by G J Ogden
“I suppose we should be glad they didn’t just shoot us on sight,” Sterling said. He then straightened up, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, ready to speak to the frigate’s commander. Somehow, he had to explain how they’d just appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Put them through, Commander.”
The commander of the Corpus Christi appeared on the viewscreen. She appeared even more bemused than Sterling had expected her to look.
“This is Commander Rosa Dotson of the Fleet Frigate Corpus Christi,” the commander began, still wearing a slightly pained expression. “Identify yourself and explain your purpose here. This is now a restricted area.”
“I’m Captain Lucas Sterling of the Fleet Marauder Invictus, Commander,” Sterling replied, managing to sound stronger than he felt. “However, how we ended up here is going to take a little more time to explain.”
“I suggest you try to make it brief, Captain,” Commander Dotson replied, skeptically.
Sterling’s console chimed an update then he saw that the Corpus Christi had locked weapons onto them. If Commander Dotson had been standing in front of him at that moment, Sterling imagined she would have pulled a pistol and trained it on him with her finger on the trigger.
“I suggest you remove your weapons lock from my ship, Commander,” Sterling replied, stressing Dotson’s lower rank. “We’re on the same side here.”
Commander Dotson was not swayed. “Not until I’ve confirmed your identity and established exactly how you got here, Captain,” the woman hit back. “Those are my orders. You and your crew could be turned for all I know.”
Sterling appreciated the predicament that the commander was in. However, he also knew he could throw the same logic back at her.
“I could say the same for you and your crew, Commander Dotson,” Sterling replied. “We could go around in circles all day trying to convince one another of who we are. At some point we’re going to need to trust each other.”
“Trust is in pretty short supply at the moment, Captain,” Dotson answered. There was a fatalistic air to her statement that suggested the situation within the Fleet had worsened while Sterling had been away. “At least tell me how you got here. Give me something.”
“My mission is classified, Commander,” replied Sterling. He figured that if Griffin had been so secretive about the hidden apertures, she must have had her reasons. Sterling’s console chimed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Commander Dotson.
“Light Cruisers Centaur and Champion just surged in, Captain,” said Commander Banks. “They’ve set an intercept course and are charging weapons.”
Sterling cursed under his breath. He realized he was in a bind with no way out. His only choices were to fight the Fleet ships then try to escape, or surrender and be escorted to F-COP like a captured enemy. However, one way or another he knew he’d have to answer for his actions by disobeying orders and heading into the Void.
“Commander, I request that you escort the Invictus to F-COP,” said Sterling.
Dotson sighed. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I have my orders,” the commander replied. “Any vessel that has potentially come into contact with the enemy or returned from enemy-controlled space must be seized and its crew quarantined under guard.”
“That really isn’t necessary, Commander,” Sterling protested, but the officer held firm.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but these orders contain no ambiguity,” Dotson cut in. “Now surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded. Fail to comply and I will be forced to declare you and your crew aides to the emissaries and enemies of the United Governments.”
Sterling glanced down at his console and saw that the two light cruisers were already in weapons range. Even a completely fresh Invictus operating at peak efficiency would struggle to take on two gen-three cruisers and a frigate. As it was, their reactor was still down, they had no engines or weapons and their atmosphere was slowly leaking into space.
“Very well, Commander Dotson, I surrender the Invictus to you,” Sterling said, still managing to stand tall, despite the humiliating act. “I will make preparations to receive your crew.”
“Thank you, Captain Sterling,” replied Dotson. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary, Commander,” replied Sterling. “You are only doing your duty.”
Sterling was about to end the transmission when a question popped into his head. It wasn’t especially important, but unless he asked it, he knew it would gnaw at him.
“One last thing, Commander Dotson,” Sterling asked.
“Go ahead, Captain,” Dotson replied, more than a little reticently.
“Who gave the order to capture any ships returning from enemy-controlled space?” Sterling asked.
“The orders were relayed by Admiral Wessel,” Dotson replied.
Sterling laughed and shook his head. “Thank you, Commander,” he replied. Dotson nodded respectfully then cut the transmission.
The viewscreen updated to show the Corpus Christi looming in space ahead of them, with the two cruisers slowly moving in behind it.
“Wessel…” said Commander Banks, spitting the word out like poison. “It would have to be him.”
Sterling sighed and nodded. Wessel knew that there was only one Fleet ship out in the Void, so the order was specifically directed at them.
“Commander Banks, inform the crew to return to their quarters and cooperate with the boarding party,” Sterling said, stepping down from the command platform. “And ensure that any data pertaining to how we got here is mysteriously ‘corrupted’ in the ship’s logs.”
“Aye, Captain,” Banks said, setting to work.
“Then once you’re done, meet me in the wardroom,” Sterling added, heading for the exit. However, Banks appeared perplexed by the addendum to Sterling’s last order.
“Why exactly am I meeting you in the wardroom, Captain?” she asked.
“For dinner, of course,” Sterling said, continuing toward the exit. “After all, this might end up being our last meal.”
