by G J Ogden
“Good, then I’ll see you in the wardroom in ten?” said Banks, suddenly sounding cheerful again, like the computer.
“You go ahead, I want to check on the reports from F-COP in more detail before I head over,” said Sterling, sitting himself down at his desk.
“They’ve got some twenty-sevens in,” teased Banks.
Sterling stopped dead, his hand hovering over the button to switch on his personal computer terminal.
“They won’t have all gone in the next twenty or thirty minutes, Mercedes,” Sterling answered, conveying more certainty in his voice than he actually felt. Banks had been referring to meal pack twenty-seven – Sterling’s favorite breakfast tray.
“Keller has been singing its praises for the last few weeks, so it’s a hot ticket item,” Banks continued, still teasing him, “and I can easily get through two or three of those things…”
Sterling scowled. The prospect of devouring his favorite grilled ham and cheese was already making his mouth water. However, he didn’t want to let Banks bait him into changing his mind.
“But, if you’re not bothered then I’ll just head down there now and order myself a couple,” Banks went on, breezily, now thoroughly enjoying herself. She knew that she’d hooked her fish and was reeling him in.
“Alright damn it, I’ll see you there in five,” said Sterling, giving in. He didn’t like to back down in any situation, but when there was a ham and cheese at stake, his pride took a back seat.
Banks laughed and the sound filled Sterling’s mind, causing every nerve ending in his body to tingle involuntarily. Neural communication was an intimate process, especially between people who were comfortable existing in each other’s heads. The feeling of Banks’ laugh was more revitalizing than the high-pressure shower he’d just had.
“If you get there first, grab me a tray, will you?” said Sterling, standing up and pushing his seat back under the desk.
“I’m sorry, Captain, you’re breaking up,” replied Banks. She’s was now overplaying her role, like a bad actor in a budget TV show. “And Keller just told me that there’s only one left, so I’m going to grab that now. See you in five…”
“Mercedes, enough joking around, already, I mean it,” said Sterling. Then he felt the neural link go dead. “Mercedes?” There was no reply. He tapped his neural interface. “Commander Banks, come in?” The link was refused. Don’t fall for it, Lucas… Sterling told himself, but the truth was Banks had got him good. “Damn it!” he cursed. Then he slammed the button to open the door and practically sprinted out into the corridor in the direction of the wardroom.
Chapter 7
An old friend returns
Sterling hustled through the door of the wardroom and searched for Commander Banks. As usual, his progress had been hampered by the polite need to respond to the usual morning greetings he received after leaving the confines of his quarters. He fully expected to see his first officer gleefully tucking into the last remaining number twenty-seven meal tray. Instead, he saw Commander Banks at their usual corner table smiling at him, with a spoon of oatmeal in her hand. Two meal trays were in front of her, while a third sat on the opposite side of the table, with the foil covering still in place.
“You didn’t really think I’d steal the last number twenty-seven for myself, did you?” said Commander Banks, kicking out a chair for Sterling. “Omega officers may be cold, but they’re not entirely heartless.”
Sterling slid into the chair and took a peek under the foil covering, just to make sure it was his favorite grilled ham and cheese meal tray. The familiar smell of the sandwich floated out and filled his nostrils, making him smile. It was the closest he would ever come to the experience of a home-cooked meal – something that immediately makes you feel safe and where you belong. Besides the fact that Sterling’s parents had been killed in active service when he was still young, they’d never stayed in one place long enough to call anything a “home” in the traditional sense. As a result, he’d grown up on Fleet meal trays, some of which he now despised with a passion. Number twenty-seven, however, was as familiar as a well-worn pair of shoes.
“I think it’s motivated self-interest that prompted you to get this for me,” said Sterling, pulling the foil wrapper off completely. “Hell hath no fury like a hungry and grouchy Omega Captain.”
Banks raised an eyebrow while scraping her spoon around the plastic tray to pick up the last bit of oatmeal. “I’m not really sure that’s how the saying goes, but I think I get your point.”
Ensign Keller then wandered into the wardroom, looking like a kid on his first day at school. He was wringing his hands together and looking nervously around the room, hoping that someone would meet his eye.
“I have to know how that kid got selected as an Omega officer,” said Banks, now working her way through a slice of beef jerky. “He still looks like he’s scared of his own shadow.”
Sterling smiled while chewing a corner of the delicious ham and cheese. It was standard procedure for Banks to attempt to eke out information from him concerning the crew’s Omega Directive tests. However, Fleet Admiral Griffin forbade this knowledge to anyone below the rank of Omega Captain.
“You’d be surprised what that kid is capable of, when push comes to shove,” said Sterling, deciding to tease his first officer a little. It was only fair, considering her high-jinks earlier. Banks then waited expectantly for him to continue, which of course he had no intention of doing.
“Come on, Lucas, you can’t leave it at that!” said Banks, flopping back in her chair.
“I can and I will,” said Sterling, firmly. “Now eat your two breakfasts and stop asking questions you know I can’t answer.”
“Spoil-sport,” Banks hit back. She then tore the foil off her second meal tray and set to work devouring it.
