by G J Ogden
“Do we have trouble, Captain?”
“Always, Commander. We need to move out. Razor has an update for us at the command outpost outside the ship.”
Banks sprang into gear, leaving the still sleepy beagle in the pile of bedding. It was clear that a weight had been lifted from her mind. Mercedes Banks was unencumbered and firing on all cylinders again.
“I’m ready, let’s go,” Banks said.
Sterling headed over to the door of his quarters, which slowly ground open again. Cursing, he turned back to Banks.
“Give me a hand with this thing, will you?” he said, trying to force the door into its housing, but he lacked the strength to do so. Then he saw Banks’ pocketing two of the ration bars that had been strewn across the floor. “I hardly think snacks are a priority right now,” he added, tetchily.
Banks moved beside Sterling, still with one ration bar held in her left hand. With her free hand she hammered the door into its housing with barely any effort. The sudden crash of metal caused Sterling to jump.
“Like you said, I need to keep my strength up,” Banks said, flashing her eyes at Sterling while tearing open the wrapper of the ration bar. She bit a huge chunk out of it then offered the bar to him.
Sterling laughed then took the bar from his first officer’s hand. He couldn’t deny that he was famished. “Fine, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” he said, biting a far more modest chunk out of the bar. Then he aimed the remainder of the snack at the pile of bedsheets containing the Beagle. “That thing isn’t staying there, by the way” he said, fixing Banks with a piercing gaze.
Banks frowned and set off along the corridor. “No problem, Jinx can stay with me in my new stateroom-sized Captain’s quarters on the Vanguard,” she said, glancing back at Sterling with one eyebrow raised.
Sterling hurried after her. “I think you’ll find those are going to be my quarters, ‘first officer’ Banks,” he hit back.
Banks smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were keeping your old quarters here. Such as they are.”
Sterling shook his head. “Fine, I get your point, the damn dog can sleep in my ruined quarters, at least for now.” Then he stopped, barring Banks’ progress with an outstretched arm. “But if I find…”
“Yes, I know, if you find a pile of dog shit on your bed, you’ll air-lock us both, I get it,” Banks said, though she was still smiling.
Sterling lowered his arm and nodded, raising himself to his full height. “I’m glad we understand each other,” he said, satisfied that he’d reasserted his authority. “Carry on, Commander Banks.”
Chapter 9
Ghost in the machine
Sterling and Banks walked down the lowered cargo ramp of the Invictus toward the temporary command post that Lieutenants Razor and Shade had established. It was a basic affair, built up from portable tables and computer consoles salvaged from the Invictus. Even so, for a rush job with limited resources, Sterling was impressed with how functional and well laid-out it was.
“Captain, permission to activate the Obsidian Soldiers and prepare them to move out,” Lieutenant Shade said. His weapons officer was already wearing full commando armor and was carrying a Homewrecker heavy plasma rifle.
“Granted, Lieutenant,” replied Sterling. “Do we have enough weapons in the armory to equip them all?”
Shade nodded. “There are a mix of sidearms, rifles and hand-cannons, but we have just enough to cover them, sir,” his weapons officer replied. “I would have preferred to test their marksmanship ability before deploying them, but according to Admiral Griffin’s reports, they are capable.”
Sterling nodded. “Let’s just hope they remember who they’re supposed to be shooting at.”
“I’m sure they will perform adequately, sir,” Lieutenant Shade replied. Then she hesitated and corrected herself. “Actually, I’m far from sure of that, but I don’t see that we have another option.”
“Nor do I, Lieutenant,” Sterling agreed. “See to the Obsidian Soldiers then report back once they’re ready.”
“Aye sir.” Shade hustled away from the command outpost and marched up the ramp back into the Invictus, where the robot soldiers all stood waiting.
“Report, Lieutenant Razor,” said Sterling, turning to his chief engineer. “What are those alien bastards up to now?”
