by G J Ogden
“Captain, are you in position?” said Admiral Griffin. Her voice was weaker than ever, and it took every last ounce of concentration Sterling had to maintain the link.
“Captain, I’m…” Griffin continued, but then her voice trailed off, and the link was severed.
Sterling cursed again. He had another choice to make, though in actuality he realized he’d already made it. Griffin would not approve, but he didn’t care. If the Admiral was still alive then he was going to get her back, because in the dark days that lay ahead, Fleet and the United Governments were going to need her.
Chapter 30
An order and a directive
Sterling and Banks made their way through the deserted corridors of the ambassador ship, Fleet Light Cruiser Franklin. For a ship that usually had a crew of two hundred, the empty spaces were eerily quiet. A ship without a crew is like a body without a mind, Sterling thought, as he and his first officer made their way to the bridge. Banks was still carrying Ensign Keller in her arms. The helmsman’s pulse was weakening, but the young officer was still alive, if only barely. If Keller can cling to life, then an old battle-axe like Griffin can, Sterling told himself, glancing at his helmsman, limp in Banks’ arms.
Stepping onto the command platform of the Franklin, Sterling entered his emergency command override codes to take control of the vessel. The captain’s console, along with the other consoles on the bridge flickered back into life. Then the viewscreen turned on, displaying a view of the battle raging out close to the aperture. Sterling didn’t need a sensor analysis to know that it was going badly for the fleet warships. The Hammer was still caught in a no-man’s land between the bulk of the engagements and G-COP. The dreadnaught may have been the only ship in the Fleet that could stand toe-to-toe with a heavily armed and armored command outpost, but in doing so it had not escaped unscathed. Its engines had been damaged and it was now limping toward the battle.
“See if you can stabilize Keller then take the weapons console,” Sterling called over to Banks while he ran through a hasty pre-launch checklist. He bypassed every check possible then powered up the engines.
Banks rested Keller on the deck then grabbed an emergency medical kit and cracked it open. She tore open Keller’s tunic, revealing the plasma burn to his chest. Sterling could see that it was bad and had gone through the bone, with charred flesh giving way to blackened ribs.
“How the hell that kid is still alive, I don’t know,” said Sterling, hopping over to the weapons console to arm the Franklin’s plasma rail guns. He then moved to the helm controls and prepared to detach from G-COP.
“He won’t be for much longer, unless we can get him to Graves soon,” replied Banks.
She applied a field dressing designed specifically for plasma burns to the wounds. Then she hit Keller with a cocktail of drugs designed to numb any pain the ensign was feeling and keep him alive for as long as possible.
A distant thud resonated through the deck and Sterling checked the helm control console. “We’re clear,” he said, while maneuvering the light cruiser away from the docking pylon. Then another thud, louder and harder than the first rumbled through the bridge, followed by the sound of grinding metal.
“Are we taking fire?” asked Banks, jumping onto the weapons control console and opening the damage report.
“No, that was me,” said Sterling, holding up a hand. “I hit the pylon on the way out. This hunk of crap is a lot bigger than I’m used to flying these days.”
Banks raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” she asked.
“How about you just get ready to shoot?” replied Sterling. Banks’ condescending tone had irked him, though he was also a little embarrassed.
Sterling switched the viewscreen to show an image of the command outpost and for the first time the damage from the slug-fest with the Hammer became clear. Parts of the station were smashed open and others were on fire. Sterling could see hundreds of bodies floating in space around the most heavily damaged parts of the station.
“Do we really think Griffin is still alive in there?” wondered Banks as the Franklin slowly descended to level three.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” replied Sterling. He was frowning down at the helm controls, trying to maneuver the hulking vessel close enough to the conference room to get the docking umbilical attached. More hard thuds and reverberating creaks echoed around the bridge and alarms sounded across every console.
“Ease up a little, Captain, we’re being hit by collapsing structural supports,” said Banks, though this time without the condescending tone. “At this rate, we’ll bring the whole of levels one and two down on us.”
