Obsidian Fleet: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 4)

by G J Ogden

  “Now!” Sterling called out loud.

  Banks snapped her binders like they were made of candy then hammered her elbows into the faces of the two agents to her rear. Sterling heard the sickening crunch of crushed bone and cartilage and spun around in time to see the two men hit the deck like butchered carcasses. Their noses had been almost entirely flattened into their faces.

  “Good work, Mercedes,” Sterling said, as Banks snapped his binders to free his hands.

  Ahead of them, the security detail was still fighting the two SIB agents who had been at the front of the formation. Two security guards had already been shot dead, but the remaining original duo were now brawling with the agents hand-to-hand. Sterling looked for Wessel, but he was nowhere to seen. To the background soundtrack of more crunching cartilage and anguished cries, Sterling picked up a fallen rifle and took aim. His first shot blasted the nearest SIB agent in the back, sending him down. The tattooed security guards roared as if their team had scored a touchdown and fought on even harder. Within seconds the remaining SIB agent was overwhelmed and beaten senseless. Suddenly, plasma blasts flashed across the room and one of the tattooed men went down. Sterling ducked into cover and saw more SIB agents charging toward them.

  “We need to get to the Invictus!” Sterling called to Banks, while setting off in the opposite direction to the incoming squad.

  Banks collected a weapon from the floor and was at Sterling’s side in an instant. Seconds later plasma blasts were thudding into the walls beside them. Sterling took a glancing blow to the thigh and went down, clamping his teeth together to stave off the pain. Banks dragged him into cover and retuned fire, killing one of the advancing SIB agents and driving the others into cover.

  “There are too many,” Banks said, as incoming fire also forced her into cover. “I count another six, maybe eight agents coming this way.”

  Sterling tapped his neural interface and tried to link with Lieutenant Shade. This time the connection came quickly and was strong.

  “Lieutenant, we’re pinned down in the docking section,” Sterling called out to Shade through the link. “We’re probably four or five pads away from the Invictus.”

  More plasma flashed across the room, but this time it raced in the opposite direction. Sterling glanced behind and saw Shade advancing, with two commandoes in full combat armor at her side. All three were wielding ‘Homewrecker’ heavy plasma rifles.

  “I see you Captain, stand by,” Shade called out, as cool as ever.

  Plasma fire continued between the two groups, but Shade and her commandoes had the greater firepower and accuracy. Three SIB agents were hit and had arms or legs blasted from their bodies. Unsurprisingly, the sight of their dismembered fallen comrades was enough to convince the remaining agents to halt their advance. Sterling and Banks added to the torrent of plasma blasts, then began to retreat toward Shade and her commandoes. Sterling’s thigh burned hotter than the fires of hell, but he pushed on through the pain and continued to return fire as yet more SIB agents joined the battle.

  “Let’s move!” said Sterling, managing to draw level with his weapons officer before his leg gave way.

  Banks arrived moments later and slung Sterling’s arm over her shoulder for support. Normally, his pride would have compelled him to protest about the unsolicited assistance his first officer had given him. However, he quickly realized that without Banks’ help, he wouldn’t be able to make it to the next landing pad, never mind back to the Invictus.

  Shade and the commandoes adjusted their aim, blasting the ceiling above the corridor where the new squad of SIB agents were advancing from. It caved in, sending metal and rubble collapsing to the deck. Smoke and thick clouds of dust filled the docking section and soon the remaining SIB agents were shrouded in an impenetrable gray haze.

  Sterling pressed on with Banks’ help, but it wasn’t long before the sound of more plasma fire reached his ears. Up ahead, another squad of SIB agents were attacking the dock where the Invictus lay waiting for them. Banks fired from the hip, killing one of them instantly. Then Shade moved ahead, seemingly without fear, and unleashed her powerful ‘Homewrecker’ against the remaining SIB forces. Sterling marveled at the sheer brutality and devastating accuracy of Shade’s assault. Within seconds, all that remained of the SIB was charred flesh and the hot smell of death. Sterling quickly tapped his neural interface, using the sudden lull in fighting to contact Lieutenant Razor on the bridge.

