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

by G J Ogden

  “She can handle it,” said Sterling, confidently answering Banks despite the lingering questions in his own mind. “And if she can’t, she’ll be dead anyway.”

  “Just another to add to the butcher’s bill,” sighed Banks, resting forward against the railings that separated the Marshall’s private viewing area from the throng below.

  The door to the cage was then shut and locked and the official, himself splattered in blood from the fights that had come before, indicated for the bell to be rung. The sound resonated around the dank, sweaty cellar room with a darkly sinister quality. It was like the sound that marked the beginning of a two-minute silence. However, the somber resonance of the note was soon drowned out by the rising clamor of the crowd, as Opal Shade and the Sa’Nerran warrior raised their guards.

  Chapter 26

  One good fight deserves another

  A leathery fist thumped into the back of Lieutenant Shade, sending her tumbling across the blood-stained mat. The crowd roared and Sterling winced, his hands tightening around the cold, rusted metal of the hand rail.

  “Come on, damn it,” Sterling urged, as Shade scrambled to her feet. The weapons officer then narrowly avoided being kicked in the head by the alien warrior, which had followed up its strike with frighting speed. Had the blow landed, Sterling knew the fight would have been over. Instead, the alien’s heel slammed into the cage, rattling it like an angry gorilla at a zoo.

  “It’s okay, she’s doing well,” said Banks, though it sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself than Sterling. His first officer also had a tight hold on the handrail, though because of her strength the metal had begun to bend.

  Shade ducked under another powerful swing and countered with a hard combination of shots to the alien’s ribs, forcing it to retreat. Banks shook her fist and joined in with the rest of the baying crowd, roaring in appreciation of Shade’s spirited fightback.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” asked Sterling. It wasn’t said in an accusatory manner, but he could see the fire in his first officer’s eyes. It wasn’t as bright or as hot as the times when Banks lost control and turned into a monstrous killing machine in her own right, but clearly the commander liked a good fight.

  “If there’s time, I might even have a turn myself,” said Banks, who then recoiled and let out an “ooh”, as the Sa’Nerran warrior caught Shade with a glancing blow.

  “I think just one of my officers fighting to the death is quite enough for today,” replied Sterling, wincing again as Shade was thrown against the cage by the brutish alien. Shade slipped aside just in time to avoid the warrior’s fist, which slammed into the scaffolding in the corner, making a ringing sound almost as resonant as the match bell itself.

  “The Marshall has been smart, I’ll give him that,” said Banks, glancing across to the lawman, who was whooping and hollering a few meters from them. “They’ve protected the weak spot at the back of the alien’s neck with that helmet.”

  Sterling nodded. He’d quickly understood that the purpose of the alien’s armor wasn’t just theatrical. However, the knees were still unprotected, though considering the tree-trunk like size of the alien’s limbs, he wondered whether the warrior had any weaknesses at all. Banks roared again as Shade dodged then landed a hard kick to the alien’s leg, causing it to buckle and stagger back. However, the Sa’Nerran recovered quickly and the advantage was lost.

  Banks then suddenly froze, hands gripping the railings, and Sterling realized she was receiving a neural communication. He glanced across to the Marshall to make sure he hadn’t noticed, but the lawman was too busy hollering at his fighter to finish the job. Spittle was erupting from the Marshall’s mouth as the man bawled instructions.

  “The commando squad has the fuel loaded into the rover,” said Banks, stepping closer to Sterling and speaking out loud, ironically to avoid suspicion. “They’re en route back to the ship now.”

  Sterling acknowledged Banks then turned his back to the Marshall and rubbed the side of his face, brushing against his neural implant as he did so.

  “Ensign Keller, how's it looking over there?” he asked, reaching out to his helmsman through the link.

  “Repairs are about seventy percent complete, sir,” Keller replied. The ensign’s voice came through strongly despite the riotous noise surrounding Sterling. “We’re in a fit shape to leave.”

