Omega Taskforce Series: Books 1 - 3: A Military Sci-Fi Box Set

by G J Ogden

  “Well done, sir,” Shade said, though it sounded more like she was telling a waiter how she liked her steaks cooked.

  The communications system then chimed an incoming message on Banks' console. However, Sterling already knew who was on the other end of the line.

  “Shall I put her through?” said Commander Banks, with a smug look on her face.

  “By all means,” said Sterling, extending a hand toward the viewscreen. Captain McQueen appeared before them; hands pressed to her hips with a face like a winter storm.

  “Luck…” McQueen snapped. Even the act of prizing her lips apart far enough to utter this single word was clearly a struggle. “Either that or you cheated.”

  Sterling smoothed down the front of his tunic and stood tall. “Don’t be a sore loser, Captain. The best ship won, that’s all there is to it.”

  “My ass the best ship…” McQueen replied, pouting.

  Sterling and McQueen were then both interrupted by an aggressive-sounding alert that blared out from the weapons consoles of both Marauders.

  “Sir, the Fleet Gatekeeper Odin has locked it weapons onto the Invictus and the Imperium,” said Shade.

  Considering that the Odin could obliterate a small moon, this news should have been deeply perturbing to the lieutenant. However, as usual, Shade was displaying all the emotion of a dry rock.

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, the Odin is just making a statement,” Sterling replied. It was obvious that Shade wasn’t in the slightest bit worried, but Sterling’s statement was more for the benefit of the rest of the bridge crew, Ensign Keller in particular. “We busted through the aperture at well over regulation surge velocity. It’s just the Odin’s way of reminding us that they’re watching.”

  Then Commander Banks’ console chimed another incoming communication. Sterling checked his own console and saw that the message was being broadcast on the alert channel. Someone other than the Odin was now vying for their attention, and as Sterling assimilated the data on his screen, he quickly realized who it was.

  “Captain, the Fleet Dreadnaught Hammer is approaching, and they’re hailing us,” said Commander Banks. “In fact, they’re practically on top of us, already.”

  Banks then tapped her console and the Hammer appeared on the viewscreen. The giant ship was looming over them, blocking the light from the sun and casting the diminutive Marauder-class vessels into darkness.

  “Put him through,” said Sterling, reluctantly. The viewscreen then switched to the image of Captain Oscar Blake, the Hammer’s commanding officer, and Sterling’s former boss.

  “Captain Sterling, are you lost?” said Captain Blake, with a scolding tone that immediately got Sterling’s hackles up. “You seem to believe this aperture is part of some sort of galactic racing circuit.”

  Sterling had to force himself not to roll his eyes at the man. He and Blake had never truly seen eye-to-eye, despite there being a grudging respect between them.

  “I’m just eager to get back to base and receive new orders,” Sterling replied, cheerfully. “New orders from the Fleet Admiral, that is.”

  Sterling had thrown the Admiral’s name into the mix to remind Blake that the red-haired captain of the Fleet’s flagship was no longer his superior.

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. “I know who you report to, Captain,” he said, clearly having taken the hint, and some offence in the process. “But this sector is under my protection. So, while you’re here, I suggest you abide by standard regulations.” Then Blake straightened up and lifted his chin, peering at Sterling down his nose. “I realize that your unique little taskforce isn’t used to standard regulations. However, while you’re at F-COP, I should remind you that you’re no different to any other ship.”

  Sterling smiled back at Blake. In some ways, he’d missed sparring with his old Captain, but not enough to want to continue his conversation with the man.

  “Of course, Captain, thank you for the friendly advice,” he replied, sarcastically.

  Sterling had never been entirely sure quite how much Captain Blake knew about the Omega Directive. However, his fellow captain’s subtle use of the word “taskforce” and the jibes about not following standard regulations reminded him that Blake knew more than most. His former captain had been in on Admiral Griffin’s Omega Directive test while Sterling was a commander on the Hammer. It was possible he was an Omega captain himself, Sterling mused. It made sense for Griffin to have senior officers loyal to her strategically placed within the regular Fleet too.

