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

by G J Ogden

  “It’s the Praetor,” said Banks, who had remained by the window, looking out into space. Sterling re-joined his first officer and saw the third-generation Fleet Heavy Cruiser moving slowly toward the station. “And it looks like the Prince Regent and the Hawthorn too. The others I can’t make out.”

  Sterling then heard the familiar whir of powerful gears and motors resonating through the structure of the station. It was the sound of G-COP’s plasma rail guns moving into position.

  “Damn it, get clear you fools…” Sterling said, urging the new Fleet arrivals to increase their distance from G-COP and its devastating arsenal of weapons. However, he already knew it was too late for the Praetor. Its captain had surged into the system too close to G-COP, sealing its fate in a matter of milliseconds.

  Moments later the station shook again and a dozen plasma blasts rippled through space, striking the Praetor across its belly. Sterling cursed as the blasts pulverized the two-kilometer-long battleship. Electrical energy crackled and fizzed along its hull and the ship listed out of control, thrusters firing chaotically. It remained intact, but Sterling had been in enough battles to know that the Praetor was already out of the fight. Banks spat out a curse and thumped her fist onto the window ledge, cracking the smooth, artificial material. Sterling, however, didn’t react. He was saving his anger for later, bottling it up ready to explode at Clinton Crow when they finally caught up with him.

  “The other Fleet ships are moving clear and advancing toward the approaching Sa’Nerran battlegroup,” said Banks, having regained her composure. She was again gazing out at the advancing fleet of alien vessels. “Without reinforcements, they won’t be able to hold them off for long.”

  “They’ll last long enough for the Hammer and others to arrive,” said Sterling, turning away from the window. “But if we can’t retake G-COP, we’ll be forced to destroy it. And that will leave this sector ripe for the picking.”

  “Then we have to hurry,” said Banks, failing to contain her anger as Sterling had done. “If the Hammer surges in too close to G-COP, it will also get pulverized. We could not only lose the sector, but some of our most powerful warships too.”

  Sterling nodded while glancing out toward the Praetor, which was still on fire and listing further away from the battle. However, they could stand the loss of several heavy cruisers. G-COP was a far more important military asset, and the Hammer was arguably even more vital. The dreadnaught was essential to the defense of the outer sectors. If the Hammer was lost then Fleet wouldn’t stand a chance against a full-scale alien invasion. It would put even more pressure on the United Governments to capitulate and surrender.

  “Come on, let’s move out,” said Sterling, slapping Banks on the shoulder. She was right. There was no time to lose.

  Sterling crept back over to the other side of the office and peered through into the corridor outside. The sound of fighting again filtered into his ears, but the coast was still clear. Glancing down at the map on his computer, Sterling quickly assessed the best route for them to reach level one.

  “There are only three ways to get into the command operations center,” said Sterling, as Banks slid alongside. “The main elevator in the north section,” Sterling continued, highlighting the area on the map. “Or the two emergency stairwells on the east and west hallways.”

  Banks considered the options for a few moments then tapped the elevator on the map. “I know it might sound crazy, but I think this is our best way in,” she said. “The doors at the top and bottom of those stairwells will be sealed up tighter than a starship’s hull. It would take a plasma railgun to breach them.” Banks then tapped Sterling on the sternum, where Admiral Griffin’s skeleton key was still tucked away beneath his armor. “With this, we could override the elevator lockdown and ride up to the command center.”

  It was certainly a bold idea, Sterling thought, but in principle Banks’ suggestion might work. The tricky part would be getting inside the elevator.

  “Hopefully, Crow has returned to the command center with only a handful of guards,” replied Sterling. “With the element of surprise, it might work. Though if we can score some better weapons first, it would help.”