  “Prepare to blast off, Lieutenant,” Sterling called out through his mind. “And target the Venator’s engines with the plasma turrets. With any luck we can land a few good hits as we leave and slow them down.”

  “Aye, sir, we’re already standing by,” Razor replied briskly. “Weapons locked. I’m ready when you are.”

  Sterling severed the link and pushed on across the landing platform. His leg had now completely given up on him and he was relying almost exclusively on Banks to haul him out of danger. Together, captain and first officer stepped onto the rear ramp of the Invictus, which immediately began to rise. Lieutenant Shade, however, remained on the landing platform, covering their retreat with bursts of fire from the Homewrecker.

  “Shade, get in here!” Sterling called out, realizing that the ramp was rising fast.

  Shade blasted the head off an advancing SIB agent, then threw down the Homewrecker and dove for the lip of the ramp. She caught it, but just barely. For a moment, Sterling thought she would fall, but Shade just managed to haul herself up and clamp her forearm over the edge of the ramp. Two commandoes clambered to her aid and dragged her inside. All three then tumbled down the steeply-sloping ramp and thudded into the cargo hold just as the Invictus lifted off and accelerated hard away from the facility.

  “Grab a hold of something,” Sterling called out, wrapping himself up in some nearby cargo netting. “And hold on!”

  Sterling’s crew did as ordered and moments later the pulsating thump of the Invictus’ plasma turrets reverberated through the deck. The ship shook hard as return fire from the Venator thudded into their armor. Sterling didn’t know how effective their attack had been, or what damage the Invictus had sustained, but the kick of their main engines told him they were on their way. Through luck, guile and superior fighting skills, they’d survived Wessel’s attempts to frame them. However, now they were not only the run, they were also on their own.

  Chapter 11

  The Flores and the Cornwallis

  Sterling flinched while Commander Graves tended to his wounded thigh at his Captain’s console. The ships’ medical officer had insisted that Sterling and Banks report to the med bay for treatment, but Sterling had refused. He was aware that his chief medical officer could have made it an order, but Graves knew when discretion was the better part of valor. Banks had been treated first, on account of her greater number of injuries, but she too was back at her post. However, despite the expert ministrations of the ship’s medical officer, their situation remained as grave as the doctor’s bedside manner.

  “We’re in position behind the moon, Captain. Our scanner probe is also active and relaying data from New Danvers,” said Ensign Keller from the helm control station. “The navigational computer is processing the list of hidden long-range apertures we received from Admiral Griffin. If we get a fix on one nearby, I’ll let you know at once.”

  “Understood, Ensign,” replied Sterling, flinching again as the doctor applied another dressing to another one of his wounds. “Any sign that Wessel has spotted our little hiding place?” he wondered, glancing across to Banks.

  “Not yet, though the Venator is still in orbit around New Danvers,” Banks replied, tapping away at her console. “We hit it pretty hard after we blasted off from the space port on the planet, so there’s a good chance it’s lost our scent.”

  Sterling nodded then focused on his own console, while Graves finished his work. Their escape from New Danvers had been hampered by the fact Wessel had also scored several solid hits to the Invictus as the
y blasted off from the planet. Their aperture field generator was damaged, along with half a dozen secondary systems. However, the field generator was the critical issue. Without the ability to surge they were unable to leave the system.

  “You’re done, Captain,” said Commander Graves, replacing the medical instrument he’d been using into his kit. “I will return to treat the remaining wounded; on this occasion there were no fatalities.”

  “Thank you, Commander, you do that,” replied Sterling, tucking in his tank top and buttoning up his tunic while keeping a curious eye on Graves. His medical officer almost sounded disappointed that no-one had died.

  “Surge detected,” Banks called out as Graves stepped off the command platform and departed. “Two ships just entered the system. The residual surge field indicates their departure aperture was at C-COP.”