Chapter 34
An unexpected assignment
Lucas Sterling had never considered himself to be a proud man. He took pride in his work, the mission, his ship and his crew, but to him that wasn’t the same thing. That was pride in duty and service, not himself. Even so, the act of having his ship seized and flown back to F-COP in disgrace while he sat alone in his quarters was difficult to swallow. He accepted it as a consequence of his actions, yet he regretted nothing. His actions were in support of the war and he had succeeded. They now had in their custody the one man who could potentially nullify the Sa’Nerra’s key advantage. If the neural weapon could be rendered useless then the suspicion and fear that were running rampant inside Fleet command would end. They could throw their ships into a direct assault at the Sa’Nerran invasion armada and crush them, once and for all. Yet, as he waited outside the door to the room where his court martial hearing had been convened, he pondered whether he would be sitting out the rest of the war in Grimaldi.
Finally, the door opened and Sterling was invited in. However, rather than being confronted by the Judge Advocate General and a panel of other senior officers, he was met by Ernest Clairborne, the United Governments’ Secretary of War.
“Come in, Captain Sterling,” said Clairborne, ushering him inside. “You can remain standing. This won’t take long.”
Sterling moved inside and saw that Fleet Admiral Griffin was also in the room, along with Admiral Wessel and Admiral Rossi, the commander of the Third Fleet. The Judge Advocate General, however, was conspicuous by her absence.
“I’m confused, sir, I thought this was going to be a court martial hearing?” Sterling said, as Clairborne took a seat at the conference table. The admirals had all remained standing.
“Yes, well, certain matters have been brought to my attention that change things,” Clairborne replied.
Clairborne shot a sideways glance at Fleet Admiral Griffin as he said this. Gr
iffin, however, did not meet the Secretary of War’s eyes and was instead focused on Sterling. The intensity of her stare was more unsettling than being brought before the secretary without knowing why.
“In light of this new information, you have no charges to answer, Captain,” Clairborne went on. “In fact, we may end up pinning another damned medal on your chest,” the politician added, with a gruff laugh.
“That’s not necessary, sir,” Sterling, replied. The last thing he wanted was another medal.
“There is a matter that remains unresolved, however,” Clairborne added, becoming a touch sterner. “We have still not established how you found your way to F-sector when your last reported location was the Void.”
Sterling shrugged. “As I detailed in my report, sir, I honestly don’t know what happened,” he lied. Sterling had already taken the decision to keep the knowledge of the unstable apertures a secret. “My chief engineer believes it could have been a wormhole, or perhaps a freak accident. We were badly damaged and our surge field generator was malfunctioning.”
“I see,” replied Clairborne. Though, even with a politician’s tact for disguising their true feelings, it was clear to Sterling that Clairborne did not trust his answer. “In any case, we will continue to analyze your logs,” the Secretary of War went on. “It is, however, a pity that so much of the data is corrupted.”
Sterling shrugged again. “As I said, sir, we suffered heavy damage in the Void.”
“Of course, of course,” said Clairborne with the same forced politeness. “Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase, Captain, to save us all time,” Clairborne went on, becoming more upbeat. “By recovering James Colicos from the enemy, you have done Fleet and the United Governments a great service,” the Secretary went on. However, despite the laudatory nature of the statement, Clairborne did not appear particularly enthused. “The damage, however, is already done. We may already be too late to do anything about the neural control weapon.”
“Sir, if I may,” Sterling cut in, but again Clairborne waved him off.
“I’ve read your report, Captain, and I understand your position,” the Secretary interrupted. “You may be right, and we will utilize Colicos’ talents in order to search for an ‘antidote’ to this neural disease.” Sterling could tell there was a “but” coming, and Clairborne didn’t disappoint. “But the fact remains the enemy is at our gates. Their armada, which now includes dozens of our own damned ships, outnumbers ours. And while our forces are superior in skill, the Sa’Nerran advantage remains.”
“Sir, that is precisely why we need to counteract the neural control weapon,” Sterling protested. He suspected that nothing he could say would change the outcome of the meeting, but he still wanted his voice to be heard. “If we can neutralize the emissaries and their aides, and prevent other ships and crew from being turned against us, the Sa’Nerran advantage crumbles.”
Clairborne stood up, a sure-fire signal that the meeting – such as it was – was about to come to a close.
“Your opinion is noted, Captain Sterling,” Clairborne said. The Secretary of War then slid a personal digital assistant across the table. “Here are you new orders, Captain.”
Sterling frowned then glanced at Admiral Griffin, half-expecting her to interject. However, the Admiral remained silent, her eyes still fixed onto him. Sterling picked up the PDA and turned it on.
“I’m being posted to the Earth Defense Fleet?” Sterling said, scanning through the orders. His stomach knotted and he felt physically sick with anger. “But with a temporary attachment to the Special Investigations Branch?”
Sterling had not made any attempt to hide his clear displeasure at the orders and this had not gone unnoticed by Clairborne.
“That is correct, Captain Sterling,” Clairborne replied. He had remained calm and personable, though it was also apparent his patience was wearing thin. “I believe your experience and knowledge would greatly benefit the SIB, especially as it seeks to uncover irregularities in the Fleet.”
