Void Recon: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 2)

by G J Ogden

  “We’re just machines when you boil it down, and like any machine we have a specific job to do,” Sterling went on. “We need all the parts of that machine to work, but if one breaks it can simply be replaced. That’s how we’ll win, Mercedes,” Sterling continued, his enthusiasm building as the speech progressed. “That’s how we’ll beat the Sa’Nerra. They prey on our human weaknesses. Our emotions. Our fear of loss. We have to show them no fear. And we have to show them no mercy.”

  Banks placed her coffee cup down on the table and shot Sterling a soft smile. “My god, you really are the consummate Omega Captain, aren’t you?” she said. “You’re making me feel cold just by looking at me.”

  Sterling tossed a biscuit into his mouth then dusted off his hands. “The calorie count of what you’ve just eaten probably matches the output of the sun,” he said, noting that Banks had completely cleared two full meal trays, and his sandwich crusts. “I think you probably have enough stored energy to withstand my chilling presence.”

  Banks reached over the table and stole the remaining biscuits from Sterling’s tray. “I don’t know, I think I need a bit more fuel, especially considering how chilly you are this morning,” she said before tossing one of the snacks into her mouth.

  “Captain Sterling, Fleet Admiral Griffin has requested your presence immediately in G-COP conference room, command level three,” the computer announced.

  Sterling checked the time on the clock on the wall then frowned. “It’s only ten minutes past eight,” he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling and responding to the computer. “Our scheduled meeting was at nine.”

  “The Admiral has altered the time of the meeting, Captain,” the computer replied. “She is already waiting for you. And she requests that you also bring Commander Banks.”

  Sterling sighed then tore the top off a pack of wet wipes and used the contents to freshen his hands and face. “I guess that’s the end of breakfast then,” he said, pushing his chair back and tossing the used wet wipe onto his empty tray. Banks also stood up then grabbed Sterling’s wet wipe and used it to clean her own hands and face. “You do have one of your own, you know?” said Sterling, scrunching up his nose. “Two, in fact, considering you doubled up on breakfast.”

  “I had to claw your sweaty t-shirt off my face not that long ago, so I think sharing a wet wipe is okay,” replied Banks, tossing the cloth down onto one of her two trays. “It doesn’t mean we’re married or anything.” Sterling laughed then invited Banks to move ahead. “It’s a good thing too,” Banks continued, heading toward the door. She then paused and glanced back at Sterling. “Because based on what you just told me, you’d struggle to remember who the hell I was most days.”

  Chapter 22

  The ambassador ship

  Despite being the Fleet space station closest to the Void, the command outpost in G-sector was a poor cousin to its city-sized counterpart in F-sector. At roughly two-thirds the size of F-COP, the station certainly wasn’t small, but it had much more of a forward operating base feel to it. It was relatively stripped back, lacking the many luxuries that F-COP offered, and had a far smaller population of civilian contractors. There were also no families or children allowed on the station. Its use was purely as a military asset. Along with Fleet Gatekeeper Halberd - a powerful weapons platform with a suitably menacing designation – G-COP was the first line of defense against a Sa’Nerran invasion.

  “I can’t say that I’m thrilled to be back here again,” said Commander Banks as she and Sterling moved through the station toward the conference room where Admiral Griffin was waiting.

  “I’m not surprised,” replied Sterling. He knew that G-COP had been the location of Mercedes Banks Omega Directive test. “I guess this place dredges up some pretty bad memories.”

  “I don’t think about it much,” replied Banks, “but when I do, I find myself getting angry more than anything else.”

  “How come?” asked Sterling, while returning the hurried salute of a Fleet Lieutenant who was walking in the opposite direction. The officer had clearly noticed the silver stripe on his uniform and increased her pace in order to escape the two “Void Recon Unit” officers as quickly as possible.

  “Because those other officers and crew didn’t have to die,” Banks replied.

