Obsidian Fleet: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 4)

by G J Ogden

  Banks nodded then finally appeared to notice the slowly-melting chocolate in her hands. She dropped it and wiped her fingers with a paper towel.

  “Well, I’ll see you in the bridge then,” Banks said, pushing her chair back. Sterling noticed she’d finished barely half of her tray.

  “Where's your little four-legged friend?” Sterling asked as Banks rose out of the chair.

  Banks stopped, half-in and half-out of her seat. “She’s in my quarters. I was up early, just to spend a little time with her before…” Banks then paused and hesitated before adding, “before I have to let her go.”

  “Wessel only gave that order to be a dick,” Sterling said, surprising Banks with his colorful choice of word for the Admiral. “So I’m going to ignore it.” He gave a little shrug. “Captain’s prerogative.”

  Banks dropped down into her seat and glowered back at Sterling. “When the hell were you going to tell me that?” she protested.

  “I was curious to see if you’d go along with it,” replied Sterling, honestly. “I needed to know that you would make the sacrifice if needed. I can’t have you going soft of me.”

  Banks snorted a laugh. “Sounds to me like Wessel isn’t the only one being a dick,” Banks hit back, then straightened up and added, “…sir,” curtly.

  “I’ll let that one slide, Commander,” Sterling replied in a captainly tone, though he confessed that he probably deserved it.

  Banks shook her head and poured herself a coffee from the jug before standing up again.

  “I’ll see you on the bridge then,” Sterling said, assuming Banks was making good on her earlier promise to leave. However, instead of heading for the door, his first officer was making a bee-line for the serving hatch.

  “I’m not going anywhere yet,” Banks called back to Sterling, over her shoulder. “I’ve just got my appetite back.”

  Chapter 5

  A misplaced Marauder

  Ensign Keller handed over control of the Invictus to the control tower on A-COP and allowed the combat outpost to guide them in to the dock. Behind the city-sized space station, attached to which were already a dozen other warships, was a bright blue planet. Earth looked just like any other world to Sterling and he realized that the place no longer held any mystique for him. It seemed ludicrous that millions had already died defending the world, while other planets had been abandoned and left to burn after Sa’Nerran attacks. The more he stared at the planet the more alien it appeared to him. Yet its survival was still his mission, and one way or another he was going to carry it out.

  “Is that another Marauder?” said Banks from her station on the bridge beside Sterling. “I thought we were the only one, after the Imperium was destroyed?”

  Sterling shifted his gaze from Earth to the various docking pylons on A-COP. At first, he couldn’t see the ship that Banks was referring to, but then he spotted it, tucked into one of the lower pylons.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re right,” said Sterling, feeling strangely happy to see one of the Invictus’ cousins. He scrutinized the lines of the vessel, picking some very minor variations compared to his own Marauder. “It looks like a revision of the design though,” he mused, using his console to highlight the vessel on the viewscreen. “The thruster configuration is different and the regenerative armor plating appears to be formed from smaller interlocking panels.”

  Banks huffed a laugh. “It looks the same to me, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  “It’s the Venator, Captain, the new variant-two Marauder design,” Lieutenant Razor chipped in from the rear of the bridge. “There were a dozen planned for the Void Recon Taskforce, but resources have since been switched to the gen-four destroyer program instead.”

  Sterling glanced back at Razor, eyebrow raised. “How come you know so much, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  “I just like ships, sir,” Razor replied, shrugging. “I think it’s a mistake, though, personally. The variant-two Marauder is far superior to a gen-four destroyer.”

  “I have no doubt you’re correct, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, returning his attention to the ship on the screen. The other Marauder then began to slip out of view as the Invictus neared its docking port. “But I guess they don’t need any more deep-space recon ships now that Fleet is cut off from the Void.”

  Banks’ console chimed an alert. It was a friendlier-sounding tone that the more serious warning alarms, and signified an incoming communication.