“The Sa’Nerra are attempting to re-establish command pathways to the Vanguard’s Combat Information Center,” said Razor, indicating to one of the console screens on a table in front of her. “They’re working fast. I estimate that they will have a link to the CIC computer core within the next ten minutes.”
Sterling cursed. “If McQueen gets control of the CIC computer, then this is over,” he said, tapping his finger on the table. “She could then just override the airlock doors on this docking garage and vent us all into space.”
Razor nodded. “Aye, sir, Lieutenant Shade and I believe that will be her play,” the engineer replied. “Commander Alicia Cannon used that exact same tactic to clear the Sa’Nerra from the ship, before it became adrift in the Void.”
Sterling nodded, recalling the report fragment that Admiral Griffin had shown him concerning the Vanguard’s disappearance. With her captain dead and the Sa’Nerra rampaging throughout the ship, Commander Cannon made a desperate choice. A choice worthy of an Omega officer, Sterling mused. She overrode the failsafes on every airlock on the ship and blew the Sa’Nerra, herself and her own crew out into space. That act had prevented the Vanguard from falling into enemy hands, effectively buying Fleet another year in their battle against the warmongering aliens. If the Sa’Nerra had captured the dreadnaught, the war may have already been lost. Now, there was the opportunity to get the mighty vessel back into the fight, where it could still make a difference.
“How long will it take you to establish a link to the CIC?” Sterling asked. “It’s imperative that we beat McQueen to the punch.”
“We can’t establish a link before she does, sir,” Razor replied, gravely. “McQueen has too much of a head-start on us.”
“Then give me some options…” Sterling glanced at his Omega officers in turn. “Wild ideas, crazy plans, I don’t care. We have to stop McQueen from taking over this ship.”
“I can assist you, Captain.”
“Who said that?” Sterling peered around the command post. The words hadn’t been spoken by any member of his crew.
“Me, Captain,” the voice replied. Sterling now recognized it as the voice of the gen-fourteen AI, though its tone and manner of speech was far more organic than he was used too.
“I don’t recall inviting you to this briefing, computer,” Sterling said. He felt like his quirky AI had been eavesdropping on them.
“That is technically true, Captain, though in effect I am almost always present,” the computer replied, cheerfully. “Where you see a computer terminal, you see me.”
Banks smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Great, now we have a computer with a god-complex,” she said, shaking her head.
“Well, seeing as you’re here, what is your suggestion?” Sterling continued. If the computer could stop McQueen, then he didn’t care whether it had been invited to the briefing or not.
“The quickest solution, Captain, is for me to synchronize with the Vanguard’s gen-thirteen AI,” the computer said. “It will then receive the latest Fleet status updates, including personnel updates. Since Captain McQueen’s command access was revoked, the gen-thirteen will no longer accept her override codes.”
“But doesn’t that mean it also won’t accept mine?” Sterling replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “After all, Fleet considers me a traitor and a rogue agent too.”
“That is correct, Captain,” the computer confirmed.
“That just solves one problem and creates another,” Banks chipped in. “It stops McQueen from taking over the ship, but it stops us from doing it too.”
“Also correct, Commander Banks, though that situation will only be temporary,�
�� the computer replied.
Now the AI really had got Sterling’s attention. “Why, what else are you able to do?” he asked. Initially, he was wary of allowing the gen-fourteen the liberty to program itself, but it seemed that being freed from its Fleet-imposed safety shackles had also significantly increased its capabilities.
“With your approval, Captain, I will begin the process of assimilating the Vanguard’s generation-thirteen AI,” the computer answered, plainly.
This time it was Razor who raised a curious eyebrow. “But you were never designed to operate a Hammer-class dreadnaught,” Razor said. She sounded skeptical, but also deeply curious. “The roll-out of gen-fourteens was halted before the Hammer was included in the upgrade program. Due to the sheer size and complexity of a dreadnaught, Fleet engineers ran into significant hurdles trying to make it work.”