  Banks hurried back inside the office and grabbed the Sa’Nerran plasma rifle off the warrior that Sterling had killed earlier. She tossed it to Sterling and he caught it. Holstering his pistol, he inspected the weapon. Its design was naturally better suited to the long-fingered aliens, but it wasn’t the first time he’d used the alien rifle. Banks then checked the dead warrior’s armor, pulling out two devices and a spare energy cell. She returned to Sterling, handing him the cell and one of the devices. It was then that he recognized the alien object as a Sa’Nerran fragmentation grenade. It was a particularly nasty weapon that the aliens had specifically designed to cause a maximum number of casualties. It rarely killed immediately, unless it landed right by a person’s feet, but it was effective at maiming Fleet crew that were unfortunate enough to be caught in its wide radius. In contrast, the Sa’Nerra, with their tough, leathery skin and hard armor were often able to withstand the blasts and continue fighting.

  “What about you?” said Sterling, stowing the new gear. “A frag grenade and a pistol won’t get you far.”

  “A frag grenade, a pistol and super-human strength,” Banks corrected, cocking an eyebrow at Sterling.

  “Mercedes, I’m serious,” said Sterling. He wasn’t in the mood for Banks’ ill-placed humor.

  Banks held up her hands in a conciliatory gesture then moved over to the slab of wall that was in the middle of the room. She gripped underneath it then dragged the rectangular block of metal off to the side. Sterling winced as he got his first look at the Sa’Nerran warrior that had been pancaked beneath it.

  “Now, we’re both ready,” said Banks, grabbing the squashed warrior’s rifle and its spare cell. She then recovered the alien’s two grenades and slid them into the utility pouches on her armor.

  “Let’s move,” said Sterling as several more flashes from G-sector’s apertures lit up the room. Sterling could see that more Fleet ships had arrived to join the fight. This time, they were all giving G-COP a wide birth, but the constant thump through the deck told him that the station was still engaging the ships at long range.

  Banks moved out ahead and they both crept through the corridors as quickly and as quietly as possible. Level two was mostly reserved for offices and meeting spaces for G-COP’s senior crew, as well as for official and ceremonial occasions. It was also a more compact level, occupying less than half the floor area of the main levels below.

  The sound of weapons fire continued to reach them from multiple directions as they advanced, but they had managed to make progress unopposed. Then as Sterling cut across a junction toward the wide corridor that led to the bank of elevators, he caught his first sight of the enemy. Cursing, he turned back to Banks and tapped his neural interface.

  “There are six warriors guarding the elevators,” said Sterling through a neural link.

  Banks peeked down the corridor then ducked back into cover. “We can take them,” she replied, confidently.

  “Not without alerting every other damn alien on the station,” Sterling hit back.

  “Then we’ll take them out too,” said Banks. This time, however, there was no suggestion she was joking.

  Sterling raised an eyebrow. “What meal packs did you eat this morning to make you so feisty?” he asked, for once being the one to make an ill-timed quip.

  “Sooner or later, we’re going make an almighty racket,” said Banks, switching the rifle to her left hand and drawing her pistol. “It’s do-or-die time, Lucas.”

  Sterling nodded then copied Banks, switching the rifle to his off hand and grabbing his pistol with the other.

  “Then let’s do it,” he said, matching his first officer’s gritty determination. “On three…”

  Sterling began the countdown in his mind then both he and Banks sprang out from cover in perfect synchroni
zation. Sterling had already nearly squeezed the triggers of his weapons before he realized that the warriors had gone.

  “What the hell?” he wondered, frowning at the now unguarded elevator shafts at the foot of the corridor. “Where did they go?”

  Banks cautiously moved ahead to get a better view of the landing area surrounding the bank of elevators. Then she suddenly ducked out of sight and pointed toward the east side of the station.

  “They’re by the east viewing gallery,” Banks said, still speaking to Sterling in her mind. “It looks like some sort of meeting.”

  Sterling moved closer then also chanced a look around the corner. The six warriors had moved up to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that enclosed the east viewing gallery. It was one of the ceremonial rooms that overlooked the east docking ring, giving a grand view of the vessels moored there. Through the glass wall, Sterling could see more warriors inside the room, counting up to a dozen. However, then he realized that the aliens were not the only occupants.

  “It looks like there are Fleet crew inside that room too,” said Sterling, glancing back at Banks.