  “The Venator is hailing us, Captain,” Banks reported, peering down at her console with a quizzical eye. She glanced across to Sterling. “Perhaps they just want to say hi to their older sister?”

  Sterling shrugged. “Put them on the screen and let’s find out.”

  Banks tapped a quick sequence of commands then the face of Commodore Vernon Wessel appeared on the viewscreen. Sterling cursed, loud enough for everyone on the bridge to hear, along with Wessel.

  “Not happy to see me, Captain Sterling?” said the commodore. Vernon Wessel had inherited the same smug, smart-ass expression and tone that his father had long-since mastered. It was a face that was just begging to be punched, and Sterling hoped that he’d one day get his chance.

  “How could you tell?” replied Sterling, testily.

  There was no point even attempting to be courteous to the man. Sterling knew that Wessel was going to relish his victory and take every opportunity to ridicule and demean him. Being assigned under Wessel’s command was just the first of what would inevitably become a long list of slights and denigrations, designed to make his life a misery.

  “How do you like my new ship, Captain?” Wessel went on while gesturing to the bridge of the variant-two Marauder. “It’s superior to the Invictus in every way, from reactor output to weapons recharge time to armor endurance,” the leader of the SIB continued. “A fitting vessel for the head of the special investigations branch, don’t you think?”

  Sterling smiled back at Wessel. His attempts to rile him had succeeded and he knew he had to walk a fine line to avoid being seen as insubordinate.

  “A fitting use for that ship would be to fight and destroy the enemy, so no, I don’t agree,” Sterling replied.

  Wessel’s eyes became a touch sharper. “No, I don’t agree, sir…” he added, pointedly.

  “Apologies, sir,” Sterling replied, stressing the honorific a touch more aggressively than he’d intended to. Even speaking the word to Wessel made his stomach churn. Being assigned to the SIB was humiliating enough, but the fact he now had to call his former academy colleague, ‘sir’ was an added slap to the face.

  “Once you have docked, immediately report to me at SIB headquarters, and bring the prisoner, Colicos, with you,” Wessel continued, suddenly adopting a more formal manner. “It shouldn’t be hard for you to find it since it occupies the whole of level five.”

  “Understood, sir, will that be all?” Sterling replied. He was itching to end the conversation before Wessel managed to sink his claws in any further, or goad him into saying something he’d regret.

  “That is all, Captain,” Wessel replied.

  Sterling wasted no time in cutting the transmission before Wessel had an opportunity to land a mocking or sarcastic parting blow.

  “Is it too late to just turn around?” grumbled Banks.

  Normally, she would have been discreet enough to speak through neural comms, but there was no need to hide her disdain. It was clear from the faces of the entire bridge crew that everyone shared her sentiment. However, as much as it pained him to do so, Sterling felt compelled to set the record straight.

  “I understand how you all must be feeling,” Sterling said, addressing the bridge crew as a collective. “But Commodore Wessel is now our commanding officer and should be treated with the respect that the rank affords him. Is that clear?”

  There was a half-hearted chorus of, “Aye, sir,” from the officers on the bridge.

  “I know this is a far cry from our original mission,” Sterling contin
ued, determined to end on a more encouraging note, “but until we hear otherwise, the Omega Directive is still in effect. So we sit tight and do what’s required of us until we hear from Admiral Griffin.”

  “And what if we don’t, sir?” said Ensign Keller. “Hear from her again, I mean.”

  Sterling turned to meet the eyes of his helmsman. Keller had asked the question with a degree of meekness, knowing it was perhaps a touch impertinent. However, it was a good question and one that Sterling didn’t have a concrete answer to.

  “In a matter of weeks or even days the Sa’Nerran armada will be in the solar system,” Sterling said, laying out the facts as he saw them. “So with or without Admiral Griffin’s help, we’ll soon find ourselves back on the front line. When we do, and however it happens, we need to be sharp and ready.”

