The Exile: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 3)

by G J Ogden

  “Probe ready, Captain,” Razor called out from the rear of the bridge.

  “Launch it, Lieutenant,” Sterling said, returning to tapping his finger impatiently against his console.

  The probe shot out ahead on the viewscreen and moments later it was consumed by the invisible interstellar gateway.

  “The probe has entered aperture space. Telemetry lost,” Razor said, giving a running commentary. An anxious few seconds followed while they waited for the probe to rematerialize on the other side of the aperture and begin transmitting.

  “Probe reacquired,” Razor announced, finally breaking the tension. “I’m receiving data.”

  “Well, at least it’s still in one piece,” said Banks, returning to her more optimistic outlook.

  “It sustained some structural damage during transit, Captain,” Razor added, while continuing to flit between the various consoles at the rear of the bridge. “The internal power core failed. It’s running on reserve cells only…”

  “So, where does that leave us, Lieutenant?” said Sterling, glancing back at his officer. “Can we surge or not?”

  Razor continued to work, hopping between stations like an orchestral percussionist. She then finally stopped and stood tall, hands pressed to the small of her back. Her chest was heaving slightly as she regained her breath.

  “Aye, Captain, we can surge,” Razor replied. “I’ve made some adjustments to our surge field parameters, though I’d still expect a bumpy ride.”

  “What else is new?” said Banks.

  Sterling nodded then turned to Ensign Keller, who was keenly awaiting his order.

  “Take us in Lieutenant,” he said before turning to Lieutenant Shade. “Set condition battle stations. Let’s be prepared for anything.”

  The general alert tone sounded then the lights reduced, giving way to the low-level red strips that encircled the bridge.

  “Thirty seconds to aperture perimeter,” Keller called out.

  Sterling found his grip on the side of his console tightening.

  “Weapons and regenerative armor at full power,” Shade called out, adding to the chorus. “The ship is at battle stations.”

  “Ten seconds to aperture perimeter,” Keller said, continuing his truncated countdown.

  Sterling counted down the remaining seconds in his head. However, before his count had reached zero, the ship and his body were consumed inside the aperture. The unsettling feeling of disembodied thought seemed to persist for longer than usual. However, even judging time while inside the sub-dimension between apertures was like trying to guess the passage of time while asleep and dreaming. Suddenly, he exploded back into reality and was instantly hit with an intense wave of nausea and vertigo. Sterling thrust his hands out in front of him, trying to use his console to steady himself, but his arms just flailed helplessly in front of his body. The next thing he knew he was on the ground, his legs still on the command platform, but his head and back on the main deck. He saw Banks to his left. She was trying to push herself up, but even the muscles in her powerful arms and legs refused to obey her commands.

  “Report!” Sterling called out, though the words sounded slurred and muddled in his own ears. “Report!” he tried again, managing to sound more coherent the second time. However, there was no reply from any station.

  Finding that his coordination was beginning to return, Sterling pushed himself up to a crouch before his head again began to spin. Grasping hold of the stem of his captain’s console, Sterling hugged it like a sailor hugging the mast of a ship in the midst of a violent storm. Slowly, he climbed hand-over-hand up the stem, dragging his disorientated body back to its feet.

  “Helm control is down,” Ensign Keller called out. The pilot was back in his chair, though was grasping onto the sides as if his life depended on it.

  “Weapons down,” Shade reported next. “Armor buckling…”

  Sterling tried his own console. It was still responding, but his hands were still too unsteady to operate it. After several fumbled attempts to bring up a damage control panel, he saw that their reactor core was destabilizing.

  “Lieutenant!” Sterling called out, forcing his body to turn and look for his engineer. “Initiate emergency reactor shut down, now, before it’s too late!”

  Razor was also clawing herself back to her feet. “I’m on it,” she cried back, though Sterling could barely make out the words.

  “Contact ahead!” Banks called out.