  Blake then ended the transmission without another word and McQueen reappeared on the viewscreen.

  “That was rather rude,” said McQueen, her arms now folded across her chest.

  “It’s Blake, what do you expect?” replied Sterling with a shrug. “How about we meet up on F-COP once we’re docked and I have our repairs underway?” Commander Banks’ console then chimed another message. This time it came through on their secure Omega Taskforce channel. “Hold that thought, Captain…” Sterling said to McQueen on the viewscreen before turning to Banks.

  “Admiral Griffin wants to see you and Captain McQueen in her office in thirty,” announced Commander Banks, with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

  Sterling tutted and shook his head. “It’ll take us longer than thirty minutes just to dock the damn ship,” he complained.

  “No rest for the wicked, eh, Captain?” said McQueen.

  Sterling then noticed that the Imperium had already gotten underway again and was on-course F-COP, at the fastest possible regulation-permitted speed. Sterling cursed under his breath, realizing this meant she’d get docking clearance first, which would only delay his arrival further.

  “I’ll apologize to the Fleet Admiral on your behalf for your tardiness,” McQueen added with her usual wicked smile. “Catch you later, slow poke,” and she abruptly cut the transmission.

  Chapter 14

  Nobody likes a sore loser

  Captain Sterling had only been waiting outside Fleet Admiral Griffin’s office on F-COP for a couple of minutes, but already his unique uniform was attracting anxious stares. Despite the nature of Sterling’s command being a secret, rumors still circuited as to the true purpose of the mysterious officers and crew that bore the silver stripe on their tunics.

  In order to conceal the Omega Taskforce from the government and from public view, Admiral Griffin had established it under the cover name, “Void Recon Unit.” The mandate of the Void Recon Unit was to conduct manned reconnaissance patrols deep inside the Sa’Nerran half of the Void, in order to report intelligence regarding enemy movements. This itself had raised some eyebrows, since automated recon probes had served that function well enough for decades. However, Griffin’s high rank and pugnacious attitude had allowed her to push it through. No elected official in the UG War Council was willing to block a program that Griffin argued could save millions of lives. The enhanced need for deep space recon was also the only way Griffin could explain the frequency with which the Invictus and Imperium would enter the no-man’s land between Fleet and Sa’Nerran space.

  Over the last year, however, more and more people, both in the government and the Fleet, had grown suspicious of the Void Recon Unit. Rumors abounded of their true role, all of which were inaccurate, and some of which were even wild. Sterling particularly enjoyed the theory that the Invictus and Imperium had established an aperture into a parallel universe where the Sa’Nerra did not exist, in order to prepare for a mass human exodus. However, in recent weeks, stories of the Void Recon Unit’s more extreme remit had begun to circulate, and there were even whispers of its true name. As such, the distinctive silver stripe that Sterling wore on his uniform had become more than merely a symbol of suspicion. It had become a symbol of fear.

  On the fringe of the Void, or even at the smaller outposts in the outer sectors, it was easy for Sterling and his crew to remain out of the public eye. However, there was no such possibility on F-COP. A far cry from the small combat outposts of Earth’s ow
n domestic conflicts in the time before space travel, Fleet COPs were more like giant forward operating bases built in space. They were constructed to protect the only aperture route that linked the Void to the solar system, but they were also thriving military communities in their own right. The COP in Sector-F bore the unimaginative yet logical and accurate name, Fleet F-COP. It was home to more than a quarter of a million Fleet personnel and their families, plus a host of private businesses and united governments staff. F-COP was the largest space-based installation close to the Void. It was also the only base in the sector that was large enough to support a Dreadnaught-class ship, such as the Hammer. That alone accounted for the Hammer’s presence in the sector. The mighty warship was now the only remaining Dreadnaught in the fleet, after the capture of its sister ship, the Vanguard, which had not been seen for over a year. As such, the Hammer was rarely risked on the front line. Its role now was to act a deterrent to the Sa’Nerran armada attempting a more coordinated incursion into Fleet space. Together with the firepower of the Gatekeeper Odin and F-COP itself, the key aperture in Sector F, quadrant two was well-guarded. However, if the Hammer was to fall, the Gatekeeper alone would not be able to stop the Sa’Nerra from flooding into Fleet space and making a run for Earth.