  Admiral Griffin had recruited Mercedes Banks after Sterling himself had undergone an Omega Directive test. Banks’ ordeal was quite a different one to the situation Sterling had found himself in, but the choice had been no less challenging. Griffin had essentially engineered an isolated “prison break” in the detention area of G-COP. A dozen Sa’Nerran warriors had got loose. The Fleet guards had been outnumbered by two to one, and had surrendered to the aliens, rather than stand and fight. As a then Lieutenant Commander in charge of the detention sector, Banks was left with two choices. The first was surrender. The second was to airlock the entire section into space, including the warriors, Fleet crew and even herself. She chose the latter. Griffin, in her cold-hearted wisdom, had known these would be her only choices. The crew who chose to surrender therefore wound-up dead, frozen in space. Banks, however, had been blown out into space through a different airlock and found herself sailing into the waiting hold of a prison ship. She had still suffered extensive injuries from her exposure to the vacuum of space, but she had survived, and she had proven herself to be made of the sort of mettle that Griffin was looking for.

  “Griffin likes the tests to be ‘real’,” Sterling replied, playing through the scenario in his head. “If the stakes aren’t real, the choices a person makes aren’t genuine either.”

  “I don’t mean that,” replied Banks, glowering at a Fleet crew member who passed them by. The man had made the mistake of staring at Banks and the silver stripe on her uniform like she was a member of the Gestapo. “I mean if they’d made different choices, they’d have come through it, like I did. That’s what makes me angry.”

  Sterling huffed a laugh. “If they’d made the choice you made then they’d be Omega officers too,” he said. Then he shook his head and sighed. “The fact is, Mercedes, most people believe that when faced with an impossible situation, they’d make the hard choice. They believe that they’d take the bullet, accept the sacrifice, make the kill or whatever it is. But the truth is they don’t. Emotions overwhelm them. It’s just human nature.”

  Banks nodded in agreement. “The trouble is that our problem isn’t a human one,” she said, as they turned the last corner before reaching the conference room. “The Sa’Nerra aren’t human. To fight them, we have to be something different. We have to be just like them.”

  Sterling stepped up to the conference room door and pressed the buzzer. The strident, powerful tones of Fleet Admiral Griffin replied, commanding them to enter. The mere sound of the Admiral’s voice was enough to send chills rushing down Sterling’s spine. The door then swooshed open and he stepped inside, closely followed by Commander Banks. Fleet Admiral Griffin was standing by the window. She had her hands pressed to the small of her back and appeared to be absorbed by the view of the north docking ring. The conference room was one of the more impressive facilities in G-COP and the long, floor to ceiling glass wall provided a dizzying view out into space. As he approached the window, Sterling realized he could see the formidable form of Fleet Gatekeeper Halberd in the distance. In the foreground, between the gatekeeper and G-COP was a Fleet ship on approach. The comm chatter from the control tower was being played through the speakers in the conference room, at a low volume. The vessel was already under G-COP’s control and was being brought in on automatic with its weapon systems powered down, as per standard procedure. The only thing unusual about the docking maneuver was where the ship was headed. It appeared to be on-course to the north docking port on command level one, which meant that a member of its crew was clearly someone of extreme importance.

  “Which ship is that?” asked Sterling, dispensing with the usual formalities when greeting the most senior military officer in the Fleet. L
ike himself, Griffin was not interested in trading pleasantries and preferred to get down to brass tacks as quickly as possible.

  “That is the Franklin. The ambassador ship that’s returning from its diplomatic mission into Sa’Nerran space,” Griffin replied. Her surly tone and stiff body language suggested she was not pleased to see the vessel.

  “Its mission was apparently a success, or so I’ve heard,” replied Sterling, peering out at the sleek light cruiser.

  “I will be the judge of that,” said Griffin, her words as stiff as her posture. The Admiral then turned to Sterling and he found himself straightening to attention, as if Griffin had just paralyzed him with her piercing eyes. “I am due to meet Captain Serrano to debrief her about her diplomatic mission as soon as the Franklin docks, so I don’t have much time.”