  “Understood, Ensign, stand ready to depart,” Sterling answered. “The commando squad is en route back to you now with the fuel. Get it into the tanks without delay.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Keller replied then the link went dead.

  Sterling turned back to face the cage, but caught the Marshall’s suspicious eyes looking at him again.

  “Aren't you enjoying the fight, mister?” said the Marshall, shouting over the roar of the crowd, which had just erupted on account of Shade getting thrown into the corner. “It just seems that you aren’t paying much attention.”

  “I’ve seen her fight before, I’m not concerned for the outcome,” replied Sterling, trying to sound as nonchalant and dismissive as possible. The Marshall’s reservations about him were clearly growing.

  “We’ll see,” the Marshall hollered back, shooting Sterling a wide, toothy grin before turning back to the action.

  Sterling waited for the Marshall to become fully immersed in the fight again then casually brushed past his neural interface for a second time.

  “Lieutenant, we have the fuel,” said Sterling. However, the sudden invasion of Shade’s mind distracted her, and she ate a shot to the jaw. Sterling winced again, and watched as the alien pressed its advantage, landing another shot to the ribs before Shade managed to dance away.

  “Understood…” was the single word reply from his weapon’s officer. However, despite the brevity of her response, Shade’s answer had revealed much about her state of mind. Neural communication conveyed more than merely words. It also allowed those linked together to feel one another’s emotions. It took training and focus to be able to keep those emotions in check, but in times of stress they bled through the link more freely. Sterling had expected to feel Shade’s anxiety and fear, and even her doubts, but all he felt was an impatient, burning rage. “Get ready. This will be over soon,” she added, holding her ribs and sidestepping around the ring.

  The link went dead, not that Sterling intended to respond to Shade for fear of distracting her again. However, as it turned out, he needn’t have been concerned. Shade had clearly just been playing for time. Stepping up several gears, she set to work on the Sa’Nerran warrior’s legs, darting in and landing swift, sharp kicks then retreating before the warrior could react. The alien soon lost patience with this tactic and tried to muscle Shade against the cage, but she broke the hold then snapped a ferocious kick to the side of the alien’s knee, causing it to hiss and drop to a crouch, unable to stand. Shade followed up with a front pushing kick that drove the Sa’Nerran head-first into the bars. The gladiator-style helmet became trapped and the alien’s waspish sounds grew louder and more aggressive. It finally pulled its round head clear of the helmet and pushed itself up, charging at Shade like a maddened animal. For a split-second, Sterling though that Shade was going to be driven so hard into the cage that she’d be cut into slices. However, at the last moment Shade made her move, tripping the alien and sending it crashing into the blood-stained mat. A perfectly-executed heel strike to the back of the alien’s neck then swiftly finished the job.

  The audience gasped and an eerie silence fell over the arena. It lasted only for a few seconds before the crowd again began to roar, though this time for a mixture of reasons. Some marveled at what they had just witnessed, while the many who had lost money simply threw beer bottles or punches at whomever was closest. The bell rang and the official, who once again had stayed well clear of the action, raised Opal Shade’s hand in victory. Banks’ victory cries rose above those of anyone around her, and her grip became so tight on the hand-rail that she snapped the metal
clean in half. Sterling shook his fist also, as much from relief as from exhilaration. On a purely selfish level, the victory meant he didn’t have to recruit a new weapons officer. He then turned to the Marshall, a smile beaming across his face, intending to rub the man’s nose in his victory. However, instead of the lawman’s demoralized face what he saw was a pistol being pointed at his heart.

  Chapter 27

  Hope Rises and falls

  Sterling nudged Commander Banks, who was still lost in the moment, drinking in the roar from the crowd as if it were fine champagne. His first-officer finally turned, throwing a congratulatory arm around Sterling’s shoulder before she too saw the pistol. Banks face fell and her arm dropped back to her side, fist clenched.