Sterling suddenly found himself lost in his own thoughts, recalling the entry in Ensign Keller’s file that related to his suitability for the Omega Taskforce. As it turned out, Keller hadn’t been subjected to a test at all, at least not deliberately. His situation – and the choice he had made - had been entirely real. At the time Keller had been posted to the Fleet Destroyer Yosemite, which had been attacked and boarded in the Void. Twenty percent of its crew had already been killed or captured by the Sa’Nerra. The vessel’s commander, Captain Fulton, was also dead, along with the rest of the senior command crew, leaving Keller alone on the bridge. With time running out and their engines disabled, Keller made a hard and desperate choice. He managed to hotwire a link to the ship’s thrusters, which he used to overwhelm the Sa’Nerran ship’s grapple. The boarding tunnel then ruptured, blowing the aliens - and two-thirds of the Yosemite’s crew – into space. However, the rest of the ship’s complement survived, as did the ship. Keller’s actions had prevented a Fleet vessel and crew from being turned, but the cost – especially to Keller – had been high.
Some considered Keller’s actions to be a cowardly attempt to save his own skin, but Admiral Griffin had seen it differently. Keller had made the hard choice that day. He’d sacrificed some of the Yosemite’s officers and crew, but he’d saved the rest and got their ship home safely. No matter how skittish the ensign appeared, that act alone made him an Omega officer in Sterling’s eyes. It meant that when push came to shove, Keller had the guts to do what was necessary. And so far, the young ensign had not let Sterling down.
“Where the hell is he going now?” wondered Commander Banks, pausing with a pepperoni sandwich between her teeth. Her eyes followed Keller as the ensign began wandering to the opposite side of the room.
Sterling shook thoughts of Keller's past exploits from his mind and observed his helmsman. Then he finally understood where Keller was heading and suspected the young man’s plan would not end well. Keller had clearly not spotted Sterling and Banks over at the corner table, and was approaching Lieutenant Opal Shade instead. Everyone knew that Shade preferred to eat alone. Everyone knew to give her space in the wardroom, for their own benefit
as much as for Shade’s. Keller knew this too, but for some reason the young officer was freely walking into a fire-pit and expecting not to get burned.
“He’s going over to Shade,” Sterling said, answering Banks’ question. A piece of pepperoni then fell out of Banks’ mouth as she jerked around to watch.
“Does he have a death wish?” said Banks, continuing to chomp down heartily on the sandwich.
Sterling watched Keller approach Shade with a smile and a wave. At first Shade simply ignored him, presumably hoping that he’d just go away. However, all that achieved was to make Keller look even more lost than he already did. Sterling then observed Shade place her knife down on her meal tray and stare up at Keller like he was the next course in her breakfast.
“Ensign, over here,” Sterling called out, deciding to save the man from a grisly death.
Keller’s eyes shot across to Sterling and he practically raced over to him, knocking into a table of junior engineering officers on-route. They glowered at him almost as menacingly as Shade had.
“Thanks, Captain, I didn’t see you when I walked in,” said Keller, standing in front of him.
“Take a pew, Ensign,” said Sterling, kicking out a chair for the young officer. Keller gladly sat down.
“Morning, Commander, how are you today?” Keller went on, cheerfully. He was clearly relieved to have found company.
Banks raised an eyebrow at the young ensign then drank from her coffee mug, slurping loudly. “This is a warship, Ensign, not a holiday camp,” she replied, switching into her bad-cop routine. “How I am is not important.” She paused for effect, then added, “Nor it is any of your business.”
Keller recoiled slightly, but Sterling stepped in to rescue him again. “Go grab yourself a tray, kid, it won’t be that long before we’re heading out,” he said, shooting Banks a reproving look. His first officer liked to come across as gruff and surly with the junior ranks to keep them on their toes. However, Sterling couldn’t deny that the relationship worked well. As the officer in charge of crew discipline, his ball-busting first officer was feared and revered.
Keller shot up, causing his chair to screech against the metal deck plating, and hot-footed it over to the serving counter.
“I love it when I put an extra spring in their step,” said Banks, dusting crumbs off her hands.
“You’re a monster,” said Sterling before taking a sip of coffee. “I like it.”
Banks laughed, but Sterling had barely placed his coffee cup back on the table before a general alert alarm rang out in the wardroom. Sterling and Banks met each other’s eyes, their focus suddenly becoming razor sharp.
“Computer, explain the general alert,” Sterling said out loud. The chatter in the wardroom had all died down, as the crew waited for the computer’s response.
“Fleet Heavy Cruiser Rampart has surged into the system, beyond the range of Gatekeeper Odin,” the computer announced. In alert situations, the computer’s normally cheerful demeanor was suppressed in favor of a more clinical style of delivery. It was clearer and easier to understand, but it also added a darker intensity to the information the AI conveyed. “The Rampart has so far not responded to hails and is presumed to be under hostile control.”
Sterling pushed his chair back, getting ready to move. “What are our orders?” he said, feeling his muscles twitching with nervous energy.
“All ships are to un-dock immediately and prepare to defend F-COP,” the computer replied.
