by G J Ogden
Again, Griffin appeared intrigued. “Go on,” she said again, though a little more cautiously than before.
“When I was shot in the back on G-COP and couldn’t make it inside the docking umbilical, why didn’t you leave me to die?”
This question had been on Sterling’s mind for the last couple of days. The impromptu medal ceremony, plus news that the Sa’Nerran Titan was on the way, had caused it to slip his mind. However, Griffin’s dressing down had brought it back to the front of his thoughts.
“How many stars do you see on my collar, Captain?” asked Griffin.
Sterling almost smiled, but managed to maintain a level expression. He knew what was coming next.
“Four stars, Admiral,” Sterling replied, stiffly.
“Correct,” replied Griffin, snappily. “And remind me, Captain Sterling, what do these four stars mean?”
Sterling straightened his back even more stiffly and cleared his throat. “They mean that you don’t have to explain a damned thing to me, Admiral,” he answered.
“Very good, Captain,” said Griffin. “You are dismissed.”
Chapter 33
Captain Vernon Wessel
Sterling’s boots clacked against the deck plating as he walked down the long corridor to the docking port where the Invictus was waiting for him. The sound of his boots and the way the noise echoed through the halls of the Hammer was unique among all the ships Sterling had ever set foot on. The Hammer was one of a kind. It was also a vessel that contained many memories for Sterling, some good, some bad and some that continued to haunt him. He was glad to once again be leaving the venerable old war machine in his wake.
Rounding the corner, Sterling saw the docking section directly ahead. However, there was someone standing by the door waiting for him. Sterling smiled, initially believing it to be Mercedes Banks, even though the officer’s back was turned to him. However, as he got closer, Sterling’s smile fell away as he realized who it actually was.
“I am growing tired of chasing you down,” said Captain Vernon Wessel. His uniform was darker than the regular Fleet blue and there was a glossy black stripe on his shoulder, along with the insignia, SIB.
“I’ve been busy, Vernon, what do you want?” grunted Sterling, trying to push past. Wessel blocked his path.
“You know damned well what I want, Captain,” Wessel snapped. “You were ordered to cooperate, and now I want my interview. I have waited long enough.”
Sterling took a step back and glared at the head of the Special Investigations Branch. “Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention to the daily briefings, but I’ve been preoccupied with more important concerns.” Sterling wasn’t even trying to be nice. He just wanted to get back onto his ship and get on with his mission.
“I know all about your little adventures,” Wessel replied, bitterly. “Though your escapades, and your medal, change nothing. You owe me an interview. Now.”
Sterling sighed then took a pace toward Wessel. The man’s eyes narrowed, but he held his ground. “I will give you an interview when my duties allow it, Captain Wessel,” he seethed. “Now get out of my way.”
For a few seconds, Wessel held his ground. “Very well, Captain,” the SIB officer eventually replied, his tone taking on a more bitter bite. “If you want to make this a battle between us then so be it.”
“You don’t know a damned thing about battle, Vernon,” replied Sterling. At this point, he just wanted Wessel to get out of his way, before he did something he’d regret. “If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you’d crap your fancy black pants.”
Wessel looked shocked and appalled and was suddenly lost for words. However, this gave Sterling an opportunity to slip past.
“I find it curious how ‘Emissary Crow’ managed to escape from G-COP,” Vessel then called out, having finally found his tongue again. Sterling stopped and closed his eyes, but kept his back to the officer. “And in your own shuttle too,” Wessel went on. “Strangely convenient, wouldn’t you say?”
Sterling opened his eyes and turned to face the SIB officer. “Do you have something to say, Vernon?” he replied, feeling the rage start to bubble through his veins.
“Oh, I think you know what I’m saying, Lucas,” Wessel hit back, speaking Sterling’s name like it was an insult.
“Why don’t you go ahead and say it to my face then?” Sterling replied, taking a pace closer to Wessel. Wessel’s face fell and he backed away, fear showing in the man’s eyes. “That’s what I thought,” Sterling spat, turning his back on the SIB officer and marching away.