  The warning cry was like a bucket of ice water over his head. Sterling compelled his body to turn again then saw a Sa’Nerran Heavy Cruiser on the viewscreen. His head was still spinning, but even through his blurry eyes, he could tell it wasn't a design he recognized. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at his console, trying to make sense of the flashing lights and jumble of words that made up the status updates. He knew they couldn’t fight, which meant fleeing was their only option. However, considering the battering the ship and the crew had taken from the first surge, he held out little hope they’d survive a second.

  “Wait…” Banks then called out, filling Sterling with the faintest flicker of hope. “The cruiser appears to be powered down.” Banks frowned at her console. She had recovered her senses far more quickly than Sterling had managed to. “I don’t understand. Maybe it’s a derelict or another ship that was damaged during a surge.”

  Sterling didn’t care why the Sa’Nerran ship was inactive – only that it was. He glanced behind to Razor, who was tottering from console to console.

  “Full reactor shutdown and restart initiated,” Razor said before slipping and dropping to one knee.

  “What the hell happened, Lieutenant?” said Sterling. “You said the probe sustained some structural damage. The transition damned near tore us apart!”

  Razor pushed herself back to her feet. She looked embarrassed and angry, though Sterling knew the look well – he’d seen it in the mirror many times during his own career. She was angry with herself for dropping the ball, not for being admonished.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Razor replied. “It appears that the damaging effects of the surge increase according to the mass and energy of the object making the transition.”

  Sterling understood what his engineer was saying. It was like a leaf falling from a tree compared to a coconut. They both travelled the same distance, but due to the effects of gravity and air resistance, one hit a lot harder when it reached the end of its journey.

  “I should have seen it, Captain,” Razor went on. “I take full responsibility.”

  “This is my ship, and my responsibility alone, Lieutenant,” Sterling hit back. He then aimed at finger at his engineer. “Your responsibility is getting our systems back online. Right now, we’re in enemy territory with our pants around our ankles.”

  “Aye, sir, I’m on it,” Razor replied, turning back to her console. “Reactor shutdown and restart in thirty…”

  “Captain, we have another problem,” Banks said, from her station next to Sterling’s. “The cruiser is powering up. It appears that it was only dormant.”

  Sterling closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath before turning to his first officer. “How long do we have?” he asked.

  Banks worked her console then met Sterling’s eyes. “Sixty seconds until its core systems are online. Maybe double that before it can fire.”

  Suddenly the reassuring thrum of the reactor and engine systems vanished and a deathly silence washed over the bridge.

  “Reactor down. Life support on reserve cells.” Razor called out from the rear of the bridge.

  “Get us back online as fast as you can, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, as lights all across the hull of the alien heavy cruiser flickered on. “I don’t care if we have crew floating through the halls. I need engines and weapons before that thing out there has a chance to fire.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Razor replied.

  Sterling could see that the engineer had resumed most of her fluidity, though she still wasn�
�t operating at full capacity. No-one on the bridge was, least of all himself.

  “Based on the scanner data we acquired before the reactor cycled, that Sa’Nerran warship is a variant of a phase one heavy cruiser, Captain,” said Lieutenant Shade from the weapons console. “But it’s something we’ve not seen before. Maneuvering capability is severely limited, but it has twice the firepower a ship of that era and class should have.”

  Sterling continued to study the alien vessel, watching as its thrusters started to flash into life. Questions were whizzing around his mind. Why was the ship there? Why had it been powered down? Why was it so old as to be obsolete? As usual, however, he had more questions than answers.

  “It’s a gatekeeper,” said Banks, cutting through the confusion like a shark swimming through calm waters. “It’s guarding the aperture. But maybe the shuttle was the last thing to come through here in a long while, so it went into a sort of hibernation mode to reserve power.”

  Sterling nodded. It was as good a theory as any. However, he also then realized that the “why” questions were unimportant. All he needed to know was how to stop it.

  “Lieutenant, I need a weakness,” Sterling said to his weapons officer. “If it’s similar to a phase one design, we should know everything about it, including where to hit it to do the most damage.”