Sterling stood. All eyes were on him. “Lieutenant Shade and Ensign Keller to the bridge immediately,” he said out loud. Shade was already standing, brow furrowed, while Keller was half-way back to the table with a meal tray in his hands. Shade made a bee-line for the exit, grabbing the still stunned-looking ensign en route. “Computer, take us to battle stations,” Sterling then added, calmly and assuredly. The general alert tone remained, but the lighting in the wardroom switched, bathing the crew in a crimson tone.
“You heard the Captain, get to your stations,” Commander Banks called out, clapping her hands twice like a school teacher. “Come on, move, move, move!” she added, as the wardroom began to clear at lightning speed.
Sterling waited for the bulk of the crew to exit, then walked side-by-side with Banks, tapping his neural interface en route. “Ensign Keller, detach us from the station as soon as you’re at your post,” he said, receiving a prompt response in reply. Then he reached out to engineering through the still-open link. “Commander Crow, I want full power in sixty seconds. Give us everything you’ve got.”
There was a momentary silence, then a female voice responded. “Captain, this is Lieutenant Katreena Razor. Crow is no long chief engineer.”
Sterling cursed under his breath for being so careless. In the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten about his new engineer, partly because he’d yet to actually meet her. He’d planned for them to have a private meeting in his ready room before they departed for the Void.
“Apologies, Lieutenant, force of habit,” said Sterling. “I take it you’ve already familiarized yourself with the Invictus?”
“Aye, sir, the Invictus and I are already the best of friends,” Razor replied. “I’ll have her at full power before you reach the bridge.”
“Understood, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, glad that his slip-up appeared not to have unsettled or offended his new engineer. He then tapped his interface to close the link.
“How did the Rampart manage to jump beyond the perimeter of the aperture?” said Banks, as she hit the call button on the elevator to the bridge. “F-COP and the Odin generate a massive surge restriction field to prevent that from happening.”
Sterling invited Banks into the elevator first then darted in after her. His first officer had already hit the button for the bridge by the time both feet had hit the deck again.
“It is still possible to surge beyond the aperture, providing you have very detailed maps of the system,” said Sterling. Then he considered another option. “Or you’re under the control of the enemy, who doesn’t give a damn whether you live or die.” He was tapping his finger impatiently against his thigh while the elevator ascended. “It’s a hell of a risk though, even with the maps.”
Vectoring a surge beyond the threshold of an aperture was common practice in the Void, and a tactic the Invictus itself had employed on numerous occasions. However, inside Fleet space, where the inter-sector apertures were guarded by Gatekeepers and command outposts, surge restriction fields prevented ships from entering anywhere other than directly through the aperture threshold. To attempt to surge beyond a restriction field risked the ship being physically torn apart.
“I’m going with the notion that the Sa’Nerra don’t really value human life that much,” commented Banks as the door opened and Sterling stepped out into the corridor leading to the bridge. “Even so, one heavy cruiser can’t take on F-COP, especially with the Hammer in the system. It’s like bringing a knife to a gunfight.”
Sterling sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This had also been on his mind during their brief ascent to deck one. Even so, it was best not to be complacent, he decided.
“The Sa’Nerra have switched up their tactics since turning some Fleet officers, McQueen most of all,” Sterling said, stepping onto the bridge. “We should be prepared for anything.” He then jumped onto the command platform and saw that the Invictus was already backing away from its mooring. “Report, Lieutenant,” he added, turning to the ever-prepared weapons officer.
“The Rampart’s deep surge into the sector has caught the Hammer out of position,” Shade began, sending a tactical map of the system onto the viewscreen. “The Hammer is moving to intercept at best possible speed, but it won’t reach optimal firing range in time.”
“In time for what?” Banks said, scowling across at the weapons officer from her post beside Sterling’s.
“In time to stop the Rampart from crashing into F-COP,” Shade answered, coolly. “It has set itself on a co
llision course.”
Chapter 8
Leaving the gate open
Sterling rested forward on his command console as Ensign Keller maneuvered the Invictus clear of F-COP. Ahead of him on the viewscreen were the two Fleet Destroyers, the Pandora and Nemesis. Both were less than two-thirds the size of the heavy cruiser they were chasing down, yet they still dwarfed the Invictus.
“I’ve coordinated an attack pattern with the destroyers, Captain,” said Lieutenant Shade from the weapons console. “Ensign Keller has our course and maneuvers.”
“What’s the status of the Hammer?” Sterling asked.
“The Hammer is moving to intercept, though my calculations still suggest it will not be able to intervene in time,” Shade replied. Her console then chimed an update, which she quickly scanned and read out loud. “F-COP has ordered Gatekeeper Odin to redeploy as backup,” Shade continued, which drew interested looks from both Sterling and Banks. “It has already left its mooring and is repositioning to assist in the attack.”
Sterling kept his weight forward on his console, tapping his finger on the side of the metal plinth. Something about the situation didn’t smell right to him.
“Permission to engage as soon as we’re in range, Captain?” Shade requested. Sterling knew she was merely trying to prompt him for an affirmative response, but there was still a lingering doubt at the back of his mind. “Captain?” Lieutenant Shade repeated when Sterling still didn’t reply.