“I’ll see you in the interview room, traitor…”
Sterling closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but this time Wessel had gone too far. Spinning around, he surged toward the man and hammered a right hand into Wessel’s face, knocking the officer clean off his feet.
“I’ll have you on a charge for this!” Wessel blurted out, staring up at Sterling from the flat of his back. The SIB officer pushed himself to a sitting position and dabbed his hand to his nose, which was streaming with blood. “I’ll end you, Sterling, just you wait and see!” Wessel roared. “I’ll end you!”
“Do your worst, Wessel,” Sterling hit back. At that moment, he could have spat on the man’s boots, but this time he managed to reign in his anger. “Interview concluded,” he added before taking one last look at Wessel then striding onto his ship with a renewed spring in his step.
Chapter 34
Unofficial orders are orders
Sterling returned another polite nod and a smile to a member of the Invictus crew before finally managing to slip inside his quarters. He waited for the doors to swoosh shut behind him and rested his head back on the cool, dark-gray metal. The quiet and solitude of his room felt like a hot flannel being draped over his face. Unbuttoning his tunic, Sterling slid onto his bed and lifted his boots up onto the rock-hard Fleet-issue mattress. To most people, it would have felt like lying on a bed of soft clay, but Sterling had grown so used to the feeling that he could no longer manage to sleep on anything else.
Closing his eyes, he let the events of the past few days slip into his unconscious mind. He had a few hours before the Invictus was scheduled to undock from the Hammer and head through the aperture to F-COP. He intended to spend that time in solitude. However, although he was alone, Sterling struggled to find any solace in the comfort of his own quarters. His mind was whirling with reflections on the events that had transpired and meditations on what was still to come.
Then he noticed the Fleet Medal of Honor lying on his chest, glinting under the harsh overhead lights in the room. He had tucked it under his tunic for the walk back to the Invictus, but with his uniform now unbuttoned the medal was again exposed. He removed the ribbon from around his neck and took a moment to inspect the medal for the first time. He had never seen one before, at least in the flesh. A handful more than a hundred had been awarded in the entire fifty years of the war, and now he had one. Captain Lucas Sterling, Omega Taskforce. He snorted a laugh then reached over to the table beside his bed. Opening the drawer, he slipped the medal inside.
I wonder if Clairborne would have been so willing to hand me this, if he’d known how many Fleet lives I’ve taken, as well as how many I’ve saved… Sterling thought, pushing the drawer shut.
Suddenly, there was a scuffling sound from somewhere in the room. Sterling froze and listed intently, in two minds as to whether he’d simply imagined the sound. Then it came again. It was a rapid pattering, as if something was scampering around under his bed. Panic gripped him, wondering what new alien device the Sa’Nerra might have developed.
The docking gates were breached during the attack on G-COP, Sterling remembered. Shade held them back, but the warriors could have still got something inside.
Slowly drawing himself up on the bed, Sterling looked for something he could use as a weapon. However, there was nothing within reach. Cursing under his breath, he reached down and removed his boot. Then the scampering sound came
again and this time he could place where it was coming from. Slowly sliding toward the bottom of the bed, Sterling raised the boot above his head, preparing to strike whatever was about to emerge from underneath it. The scampering came again, and Sterling tensed his muscles, ready to attack. Then the source of the noise revealed itself and Sterling froze. What had emerged from under his bed was not a new kind of Sa’Nerran assassination device, but a dog.
The door chime sounded, but Sterling still found himself too stunned to move. “Computer, who is that?” he asked.
The door slid open to reveal Mercedes Banks standing in the hallway. Sterling rolled his eyes.
“Computer, what have I told you about opening the door?” Sterling said, glancing up at the ceiling. “I said ‘who is at the door’, not ‘open the door’.”
“Apologies, Captain, though due to your sudden, canine-induced catatonic state, I reasoned that you may require some assistance,” the computer replied, cheerfully. “And since you appear not to like visiting the ship’s doctor, I thought that the ship’s first officer might do instead.”