  Keller nodded then returned to his console as it chimed an alert. “We’re on final approach, Captain,” the ensign said. “We’ll have hard dock in less than a minute.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” Sterling replied before turning to commander Banks. “I guess we should go and meet our new boss?” he said, inviting Banks to take the lead.

  Sterling imagined a dozen different curt and expletive-filled sentences that Banks could have made in response to his question. However, instead his first officer simply replied with a weary, “Aye, sir,” before stepping off the command platform and heading for the door. “I’ll go ahead and pick up Colicos first. At least beasting that asshole around will make me feel a little better.”

  Sterling huffed a laugh, though secretly he wished he’d had that idea first. “You have the bridge, Lieutenant Shade,” he said, jumping down onto the deck and setting off in pursuit of Banks. “Stay alert and keep an eye out for any scrambled communications, secret messages or anything out of the ordinary on the comms channels.”

  “Aye, Captain,” replied Shade, promptly moving from her weapons control station to the captain’s console.

  “And don’t leave without us,” Banks called back, sarcastically. She was already half-way through the door. “However tempted you might be...”

  Chapter 6

  Suspicion, fear and the S.I.B.

  Sterling shoved James Colicos in the back for the third time that minute in an attempt to hurry the dawdling scientist along. Colicos staggered forward as if Sterling had blasted the scientist with a double-barreled shotgun, then glowered back at him and Banks.

  “This is harassment!” Colicos bellowed. “I’ll have you put on a charge and stripped of your rank!”

  “You forfeited your rights when you made weapons for the enemy,” Sterling hit back, prodding the scientist in the back for the fourth time. It had already taken them twice as long to reach level five of A-COP on account of the scientist’s incessant procrastinations. “Just get a move on, so we can finally be rid of you.”

  Two SIB officers in black fleet uniforms passed by on the opposite side of the corridor. Both regarded Sterling, Banks and Colicos with suspicion and no small amount of animosity. However, neither said a word or tried to stop them.

  “I thought the stares we got were bad on G-COP and F-COP,” commented Banks, glancing over her shoulder at the departing SIB personnel. “Why does it feel like we’re the enemy on this station?”

  Sterling also looked behind and saw that both SIB officers had stopped. One had the slightly constipated-looking appearance of someone who was engaged in a neural communication.

  “The level of paranoia in the solar system is off the chart compared to the outer sectors,” commented Sterling. He’d been reviewing reports from A-COP and other installations in the solar system, as well as from earth. “The idea that anyone could be a ‘turned’ aide to the emissaries has wormed its way into people’s brains. A dozen senior officers were suspended by the SIB just this week, pending a review of their loyalty.”

  Banks snorted, then kicked Colicos in the ass. “And it’s all your fault, shit-head,” she said, as Colicos was propelled into the wall from the force of the kick. “You must be very proud of your work, and all the people you’ve helped to kill.”

  Colicos pressed his back to the wall and tried to straighten his shirt. This was a challenging feat in itself due to the binders clasped around the man’s wrists.

  “Blame your precious admiral for abandoning me,” Colicos hit back. “I was left to fend for myself, so that’s what I did. You reap what you sow!”

  Banks stepped up to Colicos, causing the scientist to flinch and crack his head against the wall. She leant in so close that her cheek almost brushed the side of Colicos’ face.

  “It’s a shame I won’t be around to see what they do to you,” Banks whispered into the scientist’s ear. “You’re about to find out what ‘reap what you sow’ really means…” Banks then stepped back and held the scientist’s trembling eyes for a few seconds before again booting him along the corridor.

  “It’s not just the military, either,” Sterling said, carrying on from where he'd left off, as if Banks’ menacing interlude had never happened. “There are politicians all over the planet accusing each other of being enemy agents. They’re so busy fighting amongst themselves that they’ve taken their eye off the ball.”

  “And now we’re part of the damned ‘witch hunt’ division too,” said Banks. “Wessel will probably have us throwing suspects into a tank of water to see if they sink or float.”