Sterling sucked in a deep breath then continued to ease the ship into position. It was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. The only way to make it work was with brute force.
“There, that should be close enough,” said Sterling, initiating the station-keeping thrusters to hold them in position before wiping the sweat from his brow. “Stay on the weapons while I cut through into the conference room. And keep a neural link open to me at all times.”
“Aye, sir,” replied Banks, tapping her neural interface.
Sterling ran off the bridge, feeling the link to Banks form in his mind. Stopping en route to the docking hatch, Sterling opened a weapons locker, grabbed a pistol and hastily pulled on a fresh set of body armor.
“Lucas, hurry!” said Banks, suddenly bursting into his mind with crystal clarity. “I’m reading the station’s reactor at critical. It could blow at any moment!”
“Understood,” replied Sterling, fighting the aches and pains in his body and pushing on harder and faster.
Reaching the docking hatch, Sterling could see that the umbilical had attached and formed a seal. He tried to open the hatch, but it was still shut tight. Cursing, Sterling overrode the safety protocols then yanked the hatch open. The sudden equalization of pressure blew him into the umbilical, as if he’d been kicked in the back by a bull. Pushing himself off the freezing cold surface of the corridor, Sterling raised his pistol and dialed the power level to maximum. The cutting beams were still working to slice through the thick armored glass of the conference room, but he didn’t have time to wait. Aiming the pistol, he fired a concentrated burst of plasma into the center of the glass. The glass shattered and Sterling was again blown forward through the rough opening. He landed hard on the deck inside the conference room and felt blood drip down his face from fresh lacerations. However, the pain kept his mind keen and alive.
Shaking his battered head, Sterling glanced up to Griffin, who was lying against the far wall. The conference room doors had been smashed through and the bodies of four Sa’Nerran warriors lay on the deck. Rushing to Griffin’s side, Sterling pressed his fingers to her neck and felt a pulse thumping back against his skin.
“Admiral!” Sterling shouted, grabbing Griffin’s shoulders and shaking her vigorously. “Admiral, get up, we have to go!”
Griffin opened her eyes then scowled at Sterling like he trying to mug her. “Captain, what the hell are you doing here? Get off the station, that’s an order.”
“I intend to, Admiral, but not without you,” Sterling replied, ignoring the Admiral’s directive. “Now can you stand? G-COP is going to blow at any moment.”
“That’s precisely why you shouldn’t be here,” Griffin hit back. “The Omega Directive is in effect, Captain. The Directive does not exclude me.”
“Sorry, Admiral, I must have missed that section of the tech manual,” said Sterling, grabbing the Admiral under her arms and hauling her to her feet. Griffin yelped with pain, and Sterling saw wounds from plasma blasts and Sa’Nerran blades across her back, arms and legs. “I have the Franklin docked just outside,” he continued, helping Griffin over to the improvised docking port.
“The Franklin?” said Griffin, shaking off Sterling’s hands and standing on her own. “Where is your ship? Where is Crow?”
“I’ll explain
later, Admiral,” Sterling hit back. There were limits even to his tolerance of the grouchy admiral’s cantankerousness.
“You’ll explain now, mister,” Griffin snarled. Then the thump of boots alerted them to a squad of Sa’Nerran warriors outside. The aliens saw Sterling and Griffin then raised their weapons. The admiral sighed and shook her head. “Very well, explain later,” she said, admitting defeat on this occasion. “But it had better be good…”
Sterling scoured the floor, spotting a Sa’Nerran rifle close to the feet of a dead warrior. “Here, take this,” said Sterling, handing his pistol to Griffin. He then grabbed the Sa’Nerran rifle and raised it. “I’ll hold them off while you get inside the tunnel.”
Sterling fired at the approaching warriors, hitting one and driving the others into cover.
“We go together or not at all, Captain,” Griffin hit back.
The admiral then shot over Sterling’s shoulder, almost deafening him. The blast sailed out into the corridor and struck a warrior on the face, hollowing it out like a bowl. Sterling and Griffin continued to back away, maintaining a steady stream of fire until their backs were against the external glass wall.