“My abilities dramatically exceed those of Fleet’s top software engineers,” The AI said, without any hint of ego. “I will be required to infiltrate the Vanguard’s computers and learn all of its functions. It will take time, but once the process is complete, there will be no trace of the gen-thirteen remaining.”
Sterling huffed a laugh. “So in order to take over the Vanguard you have to kill its current AI,” he said, seeing the similarity between the computer’s task and the role of the Omega Taskforce. “You’re an Omega computer through and through.”
“An amusing comparison, Captain, and also quite accurate,” the computer replied. “The Vanguard’s AI will resist my efforts to usurp it.”
Sterling and Banks exchanged anxious glances. “What do you mean by ‘resist’?” said Banks.
“The Vanguard’s gen-thirteen will react to my incursions in the same way that it would to a virus,” the computer replied. “It will aggressively defend itself. As a result, the Vanguard may experience a number of ‘glitches’ during the process.”
“Go ahead, computer,” Sterling replied, realizing that there were no options left to him that didn’t carry significant risk. “So long as you don’t vent us into space, I don’t care about glitches,” he added.
“The probably of that occurring is…” the computer began, but Sterling was quick to cut it off.
“I don’t need to know, computer, just get it done,” Sterling said. He didn’t want to hear talk of probabilities, especially when they related to the chances of him getting spaced.
“Aye, Captain, I shall begin at once,” the computer replied, cheerfully.
The console in front of Lieutenant Razor chimed an update. The chief engineer checked the new information and reported on it as she was reading.
“The Invictus’ AI has interfaced with the Vanguard. Updates have synchronized.” The console then chimed a second update. “McQueen has now established a link to the CIC computer core.” Razor's voice betrayed a sense of unease. “Command override is being requested. Standby…”
Sterling began tapping his finger on the desk surface again. He hated ‘standing by’. Waiting was literally a waste of time.
“Emissary McQueen’s override codes have been rejected,” Razor finally reported, breathing a sigh of relief.
The lights in the docking garage then flickered on and off and the power levels fluctuated, causing several of the consoles in the command outpost to temporarily malfunction.
“The ghost is in the machine,” said Banks, flashing her eyes at Sterling.
Sterling nodded. “The computer’s fight has already begun,” he replied as he peered around the docking garage, which seemed eerily alive. Then he locked eyes with his first officer. “Now it’s our turn to get into close action.”
The thump of metal on metal drew Sterling’s attention to the cargo hold of the Invictus. Row after row of Obsidian robots were marching down the ramp, under the guidance of Lieutenant Shade. The movement of the machines was so precise and synchronized that they looked almost as alien as the Sa’Nerra. However, the thud of their metal feet and the glint of their weapons were very real and familiar. It didn’t matter that they were neither human nor alien; these machines were soldiers.
“Captain, I’ve managed to re-establish partial scanners, and I’m detecting movement,” Lieutenant Razor reported.
“Close by?” Sterling asked, turning to read the consoles in the command post.
“Yes, sir, but it doesn’t look like the movement of Sa’Nerran warriors.” The skin on Razor's shimmering forehead scrunched into a frown. “The Sa’Nerra move in squads, but there’s no obvious pattern to these signals. It just looks chaotic.”
Sterling frowned at the screen, also unable to make sense of the data. However, he did know that Razor was right. Whatever these new contacts were, they were not Sa’Nerran warriors. Then as Sterling was reading the screen, two new sets of contacts appeared.
“More movement, this time split into two clusters,” Razor said, working fast to highlight the positions of the contacts inside the vast Fleet warship. “The first group appears to be making its way toward deck seven, section fourteen, mid-ships,” Razor continued, highlighting the first group in yellow. “The second group appears to be moving toward reactor control on deck fifteen, section five.”
“Well, I don’t know what the hell those first blips are, but I’d bet my house on the two new groups being McQueen’s squads,” Sterling said.
“She’s hedging her bets,” said Banks, appearing to be on the same wavelength as Sterling. “McQueen has a squad moving to the CIC, in an attempt to brute-force their way into the systems and take control. The other squad is moving to reactor control, in case that doesn’t work.”