  Sterling laughed. Though he doubted the SIB’s methods of detecting Sa’Nerran aides was that archaic, it did make him wonder exactly how they were supposed to tell a ‘turned’ officer from a regular one.

  Suddenly a security detail marched around the corner ahead of them and turned sharply in Sterling’s direction. He could see that each of the four SIB agents had a hand resting on the grip of their sidearm.

  “Look alive, Mercedes, I think we’ve got trouble,” said Sterling, as the detail approached.

  “You there, stay where you are!” the lead agent in the security detail called out. Sterling stopped and waited for the man to approach. “Give me your name and rank. And state your business here.”

  Sterling stepped out to confront the man. Looking the agent over, he paid particular attention to the man’s rank.

  “My name is Captain Lucas Sterling, Petty Officer Anderson,” he replied, locking eyes with the SIB agent. “And the correct question is, ‘state your business here, sir’.”

  The SIB agent maintained his cautious stance, hand still resting on his weapon. “The ID scanners show that you’re not cleared to be here,” Anderson continued. “And I don’t address aides to the emissaries as, ‘sir’.”

  The petty officer took a sharp pace back and held Sterling at arm’s length, his other hand wrapped around the grip of his pistol. Straight away, the other three SIB agents also popped open the fasteners on their holsters and stood ready to draw.

  “You’re making a big mistake, petty officer,” said Sterling. He hadn’t flinched or diverted his eyes from the agent’s stern face. “We were ordered to A-COP by Admiral Wessel himself. Check again.”

  The SIB agent nodded to one of the others in his detail, who tapped his neural interface.

  “When this is all straightened out, I’m going to need an apology, Petty Officer Anderson,” Sterling added, while the other SIB agent verified their story. “A really nice, sincere apology with a cherry on top.”

  There wasn’t a single muscle in the SIB agent’s face that made so much as a twitch. The petty officer’s expression was so blank that Sterling wondered if the man might be related to Opal Shade.

  “Don’t believe them, they’re emissaries themselves,” Colicos suddenly called out. Sterling closed his eyes and shook his head. “They captured me. I’m a famous Fleet scientist. They used me to get on board A-COP!”

  The SIB petty officer immediately drew his weapon and aimed it at Sterling’s chest. “He right, that’s James Colicos!” the man said, looking at the scientist. “He was thought dead, but the Sa’Nerra clearly abdu
cted him.”

  The other agents, excluding the one who was confirming Sterling’s story, also drew their pistols and aimed them with deadly intent.

  “Don’t listen to this moron,” said Sterling, hooking a thumb toward Colicos. “If we were really emissaries, do you think we’d just let him walk around without a gag?”

  The petty officer smiled. “You turned traitors aren’t very smart,” the agent hit back. “That’s how we can tell you apart from regular Fleet.”

  Sterling laughed. “If that were true then you’d be arresting yourself right now,” he replied. “Now put down that weapon before you do something you'll really regret.”

  Colicos darted forward, hands pressed above his head. “Rescue me!” the scientist screeched, dropping to his knees and prostrating himself in front of the petty officer. “Please help!”

  The SIB agent swung the barrel of the pistol toward Colicos and Sterling saw the man slip his finger onto the trigger. Fearing that the only person alive who could counteract the Sa’Nerran neural weapon was about to have his head blasted off, Sterling darted forward and disarmed the petty officer. Banks reacted with equal speed, palm-striking the two other agents in the chest in their moment of hesitation. Both men went sailing along the corridor on their backs, like hockey pucks being struck toward goal. The petty officer recovered and looked ready to retaliate, but Sterling had already spun the agent’s weapon into his grasp and was aiming it at the man’s chest.

  “Tell your men to stand down, Petty Officer Anderson,” Sterling ordered, “before this escalates and you end up as stains on A-COP’s lovely, clean walls.”

  “You won’t get away with this, emissary!” the petty officer barked. “There are thousands of Fleet personnel on this station!”

  “I know that you idiot,” Sterling snapped back. “Included in that number are myself and my first-officer.”