  His first officer frowned then took a second look. From her position, she had a clearer vantage on the room. Sterling could practically feel the rage bubbling inside her through their neural connection.

  “They’re turning them,” said Banks, again meeting his eyes. “I couldn’t see the whole room, but there have to be forty or more Fleet personnel in there.”

  Sterling again cursed under his breath. Twenty alien warriors was already too many for them to handle, but if the Sa’Nerra turned the Fleet crew too, they’d be overwhelmed in a matter of minutes. Then he spotted that the door to one of the offices beside the bank of elevators was open.

  “Get ready to move,” said Sterling, tapping his neural interface and reaching out to Admiral Griffin.

  “What are you thinking?” Banks replied, pulling back and raising both weapons to her side.

  “I’ll be damned if I’ll let those aliens turn our own people against us,” Sterling said, feeling the link to Griffin form. He widened the connection to allow Banks to monitor.

  “Are you in position, Captain?” said Griffin through the neural link. Her voice sounded weak as well as strained. The distance between them was one cause of the poor connection, Sterling realized, but there was more to it than that.

  “We’re just outside the elevators to level one, Admiral, but we have a situation,” Sterling replied. “I need a verification code.”

  “This had better be important, Captain,” Griffin replied, her frustration still coming through cleanly despite the weak link.

  “It is,” replied Sterling.

  “Very well, stand by,” replied Griffin. “I have immediate problems of my own.”

  Sterling frowned. “Are you in danger Admiral?”

  “Concern yourself with your own mission, Captain,” Griffin hit back. “I can handle myself.”

  Banks smiled. The Admiral’s customarily prickly response was no less than either of them had expected from her.

  “Understood Admiral, standing by,” replied Sterling.

  “What do you have in mind?” said Banks, speaking out loud in hushed tones. Trying to maintain two separate neural conversations was taxing enough in itself, never mind in their current stressful condition.

  “We get to the computer terminal in that office without being seen then I initiate the emergency shutters and seal the viewing gallery, along with everyone inside,” Sterling replied.

  Banks looked toward the office across the hall then again turned her gaze to the gathering inside the viewing gallery.

  “They still have enough firepower inside that room to blast their way out,” she replied, sounding skeptical of Sterling’s plan.

  “That’s why you’re going to roll all these alien grenades inside before I lock it up tight,” replied Sterling, handing Banks the one grenade she’d given him earlier. “Four alien frags should be enough to put them all down, at least for long enough so that we can finish this thing with Crow.”

  Banks appeared surprised by Sterling’s answer. “The Fleet crew in there will get hit too,” she replied. “Most of them won’t make it.”

  “They’re not Fleet, anymore,” Sterling hit back. In truth, he didn’t know how many of them had already been turned. However, he did know that if they did nothing, all of them would soon join the ranks of Emissary Crow’s servant army. “The Omega Directive is in effect, Commander,” Sterling added, gripping Banks with a determined stare. “We do whatever it takes, okay?”

  Banks sighed then nodded. “Aye, sir.”

  Checking across the hall again, Sterling saw that the six aliens that had been guarding the elevators were still standing at the windows of the viewing gallery. They appeared to be watching the other warriors turn the Fleet crew. They were perhaps enjoying the occasion in the same way that the Romans once enjoyed the bloody spectacle of gladiatorial combat. Signaling Banks to move out, they crept across the hall and managed to slip into the office unseen. Sterling then pulled the ID chip out from beneath his armor and slotted it into the computer terminal.

  “I’m ready, Admiral, give me the code,” he said through the neural link. There was a moment of hesitation before Griffin answered.

  “One, Tango, Three, Charlie, Seven…” Admiral Griffin began. Sterling tapped the code into the terminal’s display and waited for the rest of the code. However, Griffin had gone quiet again.

  “Admiral, is that it?” asked Sterling, but still there was no response.

  “Lima, Sierra, Five, Bravo,” Griffin finally continued.

