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

by G J Ogden

  Sterling shrugged. “I just don’t want to take any chances. We no longer have the benefit of a COP to bolt us back together again if we take a pounding.”

  “Good point,” replied Banks. “I keep forgetting that we’re now part of the Obsidian Project, or whatever Admiral Griffin is calling her secret program now.”

  “I don’t care what she calls those metal things, we’re still the Omega Taskforce, even if we’re doomed to forever be a taskforce of one,” Sterling hit back.

  “I’m reading a power signature inside the wreckage, Captain,” Shade interrupted, snapping Sterling’s attention back to the potential ambush. “The energy levels are rising. It has all the hallmarks of a ship powering up and preparing to fire.”

  Sterling scowled down at his console and assessed the readings. He considered his ship and crew to be superior to anything the enemy could throw at them, even MAUL. However, he also had a healthy respect for his adversary’s capabilities and an awareness that the aliens had grown more cunning in recent months. As such, the ambusher was making it suspiciously easy to be seen, Sterling considered. It was like trying to hide amongst trees while wearing a bright yellow, high-visibility jacket.

  “Should I target the energy signature, Captain?” asked Shade, eagerly.

  “Stand by, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, running an additional scan on his console. The results confirmed his suspicions. “There’s another ship powering up in the debris cluster to our aft, port side.” He sent the scan readings to Shade’s console. “This one is actually doing a good job of trying to hide that fact, though.”

  Shade nodded. “Confirmed. Target acquired Captain.”

  “Pulverize that debris cluster, Lieutenant,” said Sterling. “Let’s not wait for our friend to show his hand.”

  The tempo and timbre of the thrum through the deck plating changed as the Invictus’ forward plasma rail guns built to maximum power.

  “Coming about on the target now,” said Ensign Keller, using their maneuvering thrusters to spin the nose of the Marauder on target.

  A flash of energy lit up the viewscreen and Sterling watched as the blasts of plasma tore through the debris, shredding the cover that the lurking ship was hiding behind. There was a ripple of explosions and moments later a phase-three Sa’Nerran Skirmisher limped out from behind the burning wreckage and tried to flee. Sterling could see it was badly damaged and no longer a threat.

  “The second ship has broken cover and is preparing to attack,” Shade announced.

  “Keep us out of the second Skirmisher’s primary firing arc, Ensign,” Sterling said to his pilot before turning to Lieutenant Shade. “Full attack, and torpedo what’s left of the first one,” he added, hooking a thumb in the direction of the viewscreen. “No-one gets away with trying to stab us in the back.”

  “Aye, Captain,” said Shade, relishing the opportunity to employ lethal force.

  Sterling was then shaken off balance as plasma blasts hammered into the Invictus’ hull.

  “Turret fire from the second Skirmisher…” Banks called out, reading out the updates as they appeared on her console. “Low yield. No damage.”

  A torpedo then snaked out from their aft launcher. Sterling watched the weapon accelerate toward the alien warship like a spear. Moments later the alien vessel was consumed in fire.

  “Skirmisher one destroyed,” Shade reported, confirming the kill.

  Another series of thumps rocked the bridge and Sterling saw a section of the ship’s armor turn amber on his damage readout.

  “Direct hit, port-side aft,” Banks said, working on the damage control section of her console. “Regenerative armor holding at sixty-eight percent.”

  Sterling then heard the whir and thud of their turrets tracking the second vessel and returning fire. The viewscreen updated to show their shots landing on target and heavily damaging the Sa’Nerran warship.

  “Time to wrap this up Ensign,” Sterling said, focusing on the back of Keller’s head. “Bring our main plasma cannons to bear and let’s finish this.”

  “Aye, captain,” Keller replied, briskly.

  Straight away Sterling felt the kick of the ship’s engines and thrusters altering their course. Keller was adept at throwing the Marauder-class warship into maneuvers that were frequently too sporty for their inertial negation systems to fully compensate for. The Skirmisher then came into view ahead of the Invictus. It had been expertly outmaneuvered by Keller and now had its belly exposed to their primary rail guns.

