by G J Ogden
Sterling turned his eyes away from the dizzying scene on the viewscreen and stared down at his console. However, the array of flashing alert panels and status indictors was just as stomach-churning. Cursing, he turned to the helm control station then realized Ensign Keller was no longer seated there. He cursed again, spotting his helmsman sprawled out on the deck behind his station. A ribbon of crimson red blood was leaking out onto the cold metal plates from a deep cut to his head. However, there was no time to tend to the pilot. For all he knew, the strike force was already on their way through the aperture to finish the job they’d so nearly completed at Hope Rises on Colony Hera 4ML.
“Something on this damned ship must still work,” Sterling growled, again peering down at his captain’s console. The screens were blinking and pulsating like a set of malfunctioning fairy lights on a Christmas tree. He hammered his fist against the console, resorting to the age-old technique of fixing technology with brute force. Whether from the effects of his blows or, more likely Sterling realized, from sheer coincidence the console stabilized. He skimmed through the condition report, but it made for grim reading.
“What’s the damage?”
Sterling glanced left, the sudden movement of his head again bringing on a wave of nausea. Commander Banks was back at her console, looking like she’d just woken up from a heavy night of drinking.
“Main power is down; we’re running on reserve cells,” Sterling began, skimming through the list. Banks also conducted maintenance on her console by slapping it with her palm. The force of the impact nearly snapped the unit off its pedestal. “We have no helm control, or helmsman,” Sterling added, gesturing to Ensign Keller on the deck. “Scanners are also down. We’re out of control and as blind as a bat.”
“I’ll try to reach Lieutenant Sullivan in engineering and focus on getting power back online,” replied Banks, hovering her hand over her neural implant ready to make the connection. “Power, helm and defensive systems need to be the priority. Those Sa’Nerran bastards could surge through the aperture at any moment.”
Sterling nodded, the slight movement of his head causing more shooting pain to rush through his temples.
“Weapons are down, but armor integrity is holding at forty percent.”
Sterling glanced right, taking care to move more gingerly this time, and saw Lieutenant Shade back at her post. Considering she’d only recently finished a cage fight with a Sa’Nerran warrior larger than any Sterling had ever seen, she somehow looked in better shape than he felt.
“Focus on the regenerative armor, Lieutenant,” replied Sterling. “If that strike force does come after us, we won’t last more than a few seconds in a shooting match.”
“Aye, sir,” Shade replied, a little less briskly than usual, but still with an impressive degree of vigor.
The door to the bridge then slid open and Commander Graves staggered inside, holding his medical kit.
“What's the butcher’s bill so far, doctor?” asked Sterling as Graves made his way onto the command platform.
“Nine dead, twenty-eight wounded,” replied Graves, glancing down at a medical computer wrapped around his left forearm. “Thirty-two wounded if I count everyone on the bridge.”
“Don’t be so quick to update your tally, commander,” replied Sterling, allowing Graves to inject a concoction of drugs into his neck.
Graves scowled then noticed Ensign Keller lying on the deck. “Or perhaps it’s ten dead?” he added, with the cold detachment that could only come from an Omega officer.
Sterling grabbed the medical injector out of Graves’ hand then ushered the doctor in the direction of Ensign Keller. “Assuming this ship isn’t crippled, the one man I will need is a helmsman,” he said. “I don’t care if he’s dead already, Commander. Bring him back. That’s an order.”
Graves appeared slightly affronted by the command. “I am not a necromancer, Captain,” the medical officer said, staggering toward the unconscious ensign and dropping to his knees at the helmsman’s side.
“Today you are, Commander,” Sterling hit back. He didn’t care if he was asking the impossible, he was the Captain and could ask what he damned well liked.
“Lieutenant Sullivan reports that main power will be back online momentarily,” Commander Banks said, stepping beside Sterling and updating the condition report on his console. “We’ll have partial scanners and thruster controls too, though the main engines need a full restart. Needless to say, I’ve made that her priority.”
Sterling felt and heard the thrum of energy surging through the power conduits that ran throughout the ship. The condition report on his console updated again to show that partial helm control had been restored.
“Take the helm while Graves resurrects our pilot,” said Sterling, turning back to Banks. “I’m sick of spinning through space like a damn shuriken star.”
“Aye, Captain,” Banks replied, darting across the bridge and sliding into the seat at the helm controls.
“Scanners coming back online, sir, but they will take a couple of minutes to calibrate,” announced Lieutenant Shade.
“Can you see if there’s anything else out there,” Lieutenant?” asked Sterling, focusing his own efforts on distributing what power they had to the critical systems.
“No, sir, not yet,” Shade replied.
With the inertial negation system still on minimum power, Sterling felt the kick of the thrusters begin to correct their uncontrolled spin. Then as the ship came under control, his own nausea began to diminish too.
“Point us at the aperture, Commander,” said Sterling, tapping his finger against the side of his console. “If our scanners can’t tell us who is out there then hopefully our eyes can.”