“What have I also told you about thinking?” Sterling said to the ceiling.
“Am I interrupting something?” Banks said, looking a little nervous. “Because I can come back.”
“No, come in Mercedes,” said Sterling, beckoning her in. “The computer and I can have our little conversation later.”
Banks raised an eyebrow then stepped inside in order to allow the door to slide shut behind her. Then she noticed the dog, which was now sitting at the foot of Sterling’s bed, looking completely at home.
“Is that a dog?” asked Banks, pointing at the animal.
“Yes, it’s a dog, Mercedes,” replied Sterling, a little huffily. He then slipped his boot back onto his foot and slid his feet onto the deck. “The more important question is, why is there a dog in my quarters?”
The dog scampered over to Banks and tapped its paw onto her boot, at the same time emitting a soft, low whine. A broad smile spread across the first officer’s face then Banks crouched low and began to pet the animal.
“Who’s a good boy then?” said Banks in the sort of silly voice that humans adopt when talking to animals. “Yes, he is a good boy!” Banks added while continuing to stroke the dog, which was clearly loving every second of the attention.
“If you want to maintain your fierce reputation with the crew, I suggest you don’t let them see you do that,” said Sterling, with a wry smile.
“Come on, Lucas, even an ice-cold heart like yours can’t possibly say no to this?” Banks hit back.
The dog looked at Sterling and emitted another strange low whine.
“Unless that dog can fill a slot in the duty roster, it’s of no use to me,” Sterling replied, drawing a scowl in response from Banks. “How did it get on-board anyway?”
“The canine slipped on-board the Invictus during the immediate aftermath of the engagement with Sa’Nerran forces attempting to board the ship,” the computer replied.
“I wasn’t asking you,” said Sterling. However, since the computer obviously knew more about the mystery of the dog than he did, Sterling decided to indulge the chipper AI. “Out of interest, though, what else do you know?”
“The canine’s breed is a Beagle. Its designation is “Jinx” and it is, in fact, a bitch not a ‘good boy’.” replied the computer.
“Call her that again and I’ll rip out your processors,” Banks snapped, while stroking the Beagle’s ears.
Sterling shot Banks a disproving look. “It’s not an insult, Mercedes, that’s just what a female dog is called.”
“Not on this ship it’s not,” replied Banks, forcefully.
“The former owner of Jinx was Lieutenant Commander Fiona Walsh, a senior medical officer stationed on G-COP,” the computer continued, oblivious to the ire it had inspired in Banks.
“Former owner?” said Sterling. “Where is Commander Walsh now?”
“Lieutenant Commander Walsh was killed in the destruction of G-COP,” the computer replied. The quirky AI maintained its buoyant tone, despite the grim news it had just delivered.
“See what I mean? It’s fate,” replied Banks. She was now down on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her. Jinx had its head rested on her powerful thigh.
“Seriously, you want to adopt a ship’s dog with the name ‘Jinx’?” Sterling hit back. “Why don’t you just shoot an albatross and hang it around my neck?”
Banks appeared ready to press the case for her proposed new member of the crew when the computer interrupted again.
“Captain, there is an urgent incoming communication from Fleet Admiral Griffin.” The AI announced.
“Put her through in here,” said Sterling, moving from the bed to his desk and turning on the console.
“It is a text-only message, Captain,” the computer then clarified. “It was transmitted using Omega Taskforce encryption protocols.”
“An Omega Directive?” wondered Banks, pushing herself up so that she could also see the screen.
“Let’s find out,” replied Sterling, removing the encrypted ID chip Griffin had given him from his drawer and slotting it into the console. The message flashed up on the screen. It read, “Omega Directive Griffin Delta Two Alpha.” Sterling placed his hand on the authenticator pad. The cloak and dagger tactics from Griffin already had him concerned. “Omega Directive Griffin, Delta, Two, Alpha. Unlock,” he said out loud to the computer.
The computer processed Sterling’s identity using hand print and retinal scans.
