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

by G J Ogden

  Chapter 21

  What do we do now?

  Sterling stared down at the body of Marshal Masterson, muscles still burning and chest still heaving. He then looked over at the body of James Colicos, splayed out by the lawman’s side, and cursed. The entire left side of the scientist's head had been blown away by the deputy’s wayward shot. Not even Commander Graves, with all his macabre and experimental medical treatments, could do anything to save the man. Colicos was dead, and with him went all hopes of reversing the effects of the Sa’Nerran neural weapon.

  “What the hell do we do now?” Said Commander Banks. She was still covering the door, in case another panicked deputy rushed inside.

  Sterling climbed to his feet and turned his back on the dead scientist. There were only two options on the table, as far as he could see – fight on or give up. And the one thing he knew for sure was that Captain Lucas Sterling was never going to give up. He’d rather die.

  “Now we head back to Griffin and give her the bad news,” Sterling said, reaching down to pick up his pistol and the Sa’Nerran blade he’d used to such devastating effect earlier. “I just hope she has a plan B.”

  “We still have the personal data assistant that Colicos was using on Far Deep Nine,” Banks replied. “Perhaps Razor can glean something from that?”

  “Perhaps,” Sterling admitted, allowing for the possibility that Graves or Razor could make use of the scientist’s early data. However, he was not optimistic. Sterling then felt a neural link form in his mind. He could see from the expression on his first officer’s face that she had received the connection too.

  “Captain, we have just monitored a number of inbound surges in the system,” said Commander Graves, giving his report in his usual, clinical style. “Thirty Sa’Nerran warships are approaching Oasis Colony. One of them is MAUL.”

  “Understood, Commander, we’re on our way back to the ship now,” Sterling replied. “What’s their ETA?”

  “MAUL is approaching more slowly, sir. It appears to have engine damage,” Graves went on. “The other vessels surged in through a different aperture. They will be in orbit in forty-two minutes.”

  The subdued nature of Graves’ report belied the significance of the information he had delivered. It meant they had to leave and leave quickly.

  “Inform Lieutenant Shade then get ready to depart as soon as everyone is back on-board,” Sterling said.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Sterling hooked the Sa’Nerran blade to his belt then nodded to Banks, who cautiously checked the landing outside the door.

  “Has your business with the Marshal been resolved, Captain?” Graves asked, out of the blue. Sterling hadn’t closed the link and didn’t realize that his medical officer hadn’t done so either.

  “If you mean is the bastard dead then yes,” Sterling replied, casting his gaze back to Masterson’s grotesque, blue face.

  “Did he suffer, Captain?”

  The question caught Sterling off-guard and by the perplexed look on Banks’ face, she felt the same.

  “Yes, he suffered, Commander,” Sterling replied. “I saw to it personally.”

  “Good, I am glad,” came the reply, though the commander’s voice was as lukewarm and unenthusiastic as it always was. “I’ll get the ship ready. Graves out.”

  Sterling felt Graves leave his mind then he frowned over at his first officer. “What the hell was that about?” he asked.

  “Keller,” Banks replied, without hesitation. “Graves was fond of him.”

  Sterling sighed and nodded. He remembered that the young ensign enjoyed Commander Graves’ company and was fascinated by his ghoulish tales of medical experimentation. However, he didn’t know that Graves also liked Keller. These sorts of details always seemed superfluous to him, like the names of the commandoes that frequently fought and died under his command. He knew he should care more about the minutiae of his officers’ lives, like other Fleet captains, but that wasn’t who he was. Did that make him a worse captain or a worse human being, Sterling wondered? In the end, it wasn’t for him to judge. It wasn’t his job to be anyone’s friend. His responsibility was to lead his crew and ensure they did their duties so that humanity survived. Ensign Kieran Keller had never faltered in this task and for that the young man had earned Sterling’s respect and gratitude.