  Sterling could feel the tension and discomfort in the Admiral’s voice, even through their weakened neural link. He knew that she was hurt, but this time he resisted the urge to ask the Admiral her status, knowing that it would only prompt another rebuke.

  “Got it, Admiral,” Sterling replied, entering the remainder of the code. He then unlocked the computer terminal and accessed the security overrides for level two.

  “Contact me again when you reach level one,” Griffin said through the neural link between them. Sterling could feel the connection growing weaker by the second.

  “Aye, sir,” replied Sterling, activating the emergency shutter system and setting a countdown timer for sixty seconds. “I’ll contact you again soon. Hang in there and give them hell.” He knew the last part wasn’t strictly necessary, but Sterling felt that he needed to show some solidarity.

  “I’ll give you hell if you don’t hurry up, Captain,” the Admiral replied. “Griffin out.” Sterling felt the link sever, and this time he also couldn’t help but smile.

  “Ready?” said Banks. She had stowed her weapons and was holding a grenade in each hand. The other two were waiting in the pouches on her armor.

  “Ready…” replied Sterling, picking up his weapons and moving over to the door. He glanced back at the terminal and saw that the timer had hit thirty seconds. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded to Banks then charged out into the hallway.

  The first two warriors standing outside the viewing gallery were hit and killed even before the sound of the plasma rifle had reached their alien ears. The remaining four spun around, their egg-shaped yellow eyes widening as Sterling and Banks surged toward them. He fired again killing two more warriors as blasts raced back in their direction. However, while his aim was true the Sa’Nerran’s shots were wild and loose. So, you can be rattled, you alien bastards! Sterling thought as he fired again. The notion that he might have scared the warriors gave him a perverse sense of pleasure.

  Banks activated the first two grenades then hurled them through the open door, using her strength to bounce them off the rear window, deep into the room. Pulling the last two grenades from her armor, Banks was then hit in the chest by a blast from one of the two remaining warriors. Sterling fought to contain the swell of panic in his gut then fired again, putting the aliens down. He dropped the rifle and grabbed Banks under the arm
, hauling her up.

  “I’m okay,” Banks said, grabbing the grenades and hurling them through the door.

  Two warriors managed to slip outside before the shutters slammed down, entombing the rest of them in the viewing gallery. Sterling launched himself at the closest of the two aliens as the deck beneath his feet was rocked from the explosions only a few meters away. However, the thick sheets of metal covering the walls and windows shielded him from the effects of the grenades.

  The warrior grabbed Sterling and tried to wrestle him down. Using the alien’s mass against it, Sterling spun the warrior onto its back and pressed his hands around its leathery throat. Banks had recovered enough to intercept the second warrior before it had managed to draw its weapon. Sterling couldn’t see the fight, but he heard the crunch of sinew and tendon and crack of bone and knew that Banks had overpowered the creature. Meanwhile, the alien beneath Sterling hissed and spat as he tightened his grip around the warrior’s throat. Then it reached for the semi-circular blade attached to Sterling’s body armor and tore it clear. Sterling again felt the swell of panic as the alien prepared to thrust the serrated weapon into his flesh. Just in time, a regulation-issue Fleet officer’s boot landed on the alien’s wrist, trapping it to deck. Sterling glanced up to see Banks peering down at the imprisoned alien, her eyes wild. She could have helped him and killed the alien in an instant, but this was Sterling’s kill and she knew it. Putting all of his weight into the effort, Sterling pressed harder and harder until the warrior’s hiss faded to a pathetic rasp then vanished altogether.

  Sterling flopped back off the strangled alien, himself gasping for breath. Banks helped him to stand and for a moment they both stood in silence, allowing their heart rates to recover. Yet as they waited, no more alien warriors rushed in to attack. Whatever remained of the forces on level two were now trapped in the east viewing gallery, along with the dead or dying bodies of the Fleet crew. Sterling realized that all that now stood between them and Clinton Crow was the metal above their heads. And, from the look in his first officer’s eyes, he knew that if it came down to it, Banks would tear a hole through the ceiling with her bare hands in order to reach their target.