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

by G J Ogden

  Sterling tapped his finger on the side of the bed’s railings. Until they found James Colicos, Lieutenant Razor was her own best hope, which meant potentially allowing his chief engineer to resume her post. However, that was akin to allowing a walking bomb to roam the ship freely, without ever knowing when or where it might go off.

  “This failsafe that you just inserted into Razor’s interface, is it foolproof?” Sterling asked. Commander Graves looked like he was gearing up for another noncommittal answer, so Sterling quickly headed him off. “I know this is all uncharted territory, Commander, so just keep it simple. Yes or no.”

  “No,” the medical officer replied, starkly.

  Sterling turned to his weapon’s officer. “I need you to rig a special kind of security monitor, Lieutenant,” Sterling said, noting that Shade still hadn’t taken her hand off the grip of her pistol. “Except this isn’t just for monitoring and control. I need the option to initiate a lethal shock on command, to neutralize Lieutenant Razor should the need arise.”

  “Aye, Captain, I have something that will work,” Shade replied. “They employ similar devices on high-security prisoners at Grimaldi, in case of riots.”

  Sterling had forgotten that his weapon’s officer had once been an inmate of the military prison, and so would know this information first-hand. He was reminded of how little he still knew about her. However, Opal Shade had proven herself time and time again. He trusted the weapons officer to get the job done.

  Sterling then turned to Commander Banks. “Authority to activate the charge should pass down the chain of command, should I be killed or incapacitated,” he added. “That means if I can’t do it, the duty falls to you.”

  “Understood, sir,” Commander Banks replied, though Sterling could sense that she had reservations about the order. However, his first officer knew better than to question them openly in front of the other members of the crew.

  “Keep Razor sedated for now, until the modified security monitor has been installed,” Sterling continued, now addressing Commander Graves. “Alert me once she’s awake. I will explain the situation to her personally.”

  “As you wish, Captain,” Commander Graves replied with his usual lack of bedside manner.

  Sterling then turned to Shade. “Assign a commando to guard the medical bay until the device has been implanted, then have Commander Graves treat your injuries.”

  “I request that I return to my post immediately,” Shade was quick to add before Sterling could turn for the door. “We’re in enemy territory and could be attacked at a moment’s notice.”

  “The fact we’re in enemy territory is precisely why I need you fighting fit, Lieutenant,” Sterling hit back. His weapons officer’s request had not surprised him, but the last thing he needed was Shade collapsing at her post. “Get yourself fixed up then report to the bridge, that’s an order.”

  “Aye, sir,” Shade replied, though her disappointment at the order was clear.

  Sterling left the medical bay, closely pursued by Commander Banks. He could tell she wanted to speak her mind about the decision to let Razor loose on the ship, but she remained silent. There were still other members of the crew flitting around the narrow corridors who might overhear them.

  “We still have a few hours until we reach the aperture,” Sterling said, choosing to be the one who broke the silence. “How about we grab a coffee? Then I’m going to try to get a couple of hours sleep.”

  “You know me, Captain, I’m never one to turn down a visit to the wardroom,” Banks replied, smiling.

  Suddenly, Jinx the beagle hound came bounding down the corridor, yapping vociferously. The dog stopped in front of Commander Banks and whined at her. Banks smiled as she picked the dog up.

  “How the hell did you get out again?” said Banks, rubbing the dog’s ears.

  “That thing is some kind of Houdini,” replied Sterling, scowling at the hound as they walked.

  “It is a she, and she’s very clever,” Banks replied. “Aren’t you Jinx?” she added, petting the dog more boisterously, while talking in the twee tone of voice that people reserve exclusively for pets and babies.

  Sterling rolled his eyes. “We’re supposed to be the most hard-ass crew in the Fleet, Mercedes,” he said, still scowling at the dog, who was looking at him dotingly. “You’re ruining our image.”

  Banks frowned then gestured to the empty corridor around them. “Who's here to see?” she hit back. “Besides, I’m training Jinx to pick up the scent of the enemy. She could come in useful.”