  Banks moved out onto the landing first, hand-cannon aimed along the corridor. Alarms were now blaring outside the hotel, like the old air-raid sirens that sounded during the blitz in World War Two. Whatever remained of Oasis Colony’s early warning system had obviously picked up the Sa’Nerran vessels too.

  “Maybe Fletcher is still close and could help us out?” said Banks, checking the stairwell, which was also clear.

  “We monitored him surging out of system just before we touched down,” Sterling replied, hurrying down the wooden steps in pursuit of his first-officer. “Likely, an alert signal would have already been sent through the aperture relays, but whether he’ll make it back in time is anyone’s guess,” he added, moving through into the saloon. Dana, the hotel’s owner was there, dragging the dead bodies into a pile in the center of the floor. She glowered at Sterling and Banks as they moved through, but didn’t speak a word to either of them.

  “What about the other ships in the system?” said Banks, still keeping a wary eye on Dana.

  “They might be able to hold off the Sa’Nerra until Fletcher returns,” Sterling said, moving up to a window and checking outside. “But we need to be long-gone before MAUL gets here. That ship may be damaged, but it’s still a killer.”

  “They’re all dead, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sterling glanced behind to see Dana looking at him, hands pressed to her hips. “Your soldiers killed them all,” the owner of the hotel continued. “The deputies I mean… all the damned lot of them. Who the hell is going to protect us now?”

  Just at that moment the enormous doorman who Sterling and Banks had encountered the first time they’d visited the hotel stepped onto the porch. The floorboards groaned under the man’s immense weight.

  “Did you do this?” the man asked, directing the question to Commander Banks.

  Banks shrugged. “With a little help, yes.”

  The huge man nodded. “Good,” he replied before stepping inside the hotel and planting himself in an armchair. “The Marshals were all bastards, anyway. Good riddance.”

  Sterling snorted a laugh then glanced back at Dana. “There you go, he’s your protection,” Sterling replied, nodding toward the giant.

  “He’s no good against aliens in space through, is he?” Dana hit back. Then her features suddenly softened and she smiled at the giant. “Though, if you want to be head of security, Cotton, I’ll pay you double.”

  “Okay,” the huge man shrugged, pushing himself out of the chair and leaning against the bar instead. The counter top looked on the verge of collapsing.

  “Your name is Cotton?” said Banks, raising an eyebrow at the man.

  “It’s because I’m so gentle,” Cotton replied, though the broad grin on the man’s face suggested it was perhaps more of a nickname than the giant’s actual name.

  “Put your trust in Christopher Fletcher,” Sterling said in response to Dana’s rebuttal. “And listen to Cotton too, he knows what he’s talking about. The Marshals and deputies are gone and good riddance to them.” He turned to leave, but the proprietor of the hotel had more to say.

  “And I suppose you’re gone too, right?” Dana said, storming toward Sterling and blocking his path. “The Sa’Nerra come and you Fleet types run away and leave us here to die, just like you did before.” She spat at Sterling’s feet. A globule of spittle landed across the toe of his boot and began to slowly dribble onto the wooden floor. “You’re all the same. Cowards!”

  Banks stepped to Dana, eyes burning and fists clenched, but Sterling raised a hand and she backed away.

  “We’re nothing like the rest of Fleet,” Sterling hit back, glaring at Dana.
He didn’t care what she thought of Fleet, but to call him a coward was a worse insult than spitting on his boots. “But the war won’t be won here, not today. So, you’re on your own.”

  Dana recoiled from Sterling, clearly taken aback by his candor. Sterling imagined that the hotel owner had been expecting a strong rebuttal of her accusation, followed by a string of empty promises that Fleet would never abandon them to the Sa’Nerra. Dana deserved the truth. It was the least he could offer her.

  Sterling felt a link forming in his mind and he tapped his interface to open the channel.

  “Christopher Fletcher’s squadron of thirteen warships had just entered the system, captain, along with reinforcements,” said Commander Graves.

  “Reinforcements? How many?” asked Sterling.

