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

by G J Ogden

  “Three or four months, I’d say,” replied Razor.

  Sterling's brow wrinkled. “Three or four months? I don’t plan on being in the Void for three weeks, never mind three months, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, feeling a sudden weight lift from his shoulders. “What about fuel stores and other components?”

  Razor checked her computer while Sterling sifted through some of the intact meal trays that his engineer had uncovered.

  “The official inventory reports that the fuel depot is at ten percent of capacity,” Razor continued, while continuing to flick through the data. “That’s more than enough for the Invictus, especially if we’re not planning a protracted stay in the Void.”

  “Understood, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, smiling at one of the vacuum-sealed trays then handing it to Banks. His first officer took the tray then laughed, flipping it over and holding it up like a trophy.

  “A vintage number four, duck cassoulet,” Banks said, smiling sweetly at Sterling. “You sure know how to treat a girl, Captain.”

  Sterling picked up another tray and tapped his finger to the identification code on the packaging. “Even better, they have a stack of number twenty-sevens,” he said, unable to hide his excitement.

  Razor observed the curious exchange between the two most senior officers of the Invictus, appearing more awkward as the conversation developed.

  “Are you sure those are safe to eat, Captain?” Razor chipped in, picking up one of the trays and examining it. “They are over forty years old, after all.”

  “They could be two hundred years old for all the difference it would make, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, dropping the number twenty-seven back onto the pile. “Just heat ‘em and eat ‘em, that’s all there is to it.” However, judging from the revolted expression on his engineer’s face, Sterling didn’t think Razor had been fully convinced by his assurances that the vintage meal trays were edible. “Transfer what we need to the Invictus, Lieutenant, but take only what we need, understood?”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Razor, though the engineer appeared perplexed. “Our hold is large enough to take it all, though, Captain, should you want to.”

  Sterling shook his head. “Leave the rest for the colonists. We would have been dinner for the creatures down here if it wasn’t for them.”

  “Aye, sir,” Razor replied, briskly. The engineer then headed off to continue her inventory and co-ordinate the teams from the Invictus who were standing ready to transfer the supplies to the ship.

  “We should take it all, you know,” said Banks, once Razor was out of earshot. “If we take damage and are forced to land to make repairs, it could easily be a couple of months before we get back to friendlier space.”

  “Perhaps,” said Sterling, idly picking up an old Fleet issue plasma pistol and toying with it. The energy cell design was now incompatible with the newer pistols they carried making it nothing more than a display piece. “But I made a deal,” he added, meeting Banks’ eyes. “I may be a cold-hearted killer, but at least I’m true to my word. The Omega Directive hasn’t taken that from me yet.”

  Sterling then noticed that Jana, the colonist who had saved them from being mauled to death by alien hounds, had stepped inside the vault. Sterling and Banks turned to greet their savior as she approached with a smile on her face.

  “I have a group of people waiting outside the perimeter fence of the base to carry the supplies back to our camp,” said Jana, sifting through a selection of meal trays. “I must admit that you were far more generous in your allocation than I was expecting,” she added.

  “I imagine you have as much claim to these supplies as I do,” Sterling replied. Jana frowned, apparently not understanding his meaning. Sterling pointed to the old Fleet-issue survival gear underneath the woman’s furs. “I’m assuming you either took these from a base like this, or inherited them from their original owner?”

  Jana looked down at the combat pants, which were patched up in so many places the DPM pattern was barely visible, then met Sterling’s eyes again.

  “They belonged to my grandmother,” Jana said, lowering her eyes to the floor. It was obvious to Sterling that simply admitting that fact had been difficult for the colonist. “She was stationed here when the war broke out, but refused to leave when the evacuation was called,” Jana continued. The colonist then picked up the old Fleet pistol that Sterling had been toying with earlier and turned it over in her hands. “My mother was ten at the time,” she continued, tossing the pistol onto the pile. “This was their home. They didn’t want to leave.” Jana looked at Sterling again and he could see bitterness and sadness in her eyes. “Fleet tried to force them onto the transports, but my grandmother ran with my mom and a group of others who felt as she did. Fleet just left them behind.”