  “Analysis, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, glancing across to his weapons officer.

  “Two gen-two frigates,” Shade replied, promptly. “They’re B-variant designs, which means they’re equipped with the latest weapons and armor enhancements.”

  “Their transponder IDs are coming through now,” Banks interjected. “It’s the Flores and the Cornwallis, sir.”

  The viewscreen showed an image of the two Fleet warships, relayed from their probe. The image lacked the magnification and definition that their main scanners were able to achieve, but it was enough to get a look at the new arrivals.

  Sterling thought for a moment then turned to Banks. “The Flores is Commander Bradford’s ship, right?”

  Banks nodded. “Yes. She’s capable and experienced, but hasn’t seen much action recently, not since being assigned to the First Fleet.” Banks tapped her console and highlighted the Cornwallis. “This one is a bit of a curveball. She was originally commissioned as the Cannon, but was recently transferred to the SIB and renamed Cornwallis.”

  “Do we know her commander?” Sterling asked, but Banks immediately shook her head.

  “The record lists someone called Anders as being in command. Apparently, a very recent promotion,” Banks replied. “Likely, it’s one of Wessel’s stooges.”

  The door to the bridge opened. Sterling glanced over his shoulder to see Lieutenant Razor hustle inside and immediately set up her station at the rear of the bridge.

  “The surge field generator will be back online in the next few minutes, Captain,” Razor said as the row of consoles flashed on behind her. The light from the numerous engineering stations illuminated her face brightly, causing her augmented skin to sparkle. “Everything else is minor and can wait until we have time to conduct more detailed repairs....”

  Razor’s voice suddenly trailed away and the engineer almost passed out, barely managing to catch herself on the console in front of her.

  “Are you okay, Lieutenant?” asked Sterling, instinctively checking his console to view the status of Razor’s neural condition. If she was turning then he’d need to act fast to put his engineer down.

  “I’m fine, Captain.” Razor straightened up to her full height. “Headaches and sudden dizziness are a side-effect of Commander Graves treatments,” she added, turning to face her captain. “You do not need to terminate me just yet, sir.”

  “Glad to hear it, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, while still checking her bio-readings. He had no desire to terminate his chief engineer, but he also wasn’t going to take Razor’s assurance at face value. However, besides elevated stress levels, the scan of Razor’s neural activity merely highlighted the headache his engineer had just mentioned. “Are you fit to continue, Lieutenant?” Sterling asked, turning from his console to face his engineer.

  “Aye, Captain, I am,” Razor replied, coolly.

  “Very well, I’ll make sure that Colicos looks into your condition further at his earliest opportunity.” Sterling turned back to his console. “But our first priority is to get out of this damned system,” he added, while looking at Keller.

  The ensign took the hint and spun his chair around to face Sterling. However, before Keller could get a word out, both his and Banks’ consoles began chiming an urgent alert.

  “It’s an incoming communication,” said Banks, frowning down at her console. “It’s on the Omega Taskforce secure channel.” She glanced up at Sterling, eyebrows raised.

  “Griffin?” Sterling repeated, saying what he suspected his first-officer was thinking.

  Banks shrugged. “It must be,” she said, while analyzing the incoming signal. “The signal is being directed through the Fleet aperture relay, though how the hell she knows where we are is anyone’s guess.”

  Another alarm then rang out across their consoles, though this time weapon’s control station also registered the alert.

  “The Venator has detected the signal from the aperture relay, sir,” said Lieutenant Shade with her usual blend of calm urgency. “It’s broken orbit and is hard-burning toward us.” Shade’s console chimed again and the lieutenant quickly updated her report. “The Flores and the Cornwallis have also adjusted course. They have a head-start on the Venator.”

  “How soon will they get here?” Sterling asked.

  Shade was already running the numbers. “Ninety-four minutes at their current rate of acceleration, Captain.”

  Sterling cursed and rubbed the back of his neck before turning to his first-officer. “Put the communication, through,” he said. “Let’s hope our caller has something good to say, because whoever it is just blew our cover.”