Banks acknowledged the order then worked the helm controls. Steadily the RCS thrusters oriented the Invictus so that it was facing the aperture they’d punched through at a ludicrously unsafe velocity. The viewscreen flickered as Sterling zoomed in on the interstellar gateway. Then he breathed a sigh of relief as all that was visible were the blinking lights of the beacons that marked the boundary of the aperture.
“Well, unless they’re hiding right behind us, MAUL and his friends haven’t arrived yet,” said Sterling.
Ensign Keller then got to his feet, using the side of the helm control station for support. Sterling could see that the wound to his head, in addition to several other wounds that he’d hadn’t noticed before, had been tended to by Graves.
“How’s the patient, Commander?” Sterling asked his medical officer.
“He was actually dead for a time, but as ordered, Captain, I have revived him,” Graves replied, dryly.
“I’m ready to take my station, sir,” said Ensign Keller, who looked remarkably well for someone who had been dead only a minute earlier.
“He should be in the medical bay, Captain,” Commander Graves cut in, though there was little conviction in his statement. Graves clearly knew that Sterling was not about to allow anyone to begin their convalescence just yet.
“Unless he’s going to die again in the next few hours, I need my helmsman at the helm,” Sterling hit back.
“He will not die of his current wounds,” Graves replied, closing his medical kit and heading toward the exit. “Though of course we all may still die in the next couple of hours,” Graves added, darkly.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, doctor,” said Sterling, as Ensign Keller replaced Commander Banks at the helm control station.
“Permission to return to medical, sir,” Graves asked, halting by the side of the captain’s console.
“Granted, Commander,” Sterling replied, meeting the physician’s strangely dead eyes. He was reminded of Graves’ assertion that the doctor was not a necromancer, but at that moment he wasn’t sure.
Turning back to the viewscreen and the blinking lights of the beacons, Sterling tapped his neural interface and connected to his temporary chief engineer. “Lieutenant Sullivan, what’s the eta on our main engines?”
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“Give me ten minutes, Captain,” Sullivan replied. “Even without being able to see her, Sterling could tell that his engineer was bustling around the engine room like a furious wasp. “We’ll only have about fifty percent thrust, but it will get us home.”
Sterling was about to respond when the aperture flashed like a pulsar. Then his mouth went dry as a Sa’Nerran warship burst into existence, bearing the distinctive scars of countless battles.
“MAUL…” said Sterling, out loud.
The aperture flashed again and the two remaining phase four destroyers appeared, followed closely after by three Skirmishers. Sterling cursed then focused back on his neural link to Lieutenant Sullivan.
“We’re going to need those engines now, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, his tone calm but urgent. “Or we’re all dead.”
Chapter 30
The rise of the queen
In the space of only a few minutes, the bridge crew of the Fleet Marauder Invictus had gone from comatose to being more alert and alive than Sterling had ever seen them. A Sa’Nerran strike force led by a warship that had racked up more individual kills than any other was bearing down on them, and Sterling knew there was no hope of defeating it. Their engines and scanners were down, power was sporadic and they were still a long way from Fleet space. It seemed hopeless, but Sterling had faced tough odds before and beat them. An ordinary ship and crew would be finished, but the Invictus was far from ordinary.
“Sullivan, any time now for those engines…” said Sterling, through a neural link to his temporary chief engineer. He had opened the link to allow his bridge officers to monitor.
“I can give you fifty percent capacity in thirty seconds, captain,” Sullivan called back. “But there’s a chance we’ll just blow the fusion power distributors to hell trying.”
“I’ll take that chance, Lieutenant,” replied Sterling, thumping his fist onto his console. In truth, he’d expected them to be dead in the water for longer. “Notify Ensign Keller directly when the engines are online.”
Sullivan responded then Sterling closed the link. He peered out at MAUL for a few moments on the viewscreen, studying the scars on the ravaged hulk of metal for any areas of potential weakness. However, he knew it was folly to hope that MAUL was vulnerable. The vessel wore its damage proudly on the surface, like badges of honor, but underneath the battered hull was a killing machine in pristine fighting condition.
“Keller, set a course away from that wolfpack and aim us at the nearest aperture back to Fleet space,” Sterling ordered.
Keller spun around; his face flustered. “Sir, without scanners, I can’t get a fix on the aperture.”
Sterling rushed over to his helmsman’s side and quickly entered a sequence of commands into his console. “Before we sailed the stars, Ensign, we used to navigate by them,” Sterling said, as the viewscreen switched to show empty space. A collection of stellar objects was then highlighted on the screen, ranging from distant nebulae and galaxies to clusters of stars. “There, head for the nebula that looks like a bull’s head,” said Sterling pointing to the highlighted phenomenon on the screen. From our current position, the portal is in that direction.” We can fix the destination point exactly when the scanners come back online.”
Keller nodded and made the adjustments on his console. “Course laid in to the bull’s head nebula, sir.”
Sterling jumped back onto this command platform and slid around the side of his console.
“Prepare to engage the engines with everything we’ve got,” he called over to Keller, while resetting the viewscreen to show a magnified view of the strike force.