  Sterling laughed, though he wasn't entirely sure if Banks was being serious or not. “I wouldn’t let that thing anywhere near the enemy,” he replied. “They’ll probably consider it a tasty snack.”

  “She, not it…” Banks corrected him again as they approached the door to the wardroom. “And if any Sa’Nerran bastard so much as looks at Jinx in a way I don’t like, I’ll personally reduce their homeworld to ash from orbit.”

  “That’s the spirit, Commander,” said Sterling, stepping inside the wardroom first.

  Sterling had stood the ship down from battle stations, though they remained on high alert. Even so, the compact wardroom was quiet, save a handful of off-duty personnel, who all acknowledged the captain and first officer as they entered. Sterling grabbed a couple of mugs and set a pot underneath the processor. Meanwhile, Banks occupied herself with the more important task of finding herself something to eat. Taking the freshly-filled pot out of the processor, Sterling sat down at his usual table and waited for Banks to saunter over with her foil-wrapped tray. Jinx trotted along beside her then sat down underneath her chair.

  “So, I guess you think we should just airlock Razor now?” Sterling said, as Banks tore the foil wrapper off her tray. His first officer laughed, which was not the response Sterling had expected.

  “I think it’s risky to let her loose, but we’re behind enemy lines and we need everyone we can get,” Banks replied, picking up a piece of meat and tossing it to Jinx. “The safer option is to airlock her, but when have we ever played it safe?” Sterling shrugged then poured the coffee. Banks had a point. “Besides, I know you’ll take her out if it comes to that,” she continued, in between mouthfuls of stew. “And, who knows, maybe this Colicos guy can help. He’s supposed to be the genius.”

  Sterling added some creamer to his coffee and stirred it. “I hope he’s worth it,” he replied, grabbing a cookie off Banks’ tray and dunking it into his coffee. Banks glowered at him as he did so. “If he can’t help to fix this mess then I don’t know what the hell we do next. In a straight-up fight against that Sa’Nerran armada, we could take the bastards down. But with each sector they take, more and more Fleet ships and crews get captured and turned against us.”

  Banks tossed another piece of meat to Jinx, who caught it skillfully before it hit the deck. “Maybe we should launch an invasion of our own?” she said, shrugging. “While the Sa’Nerra are pushing on Earth, maybe they’ve left their own world undefended, wherever the hell it is.”

  Sterling went to steal another cookie, but this time Banks was wise to his ploy and slapped his hand. The blow was meant playfully, but due to his first officer’s strength, it smarted like a hornet sting.

  “The Invictus is tough, but it’s no planet killer, Mercedes,” Sterling said, shaking his throbbing hand. “And unless Fleet drives the Sa’Nerran armada back into the Void, our ships are all trapped inside the inner colonies.”

  Banks considered this for a moment, while continuing to wolf down the contents of her meal tray. “We’ll find a way,” she eventually replied. She then grabbed a cookie from the meal tray and offered it to Sterling, smiling coyly as she did so. “We always do.”

  Sterling smiled and accepted the cookie, which he then proceeded to dunk into his coffee. Then he had a thought, though he knew immediately it was one that his first officer wouldn’t like.

  “Fletcher was pretty cagey about the number of ships he’d recruited to his cause,�
� Sterling said, biting the end off the cookie and waiting for Banks’ reaction.

  “We’re better off without that traitor’s help,” Banks hit back, tearing off a strip of jerky and holding it out for Jinx. The hound took the food politely in its jaws and began gnawing on it with relish.

  “He still has all the mutineer ships,” Sterling continued, still nibbling on the cookie while testing out his idea further. “And he hinted that there may be many more, recovered from the ruins of battles that took place over the last few decades.” Sterling shrugged. “The fact the Sa’Nerra have left Middle Star alone suggests that the force Fletcher has amassed must be pretty powerful.”

  Banks shook her head then angrily tossed her fork down onto the empty meal tray. As usual, his first officer had polished off the contents in less time that it would take most people to finish the first course.

