardly afford to put their people in danger for such frivolous gains. That is why they have enlisted the services of the Klyptons, a warrior race known for their ferocity in combat. They are a precursor to the true threat. The Klyptons are here to make humanity kneel before the might of the true masters."
"Yeah, I'm not so keen on the kneeling thing," Jason replied. "Besides, you spent enough time in congress to know we are ready for that fight. So it looks like you chose the wrong side."
"Tell me, Commander Bremerton, how do you fight a foe you don't know exists? I will admit, the mere fact the Endeavor survived the encounter was a testament to Captain Wellard's skill in battle. But for every miracle like the Endeavor, there are three dozen defeats. As we speak, a force is making their way to New Earth to propose the Mythrar's offer to your people directly."
"And that offer is?"
"Kneel, or die. Contrary to what we saw in Sol, they don't wish to exterminate us. In fact, they wish for us to join with them. Help them in ways they struggle to help themselves. In return, we get to survive. They made the same offer a century ago, but our leadership at the time refused to listen. That is why I was sent here. To infiltrate the highest ranks of government to make the same offer, this time from a voice of reason and authority."
"President Alvarez won't stand for that," Jason quipped.
"Celia Alvarez is dead. Tragically killed in combat by the EU Essex. Seems our English allies aren't so fond of us anymore."
Jason bit down on his lower lip to keep from screaming at Landry. It took every ounce of patience to keep him from doing it as he knew the man was trying to rile him up. Even then, he was doing a damned good job. He wanted nothing more than to put a bullet right between Landry's eyes, firing squad be damned. The only thing keeping him from it was his Klypton bodyguards.
"It seems my friends have more patience for the situation than I do. They have decided to make you the offer one last time. Drop your weapons and bring humanity closer to true enlightenment, or perish."
Here is your answer, Jason thought as he gripped the handle of his gun. In one fluid movement, he swung his body into the doorway and leveled his weapon at the only human body in the room. Landry was standing on the opposite side of the bridge, hand holding a device to his mouth. Jason centered the crosshairs on the vice president's head and fired a controlled burst. He held his position long enough to notice the beams striking a hidden barrier just before the man, the light around him shimmering as it dispersed the energy of the shot.
As if to add insult to injury, Landry laughed over the comm for a long moment before saying two words. "I'm disappointed."
Chapter Forty-Nine
Atroxxin Sector
Bridge, NECS Endeavor
"Contacts are approximately fifteen minutes out," Wilson said from the XO's station. "Preparing to hail them again."
Wellard nodded. This was the moment of truth. Whatever happened during this transmission, or lack thereof, would tell him what to expect. Either they'd respond and he'd tell by the communication, or they'd ignore him in which case he prepared his ship for battle. In any case, the high tension of the last few hours was about to be over, one way or another.
"Captain, they have accepted our transmission."
"Put it on screen."
The image of the ships was replaced by thew view of an alien being. It had skin the color of sharp cheddar cheese, with two small slits for eyes on the sides of its elongated head. The skin was heavily wrinkled, except around the eyes and what Vincent believed to be its mouth, which looked like an elongated slit near the chin. It wore what looked to be a military uniform, guessing from the looks of the other aliens in the background wearing similar clothes. Whispers across the bridge accused the thing of being Mythrar, but Wellard knew the truth. This was something else.
By all accounts, he was the only living human to have actually seen one of the Mythrar and lived to tell the tale. Granted, it was on the viewscreen of a small scout ship, but that was more proof of their existence than they had during the short war for Earth.
"Greetings. I'm Captain Vincent Wellard of the NECS Endeavor. Seeing as I have no clue as to what you are, it is safe to assume you are not aware you are in NECS space. I must ask that you either power down your vessels or turn back the way you came."
A choking sound came from the creature, the sound echoed by the other beings on the ship. Was this laughter? Was this thing laughing at his request?
Fine. If they want to play hardball, I'm willing to play.
"This is your last chance. Power down your ships or turn around. Any other response will be considered an act of war and will be treated accordingly."
More laughter.
The being in the center of the screen reached out of view for a moment before holding a small device to his throat. Its mouth moved slightly, and emitted a guttural tone. The speech, if you could call it that, wasn't intelligible at first, but whatever the thing was on his throat translated the noise with a robotic tone.
"Captain Vincent Wellard of the NECS Endeavor, I must regrettably decline your offer and instead propose a counter offer. You will power down your ships and prepare for a boarding party. Any attempt to intercept our vessels will result in the destruction of your ship and the NECS Achilles." The edges of the elongated slit Vincent believed was its mouth curled as it registered Vincent's surprise.
"I'm afraid I cannot allow that to happen. I'd sooner enter the command to self destruct the Endeavor before surrendering to the likes of you."
The alien stood there for a moment, contemplating the words. "That offer is acceptable. You have two of your minutes to comply." Then as suddenly as it began, the screen cut to black. Wellard stood still staring at it for a moment before he realized every set of eyes on the bridge was now on him.
"Hail the Achilles. We need to let Captain Nelson know the bad news." The comm chirped as the vision of Nelson appeared on the screen.
"I take it you have an update," Nelson said.
"Indeed. It seems our contacts are indeed hostile. I suggest you prepare yourself and your crew for a fight."
>
"I thought as much," Nelson said, face showing clear signs of resignation. Wellard knew the man wasn't keen on the idea of entering into battle. Considering the condition of the Achilles, he couldn't blame him. "Just tell me you intend to keep that bird of yours between them and us."
"As long as I can, Travis. I know you aren't in a position to take a beating, not like the Endeavor. The more you are able to pound the contacts, the better off everyone will be."
"Very well. I'll put my XO in contact with your assistant, so we can focus our attention on one ship at a time. Maybe we'll get lucky and take a few out with us."
Vincent smiled. "I don't know about you, but I intend to be very lucky today. We need to make it out of this alive to spread the word back to the admiralty. They need to know what we are getting into. If we die, they will continue to be as blind as we were going in."
"Then I suggest you pray for a miracle. With my battered ship and your rookie crew, we're going to need it."
"Indeed. Wellard, out." Vincent stood up and paced the bridge. He recognized the looks on their faces as he passed. Each of them full of nothing but genuine concern. These were the faces of a bunch of green kids who weren't ready for this. Wars were things you read about in the history books, not something you were part of yourself. At least, since humanity escaped to New Earth, that is how things have been. The petty squabbles of nations had been brushed aside in the name of unity.
Of course, many years had passed and that same show of unity had degraded into something more like aggravated acceptance, but open warfare was a relic of the past. Sure, there was plenty of posturing and positioning done from the top, but it rarely instigated a response close to this.
Yet here they were, staring down three ships intent on the same purpose. Making sure every last human on these ships surrendered or died. Wellard would ensure they didn't surrender, so that left only two real outcomes. They would win, or they would die.
Endeavor (The Mythrar War Book 1) Page 16