  The viewscreen switched from the fuzzy picture of the Fleet warships that were now hunting them down to the image of Admiral Griffin. She was as hard-faced as ever and Sterling immediately found himself straightening to attention.

  “I hope you have some good news, Admiral, because we’re in a tight spot,” Sterling said, cutting to the chase.

  “Yes, I know all about your situation, Captain,” replied Griffin, displaying an impressive lack of empathy for their predicament, given the circumstances. “I regret I was not able to contact you sooner, but the Machiavellian antics of the Wessels forced me to accelerate my own plans.”

  “Admiral, I have three Fleet warships closing in on our position,” Sterling cut in. “We’re stranded in C-sector and need a way out. I’m really hoping you have one.”

  Griffin scowled at Sterling through the viewscreen. The look literally sent a shiver down his spine. “Hope is not an effective strategy, Captain. Thankfully, however, I can offer you more than just conversation,” she finished in a somewhat friendlier tone.

  Admiral Griffin cast her eyes down and appeared to be working at a computer console. Sterling took the opportunity to flex his muscles, which had become stiff and frozen in the presence of his intimidating commander. The brief reprieve from Griffin’s blue-eyed, icy stair felt like coming up for a breath of air after a long dive. Sterling’s console chimed an update and he saw that they were receiving data.

  “I’ve just given you the location of an aperture that will get you out of this ‘tight spot’ you speak of,” the Admiral said. The casual manner in which she was referring to their imminent deaths irked Sterling. However, if Griffin could save their asses, he decided he could forgive her glibness. “I have also transmitted the surge field parameters on our secure, encrypted channel,” Griffin continued, returning her eyes to Sterling. “Without this information, those three Fleet ships will not be able to pursue.”

  “Captain, I have the location of the aperture,” Keller called out. However, the anxious look on the ensign’s face told Sterling that it was not entirely good news. “It’s right between us and the approaching warships, sir.”

  Sterling checked his console and ran the numbers directly, cursing again as the results flashed up on his screen.

  “We’ll just about beat the Venator, but we won’t reach those co-ordinates before the two destroyers get within weapons range,” Sterling said.

  “Then you will have to destroy them, Captain,” replied Griffin, with a level of cold detachment that even
Shade couldn’t match “I will meet you on the other side of the aperture. Griffin out.”

  The face of Admiral Griffin faded and was replaced by the image of the Flores and Cornwallis. Sterling glanced across to Banks and could see that she understood the weight of the decision to be made. However, there was no time for soul-searching. There was only time for action.

  “Ensign, get us to that aperture as fast as you can,” Sterling called out to the helm control station. He glanced over his shoulder to Lieutenant Razor. “Give the engines everything you have, Lieutenant. Take power from anywhere other than weapons, regenerative armor and essential life support. If we have to cut the gravity and let some of the crew bounce around in the lower decks, so be it.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Razor replied, immediately setting to work.

  “I think they’re used to it down there by now,” Banks added, with a smile.

  On another occasion, Sterling might have shot his first-officer a reproving look for her ill-timed use of humor. However, this time he saw the humorous side too. Then the prospect of having to destroy two Fleet ships invaded his thoughts and his mood rapidly darkened. He’d been required to kill Fleet personnel before, under the Omega Directive, but this was different. There was no suggestion that the two ships on an intercept course had been turned, and destroying them would not prevent the vessels from falling into enemy hands. He’d be knowingly killing regular Fleet crew, many of whom he knew would have families. It didn’t sit well with him. Surrender would have been the honorable course of action, Sterling accepted. However, surrender would also mean giving up all hope of discovering a way to neutralize the Sa’Nerran neural weapon. The course of the war was against them; hard choices had to be made if humanity was going to survive. Choices that he knew the War Council would never sanction. Choices that his ship and crew were uniquely positioned to make. Sometimes the ends do justify the means… Sterling thought. Even if I book myself a one-way ticket to hell in the process…