  “I know exactly where to hit it, Captain,” replied Shade, with a cold, clinical certainly. “But we need to get close.”

  The familiar thrum of the deck plating then began to vibrate through Sterling’s boots. He could literally feel the ship’s vitality returning.

  “Reactor restart complete,” Razor called over. “It will be several minutes before we’re at full capacity, but I’ve given everything we have to weapons and engines.”

  The Sa’Nerran gatekeeper had begun to turn toward them as Razor was speaking. Sterling peered down at his console and saw that the aged but powerful warship was charging weapons.

  “One shot from its forward battery and we’re finished,” said Banks. Her report was given without undue alarm. It was simply a statement of the facts. Sterling knew she was right.

  “Ensign, keep us out of reach of that ship’s main guns,” Sterling called out. He saw an attack pattern flash up on his console. He scowled at it then turned to Shade. “I know you said we had to get close, but does it need to be that close?” he asked, hoping that the woozy weapons officer had made a miscalculation.

  “Our weapons are at reduced power,” Shade replied, calmly. “If we want to take it down in one shot, this is the only way.”

  Sterling nodded then sent the pattern to Ensign Keller. “Time to impress me with your fancy flying, Ensign,” Sterling called over to his pilot. He then saw the forward plasma cannons of the alien gatekeeper begin to glow. “You can start by evading those guns!” he added, gripping his captain’s console tightly again.

  The kick of the Invictus' engines made Sterling glad he had held on. With the rest of the ship on minimal power, the inertial negation systems barely compensated for the ship’s trust. Moments later the alien cruiser’s guns flashed and four massive blasts of plasma raced across their bow and disappeared into the Void.

  “That was damned close, Ensign,” said Banks, glancing across to Sterling. “Less than ten meters.”

  Sterling flashed his eyes at his first officer. “I don’t give a damn if it misses by ten meters or ten centimeters. A miss is a miss,” he replied before turning his attention back to the viewscreen.

  Under the expert control of Ensign Keller, the Invictus was now approaching the alien cruiser like a cannonball. Turrets flashed across the three-kilometer-long hull of the old alien warship and Sterling felt the impact of each blast as if the strikes had landed on his own body.

  “Regenerative armor at twenty-seven percent, and holding,” Shade called out. “Hull integrity stable.”

  Sterling’s grip on his console continued to tighten as the Invictus powered toward the cruiser on a collision course.

  “Impact in ten seconds, get ready to pull up,” Shade called out. Her body was as steady and immovable as a marble statue, finger poised over her console, ready to fire. “Now!” she yelled.

  Keller pulled the nose up and at the same time Shade unleashed the Invictus’ forward plasma cannons at the cruiser at point-blank range. Explosions rippled across the hull of the cruiser and the Invictus rode the blast, like a surfer on the crest of a wave. Lights and consoles flickered on and off on the bridge and power relays blew out, but seconds later they were clear. Sterling allowed himself to take a breath – the first he’d managed since starting the attack run – and pushed away from his console. Keller slowed the ship and looped around, bringing the alien gatekeeper back into view. Shade had hit the alien beast exactly where she’d intended to, Sterling realized, disabling its main reactor and leaving it powerless to respond. The cruiser was now simply listing in space, crippled and defeated.

  “No other contacts on the scanners, sir,” said Banks, maneuvering her console back into position, having inadvertently torn it away from the deck during the battle.

  “We’re going to need to get you a stronger station,” Sterling said. He then let out a long, loud sigh. “Good work, people,” he said, casting his eyes first to Keller then to Shade. Then he turned to Lieutenant Razor and waited for the engineer to reluctantly meet his gaze. “Good work, everyone,” Sterling said, holding Razor’s gaze long enough for her to accept his sincerity. “Remain at battle stations and begin repairs. Weapons and armor are the priority, people. This is enemy space and we could be back in a fight before we know it.”

  There was a chorus of ‘aye, sir,’ from around the bridge and the crew of the Invictus immediately got to work.

