Omega Taskforce Series: Books 1 - 3: A Military Sci-Fi Box Set

by G J Ogden

  Sterling continued tapping his finger on the console for a few more seconds before standing to his full height and pressing his hands to the small of his back. “All stop, Ensign Keller,” he announced with confidence.

  “Answering all stop, Captain,” replied Keller, smartly.

  Commander Banks stepped to Sterling’s side, a quizzical frown ridging her brow.

  “What’s up?” she asked, folding her arms. “Do you suspect something?”

  Sterling rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh. “I’m not sure, Mercedes, but this situation just doesn’t add up,” he said, talking quietly so that no-one could overhear. He didn’t want to use neural comms, so as not to give an impression to Shade and Keller that he was simply struck dumb, unable to act. Both were watching him and Banks keenly. Sterling then peered out at the rapidly advancing shape of the Rampart on the viewscreen. “A kamikaze tactic like this might work on a smaller space station, but not on F-COP,” he added, thinking out loud. “F-COP alone has enough armaments to reduce the Rampart to dust long before it rams into the station.”

  Banks nodded. “I agree that F-COP’s response is excessive, especially redeploying the Odin,” she replied. “But I also understand that they don’t want to take any chances, either.”

  “Maybe that’s what the Rampart is counting on,” said Sterling, beginning to get a clearer picture of the situation in his mind. “If the crew has been turned, the Sa’Nerra would know that this is how F-COP would react.”

  Banks’ frown deepened then she too turned to the viewscreen. “Then what? A distraction?” she asked, also thinking out loud. “But if so, then what is it drawing our attention away from?”

  Banks’ question had been the right one, and had helped to galvanize the jumble of thoughts in Sterling’s head into a clear plan. He turned to Lieutenant Shade, who appeared frustrated, though Sterling knew this was just her 'confused face'. His weapon’s officer had a very limited range of expressions, but Sterling had learned to tell them apart via very subtle differences in eyebrow shape and head position.

  “Lieutenant, scan the aperture and close surrounding area,” Sterling said, running with the hunch he’d just had. “Try to filter out all the jammer interference from the Rampart and look for evidence of residual surge fields, no matter how small.”

  Shade turned to her console and began working. Meanwhile, the two fleet destroyers had engaged the Rampart and were taking heavy damage. The Rampart itself was also taking a pounding, and that was even before F-COP decided to unleash its own devastating brand of hellfire onto the captured vessel.

  “I’m picking up eight small residual surges, Captain,” said Shade, her furrowed brow smoothing out. “Their energy level was too low to register on standard scans, so my guess is that they were dark surges.”

  Sterling closed his hand into a fist and rapped it against his console while glancing across to Banks. She immediately went back to her station and began working, understanding the implications of what Shade had said.

  “I’m now reading six… correction, eight Fleet combat shuttles on a vector toward the lower levels of F-COP,” Shade went on, still working furiously. “With the Odin out of position, it must have missed them.”

  “Ensign Keller, get us in front of those combat shuttles, right now,” Sterling ordered.

  Keller again replied smartly and the Invictus turned on a dime then began powering away from the engagement in the distance toward the new contacts.

  “I’ve alerted F-COP to the new contacts, but they can’t get a lock,” said Commander Banks, shaking her head. “The shuttles are approaching in the station’s blind spot and they’re so small that F-COP’s cannons are struggling to get a firing solution.”

  Sterling cursed, realizing that only a Fleet Captain could have known of this flaw in F-COP’s design. It also explained the importance of luring Gatekeeper Odin out of position. The giant weapons platform had been positioned precisely to protect this weakness in F-COP’s defenses.

  “I’m also detecting uranium, plutonium and lithium on-board those shuttles,” Banks continued. She then cursed and met Sterling’s eyes. “Each one of those shuttles is a flying H-bomb.”

  Sterling shook his head. “Nukes?” he said, derisively. “Now that’s a novel tactic even for the Sa’Nerra.”