  Sterling nodded. “I guess you weren’t thrilled to see a Fleet ship land here then?”

  “I was more surprised than anything else,” Jana replied. “Fleet forgot about us a long time ago.”

  “Not all of us,” Sterling said, picking up the vintage Fleet pistol again. “These old weapons may have fired their last blast, but the fight isn’t over. I still plan to kick the Sa’Nerra out of the Void and all the way back to the shithole planet they came from.”

  Jana laughed, which was not the reaction Sterling had expected in response to his audacious pledge. “Well, I hope I’m still around to see it, Captain,” she said, a smile returning to her face.

  Sterling felt a neural link form in his mind. He’d grown so used to the absence of neural communication that the sensation took him by surprise. Sterling tapped his neural implant and opened the connection to allow Banks to monitor.

  “Captain, we’ve detected a ship entering the atmosphere a few hundred kilometers from our location,” said Lieutenant Razor. “However, at ground level, the metals in these rocks are playing havoc with our scanners. We lost the ship in the noise, but if it’s heading in this direction, we may only have minutes before it arrives.”

  Sterling tossed the pistol then clicked his fingers to get Lieutenant Shade’s attention. The weapons officer responded without hesitation, tapping her link to join the neural conference call.

  “Lieutenant, get everyone back on-board the ship and prepare to launch,” Sterling said, hustling toward the door. “And arm the weapons and charge the regenerative armor. We’ll be with you shortly.”

  Razor uttered a brisk acknowledgement then the link went dead. Sterling turned back to Jana, who was looking understandably puzzled by his actions. As a second-generation survivor, Jana lacked a neural implant.

  “There’s another ship incoming,” Sterling explained to the perplexed colonist. “I suggest you get clear of the base until we’re sure it’s not a threat.”

  Jana nodded then followed Sterling and Banks out of the vault. Shade and the commandoes had already moved ahead, following the path laid out through the torch-lit corridors. From the darkness of the adjoining sections, Sterling could still make out the silvery eyes and hear the scrape of claws from the beasts that inhabited the underground space. Bursting out into open, Sterling was forced to shield his eyes from the sudden, intense brightness of natural light. The thrum of the Invictus' reactor filled the air with the sound of raw power and energy. Squinting his eyes across to his ship, Sterling peered up at the command level and tapped his neural interface.

  “Lieutenant, we’re clear of the underground levels. Tell Ensign Keller to take off as soon as we’re on board,” Sterling said.

  “Aye, Captain, we’re all set,” Razor replied.

  Sterling then closed the link and turned to Jana. “Anything left in those vaults is yours,” he said, offering the colonist his hand.

  “Thank you, Captain Sterling,” Jana replied, shaking his hand firmly. “I hope one day you’ll come back and make good on your promise to kick the Sa’Nerra out of the Void.”

  “I will, you can count on it,” Sterling replied. It wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration. To Sterling, winnin
g the war didn’t mean merely stopping the Sa’Nerra from invading the solar system. It meant beating them back to their own corner of the galaxy for good. And, if necessary, wiping them out completely. The War Council and Fleet admirals may not have had held true to his personal definition of success. However, to Sterling victory could never be claimed until the Sa’Nerra had been crushed and put in their place.

  “You’re not going anywhere!”

  The shout came out of nowhere and took Sterling by surprise. He spun around to see Marshall Ed Masterson standing on the flat roof above the entrance to the lower levels. In his hands was an older model Fleet plasma rifle and he was aiming it directly at Sterling’s chest.

  Chapter 10

  Judgement time

  Sterling peered up at the Marshall, at first unsure whether his eyes were playing tricks on him. The last time he’d seen the man, the Marshall’s crippled ship was spiraling out of control into the atmosphere of the planet. Yet here the old lawman was, still looking remarkably alive. However, despite Masterson’s miraculous escape, Sterling could see that the older man was badly injured. His face was cut and blooded and his clothes were scorched and torn.