  Sterling grabbed the back of one of the conference room’s plush chairs, with the intention of sitting down, but Griffin jammed her foot against the castors.

  “We can do this standing, Captain,” Griffin said, pushing the chair back under the table. “I’ve already reviewed your data from Far Deep Nine and have a team forensically working through the details for clues as to Colicos’ possible whereabouts.” Griffin had again turned to the window and was staring out at the ambassador ship. “To be honest, I’m not surprised this neural weapon is his doing.” Griffin was the least approachable person Sterling had ever known, but the Admiral seemed to be seething with rage under the surface, even more so than usual. “If Colicos is still alive then he’s being used as a pawn by the Sa’Nerra. We must find him. His knowledge of the neural weapon is crucial to finding a way to counteract its effects.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” replied Sterling, agreeing with her conclusion. “I’ll have our new engineer study the data too. Hopefully, we can be underway again soon, once repairs are complete.”

  The ambassador ship had docked to command level one during the time they had been speaking and Griffin now looked anxious to leave.

  “I will relay any new information directly to your ship, via the secure communication chip I gave you,” Griffin said, turning back to Sterling. “Once I am finished with Captain Serrano, I have a meeting back on Earth with the War Council. The information you have uncovered will strengthen my argument for a continued presence inside the Void.”

  “Assuming we haven’t struck up an accord with the aliens before then,” Sterling said, glancing up at the belly of the ambassador ship.

  “We both know that the Sa’Nerra are not interested in peace, Captain,” Griffin hit back with such bite that Sterling could practically feel her teeth clamped around his throat. “Get underway again as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” replied Sterling, realizing that Griffin’s patience was already at its limits.

  Suddenly the conference room was rocked and Sterling was thrown off-balance. A rumble resonated through the deck and the walls and a bowl of fruit on the conference table rattled off and smashed on the floor.

  “What the hell was that?” said Sterling, pressing his face to the window and peering around the station. Then he saw a fireball on the main docking ring and felt his mouth go dry. “A ship just exploded on the dock,” Sterling said.

  Griffin and Banks both rushed to the window and peered at the docking ring.

  “It’s the Centaur,” said Banks, her breath misting the window. “That’s the ship Admiral Griffin arrived in.”

  Griffin pushed away from the window and tapped her neural interface. Sterling and Banks were both permitted to monitor.

  “Captain Roth, what the hell is going on?” Griffin demanded. Roth was the commander of G-COP, though Sterling had never met him. “Captain, answer me!” Griffin called out again after no response was forthcoming.

  “For Sa’Nerra!”

  For someone whose expression was usually so hard that even a diamond couldn’t scratch it, Griffin’s reaction was telling.

  “Who is this?” demanded Griffin.

  “I am an aide to the emissaries,” the voice of Captain Roth replied. “The Sa’Nerra now control this station.”

  Griffin immediately tapped her neural interface to close the link then rushed over to the conference room controls built into the table. The screen wall at the top of the room activated and Griffin used her command access to bring up a security feed. Captain Roth was in the middle of the command center, weapon in hand. The bodies of Fleet officers and crew were scattered at his feet.

  “How the hell did the Sa’Nerra turn the commander of a COP?” wondered Sterling, peering at the viewing wall with his arms folded across his chest.

  Then they all watched as the inner docking hatch opened and Captain Amy Serrano stepped off the ambassador ship followed soon after by a squad of Sa’Nerran warriors. Captain Serrano walked up to the turned commander of G-COP and the two clasped hands in a gesture of solidarity and camaraderie.

  Sterling cursed bitterly. “This whole thing was a set-up,” Sterling said. “The diplomatic mission wasn’t a success. It was just a way to get the Sa’Nerra and those turned traitors on-board the station.”

  Then another figure emerged from the docking hatch. It was a man, wearing the distinctive armor of a Sa’Nerran warrior. A section of the man’s head was partially covered in metal plating. The figure turned, giving Sterling and the others their first clear view of the traitor’s face. However, Sterling already knew who it was; his former chief engineer, Clinton Crow.