Sterling remained silent. He had a pretty good idea what “irregularities” Clairborne was referring to. And he couldn’t deny that there was a certain cleverness to the act of assigning Sterling to the SIB. It would mean he would no longer be under the protection of Admiral Griffin. However, more importantly, it would mean that he was effectively tasked with uncovering his own covert operations. It would force him to give up the Omega Taskforce or lie to protect it. Then he noticed the names of the admirals present at the meeting. Griffin no longer held the rank of Fleet Admiral. Instead, Admiral Rossi now held the position. Sterling shook his head again. It hadn’t been Sterling who had been court-martialed, but Griffin.
“You will report to me at oh nine hundred tomorrow, Captain Sterling,” said Admiral Wessel, clearly enjoying himself immensely. “Bring your first officer too,” he added in a smug, syrupy tone. “I want an opportunity to speak to you both to make sure you fully understand your new roles.”
Sterling turned to Admiral Griffin, expecting – and hoping – that she would intervene. However, she merely remained silent.
“If there is no other business, then this meeting is over,” said Clairborne, who then gathered up his personal effects and made a bee-line for the door.
Admiral Griffin and Admiral Rossi also left, but Sterling was still too stunned to move. It wasn’t until Admiral Wessel was practically standing in front of him that he was able to gather his senses.
“It’s time for you to fall in line, Captain,” Admiral Wessel said, glowering at Sterling. “I know all about Griffin’s little ‘taskforce’ and what you have been doing.” He shot Sterling an oily smile. “It’s ironic that as her favorite pet, you will be the one to bring Griffin down.”
Sterling’s mind was now as sharp as a scalpel. He knew what was happening and despite Griffin’s silence during the meeting, his loyalties had not changed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Admiral,” Sterling said. He was outwardly calm, but inside he was still raging. “However, I’m very much looking forward to my new assignment,” he added, sarcastically. “There are many irregularities in the Fleet. For example, I’m keen to explore how the offspring of senior Fleet officers appear to be promoted to positions of authority, without merit or due process.”
Wessel’s eyes narrowed, but he retained his oily smile. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you Captain?” he said, coming almost toe-to-toe with Sterling. “But you’re mine now. And you will follow my orders to the letter, or you’ll find yourself in a jail cell for the rest of your life.”
Sterling smiled and held his ground. If the two men came any closer, they would have cracked heads.
“Will that be all, sir?” Sterling asked, politely.
“For now,” Wessel spat back at him. Then he turned and headed toward the door. “Oh nine hundred tomorrow, Captain,” Wessel called out as he went. “Do not be late.”
Suddenly, Sterling found himself alone in the room. He had walked in expecting to be court martialed, but instead he’d suffered arguably a worse sentence. He’d had a bow tied around him and been presented as a gift to the most loathsome officer in the Fleet. Sterling flopped down into one of the meeting chairs, shaking his head. It had all happened so fast and he was still unable to process what it meant for the Invictus and his crew.
Then Sterling felt a neural link forming in his mind. He scowled and scanned the surface of the conference table, spotting a neural jammer. While scanners that were able to intercept and read neural communication were banned, neural jammers were permitted in rare circumstances. This was especially the case when members of the War Council were involved, as there had been during Sterling’s meeting. However, Sterling could see that the jammer was still active, which meant that no-one should have been able reach out to him.
Tapping his neural interface to allow the connection he felt a presence fill his mind and knew immediately who it was.
“Sit tight, Captain,” said Admiral Natasha
Griffin. “Play along with Wessel and keep your nose clean. This isn’t over.”
The neural link then went dead, once again leaving Sterling utterly speechless. However, this time at least he knew he was not on his own.
Chapter 35
An uncertain future
Sterling lay on his bed in his quarters, staring at the ceiling. The rest of the crew were on leave, pending yet another raft of repairs to the Invictus. Sterling was normally keen to speed up the work, so that he could get back into action. However, this time he hoped that the repairs would drag because as soon as they were done, he’d be heading away from the front line. His new commander, Admiral Wessel, would ensure that Sterling was kept under a tight leash and as far away from the action as possible. He’d hoped to hear more from Admiral Griffin, but as the new commander of the Third Fleet, she had already departed for E-COP.
Sterling closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Griffin’s assurance that it was not over had given him some reason to hope that his mission and the Omega Taskforce would continue. However, at that moment, lying on his bed on his empty ship, he couldn’t see how. With his mind quiet and his body still, Sterling suddenly heard a scratching sound. At first, he thought it was just a noise made by the repair crews filtering through the ship’s structure. Then he realized it was emanating from somewhere inside his quarters. Sitting up, he tried to focus on the noise, but despite his keen hearing he couldn’t quite place it.
“Computer, what is that damned noise?” Sterling said, aiming the question at the ceiling.
“There is a Beagle hound scratching at your door, Captain,” the computer replied, cheerfully. “The animal’s designation is Jinx. Shall I let her in?”
“No, you shall not,” Sterling hit back. The noise then went away. Sterling waited for a few moments to make sure it didn’t return then lay back down on his bed. “If that mutt craps outside my door, I’ll devise a new meal tray based on Beagle stew,” he muttered out loud.