  “I have an idea for how we can discover where that shuttle went next,” said Commander Banks, casting a sideways glance at Sterling.

  “Is it an idea I’m going to like?” Sterling replied.

  Banks shrugged then pointed to the Sa’Nerran Heavy Cruiser on the viewscreen. “That ship would have monitored Colicos’ shuttle arriving through the aperture, so it stands to reason it probably also knows where it went.”

  Sterling smiled. “Are you suggesting we board that thing and interrogate its computer?” he asked.

  “Yes,” replied Banks, firmly. Then she shrugged again. “Along with whoever else we find alive over there.”

  Sterling nodded then looked out at the alien vessel on the viewscreen, bleeding smoke into space.

  “Awaiting your orders, Captain,” Banks asked. Sterling could sense that she was eager to flex her muscles once again. “Shall I plan a little expedition?”

  Sterling clenched his fists and stood tall. “Suit up, Commander, we have a ship to board.”

  Chapter 19

  The good homewrecker

  Sterling peered out at the crippled Sa’Nerran Heavy Cruiser from the cockpit of the shuttle, while Commander Banks piloted the craft toward the stricken vessel. Due to the devastating close-range assault by the Invictus, more than half of the cruiser had been rendered uninhabitable. However, even though the cruiser was dead in space, with its weapon systems and engines disabled, it still clung to life like a battle-scarred old shark. Several sections of the three-kilometer-long behemoth remained intact and pressurized, including its bridge and command deck.

  Sterling’s plan was to land the combat shuttle near the command center of the alien vessel then breach through an emergency escape hatch. Once the assault team had fought their way to the alien bridge, they would hack into the ship’s command computer and download the data from the central memory core. Contained somewhere in the archives was the information that would point them to James Colicos. It was their only chance to pick up the trail of breadcrumbs that they’d lost at the entrance to the newly discovered Sa’Nerran aperture. If they failed then their mission was just as dead in the water as the heavy cruiser. Without Colicos, any chance of counteracting the alien neural control weapon would be lost.r />
  Based on scans of the Sa’Nerran cruiser, Sterling had concluded that the bulk of the alien forces on board were either already dead, or cut off from the command deck. Nevertheless, Sterling was planning to go in hard. Seated in the rear of the shuttle was Lieutenant Razor and Lieutenant Shade along with the Invictus’ four best commandoes. Shade’s forces would secure a route to the bridge, where Lieutenant Razor would then hack the computer and recover the data.

  Sterling glanced back at his engineer from the second seat of the combat shuttle. There was a hunger in her eyes that he’d not seen before. The talented engineer appeared eager to earn back the trust and respect she believed she had lost from her commander. The reality was that Sterling was not angry or disappointed with Razor over what happened to the Invictus after surging through the new aperture. Razor couldn’t have known what would happen; none of them could. This was uncharted territory and risk was part of the game. However, the fact that Razor had not allowed the incident to rattle her confidence was encouraging. And the hungrier his unique engineer was to prove herself the more Sterling was sure that she would succeed.

  “Thirty seconds to hard dock,” said Commander Banks.

  Despite this announcement, his first officer was still accelerating so hard toward the cruiser that it looked like she planned to ram the massive vessel. However, the element of surprise was crucial to the success of their plan. As such, hot-rodding through space like a cadet trying to impress his classmates was a necessary risk.

  “Assault team, get ready to breach,” Shade called out to the row of four commandoes seated opposite her. Each of them wore a helmet with a full cover face mask, giving them an anonymous, almost robotic-appearance.

  “Breaking thrusters firing in five,” Banks added from the pilot’s seat, her voice now betraying her own unease at their rapid approach.

  The shuttle spun around and decelerated hard, pressing Sterling into the back of his seat as if an invisible sumo wrestler had just sat on his lap. The roar of the engines was deafening and the whole shuttle shook like it was being buffeted by a tropical storm. Suddenly the weight pressing down on Sterling vanished and there was a solid thud against the hull. It sounded like someone had just pounded it with a sledgehammer.