  Moments later, more armed men and women scurried out across the rooftops and from the overgrown flora that had grown up inside the base over the decades. Sterling watched as the Marshall lowered himself to a sitting position with his legs dangling over the side of the building, wincing in pain as he did so.

  “My guess is that you’re probably wondering how I’m still alive, Captain,” the Marshall said, perceptively.

  “It had crossed my mind,” Sterling replied. He was eager to get on with his mission, but at the same time curious to know how the lawman had escaped his fiery fate.

  “That old gen-one destroyer wasn’t the only ship I commandeered over the years,” the Marshall replied, pulling a bent cigar from his jacket pocket and popping it into his mouth. “Sa’Nerran combat shuttles are a pig to fly, but they’re tough as old boots.” The Marshall lit the cigar from a lighter that had also been in his jacket pocket. The tip of the cigar burned brightly then a dark plume billowed out of the lawman’s mouth, like the smoke from the factories on the horizon.

  “I’m a busy man, Marshall, what do you want?” Sterling called up to the man. It was a pointless question, since it was clear what the lawman wanted. However, Sterling was keen to progress their encounter to its conclusion.

  The Marshall laughed but his chest quickly began to spasm and the sound descended into a harsh, throaty cough. Masterson removed the cigar from between his lips and spat a globule of red spittle onto the rooftop beside his leg.

  “What do I want?” the Marshall eventually managed to reply, coughing and laughing at the same time. “I want justice,” he added, calmly. “It’s judgement time, Captain.”

  This time it was Sterling who laughed. “This isn’t your courtroom, Marshall, you have no jurisdiction here,” He pointed over to the Invictus, parked on the landing pad only a hundred meters away. “One word to my ship and a dozen plasma turrets will reduce you and what’s left of your deputies and mercs to ashes.”

  The Marshall shoved the cigar in his mouth then sucked in another lungful of black smoke before allowing it to slowly escape from between his lips. All the while he continued to watch Sterling closely. If the man had a plan for what he intended to do when he caught up with Sterling, he didn’t appear to be following it.

  “I lied to you earlier, Captain, when I said that it didn’t matter that the lawman you killed was my son,” the Marshall said, tapping the cigar against the wall to dislodge the ash. “I think I believed I was merely seeking justice at the time. But the truth of it is that I don’t care about justice. Not in this case.”

  Sterling felt a neural link begin to form as the Marshall was speaking. The presence of Banks, Shade and Razor filled his mind.

  “I have weapons locked on to the Marshall and his deputies, Captain, but the risk of hitting you is high,” Razor said through the link.

  “My commando team is standing by, ready to move out on your order, sir,” Shade added.

  “Understood,” Sterling replied through the link, though he continued to focus on the Marshall. “Lieutenant Razor, get ready to take the shot on my command. The commandoes can then mop up what’s left of them.”

  Both officers replied with brisk acknowledgements. Sterling then focused back in on the Marshall’s voice, leaving the neural link open.

  “The truth is, Captain, that you killed my son, and I can’t let that go,” the Marshall continued, unaware of Sterling’s secret conversation. “I’m sure you’re not bluffing when you say your fancy ship could take me down. But if that happens then my deputies are under orders to kill the other colonists we found waiting just outside the gate.”

  Jana bristled at the mention of her companions and took a step toward the Marshall’s perch. The barrels of multiple pistols and rifles turned toward her as she did so.

  “My people have nothing to do with this,” Jana called up to the Marshall. “Leave then out of it, or you’ll have more than just a pissed off Fleet Captain to deal with.” The woman was not pleading with the Marshall – Jana was angry and sounded like she meant every word she’d said.

  “I’m afraid that since you already buddied up with the Fleet, you made yourself a part of this, missy,” the Marshall hit back. The lawman then returned his attention to Sterling. “I’ll make you a deal, Captain,” he said, popping the cigar back into the corner of his mouth. “You give yourself up to me for judgement, and I let the colonists and the rest of your crew go.”