  “Thirty-two vessels at the last count sir,” Graves replied. Sterling shook his head. His medical officer had somehow managed to make this good news sound anticlimactic. “The bulk of the Sa’Nerran taskforce has broken off to intercept Fletcher’s forces. However, two Skirmishers remain on a heading to this planet, along with MAUL, though the heavy destroyer is an hour behind them.”

  “Understood, Commander, are Shade and her commando squads back on board?”

  “Affirmative, Captain,” Graves replied. “However, there were two fatalities and four other casualties. The injuries are nothing I cannot repair.”

  “We’ll be there soon, Commander, Sterling out,” Sterling tapped his interface to close the link. He then returned his attention to Dana, who was still speechless after Sterling’s frank comeback. “Put your trust in Fletcher,” Sterling reiterated. “If you’re not going to take my advice and leave this planet then be prepared to fight. And don’t give up, because I sure as hell won’t.”

  “Giving up ain’t our style Captain, not in the Void,” Dana said, returning to the work of collating the bodies. She screeched at Cotton to help her and the giant man reluctantly joined in, hauling bodies onto the pile with remarkable ease.

  “I like him,” said Banks, with a wry smile. Then she hooked a thumb at Dana. “Her, not so much.”

  “Come on, Commander, I think it’s time we checked out of this hotel,” said Sterling, stepping onto the veranda.

  The smell of the burning city hit him like an ocean wave. The air was acrid and thick, but there was also a coppery, metallic taste to the smoke that Sterling was far more familiar with. It was the taste of death. The crackle of the fires and hum of the fire-ships hovering overhead was soon drowned out by the roar of the Invictus engines and thrusters. Sterling and Banks strode up the cargo ramp of their Marauder-class Destroyer, which quickly whirred shut behind them, sealing them off from the planet’s rotten air. However, Sterling could still taste it on his tongue and smell it in Banks’ hair as she moved ahead of him and hit the call button for the elevator. The ship had lifted off the hard standing before the elevator had even arrived on deck one. The momentary delay between the engines kicking in and the inertial negations systems working to compensate for the acceleration was still something Sterling could detect with absolute precision. Like the dull shine of the deck, the artificial gravity, and the feel of the ship’s cool metal to the touch, it told him that he was home.

  The elevator door swished opened onto deck one and Sterling moved out with his first officer by his side. Traversing the short distance along the corridor to the bridge, he entered to see Commander Graves already standing down from the command platform, waiting for him.

  “We are underway, Captain, weapons and regenerative armor at full power,” Commander Graves said.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Sterling replied, stepping up to his console. “You can return to the med bay and tend to the wounded.”

  Sterling’s medical officer acknowledged the order and quickly departed without another word. Glancing right he noticed that Lieutenant Shade was already at her post. She was splattered with blood and the scars on her armor told the story of the battle she had just fought. However, she appeared uninjured and also curiously at ease. For Opal Shade, the calm always came after the storm, not before. He shot her a respectful nod, which his weapons officer returned before issuing her report.

  “Two phase-two Sa’Nerran Skirmishers on an intercept course, Captain,” Shade said, bringing up an image of the vessels on the viewscreen.

  Sterling removed the ID chip that Admiral Griffin had given to him, containing the coordinates for their rendezvous point. He pressed the chip to one of the many open wounds on his body, smearing his blood across the device before inserting it into his captain’s console. The chip activated and the co-ordinates of a suitable long-range aperture appeared on the display.

  “Here’s our heading, Commander,” said Sterling, sending the information to the helm control console. Commander Banks had just slipped into the seat.

  “We won’t make it to the aperture threshold before those Skirmishers intercept us,” Banks said, working at her console. “But we will make it through before MAUL has a chance to ruin our day again.”

  “Target those two Skirmishers and prepare to take them out,” Sterling said, addressing his weapons officer. “If they want to die here then so be it.”

  The captain’s console then chimed an incoming message. He glanced down and saw that the request was coming from MAUL. Sterling was in no mood to fence with the Sa’Nerran Emissary, but he also wanted Crow to know he was alive and still in the fight. Accepting the communications request, he straightened his aching back and waited for Crow’s image to appear on the screen.