  The sound of Admiral Griffin’s voice suddenly invaded Sterling’s mind, blotting out any thoughts of gatekeepers, conspiracy theories and his old ship, the Hammer.

  “You can come in now, Captain Sterling,” said the voice of Admiral Griffin. The sound of her strident, commanding tones felt like thorns being raked across his brain. “Now that you’ve finally decided to turn up, that is…” she added, with extra prickliness.

  Sterling sighed, realizing that Lana McQueen must already be inside, and that she’d likely made a point about Sterling’s disrespectful tardiness. He walked up to the door, which dutifully opened for him, and stepped into Fleet Admiral Griffin’s office. The Admiral was seated at her imposing desk with Captain McQueen sitting opposite, grinning in Sterling’s direction. The room was stately in a twenty-fourth century kind of way. There may have been no wooded panels or animal-head trophies on the walls, but the silver-grey room still had an imposing character about it. It was also both larger and more well-equipped than the entire bridge of his own ship.

  “Apologies for the delay in arriving, Admiral,” Sterling began, marching toward the desk. His muscles felt suddenly tense and he realized he was walking more stiffly than usual, as if he was a rookie on parade. Despite his atypically informal relationship with Griffin, she still had an unopposable power over him, like gravity. “My ship was damaged during the last mission and so we had to take it a little slower on the docking approach.”

  Griffin cocked her head a little to the side. “Is that so, Captain?” she said, in a way that told Sterling in no uncertain terms that she hadn’t bought his story. “Because based on your arrival through the aperture at double the regulation surge speed, I find that surprising.”

  Sterling winced but stayed silent, hoping the Admiral had more important things to do than chew his ear off for the next few minutes. Mercifully, he was correct. “Just sit down, Captain, we have a lot to talk about,” the Admiral continued, while turning her attention to one of the computer consoles built into her desk.

  Sterling wasted no time in planting himself in the seat beside Captain McQueen, who was smiling innocently at him. He slyly tapped his neural interface, disguising the gesture by scratching his temple, then spoke to Captain McQueen through the link. “Nobody likes a sore loser…” he said, also shooting her an innocent smile.

  “Call me old-fashioned, Captain Sterling, but I prefer the ancient art of verbal communication,” Griffin said, still focused on her consoles. “So, leave your little neural chit-chat until later.” Sterling abruptly severed the link to McQueen, though his fellow captain looked as shocked as he did that the wily admiral had managed to detect their neural connection.

  “I have a neural scanner, before you ask,” said Griffin, raising her eyes to meet Sterling’s. “I don’t like people talking behind my back, either out loud or in their heads.”

  “I thought those things were illegal?” replied Sterling. He’d heard of the neural scanning technology, but it had been outlawed at the start of the war because of privacy and security concerns.

  “They are,” replied Griffin, coolly. She left her statement hanging in the air for a moment then changed the subject. “I’ve read your reports,” Griffin continued, still focused on Sterling. “And as admirable and heartwarming as it is to see you two rushing to one another’s aid, do not forget that you are under my command,” she went on. Despite the Admiral speaking out loud, Sterling again felt like thorns were being dragged across his brain. “I shouldn’t have to remind either of you that you are to follow my orders, not whatever whim takes you in the moment. While the outcome was favorable, your actions could have cost us two advanced war vessels and two Omega crews.”

  Sterling straightened up and sat to attention. “Yes, Admiral, I understand,” he replied, accepting the dressing down. However, all told, Sterling thought he had gotten off lightly. Griffin was usually much more painstaking in her dissections.

  “The same applies to you, Captain McQueen,” the Admiral added. Griffin’s intense eyes, framed by dark circles and crow’s feet, peered at McQueen with no less ferocity.