  “If it comes down to needing that mutinous piece of trash on our side then we’ve already lost,” Banks hit back. Her emotions were still running high and it hadn’t taken much for her temper to fray. She appeared to recognize her slip and took a sip of coffee to calm her nerves.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Sterling replied, relaxing his stance a little to help douse the flames that had sprung up in the belly of his first officer. “But something tells me that Christopher Fletcher’s part in this war isn’t over yet.” Jinx then bayed and wagged her tail. “See, even that thing agrees with me,” Sterling said, pointing to the hound.

  “She…” Banks corrected again, rubbing the dog’s ears. “And she agrees with you because you’re the captain,” she added, smiling. Then Banks’ expressed turned suddenly more serious. “You should know that whether I agree with everything you do or not, I’ll always have your back, Lucas,” she said. The rapid change of tone took Sterling by surprise and he straightened up. “No matter what,” Banks added, holding his eyes. Her stare was so intense, Sterling almost had to look away.

  “I know, Mercedes,” Sterling replied, with matching earnest. Then he finished his coffee, pushed his chair back and stood up. “Now, I’m going to try to grab a power-nap, before all hell breaks loose again,” he said, rubbing the aching muscles at the back of his neck.

  “Aye, Captain, let me know if you need a wake-up call,” said Banks, while still stroking Jinx’s ears.

  “I doubt things will stay quiet long enough for me to need one,” Sterling replied, pushing his seat back underneath the table. “But unless the ship suddenly catches fire, gets attacked by a giant space slug or is about to fall into a black hole, I’d appreciate it if I could be left undisturbed for the next couple of hours.”

  Banks nodded. “I’ll see to it, Captain.”

  Sterling headed toward the exit then aimed a finger back toward Jinx as he went. “And if I step in that thing’s crap on the way to my quarters, Acting Ensign Jinx will be going for a spacewalk…”

  Chapter 23

  Permission to speak freely

  Sterling woke with his heart pounding in his chest and his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his skin. Cursing, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and forced his fists to unfurl, leaving his hands shaking.

  “Damn it, get a grip…” Sterling growled, pressing his eyes shut and compelling his body to obey his commands, rather than the irrational impulses brought on by his subconscious mind. Quickly, his heart-rate relaxed and the tremors in his hands subsided. The vision of Mercedes Banks, dead at his feet by his own hands, then slipped deeper into the recesses of his waking mind. Soon, through a combination of controlled breathing and sheer force of will, the images sank away completely, like an old battleship lost at sea.

  “Hello, Captain,” said the computer, cheerfully. “Would you like me to conduct a brief session of psychoanalysis? Or perhaps we can meditate together. I hear that meditation can be effective in circumstances such as yours.”

  Sterling laughed and glanced up at the ceiling of his quarters, where he always imagined the omnipotent presence of the computer to be located.

  “I’d like you to mind your own damn business and give me a ship’s status report,” he replied.

  “As you wish, Captain,” the computer said, breezily. “Perhaps later?”

  “Perhaps not,” Sterling answered, peevishly. He then dropped onto the deck and adopted the plank position, ready to execute his ritual set of push-ups while the computer intoned the status of the Invictus.

  “Fleet Marauder Invictus is operating at eighty-one percent efficiency,” the computer began. Sterling found the merry, balanced tone of the computer’s voice to be helpful while performing his set. It was like a metronome ticking away in the background. “Regenerative armor is continuing to heal. The current projection is one hour, fourteen minutes from the point at which I finish this sentence until full regeneration is complete,” the computer continued as Sterling rapidly reached the mid-way point of his set. “We are experiencing minor power fluctuations on decks three and four, sections seven through eleven. All other systems nominal. We remain on course for waypoint marker designation Sierra-Zero-Zero-Seven. Estimated time of arrival, twenty-three minutes, eighteen seconds from now.”

  Sterling completed his forty-eighth rep then remained in a plank position. “I don’t suppose there’s any news from the Fleet?” he asked, hopefully.