  “I should have explained to you that I’m a sore loser,” said the Marshall. He was backed up by his two deputies, who were doing their best to shield the lawman’s pistol from view. “So, I’ll be taking your companion with me, anyway. She’ll be a mighty fine asset to my crew. In addition to just being mighty fine.” The Marshall laughed heartily and his goons joined in on cue.

  Sterling took a step forward, intentionally shielding Commander Banks from the weapon aimed at his chest. This wasn’t some chivalrous act in order to protect her, and he knew Banks well enough to know she wouldn’t assume as much. However, while the Marshall had somehow managed to sneak a weapon inside the arena, the lawman was unaware that Sterling had done too. The difference was that Sterling’s weapon was not a pistol, but a near super-human woman. Sterling wanted to be sure that the Marshall’s attention was focused solely on him, so that Banks was free to make a move when needed.

  “A deal is a deal, Marshall,” said Sterling, facing down the armed man without fear. “Don’t make the mistake of crossing me.”

  The Marshall laughed again, though this time it was scornful, and his deputies did not join in. “Do you think I survived all this time as a lawman without learning how to recognize when someone is keeping secrets?” the man said. Sterling felt his stomach tighten into a knot, but he held his ground and maintained his posture. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re at Hope Rises, but it sure as hell ain’t to trade.” Then the Marshall’s chin dipped and he looked at Sterling over the top of his eyes. “I assure you, mister, you will tell me everything. And then you will be judged.”

  Sterling glanced down at a fold-up chair that was positioned between himself and the Marshall. He steeled himself, ready to kick it at the man and launch his attack. However, before he could make the move, the door to the arena burst open and a man darted inside, shouting at the top of his voice.

  “Sa’Nerra!” the man shouted, banging what looked like a wooden chair leg against the metal hand-rail. “It’s a raid! The Sa’Nerra are coming!”

  The crowd immediately charged toward the exit, pushing past one other and trampling over any that were unlucky enough to fall. Suddenly a group of people barged between the Marshall and his deputies and the Marshall’s weapon fired, causing more chaos and panic. Sterling wasted no time, rushing forward and grabbing the Marshall’s wrist, pushing the barrel up the ceiling. The Marshall roared and thumped a fist into Sterling’s jaw. He tasted blood and smashed his own fist into the lawman’s face, landing a harder and cleaner blow that stunned the man. The Marshall’s deputies were soon on him, trying to wrestle Sterling’s hand away from their employer. Then Banks appeared, throwing members of the passing throng aside like they were helium-filled balloons. She grabbed the two deputies by the throat and lifted them so that the toes of their boots danced across the sticky floor, like inept ballet dancers. Her eyes were fierce, but Sterling could see that Banks was still in control. Smashing the heads of the two goons together, she then tossed them over the railings, crushing more of the escaping crowd below.

  The stunned Marshall let go of his weapon, allowing Sterling to strip it from his grasp, and held up his hands in surrender.

  “Okay, kid, you got me this time,” the Marshall said, showing his broad, toothy smile again. He backed away from Sterling, but only succeeded in walking into the mass of hyper-dense muscle that was Mercedes Banks. The lawman cowered from Banks, as if her five-feet nine-inch diamond-cut physique was even more threatening than that of the monstrous Sa’Nerran cage fighter. “We’ll just call it quits. How’s that?” he said, still holding his hands up.

  Any other Fleet officer would have accepted the man’s mewling apology. However, Sterling had also survived in the Void for long enough to know that the promises of men such as the Marshall meant nothing. He also knew that prideful, humiliated men held grudges. Sterling had enough trouble to deal with as it was, without a vengeful lawman on his tail.

  “Here’s my judgement,” said Sterling, aiming the compact pistol at the man’s heart and squeezing the trigger. The Marshall flinched then stared down at the blood oozing from his chest. He looked up at Sterling, mouth agape, but all that came out was a guttural croak, followed by a trickle of blood. Then he slumped forward and fell face-first onto the floor.

  “I’m glad you’re on my side,” said Banks, staring down at the body, wide-eyed.