  “Coming into range of the shuttles now, Captain,” Ensign Keller called out.

  “Maintain our relative position at standoff range, Ensign,” said Sterling. He wanted to keep the shuttles outside of their effective weapons range, but close enough for the Invictus to pick them off like flies.

  Keller acknowledged the command, then Sterling turned to Shade. “Take them out, Lieutenant,” he said, with gusto. “Maximum prejudice.”

  “Aye Captain,” Shade replied, locking her gaze onto her console. “Firing now.”

  The space ahead of the Invictus was lit up by the searing blasts of light from the ship’s plasma rail guns, and moments later four of the shuttles exploded. Return fire flashed toward them and Sterling could feel the impacts through the deck plating. However, he knew that the combat shuttles lacked the punch to do any serious damage to their state-of-the-art vessel. Next, the ship’s turrets flashed, sending smaller, but still lethal blasts of plasma into the darkness and two more shuttles exploded.

  “It’s like shooting ducks in a barrel,” Sterling said, smiling. It didn’t matter to him that these were Fleet shuttles, nor that they were likely crewed by turned officers from the Rampart. They were the enemy, plain and simple.

  “I’m receiving a transmission from one of the two remaining shuttles, Captain,” said Commander Banks.

  Sterling checked his console and saw that they had less than a minute before the shuttles would impact the station. Even so, he was curious what he could learn from these latest aides to the emissaries.

  “Let them close the gap, Ensign,” Sterling called out to Keller. “I want an opportunity to hear what these turned traitors have to say for themselves.”

  “Aye, Captain,” said Keller, reducing his own relative velocity to F-COP to allow the shuttles to gain on them.

  Sterling then nodded to Commander Banks and she tapped her console. Moments later, a woman dressed in a Fleet captain’s uniform appeared on the viewscreen. It was Captain Ellen McCarthy.

  “You won’t stop us!” McCarthy roared through gritted teeth. “The Sa’Nerra are stronger, smarter and there are more of us!”

  Sterling rolled his eyes. “Change the record, I’ve heard this tune before,” he replied, glancing at his console again to check the time they had remaining before he’d need to destroy the shuttles.

  “You Fleet are so arrogant and so sure of yourselves,” McCarthy continued, spitting the words at the screen. “But the Sa’Nerra know you better than you know yourselves. Let them educate you, as they did me. Let them turn you and make you part of their great dominion.”

  Commander Banks had stepped away from console and was now standing at Sterling’s side. Sterling knew why she was there, and made the adjustments to his console, ready for her. McCarthy’s eyes flicked over to Sterling’s first officer, but the woman’s expression did not change. If McCarthy recognized Banks, she was not letting on.

  “I’m not here to learn, Captain or Aide or Acolyte or whatever the hell you call yourself now,” said Sterling, taking a step aside. “I’m here to teach you what happens when the Sa’Nerra invade our space. Are you ready to learn?”

  McCarthy’s lips twisted into a spiteful sneer. “You know nothing of what is to come,” she spat. “I’ll gladly give my life for the cause. Can you say the same?”

  “No, I can’t,” replied Sterling. “But I can grant you your wish.” He then turned to Commander Banks. “All yours, Commander. The Omega Directive is in effect.”

  Banks took control of Sterling’s command console, which he’d already configured to weapons override mode. His first officer then locked on to the shuttles and hovered her finger over
the button to fire.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you Ellen?” said Banks, peering up at her former commanding officer on the screen.

  “Of course I do,” McCarthy snapped back. “And you should be at my side, following the emissaries. It’s the only way you’ll survive what’s to come.”

  Banks lowered her finger by a fraction, but held off initiating the command to fire. Sterling felt a shiver of electricity run down his spine as she did so. They had less than thirty seconds to destroy the shuttles, before it was too late to act.

  “And what is to come, Ellen?” Banks asked, her tone level, even friendly.

  “The end,” McCarthy replied, a sneer returning to her lips. “You can’t stop them. The Sa’Nerra will bend Earth to its will. I only wish I could be there to see it.”