  “Firing…” Shade called out, baring her teeth like a rabid wolf.

  Energy raced toward the enemy vessel, punching through its center and coring it like an apple. For several seconds the Skirmisher listed out of control, energy crackling across its surface and fire spilling from the fresh holes in its armor and hull. Then the warship exploded and the Invictus was peppered with debris, though the fragments were so small it was no more dangerous than bugs bouncing off a windshield.

  “Enemy ships, destroyed, Captain,” Shade announced.

  Sterling’s console then chimed an alert. He read it without delay then cursed under his breath.

  “Our little fireworks show has gotten MAUL’s attention,” said Commander Banks, as usual quicker to assess the updates than Sterling was. “It’s accelerating toward us with two destroyer escorts. And we’re being hailed.”

  “Ensign Keller, take us to the mouth of the aperture and prepare to surge to Far Deep Nine,” Sterling said before then addressing his chief engineer. “Lieutenant, we need a way to ensure that MAUL doesn’t monitor our surge vector and find out where we’re going,” he said. “Can we scramble our surge field?”

  Razor shook her head. “I’d need time to study the technique Griffin used first,” she replied, “but it’s likely the same technique won’t work when applied to standard surge field dynamics. If it did, Fleet or the Sa’Nerra would have already employed similar technology.”

  Sterling’s console chimed again. The incoming communication request from MAUL was still pending. Sterling continued to ignore it, while trying to come up with another option to prevent the aliens from tracking their onward journey.

  “I could try a rebound surge,” Razor suggested. “It’s risky, but it could work.”

  “You’ll have to enlighten me, Lieutenant, what is a ‘rebound surge’?” Sterling replied, feeling no shame in pleading ignorance on this occasion.

  “It was a defensive tactic that was theorized while I was going through the academy,” Razor replied. “In simple terms, we surge to a decoy location, directly to the mouth of the exit aperture, then immediately reverse engines and surge back to the original location. A third surge then takes us to where we actually want to end up.”

  Sterling frowned and could see that Banks looked similarly skeptical. “Is it even possible to make three surges in such quick succession, in the way you’ve described?” Sterling asked. “Surely, we’d just burn out the field generator, along with half a dozen power relays.”

  “Yes, sir, most likely,” Razor replied, seemingly unfazed by this eventuality. “However, the benefit is that the close proximity of the surges muddles the residual energy signature. Anyone following us wouldn’t be able to figure out where the hell we went. It could potentially take them days to sift through the surge field data in order to work out what happened, and even then it wouldn’t be conclusive.”

  “In the meantime, we’re left stranded with our pants around our ankles and no ability to surge,” Sterling countered, pointing out the one major flaw in Razor’s idea.

  “Yes, sir, in a manner of speaking,” Razor replied, again peculiarly unconcerned. “But I can rebuild the surge field generator at Far Deep Nine in less time than it would take the Sa’Nerra to work out where we are.” She shrugged. “To be honest, Captain, I’ve been meaning to do it, anyway. The shipyard engineers did a pretty shoddy job, all things considered.”

  Sterling’s console chimed again. MAUL was still attempting to com
municate, though this time it was broadcasting on all available channels.

  “They must really want to talk to you, Captain,” commented Banks, “and I have a pretty good idea who it is on the other end of the line.”

  “So do I,” Sterling answered, not relishing the prospect of speaking to his former crewmate. He threw his hands up. “What the hell, let’s do it Lieutenant,” he said, making his decision. “But if we end up spending the rest of our lives on an abandoned mining research station, I warn you now that I may hold a grudge.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you, sir,” replied Razor, turning to her consoles to make the necessary surge calculations. She then paused and glanced at Sterling over her shoulder. “Though it won’t be necessary, Captain. This will work.”

  Sterling nodded to his engineer. He already had faith in Razor’s capabilities, but was buoyed further by her calm, measured confidence.

  “Torpedoes launched,” Shade then announced from the weapons control console. “Twelve inbound, accelerating hard. Time to impact, three minutes, fourteen seconds.”