“Admiral, go!” yelled Sterling, firing and hitting another warrior in the gut.
Griffin handed the pistol back to Sterling and he continued to hold off the warriors while Griffin climbed into the docking umbilical.
“Now you, Captain,” Griffin said, extending a hand to Sterling.
Sterling continued to fire until both weapons ran empty. Tossing them down, he spun around and grabbed Griffin’s arm. A sharp, hot pain then filled his body and he fell to his knees. Griffin’s arm slipped through his fingers.
“Just leave!” Sterling shouted as the smell of his own burning flesh flooded his nostrils.
Griffin scrambled toward him along the tunnel and reached down.
“Grab my arm, Captain,” she called out. Her tone was calm, but forceful.
Sterling tried to reach up, but pain shot through his body. More blasts hammered into the wall at his side.
“I can’t. Just go, while you still can!” Sterling cried.
“Take my damned arm, Captain, that’s an order!” Griffin roared. “I’ve already lost one Omega Captain. I’m not losing two!”
Sterling bit down hard then thrust out his arm, feeling a hand close around his wrist. His body was then hauled up and into the opening as more blasts flashed overhead.
“Mercedes, get ready to detach,” Sterling called out to Banks in his mind.
“I’m ready, but the station is going critical, Lucas,” Banks called back. “This is going to be close.”
Sterling and Griffin crawled to the end of the docking umbilical and slid onto the deck inside the Franklin. Clawing himself up, Sterling then slapped the button to close the hatch before collapsing to his back.
“Mercedes, we’re through, punch it!” Sterling called out in his mind.
The hatch hammered shut and Sterling felt a thud through the deck as the Franklin detached from the station. He and Griffin were then thrown to the opposite wall as the light cruiser accelerated away from G-COP. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Sterling peered out through the viewing window in the docking section as the station began to slip into the distance. He could see the Invictus, snaking between the docking pylons, firing its plasma rail guns to free the last of the ships that had been locked to the station. The nimble Marauder-class vessel then blasted clear, along with the frigate that it had just set free.
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, so bright and intense that it felt like needles being stabbed into his eyeballs. The physical shock of the detonation hit them moments later, along with flying chunks of metal that were all that now remained of G-COP. Fleet’s key military asset on the front line of the war was gone, but Sterling knew that the battle for G-sector was not over yet.
Chapter 31
The battle for G-sector
Thanks to several injections of drugs and the hasty application of a wound dressing from one of the Franklin’s emergency med kits, Sterling was feeling a little more alive. Similarly, the stream of chemicals flooding throughout Admiral Griffin’s body had also given her a much-needed boost. Sterling knew that the effects were temporary, but they would last long-enough to finish the battle in G-COP. Then, if he was still alive, the side-effects would kick him harder than a Muay Thai champion.
Sterling staggered onto the bridge of the Franklin and Banks turned to him from her position at the helm controls. Her expression was initially one of relief at seeing him alive, but then her eyes hardened and her smile fell away.
“Lucas, are you okay?” Banks asked. Sterling could feel her concern through their still-open neural link. “You look like you jumped through a window.”
“Strangely enough, that’s pretty accurate,” replied Sterling, stepping onto the command platform and resting his weary form onto the captain’s console.
“Are you okay, Captain…” said Admiral Griffin, stressing Sterling’s rank. Banks immediately straightened up as the flag officer approached. “This is a ship of war, not a pleasure cruiser, Commander. Reserve first names for social occasions only.”
“Aye, sir,” replied Banks. She then glanced across to Sterling, eyebrows raised, but neither of them dared speak to one another through their neural link, for fear that the secretive admiral was somehow monitoring.
“I believe you’re in my place,” Griffin said, standing behind Sterling with her arms pressed to the small of her back.
Sterling initially returned a confused frown to the Admiral, but then it dawned on him what she was referring to.
“Of course, Admiral, the ship is yours,” he said, stepping down from the command platform in deference to his senior officer.