  Sterling shook his head. “If you’re looking for a noble sacrifice, Marshall, then you clearly don’t know who the hell you’re talking to,” he hit back. “My life, your life, and especially the life of your double-crossing son don’t matter. My mission is bigger than myself and it’s bigger than my ship and my crew.” Sterling pressed his hands to the small of his back and stood tall. “So, if you want a fight Marshall, you’ve got one.”

  The Marshall’s eyes grew wide and wild and he raised his rifle. “Shoot!” the Marshall bellowed, the cigar falling from his mouth and he did so. “Shoot! Kill them all!”

  Sterling had already relayed his order to fire through the neural link before the Marshall had even opened his mouth. Plasma erupted from the turrets on the Invictus, thumping searing blasts of energy into the forest and undergrowth surrounding the base. Screams of agony followed soon after. Sterling grabbed Jana and pulled her down into cover, but not before the Marshall was able to get a shot off. Sterling felt the punch of the plasma blast hit his back, but his body armor protected him from the older-model weapon the Marshall was using. Turning back to the Marshall’s perch, Sterling saw the Invictus’ turrets reduce the front of the building to rubble. The Marshall had managed to scramble clear moments before being pulled down into the collapsing structure. Sterling aimed his pistol then a blast from the Invictus disintegrated the lawman’s left arm like it was kindling in a camp fire. He heard the man scream, then lost sight of the Marshall in the clouds of dust rising from the destroyed buildings. Cursing, he turned his attention to the deputies and mercenaries surrounding the complex. Fires had sprung up all around them, but through the smoke he could see that the Marshall’s remaining forces were fleeing.

  “Lieutenant Shade, take your commandoes and pursue the Marshall and any survivors,” Sterling called out through the neural link. “Eliminate them all. This time, we leave nothing to chance!”

  “Aye, sir, moving out,” Shade replied. Sterling could practically feel the adrenalin surging through his weapons officer's body as she spoke the words in his mind.

  Moments later, Sterling saw Lieutenant Shade and the commandoes rush down the cargo ramp of the Invictus and head toward them. Sterling pushed himself up, quickly checking on Banks, who nodded to signify she was okay. Jana was also moving, though Sterling could see blood matting the hair around the back of her neck. He quickly checke
d her over, but her injuries were not serious, and seconds later they were both on their feet.

  “Permission to join Lieutenant Shade to pursue those bastards,” said Commander Banks, rising to her full height.

  “Denied, Commander,” replied Sterling, stepping beside his first officer and dusting himself down. “Let her do her job. We need to do ours and get back on-mission.”

  Suddenly, Lieutenant Razor’s voice filled Sterling’s mind from the bridge of the Invictus. “Captain, we have a second ship incoming!” the engineer bellowed. Her voice was so loud inside his head that it was like Razor had shouted the words directly into Sterling’s ear.

  “Why did we not detect it sooner?” Sterling replied, scanning the horizon.

  “Unknown, Captain, but it’s right on top of us,” Razor replied. “What are your orders?”

  The ground beneath their feet shook, then a Fleet Destroyer rose from the valley beneath them, like a phoenix from the ashes. The ship was old and battered, and barely larger than the Invictus, but the glowing tips of its plasma guns were no less threatening because of it.

  “Stay where you are or I will open fire!” a voice bellowed out through an external PA.

  Lieutenant Shade and the commandoes slid to a stop and took up positions, aiming their weapons at the destroyer, but Sterling held up a hand to stop them.

  “Hold your fire,” Sterling called out, directing the command to both Shade and Razor through the open neural link.

  Shade and Razor acknowledged the command then Sterling turned back to the ship and scowled up at the scarred hull. There was something about the aged gen-one destroyer that he found familiar. Then he noticed the chipped and faded letters of the vessel’s name, barely visible on the ship’s belly. It was the Fleet Destroyer Bismarck. It was the mutineer ship commanded by Lieutenant Christopher Fletcher.

  Chapter 11