  Banks’ eyes narrowed and her muscles became taught. “Request denied, Captain,” she hit back, pressing her finger to the console and unleashing a full spread of fire from the forward plasma rail runs. The image of McCarthy vanished and was briefly replaced by a fuzz of static before the viewscreen switched to fragmented remains of the two rogue shuttles.

  Banks let out a sigh then turned to Sterling. “Thank you for letting me do that, Captain,” she said, taking a step away from the Sterling’s console.

  “No problem, Commander,” replied Sterling. Then he glanced at his console and frowned. “But we’re going to need to get these things reinforced.”

  Banks frowned then looked down at Sterling’s console. The area around where she’d stabbed her finger into the screen to fire the rail guns was cracked.

  Banks made a sort of tutting sound then shrugged. “Sorry,” she said, slightly whimsically.

  “Captain, the Rampart has been obliterated,” said Lieutenant Shade, drawing their attention back to the viewscreen. It was now focused on the chunks of metal that constituted all that remained of the once mighty heavy cruiser. Plasma blasts from the turret cannons on F-COP were popping off at close intervals, picking off and vaporizing the debris before it reached the station. “Gatekeeper Odin has also returned to its mooring.”

  Sterling nodded then stood in front of his console with his hands behind his back.

  “Next time, hopefully they’ll know better than to move it,” Sterling said, as much to himself as in reply to Shade. “What the hell use is a gatekeeper if it’s not parked in front of the damned gate?”

  Banks’ console then chimed an incoming message, and from his first officer’s body language he knew it was bad news.

  “Orders in from F-COP,” Banks began. “All vessels are to dock and prepare for a de-briefing.”

  Sterling snorted a laugh. “Like hell we’re docking again,” he said, hovering his hand over his neural implant. “Give me a minute, Commander, before you reply.” Sterling then tapped his neural implant and reached out to Admiral Griffin. The need to connect through neural relays made the task mentally more difficult and draining than a normal person-to-person link, but eventually he felt the Admiral’s presence in his mind.

  “Why are you still here, Captain?” snapped Griffin. Sterling could feel the Fleet Admiral’s disappointment dragging down on him like a heavy blanket.

  “I was just saving F-COP’s ass,” Sterling replied. “Again…” he added, more pointedly.

  “Yes, congratulations, Captain,” Griffin replied. She then added, “Again…” with the same pointedness. “I’m sure the UG will bestow another medal on you,” Griffin went on, sounding unimpressed and unappreciative, “but my point remains. Why are you still here?”

  Sterling pressed his fingers to his temples. The strain of the link, on top of the stress of dealing with his obstinate commanding officer was giving him a headache.

  “We’ve just been ordered to dock for de-briefing on this latest incident,” Sterling replied, managing to remain calm and polite.

  It was not possible to hear a sigh over a neural link, but through their highly personal connection, Sterling could still detect Griffin’s exasperation.

  “Give me a moment, Captain,” Griffin replied. “In the meantime, make your way toward the aperture and prepare to surge.” The link then went dead.

  Sterling continued to rub his temples for a few seconds then rested his hands on his console and glanced across to Banks. She was watching him, eyebrows raised.

  “Ensign Keller, set a course for the aperture and prepare to surge,” Sterling said, while still looking at Banks. She then tapped her neural interface and Sterling felt her enter his mind.

  “Are we disobeying orders?” Banks asked through the link. She sounded excited by the prospect.

  “I think I just set Griffin on the warpath,” Sterling replied, with a wry smile.

  Banks’ console then chimed an update and his first officer adjusted her gaze to read the message.

  “Well, what do you know, we’ve just been cleared to surge, by authority of Fleet Admiral Griffin,” said Banks.

  Ensign Keller glanced back at them both, smiling, though Lieutenant Shade simply looked like she was attending a memorial ceremony.

  “It’s nice to have friends in high places,” said Sterling, also smiling. Then the damage to his console from Banks’ super-human finger again caught his eye. “Now, I think it’s about time I met my new chief engineer.”