  Sterling acknowledged Shade, then accepted the incoming communication request from Sa’Nerra Heavy Destroyer M4-U1. Moments later, the face of Emissary Clinton Crow appeared in front of him on the viewscreen. Sterling’s former engineer looked distinctly pissed off.

  “How did you get into the Void?” Crow demanded, dispensing with any pleasantries. “You were last monitored surging to F-sector, along with the rest of your pitiful fleet.”

  Sterling shrugged. “Looks like your scanners could do with a tune-up, Crow, because we’ve been out here the whole time,” he replied.

  “An obvious lie, Captain,” Crow hit back. “But once we capture and turn your vessel, all your secrets will belong to the Sa’Nerra.”

  “Actually, I was just leaving, but thanks for the offer,” Sterling said, glancing down at his console and watching for Razor’s surge program to be loaded.

  “You can’t run from me any longer, Captain,” Crow continued. “Surrender now and spare your crew the trauma of a false hope of escape. Submit to me and you can still be a part of the mighty Sa’Nerran empire.”

  “After careful consideration, your offer is declined,” Sterling replied, still keeping half an eye on his console. “I was actually hoping it might have been McQueen on board your ship, rather than you. But I don’t mind killing you first.”

  Crow laughed and even managed a smile. “Bravo, Captain, I always did appreciate your cavalier spirit.” Then the emissary’s face became as hard as the metal plate covering half of his head. “Emissary McQueen was looking forward to breaking you personally. But I see that you would prefer death instead. So be it.”

  The viewscreen cut off and Crow’s image was replaced by a magnified view of a dozen torpedoes racing in their direction. Suddenly, the torpedoes seemed to splinter into six new sections, each section spreading apart from the others.

  “Well, that’s new…” commented Banks, channeling her dark sense of humor.

  “We now have seventy-two torpedo fragments inbound, Captain,” Lieutenant Shade confirmed. “Our point defense cannons are tracking them, but I calculate only a twenty-six percent chance we’ll get them all.”

  Sterling turned to face Razor. “Any time now, Lieutenant,” he said, maintaining his composure, despite his stomach turning over like the drum of a washing machine.

  “Rebound surge program complete and loaded into the navigation computer, Captain,” Razor said. Without explanation, the engineer then dropped to the deck and lay flat on her back. “This is going to get a little strange, Captain. I suggest you lie down, or at least brace yourself.”

  “Understood, Lieutenant, I’ll take my chances on my feet,” Sterling replied, gripping the sides of his console. He knew that this came across as mere bravado, but he literally wasn’t going to take their situation lying down. “Execute the surge, Ensign Keller. And everyone, hold on.”

  “Aye, sir,” Keller replied. “Surging in ten.”

  “Point defense guns have failed to neutralize all the torpedoes, Captain,” Shade announced. “Impact in fifteen seconds…”

  “Talk about cutting it close,” Sterling muttered, glancing across to his first officer.

  “Surging in five…” Keller called out.

  Sterling gritted his teeth and steeled himself, though he didn’t have any idea what he was steeling himself against. This would be his first – and hopefully last – rebound surge. Then the ship, the bridge and his body were consumed by the aperture. His mind wandered freely for several seconds then his body exploded back onto the bridge. Moments later the ship’s engines kicked into full reverse and the surge field generator built to a crescendo for a second time. The disorientation that resulted from a regular surge was usually fleeting. However, on this occasion, there was no time for the dizziness to dissipate before Sterling was again consumed into nothingness. His mind again wandered, but this time his thoughts were muddled and confused. He saw Ariel Gunn in front of him. Her lips were moving, but her words made no sense. Then her head exploded and in its place another head grew, like a flower sprouting from a bulb. A face formed and Sterling saw that it was Mercedes Banks. Sterling was then thrown back into reality for a second time and again the engines kicked hard. Still disorientated and confused, Sterling fell to the deck, his head spinning and stomach sick. He felt his body hit something hard, then he was pulled back into the surge dimension for a third time. The face of Mercedes Banks appeared to him again, her lips moving as Ariel Gunn’s had done, but like the friend that he had chosen to kill, Banks’ words made no sense. Then Banks’ Fleet uniform melted away and she was suddenly naked. Sterling tried to look away, but he couldn’t. She reached out to Sterling and pulled him closer, the power of her grip inescapably strong.