  Chapter 23

  Fleet Gatekeeper Halberd

  The security feed of the command operation center went dead, but the image of the Invictus’ former engineer was still imprinted on Sterling’s retinas. Another series of powerful thuds resonated through the deck and walls of the station, as if G-COP itself was being struck by an asteroid-sized hammer.

  “Command levels one through three have been locked down,” said Admiral Griffin, who was scowling down at the console built into the conference table. “It’s a failsafe mechanism that can only be triggered from the command center by the station commander or a flag officer.”

  Sterling understood the significance at once. “That means that Crow and the other Sa’Nerra have control of G-COP.”

  Sterling felt Lieutenant Shade reach out to him through a neural connection and he accepted the link.

  “Captain, we just monitored a detonation aboard the Centaur. The ship was completely destroyed and the docking ring heavily damaged.”

  “We saw it, Lieutenant,” replied Sterling, moving over to the window and peering down at the diminutive form of the Invictus. “Be advised that G-COP has been seized by Sa’Nerran operatives, led by the emissary, Clinton Crow. They were aboard the ambassador ship.”

  “Is Admiral Griffin okay?” Shade asked. She then quickly adjusted her question. “I mean, is the Admiral safe?”

  Sterling scowled then glanced across to Griffin. She and Banks were working on the console built into the conference table, oblivious to Sterling’s neural call. He remembered how Griffin had personally enlisted Shade and vouched for her. Clearly there was more to their relationship than he knew, but now was not the time to get into it.

  “The Admiral is safe and with us, Lieutenant,” replied Sterling. “What’s the status of the Invictus?”

  “The mag locks engaged moments after the Centaur was destroyed, sir,” Shade answered. “Lieutenant Razor informs me that mag locks and weapons fail-safes have also engaged for all ships docked to G-COP. We’re trapped here.”

  “Is Razor on the bridge with you?” Sterling asked.

  “Aye, Captain,” replied Shade. “She’s at the aft consoles.”

  Sterling tapped his neural interface and opened the link to include his chief engineer. “Lieutenant Razor, I need you to hear this too,” he said.

  “I’m here, Captain, go ahead,” Razor replied.

  “The Sa’Nerra have control of G-COP,” Sterling began. Even as he spoke the words in his mind his statement sounded unbelievable. “We don’t
know their intentions yet, but I think we can assume more Sa’Nerra are on the way.”

  “What are your orders, Captain?” replied Razor. She was impressively calm, matching even Lieutenant Shade’s glacial level of composure.

  “Work fast to circumvent the mag locks and prepare to repel boarders,” Sterling replied. “If that ambassador ship was carrying an assault force, there could be hundreds of warriors already on-board G-COP. You must not allow yourselves or the Invictus to be taken and turned.”

  Shade and Razor both chorused, “Aye, sir,” their voices harmonizing in his mind.

  “Stay alert, I’ll be in contact when I know more,” Sterling added. He then tapped his neural interface to close the link and turned back to Banks and Admiral Griffin.

  “Some of the other vessels have put out distress beacons,” said Banks, noticing that Sterling’s attention was now focused on her. “The Sa’Nerran invaders are already overwhelming the security forces on decks one through three.” Banks highlighted the enemy movements on the computer console. “We’re also picking up dozens of squads of warriors moving through to the lower decks.”

  Sterling hurried over to the conference table and peered down at the information on the console.

  “How come they’ve haven’t come for us?” said Sterling, noting that none of the squads of Sa’Nerran warriors were approaching their location.

  “I prefer not to let anyone know exactly where I am likely to be or when, unless I can help it,” replied Admiral Griffin. “This meeting was not logged. So as far as the Sa’Nerra, and the station commander knows, I was on the Centaur when it detonated.”

  Sterling sighed and nodded, suddenly realizing why the Admiral’s vessel had been the only ship Crow had targeted.