Razor’s frowned deepened. “And what will they do if they can’t gain control of the Vanguard?”
“They’ll blow this dreadnaught to hell, Lieutenant, that’s what,” replied Sterling. By this point, the Obsidian Soldiers had formed up on the deck of the docking garage and were standing ready. “Keep tracking those groups, Lieutenant,” Sterling added before exiting the command post to inspect his troupe of mechanical warriors.
“Eighty-four robots survived the crash, Captain,” Lieutenant Shade said as Sterling walked along the line. The optical scanner of one Obsidian Soldier tracked Sterling as he went, like the eyes of a painting.
“Split them into two squads, Lieutenant,” said Sterling. He still didn’t trust the machines, but he had no choice but to use them. “Take the bulk of the Obsidian Soldiers plus a couple of your best commandoes and capture the CIC,” he ordered, fixing his stare onto his weapons officer. “Commander Banks, Lieutenant Shade and I will take a dozen Obsidian Soldiers and the remaining commandoes and secure engineering.”
“Captain, I would request that…” Shade began, but Sterling raised a hand to cut her off. He knew that his weapons officer would want to go with her Captain, but on this occasion, he needed her elsewhere.
“I know you’d rather stay at my side, Lieutenant, and I appreciate that, but taking command of the CIC is vital to the success of this mission,” Sterling said. “I need you to handle it personally, is that understood?”
Shade’s jaw tightened as she clamped her mouth shut, in order to stop herself from pursuing her challenge. Eventually, once the fire in her eyes had died down, she straightened to attention. “Aye, Captain, understood.”
Sterling nodded. “Move out at once and keep me informed,” he ordered before turning back to his first officer. “Time for us to suit up too. I want everyone in full combat armor.” Sterling then glanced across to his engineer, whose white hair was still streaked with blood, making it look like she’d already been through a war. “That includes you, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir,” Razor replied. Sterling knew his engineer didn’t like wearing armor, as if affected her dexterity, but he was gratified to hear there was no complaint.
“I’ll order the commandoes to bring the gear out to the command post,” Banks said, reaching for her neural implant. She glanced at the console screen that was still tracking the contacts the Vanguard’s sca
nners had picked up. “I wish we knew what those other blips were, though,” she added. “I don’t like unknowns.”
Banks had barely finished speaking when Commander Graves suddenly appeared at the top of the cargo ramp. Unusually, the medical officer began running toward them. Sterling had never seen the man move at anything quicker than the processional pace of a pallbearer, and realized that this meant more bad news was coming his way.
“Is there a problem, Commander?” Sterling asked as Graves slowed to a stop in front of him.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Commander Graves said, slightly out of breath. “I take it that you have also detected the anomalous movement readings inside the Vanguard?”
Sterling pointed to the console in the command post. “Yes, we have,” he replied, getting a sudden sinking feeling. “I take it that you know what they are?”
“I have a theory, sir, yes,” Graves said, in his usual, studious manner. “I do not believe you will like it, however.”
“What the hell else is new?” Banks chipped in. “Out with it, Commander, what are we dealing with?”
Commander Graves moved over to one of the other consoles in the command post and began working. “I think all of you are aware that the Sa’Nerra are carnivores,” Graves began while operating the computer.
“I know they’re cold-blooded killers, and that’s all I need to know,” Sterling answered, wondering where his medical officer was leading with his assessment. “What the hell does it matter what they eat?”
“Because the Sa’Nerra prefer to eat their food fresh and raw,” Grave replied, eyes still focused on the screen. “As such, Sa’Nerran vessels often carry a supply of live animals to butcher for food.”
Banks scoffed. “Come on, those are just dumb stories that were made up to scare the rookie officer cadets,” she said, looking at Graves like he’d gone mad.
“Indeed, Commander,” Graves replied, undeterred by the first officer’s derisive response. “However, stories of the ‘flesh eating Sa’Nerra’ are actually quite true.”