“Standing by, Captain,” said Keller, fingers poised over the helm controls, waiting for Lieutenant Sullivan to notify him that engines were restored.
Sterling’s console chimed in tandem with that of Commander Banks’ station. He peered down at the system status readouts, waiting for the engine section to turn from red to green. Come on, damn it… Sterling thought, trying to will the ship into action with only the power of his mind. The status readout blinked then flashed between red and green before the color finally solidified and held steady.
“Engaging engines now!” Keller called out.
The heavy kick of the main engines engaging almost threw Sterling off his command platform, but he just managed to hold on to his console with the tips of his fingers.
“See if you can divert more power to inertial negation,” Sterling called out, as the strength in his fingers began to wane. “There’s no point in us escaping if we’re just stains on the bulkhead.”
“Aye, Captain,” Banks replied, managing to work comfortably while holding on to her console with only one hand. Sterling often envied his first-officer’s inhuman strength, but he did so now more than ever.
The forces on his body began to lessen and Sterling tried to relax his grip, though every muscle he had remained taught. He glanced at the viewscreen, seeing the relative velocity between the Invictus and the strike force decrease. The Invictus may have been wounded, but the Marauder-class destroyer was still one of the fastest ships ever built. Hopefully, fast enough… Sterling thought.
Suddenly the bridge was rocked hard, as if they’d collided with a comet or another ship. The lights on the bridge consoles flickered chaotically and Sterling detected that the pulsing thrum of the engines was gone.
“Reactor one has failed, sir!” Sullivan called out to Sterling through a neural link. “It’s contained, but main engines have automatically shut down. It will be an hour before I can get them back, and even then, we won’t have enough power to outrun the Sa’Nerra.”
Sterling’s hand clenched into a fist. “Do whatever you can, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’ll find us another option.”
Sterling had again allowed the rest of the bridge crew to monitor his conversation. He wanted them to hear that he hadn’t given up, and that there was still hope. Yet, the truth of it was he was out of ideas. Then out of nowhere, he felt a searing pain inside his head, like a migraine that suddenly switched on at full intensity. The pain was so concentrated he almost passed out.
“Captain, are you okay?” asked Banks. Sterling realized she was at his side, holding onto his arm.
“It’s just a headache,” said Sterling, as the pain began to subside. As it did so, he felt something else. Something familiar. Banks’ console chimed an alert, but his first officer remained by Sterling’s side and read the information on the captain’s console instead.
“We’re receiving an incoming communication,” said Banks, brow scrunched into a frown. “It’s coming from MAUL.”
Ensign Keller and Lieutenant Shade both turned to face the captain’s console. In all the decades that the Sa’Nerra had terrorized and waged war on the Fleet, never once had they attempted to communicate. Sterling was initially also confused, but then he understood the reason for the familiar feeling he’d experienced moments earlier.
“Put it on the viewscreen,” said Sterling, meeting Banks' perplexed and doubtful eyes. “Trust me, Mercedes,” he added, in a softer tone. “I think I know what’s going on here.”
Banks nodded then returned to her station. “Putting them through now, sir,” she said, executing the command.
The image of MAUL and the Sa’Nerran strike force gave way to a figure dressed in Sa’Nerran warrior’s armor. However, the figure itself was not a Sa’Nerran. It was Captain Lana McQueen.
Chapter 31
Diplomatic relations
Captain McQueen appeared in the center of the bridge, presiding over the Sa’Nerran crew like a monarch. To see his former friend and colleague seemingly in command of MAUL - the Sa’Nerran fleet’s top gun – was both bizarre and unsettling. McQueen’s armor was identical to the armor Sterling was familiar with except for its color. Instead of shades of darkness, McQueen’s armor had a golden luster, somewhere between bronze and brass. Had it not been for the fact she was the only human aboard an alien warship, the armor alone would have set
her apart. To McQueen’s side, set one step back was a Sa’Nerran warrior that was nearly as battle-scarred as the infamous ship was. Its yellow eyes were locked onto Sterling’s through the viewscreen. He could hear the waspish hiss of its breathing. The rest of the bridge was shrouded in darkness, as if there was a stage spotlight focused on McQueen and the alien at her side. Sterling had seen a lot of strange things in his career, but he had to admit that the scene before him was tough to beat.
“Quite the run around you’ve given us, Captain,” said McQueen, breaking the awkward silence that had followed since her appearance on the viewscreen. “Though I suppose I should have expected nothing less from the great ‘Captain Lucas Sterling’,” she added, bitterness seeping into her words. Then her eyes hardened. “I offered you a chance to join us, and in return you tried to kill me,” she continued, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. The former Fleet captain then rapped her knuckles against her new Sa’Nerran armor, above the location where Sterling had shot her. “A shot to my heart, Lucas. How poetic, and also pathetic.”
“My answer is the same, Lana, or whatever we’re supposed to call you now,” Sterling hit back. “You can play dress-up in that fancy armor and pretend you’re one of them, but you’re not. We’ll never surrender, and neither will the Fleet. If there’s anything of the real Lana McQueen still in there, she’d know that.”