  “I grow tired of this chase, Captain Sterling,” said Emissary Crow. There was a fresh scar to the side of the man’s face, and in the background, Sterling could see that the bridge of the ship had taken heavy damage.

  “Then stop chasing me, asshole,” Sterling hit back. “The war is in Fleet space not here. Surely a man of such great importance as yourself has better things to do than scurry around the Void chasing down one little Marauder?”

  “I am not needed on the front line, Captain,” the Emissary replied, taunting Sterling with his smile. “Thanks to all the turned Fleet ships that have joined our cause, we are already more than enough to crush your fleet and your planet.”

  “Then don’t let me keep you from joining in the fun,” replied Sterling, glancing down and checking on the range to the Skirmishers.

  “I’m afraid Emissary McQueen has other plans for you, Captain Sterling.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sterling found the emissary’s cryptic statement to be genuinely perturbing and was eager to learn its meaning.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” the emissary replied, still with the same provocative smile. “In any case, I will gain far more enjoyment from turning your ship and crew so that they can witness the end of your civilization as obedient drones.”

  Sterling laughed and shook his head. Then he gripped the sides of his console and leaned in toward the screen, glaring at Crow with hateful eyes.

  “It’s true that you might destroy Fleet, and you might destroy Earth too,” Sterling admitted, feeling strangely indifferent about the prospect of both. “But I promise you this, Crow. The war will end with the Sa’Nerra on their knees, not humanity.”

  “Really, Captain, I would expect bravado such as this from Fleet admirals, but not from a cold-hearted killer such as yourself,” Crow hit back.

  “It’s not bluster, asshole,” said Sterling, “it’s a promise.”

  Crow’s eyes narrowed. “We will see, Captain,” the emissary snarled. “But first, you have to get past me.”

  The transmission was cut at the source and the image of Crow faded. “Fire as soon as we’re in range,” Sterling ordered, his fingers turning white from the pressure of gripping his console.

  “Surge generator charging, Captain,” Commander Banks reported from the helm control station. “We’ll reach the aperture threshold in thirty seconds.”

  The two Skirmishers launched torpedoes and opened f
ire with their plasma cannons. Sterling felt the thump of the impacts on the hull and saw the damage control panel light up in his peripheral vision. However, he remained focused on the enemy vessels, as if the ship’s weapons were reliant on his eyes to lock onto their targets.

  “Optimal range… now,” announced Lieutenant Shade. “Firing all weapons.”

  A barrage of plasma raced out toward the alien warships and both Skirmishers were struck cleanly across their bows. Shade had targeted the command centers of the older-model warships and scored direct hits. It was the equivalent of a headshot, crippling the ships without needing to inflict significant damage.

  “Enemy vessels both disabled, sir,” said Shade, the flicker of a smile crossing her lips. “We’re clear to surge.”

  Sterling nodded, but felt no elation at the victory. It was two ships out of hundreds that still lingered in Fleet space, waiting to descend on earth and turn it to ash. With a way to defend against the Sa’Nerran neural weapon and stop their warships from being turned, Fleet might have had a chance. However, that hope had died with James Colicos in Sanctum City on Oasis Colony. What came next, Sterling didn’t know. What he did know was that he wasn’t giving up the fight. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter 22

  The ship’s graveyard

  The Invictus burst back into normal space at the co-ordinates that Admiral Griffin had supplied for their rendezvous. As with previous surges through the experimental, long-range apertures, the experience was jarring and deeply unpleasant. This time, however, Sterling had just about managed to remain standing, sparing him the indignity – and pain – of falling on his ass on the cold metal deck. Even so, it took a full minute before the nausea and dizziness had eased enough that he could get his bearings and find out where in the galaxy Griffin had sent them.

  “All stations, report…” Sterling said while massaging his throbbing temples with thumb and forefinger.