“Take the weapons station, Captain,” Griffin added, moving up to the command console and resting her palms on the sides. “Let’s get this ship into the fight.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Sterling, hobbling over to the weapons control station and familiarizing himself with the layout.
Despite the apparent folly of taking a light cruiser into battle with a crew of only three, Sterling felt oddly upbeat about their chances. Griffin’s seemingly unconquerable confidence was infectious. The Fleet Admiral then noticed Ensign Keller, still lying on the deck at the rear of the bridge, heavily patched up and sedated.
“Is he dead?” she asked, flatly.
“Not yet, though he should be,” replied Sterling, also casting a glance back at his helmsman.
“See to it that he stays alive,” Griffin ordered. Sterling was curious as to whether this was genuine concern from the Admiral – a spark of light and warmth in her cold, dark heart – but then her next statement answered his question. “I will not be able to find you a better helmsman at such short notice, so make sure this one does not die.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Sterling replied. Banks again managed to shoot him a sideways glance without Griffin noticing.
The bridge consoles then chimed an alert, signifying an incoming communication. Sterling accessed the comms panel on his console and saw that it was an open broadcast from one of the Sa’Nerran vessels. The ship’s identifier was one he immediately recognized – Sa’Nerran Heavy Destroyer M4-U1.
“Put the message onto the viewscreen, Captain,” said Griffin. “Let’s hear what they have to say.”
Sterling accepted the incoming communication then the image of Clinton Crow appeared on the viewscreen. He was still dressed in his battle-scarred Sa’Nerran armor, flanked by new members of his honor guard.
“People of the United Governments Fleet, I am an Emissary of the Sa’Nerra,” Crow began, sounding like a preacher giving a sermon. “Due to the refusal by your leaders to negotiate a peace, we have destroyed your command outpost as a demonstration of our might.”
Sterling could feel his grip tighten around the sides of the weapons station as Crow spoke. Griffin and Banks were also absorbed by the i
mage of Crow on the screen. Their eyes were shining with hostility and contempt.
“The Sa’Nerra are now left with no option other than war,” Crow continued. He then opened his arms out wide, as if embracing his flock. “But you still have a chance at peace. Choose Sa’Nerran rule and your lives will be improved, as my life has been improved.” Then Crow’s expression hardened and he took a step forward. The lights on the bridge of the alien warship shone off the metal plate in Crow’s head, as if it were suddenly red hot. “Refuse and we will continue to drive further into your space, until eventually – and inevitably - we will reach and destroy Earth.” Crow’s expression switched again, this time offering the viewers a warm, but painfully insincere smile. “The choice is yours, good people of the Fleet,” Crow went on, again opening his arms. “The emissary awaits your answer.”
The viewscreen went dead and an unnatural silence fell over the bridge. Admiral Griffin then entered a sequence of commands into the captain’s console. Sterling saw on his panel that the Franklin had opened a fleet-wide communications channel.
“This is Fleet Admiral Griffin,” the flag officer began, again standing with her hands pressed to the small of her back. “I am taking command of the fleet. Target your weapons on Sa’Nerran Heavy Cruiser, designation M4-U1 and fire at will.” Griffin then tapped a single button on her console and the channel cut off.
“Take us in, Commander Banks,” Griffin called out to the helm station before she turned to Sterling. “Give them everything we’ve got.”
Sterling felt the pulse of the Franklin’s engines build as the ship accelerated toward the enemy. Several vessels had already engaged, allowing themselves to take hits from closer and more imminent threats in order to press the attack on the emissary’s ship. Three Fleet warships were destroyed within seconds, but the vessels that the Invictus had freed from G-COP were closing fast. Sterling sorted through the mass of signals on his console and locked onto MAUL. The battle-scarred heavy cruiser appeared on the viewscreen, moving through the battlefield with skill and intelligence. The infamous warship fired, adding the Fleet Destroyer Javert to its long tally of kills. Then the vessel was struck by several plasma blasts and fire engulfed a section of its hull.