  “Join us, Lucas,” Banks commanded, as Sa’Nerran armor grew over the top of her body, forming a skin-tight cocoon.

  “Never!” Sterling yelled. He tried to struggle, but it was futile.

  “Join us,” Banks said again. But this time it was the face of Lana McQueen speaking the words.

  Sterling tried to scream but he was suddenly mute. He tried to push McQueen away, but it was impossible to overcome the power she held over him. The emissary laughed then released Sterling of her own choice and took two measured paces backward.

  “You will join us, or she will die,” McQueen said, pointing to a shadowy figure to her side. Sterling couldn’t see the figure’s face, but he knew it was Banks simply from the curve of her body and the flow of her hair. “You’re not strong enough to kill her, Lucas. You never were. And that is why you’ll lose…” The former fleet captain then smiled at him before her head exploded, showering his face in hot flesh and bone.

  Sterling screamed again, but this time the sound of his voice filled his own ears. He realized that he was on his back on the deck of the Invictus, staring up at the ceiling. Alarms were ringing out all around him, but all he knew was that he was still alive. He was tired, tormented, battered, bruised and sick to the very pit of his stomach – but he was alive.

  You won’t beat me… Sterling thought, as he lay there, waiting for his strength to return. You will never beat me... Then, for the first time, Sterling realized that the ‘you’ he was referring to was not Crow, or McQueen, or even the Sa’Nerran empire as a collective. It was himself.

  Chapter 14

  Bury the dead

  Sterling had barely set foot on the Far Deep Nine mining research station before the stench of decaying bodies assaulted his senses. Even for someone accustomed to the smell of death, it took Sterling by surprise.

  “I never thought we’d be back here again,” said Banks, stepping beside Sterling. She too then scrunched up her nose and held a hand over her face. “We might need to send a cleaning crew though here first, though.”

  Colicos entered the docking area next and immediately bent double, hacking and coughing like he was about to throw up. Shade was close behind, weapon i
n hand.

  “Get a hold of yourself, doctor,” Sterling ordered, showing the scientist no sympathy. “The sooner you finish your work, the sooner we can all get off this station. Just think of the smell as your incentive to work fast.”

  “This is intolerable!” Colicos complained, though he was still gagging so badly it sounded like he had a sponge in his mouth. The scientist staggered over to the wall and propped himself up against it, clasping a hand to his mouth. Sterling had thought that the scientist was acting up on purpose, but the longer this hacking and gagging routine continued, the more it appeared genuine.

  “I’ll assemble a team to clean up the dead, sir,” said Lieutenant Shade. She still had her plasma pistol aimed at Colicos, despite his apparent helplessness. “What do you want to do with the bodies of the commandoes?”

  “They’re just rotten meat now, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, stepping over the body of a dead Sa’Nerran warrior. “But we should honor them in the manner of their choosing. See to it,” Sterling added.

  “Aye, Captain,” Shade replied.

  Sterling watched Shade step away and tap her neural interface to make the necessary arrangements. All the while the weapons officer continued to watch Colicos like a vulture watching a crippled animal, waiting for it to fall and die. Sterling had witnessed and participated in too many horrors to believe in a higher power. Certainly, if one existed then Lucas Sterling would not be in its good graces. However, he respected the wishes of those who did believe, regardless of which god or gods they worshipped. In truth he didn’t know whether any members of his crew were spiritual people, but he would respect their various funeral customs, whatever they were. This was despite him believing that such occasions were a pointless waste of resources and manpower. A sentimental outpouring of emotion – energy that could better be spent on more important tasks. However, he also knew that hope was a powerful ally, and that the loss of hope could be as crippling as any injury or disease. If it provided comfort to his crew to honor the dead in a specific manner then so be it. And so, for their sake, he would do what was expected of him.