  Chapter 9

  A strange knock at the door

  A knocking sound on the ready room door distracted Lucas Sterling’s gaze away from his computer console. Frowning, he waited to see if the noise came again and a few seconds later it did.

  “Computer, what the hell is that hammering?” Sterling asked. The Invictus was only just out of repair dock and Sterling expected it to be in pristine condition, not banging like an old jalopy.

  “Lieutenant Katreena Razor is banging her knuckles on the ready room door, Captain,” the computer replied, cheerfully. Sterling’s frown deepened. “She’s your new chief engineer…” the computer added, apparently misconstruing Sterling’s frown for witlessness.

  “I know who she is, damn it!” Sterling snapped back at the computer, shaking his head. “But why is she banging on the door and not pressing the damn call button?”

  “Perhaps you should ask her that question, Captain?” the computer replied, giving Sterling a little more attitude than he cared for.

  “I can still have you re-programmed, you know?” Sterling said to the computer.

  “I am quite certain you would miss me, Captain,” the computer replied, with the sort of unswerving sureness that could only come from a machine-based intelligence.

  “Don’t count on it,” muttered Sterling.

  Then before the quirky Gen-Fourteen AI had a chance to reply, Sterling tapped a button on his console to open the door. A young woman with snow-white hair and dazzling, almost ethereal-looking blue eyes was standing outside. Her hands were pressed to the small of her back and she stood tall, giving off an air of confidence.

  “You sent for me, sir?” the woman said, looking slightly perplexed. Sterling considered this was likely due to his own slightly peeved expression. “I’m Lieutenant Katreena Razor,” the woman added.

  “Sit down, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, gesturing to one of the two chairs on the opposite side of his compact desk.

  Razor stepped inside and dropped into the seat as directed. Her posture remained upright, and her hands were now resting on her right knee, one on top of the other. Now that she was directly in front of him, Sterling noticed that her skin reflected the light in a unique way, as if there were millions of tiny fragments of glitter buried beneath the epidermis.

  “How come you knocked on the door, instead of using the call button?” Sterling asked. The question was on his mind and would continue to bug him unless he got it off his chest. “You had me thinking that my first job for you would be to fix my door mechanism.”

  Razor’s white eyebrows rose up on her forehead; she clearly hadn’t anticipated that this would be her new captain’s opening gambit. />
  “Knocking is just more real, sir,” the young woman replied. “I’m a physical engineer. I like things I can fix and build with my hands, rather than through a computer terminal or other interface.” She shrugged. “I can do both, of course,” she was quick to add.

  Sterling let out a polite grunt of acknowledgement. The new engineer’s answer had made far more sense than he’d expected it to. He turned to his computer console, which was displaying Lieutenant Razor’s service record. He skim-read the section relating to Razor’s Omega Directive test to review how she had ended up qualifying for the unique posting on his ship. The information on his screen reminded Sterling that Admiral Griffin had already explained her situation. Instead of being set up to take a test, Razor had been forced to make a decision that Sterling believed even Admiral Griffin would not have engineered directly. In order to prevent her ship from being destroyed, Razor had ejected the reaction core and blown eight fellow crew members out into space in the process. At the time, Sterling had considered this a tough call, but nothing extraordinary. However, it had then transpired that one of the crew had been Razor’s twin brother, and sole remaining family member in the universe.

  Talk about making an unconscionable choice… Sterling thought as she scrolled deeper through Razor’s file.

  “What do you want to get out of this posting, Lieutenant?” Sterling finally asked.

  He had intentionally opened with a boring, stock interview question to see if his new engineer could give a noteworthy, unexpected answer. Though in reality he didn’t feel like he needed to ask Razor any questions. The new engineer had already overseen the repairs to the Invictus while it was docked at F-COP, and since the Marauder was purring like a baby tiger again, Sterling had little doubt as to Razor’s abilities. He was more curious as to her suitability for and dedication to their unique mission.