  “Negative, Captain, we are far beyond the range of any aperture relays,” the computer replied. “We are deeper inside Sa’Nerran space than any Fleet vessel has ever ventured before. It’s quite exciting, don’t you think?”

  There was a sort of mystical dreaminess to the computer's voice as it said this. To Sterling, it sounded like the quirky AI had just announced something supernatural, as if they’d passed through the wardrobe into Narnia.

  “I think I hate this part of space with a passion,” Sterling replied, “but I’m happy you find it so fascinating,” he added, sarcastically.

  “Thank you, Captain, coming from you that means a lot,” the gen-fourteen AI replied, apparently not getting the sarcasm.

  Sterling huffed a laugh. “Was there anything else to report?” he added.

  “Canine fecal matter was reported on deck two, section seventeen, but it has been dealt with,” the computer intoned.

  Sterling cursed the name of their adopted beagle hound under his breath, then cursed its owner for good measure. “Very well, computer, thank you,” he replied. He then completed an additional ten push-ups, finding it easier than he’d expected. He missed the additional mass of Commander Banks on his back, forcing him to work harder. Springing back to his feet, he then felt a familiar link forming in his mind.

  “I was just thinking of you,” said Sterling before Banks had even spoken.

  “Oh, really?” replied Banks. “Isn’t there some Fleet regulation against that?”

  Sterling shook his head. “I don’t mean like that,” he hit back, quickly changing his tank top and pulling on a fresh tunic. He threw his old one into the laundry processor then headed for the door. “I’m finding the press-ups too easy these days,” Sterling went on, making a bee-line for the elevator to deck one. “I need the additional bulk of your solid frame to push me harder.”

  “Bulk?” Banks replied, clearly affronted by Sterling’s choice of words.

  “You know what I mean,” Sterling replied, punching the button for deck one.

  “And it’s a good job too,” Banks replied. “I’ve knocked teeth out for less than that…”

  Sterling laughed then marched out of the elevator and onto the bridge. The short sleep had done him good, despite the rude awakening that was becoming a regular feature of his nighttime routine. Commander Banks was already at her post. She smiled as Sterling entered, the two of them exchanging the sort of knowing looks that suggested they were both in on a secret that no-one else knew. However, this exchange of glances went unnoticed by anyone else. Lieutenant Shade was curiously absent from her post and Ensign Keller’s back was turned to Sterling as he en
tered.

  “Lieutenant Shade is waiting in your ready room, with Lieutenant Razor,” said Banks, answering Sterling’s question before he’d had the chance to ask it.

  Sterling nodded. “What’s the status of the aperture?”

  “The scanners are still clear, but we are picking up a mass near the threshold. It looks like it’s the remains of a moored heavy cruiser, not unlike the one we encountered earlier. Except this one looks to have been pillaged for parts a long time ago. Whatever the reason, it’s dead in space.”

  Sterling nodded. “Understood. Prepare to go to battle stations and surge as soon as we’re in range,” he replied, adjusting his route and heading for his compact ready room instead of his Captain’s console. “I’ll make this thing with Razor quick.”

  The door to Sterling’s compact ready room swooshed open as he approached, revealing Lieutenant Razor in the chair opposite his desk. Shade was standing to the side of the door, ever vigilant. Sterling sucked in a deep lungful of the ship’s recycled air then moved around to the desk, preparing to sit down and give Razor the bad news. However, his engineer surprised him by being the first to speak.

  “Captain, I can save us both some time,” Razor began. She sounded calm and appeared relaxed. “Commander Graves explained my condition. I accept that I may pose a risk to the ship and understand the conditions of my ‘parole’ as it were.”

  Sterling felt relieved that Razor had tackled the issue head on, and with such frankness. Then again, he expected nothing less from an Omega officer, and from the straight-talking Katreena Razor in particular.

  “And you understand what I am required to do, should you begin to turn?” Sterling asked, since that was the one-part Razor hadn’t been explicit about.