“Identity confirmed: Sterling, Lucas. Omega Captain. Omega Directive Griffin, Delta, Two, Alpha, unlocked.”
Sterling scanned the order, his eyes narrowing into a frown the further he read. Banks read the directive over his shoulder, though she had finished before Sterling had.
“She wants us to surge into the Void now, with a Sa’Nerran invasion armada en route?” said Banks, apparently sense-checking what she’d read to make sure Sterling’s understanding was the same.
“That’s what it looks like,” said Sterling, rocking back in his chair. “We’re to find and retrieve Colicos at any cost.”
Banks sighed then sat on the side of Sterling’s bed. Jinx the Beagle wandered over and sat by her foot.
“How are we supposed to get back again?” Banks added, reaching down to again stroke the Beagle’s ear.
“I’m sure she’ll have a genius plan for that buried somewhere in the fine detail,” replied Sterling. However, he was simply hoping this was the case, rather than knowing it for certain.
Banks smiled. “Well, it looks like we won’t have time to re-home Jinx after all,” she said.
Sterling sighed, pushed up himself up and walked over to his wardrobe. “Then I put Acting Ensign Jinx completely under your charge, Commander,” he said, while pulling a clean tunic off its hangar.
“Aye, Captain,” Banks replied, continuing to beam at him.
Sterling then tapped his neural interface and reached out to Lieutenant Razor, who was on watch on the bridge. “Lieutenant, make ready to leave,” Sterling said, buttoning up his tunic. “But do it surreptitiously. We don’t want people to know where we’re going.”
“Aye, Captain,” replied Razor. “Though Ensign Keller is currently running some diagnostics on his helm control console, so I’ll notify him to hurry it up.”
Sterling glanced over at Banks, wide-eyed. “Keller is already back at his post?”
Banks nodded. “You might consider Graves to be a ‘creepy SOB’,” Banks replied, using the definition that Sterling had applied to their ship’s medical officer. “But he’s one Dr. Frankenstein-level genius too. Keller’s chest is more metal now than flesh, and his heart and one lung are artificial, but he’s back as strong as ever.”
“In two days?” Sterling replied incredulously, moving over to the door. Jinx the Beagle followed them.
“I didn’t ask how, and I suggest you don’t either,” Banks re
plied. “I get the feeling what Graves did was probably not legal.”
Sterling huffed a laugh then shrugged. “Hell, so long as it worked, I don’t give a damn what he did,” he replied. “We need that kid at the helm, now more than ever.”
The door to Sterling’s quarters slid open and he stepped outside. Two members of the crew walked past and saluted. They then noticed the dog by Sterling’s foot and almost tripped over one another. Sterling shook his head at the dog then glanced over at Banks. However, she appeared lost in her own mind.
“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Sterling.
“I was just hoping that we stocked up on number nineteen meal packs before we left G-COP,” Banks said. Sterling waited for her to shoot him a wry smile, but when it didn’t come, he realized she was serious.
“Come on, Commander,” Sterling said, slapping his first officer on the shoulder and setting off toward the elevators. “I’m sure we’ll find ourselves in a fight in another bar or hotel somewhere in the Void soon enough. If we survive long enough, I’ll buy you dinner when we get there.”
The door to the elevator slid open and they both stepped inside.
“It’s a date, Captain,” said Banks.
Jinx the Beagle wandered inside the elevator and sat down between the two senior officers of the Fleet Marauder Invictus. The doors closed and the elevator began to ascend to the bridge.
Ahead of them was not just another Omega Directive assignment, Sterling realized, but a mission that could potentially decide the fate of the human race. The Sa’Nerran invasion armada, led by the emissaries, Crow and McQueen, was heading for earth. And thanks to the alien neural control weapon, their forces outmatched those of Fleet. G-COP was already lost and the Hammer had almost fallen too. Their only hope now was to nullify the advantage of the alien neural weapon, before it was too late. And even then, in the face of the Sa’Nerran Titan – the new superweapon, the full capabilities of which were still not known – victory was far from certain.