  “Come on, we need to get moving,” said Sterling, brushing off Banks’ comment. He looked over to the cage and saw Lieutenant Shade making her way across the rapidly thinning sea of spectators. Even under the dim lighting of the arena, Sterling could see that she was pretty beaten up, though her movements were still strong and confident. He jumped down from their private viewing area and met her in the ringside section, which was now mostly clear of people, bar those who had been trampled underfoot.

  “Well done, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, stepping over the unconscious, bloodied body of a fight fan. “But we’re not out of this yet. The Sa’Nerra are apparently on their way.”

  “The commando team reports that they’re back at the ship, and that the fuel is loaded,” said Shade, wiping blood onto her bare shoulder from the corner of her mouth. “Shall I have them re-group and head back here?”

  The distant sound of plasma weapons fire was now filtering down the stairwell beyond the entrance. Shouts and screams were mixed in with the blasts.

  “No, have them remain on standby in the lower hold,” said Sterling. “We’ll bring the commandoes to us.”

  Sterling, Shade and Banks continued to push on through what remained of the crowd, which had bottlenecked at the narrow door. Sterling fired the compact weapon he’d taken from the Marshall twice into the air, causing the crowd to part and let him through. Holding the weapon high so that the colonists could clearly see it, he moved ahead then tapped his neural interface to connect to Ensign Keller.

  “Ensign, report,” said Sterling, stopping in front of the man mountain who had wordlessly demanded they hand over their weapons before entering the arena.

  “One phase-three Sa’Nerran Skirmisher is hovering just south of Hope Rises, Captain,” said Ensign Keller. “They dropped a ground assault squad of twelve warriors and appear to be scouting the colony. There is no indication they have detected us.”

  “It’s time to change that, Ensign,” said Sterling. “Launch and take care of that enemy vessel. Then set down at our location and open the lower hold. The commandos can deal with whatever is left of the ground assault squad.” The ensign responded briskly and the link went dead. Sterling then turned to the enormous doorman, who appeared to be the only one in the entire arena besides themselves who wasn’t panicking.

  “I’m going to need our weapons back,” said Sterling, standing tall, although the top of his head barely reached the level of the doorman’s Adam’s apple. The man peered down at Sterling, but remained unmoved. “Please,” Sterling added, as an afterthought. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone he met was under his command.

  The enormous man slowly turned to the side and rapped his enormous knuckles against the hatch of the cubby hole. A couple of seconds later it opened and the face of the woman who had taken the metal boxes appeared. She saw Sterling, rolled her eyes and disappea
red inside the room again. Sterling smiled up at the doorman as they waited; the behemoth stared back at him blankly. The woman then returned and slid two metal boxes out onto the shelf.

  “You may as well have these too,” she said, unlocking both boxes, one of which contained the weapons that had belonged to the Marshall and his deputies. She then slammed the hatch shut without another word.

  Sterling handed out the weapons then picked up the conventional firearm that had belonged to the Marshall and held it out to the doorman. “You might need this,” he said, offering the man the weapon. The doorman shook his head slowly from side to side. “Suit yourself,” Sterling said, shoving the weapon down the back of his pants.

  Sterling stepped away from the doorman and moved to the bottom of the stairwell with Banks and Shade close behind. He’d only managed to place one foot on the sticky steps before the sonorous rumble of a voice behind him caused him to stop. He turned back to the doorman, though the man mountain was now looking at Lieutenant Shade.

  “Good fight,” the doorman said, his voice so low and loud that it rattled Sterling’s chest like a nightclub subwoofer. “Good to see you again,” he continued, rattling Sterling’s chest some more.

  Shade nodded respectfully toward the doorman then turned and waited for Sterling to lead the way. A dozen questions immediately leapt into his mind, but as intriguing as they all were, he knew that now was not the time to ask them. Running up the stairs, weapon raised, Sterling made his way to the main exit of the trading post. There was already heavy fighting outside, and dozens of bodies littered the stony ground. Plasma blasts flashed past the windows, along with terrified colonists.