  “I understand, Admiral,” McQueen replied, also straightening to attention.

  “That being said, your foolish heroics gained us some valuable intel,” Admiral Griffin said, seemingly satisfied that her captains had fallen in line. She then tapped her console and a holo image of a neural control device appeared to the side of her enormous desk. Next to it was a medical scan of a human head, which was highlighting brain activity specifically in connection to the neural implant. “This neural weapon is one that Captain McQueen’s crew recovered from the Skirmisher that ambushed the Imperium near Artemis Colony,” the Admiral went on. The image of the device began to rotate and was overlaid with technical data while Griffin spoke. “As you can see, it is identical to all the others we have encountered.” Griffin then tapped her console and a second neural weapon and scan of a human head appeared alongside the other images. “This is a device that was recovered from Vega Two,” the Admiral continued. “Although the appearance is the same, this weapon is new and far more sophisticated than the existing models.” Griffin then pointed to the medical scan of the second head. “This image shows the initial medical data obtained by Commander Graves from one of the surviving colonists on Vega Two.” The second image showed an identical looking scan, but even to Sterling’s inexpert eye, he could see the huge difference in brain activity. “Compared to the brain activity of ‘turned’ prisoners we have experimented on in the past, the difference is clear, as you can see,” Griffin concluded.

  Captain McQueen pushed herself out of her chair and stood in front of the two medical scans, scrutinizing them with the intensity of a chess grand master.

  “The number and density of neural interfaces in this recent subject is orders of magnitude above what I’ve seen before,” McQueen said, pointing to the second brain scan. Sterling remembered that prior to being recruited by Griffin for the Omega Taskforce, McQueen had been the chief medical officer on board the Fleet Heavy Battlecruiser Nimrod. “There’s a distinct focus on manipulating electrical signals in the frontal, temporal and parietal lobes,” McQueen went on, talking excitedly, “but this new corruption extends to nearly all the eighty-six million neurons in the human brain.”

  Griffin nodded then cleared the images so that McQueen could no longer be distracted by them. “We’re dealing with a level of brain manipulation that we previously thought was impossible,” the Admiral continued. “Memory, behavior, personality, even beliefs can all be modified, and the person affected wouldn’t even realize.”

  McQueen cursed under her breath then sat back down. “With this device the Sa’Nerra could turn an entire ship’s crew against t
heir own people,” she said, crossing her legs and flapping her foot up and down like a paddle. “We could see mass mutinies across the fleet.”

  Sterling rubbed the back of his neck, which still felt stiff and sore. He may not have understood anything about neurons and lobes, but he knew what the implications of the new Sa’Nerran weapon were, and they weren’t good.

  “It’s worse than that,” Sterling said, looking at McQueen first before meeting Griffin’s eyes. “If these turned crew are made to genuinely believe in the Sa’Nerran cause, like those on Vega Two did, it means we could effectively have enemy agents already moving throughout the fleet. It means we can no longer be sure who to trust.”

  “Correct, Captain,” replied Griffin. For the briefest moment Sterling thought that the Admiral sounded impressed with him. “Which is why we have to keep this knowledge under tight control. If word got out then Fleet would be at each other’s throats within days. Trust in the chain of command would rapidly erode.”

  McQueen cursed again, this time more bitterly. “Give me the turned colonist,” she said to Griffin, suddenly growing more agitated. “Let me dig around in his brain and see if there’s a way to undo this damage. We have to find a way to counteract this weapon. We can’t allow the Sa’Nerra to twist our own people against the Fleet.”

  “The subject that Commander Graves experimented on is already dead,” said Griffin, with a dismissive waft of her hand, “but that doesn’t matter. There are plenty of convicts scratching their assess in outpost brigs to provide more test subjects. I’ve already begun experiments on the worst of them. Murderers, rapists, deserters and the like.”

  Admiral Griffin’s admission of human experimentation would have shocked most other people, but Sterling considered the use of prisoners to be a perfectly sensible option. And from McQueen’s response, it appeared she did too.