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

by G J Ogden

  “Hard dock confirmed, Captain,” said Ensign Keller as the Invictus latched onto to the docking umbilical that led into the abandoned research station.

  “Lieutenant Razor, now that we have a physical connection, see if you can trigger the station’s life support systems,” said Sterling, aiming the order over his shoulder to the engineer. “I’d hate to have to go in there wearing EV suits.”

  “That’s odd,” replied Lieutenant Razor, though it seemed like she was chatting to herself rather than responding to her captain. Sterling turned around to see his engineer still working at her consoles.

  “What’s odd, Lieutenant?” Sterling asked, prompting Razor for an update since one had not been forthcoming.

  “The research station already has minimal life support activated,” Razor replied, while flitting from console to console.

  “Can we determine if there’s anyone on the station? Human or Sa’Nerran?” Sterling asked. The news that the station was still active was unexpected and increased the chances that Colicos was still there. However, it also meant that the enemy could be lying in wait on the other side of the docking hatch.

  Razor continued working for several seconds then turned to face Sterling. “I’m not picking up any movement, but our scans are fuzzy,” the engineer said. “The planetary fragment the station is built on contains the same metals and elements that allowed us to hide from the wasp’s scanners. As such, I would not rule out the possibility there may still be someone on-board, sir.”

  Sterling glanced back at the viewscreen, which was now displaying the tarnished metal door at the other side of the docking umbilical. He didn’t like not knowing what was on the other side. However, he also knew there was only one way to find out.

  “Prepare a boarding party,” Sterling said, glancing over to Shade. “We go in expecting the worst.”

  Shade nodded then tapped her neural interface to communicate with her commandoes. Sterling then nodded to Banks and they both stepped off the command platform to get ready to board the station.

  “Captain, if I were to accompany you with some portable scanning equipment, I could get a more accurate reading of the internal structure,” Razor added. “The station has many sub-layers where our scanners currently can’t penetrate.”

  Sterling nodded. “Okay then you’re with us,” he said, nodding to Razor.

  “We should bring Commander Graves too,” suggested Banks. “If there is anyone still on the station, they could be in bad shape.”

  Sterling hadn’t considered this possibility, but agreed that it was a sensible precaution. “Agreed, notify him to meet us at the port docking hatch in ten minutes,” said Sterling. Then he turned to Ensign Keller, who had already spun his chair around to face him. “Looks like you get the hot seat while I’m gone, Ensign,” said Sterling. “Think you can handle it?”

  Ensign Keller slid out of his chair and stood to attention. “Aye, sir,” he said, confidently, though there was still a flicker of doubt behind his eyes.

  “Keep the Invictus warmed up, Ensign, and keep an eye out for that cruiser,” Sterling added, heading for the door. “If it so much as turns in our direction, let me know.”

  Keller acknowledged the order then moved from the helm control station to the command platform. The young officer rested his hands on the console and leant into it, exactly as Sterling had a habit of doing.

  “He’ll be after your job in a few years,” said Banks, as they moved off the bridge.

  “That’s assuming we all survive the next few years,” replied Sterling, bleakly. “He’ll probably be dead before his next birthday.”

  Banks shot Sterling an admonitory frown. “Omega Captains might have to be cold-hearted, but they don’t have to be morose, you know?”

  Sterling met his first officer’s eyes. “What we have to be is realistic,” he hit back. “The only way that kid survives long enough to get four gold bars on his collar is if we do our jobs. Keller included.”

  “Aye Captain,” replied Banks, recognizing that Sterling wasn’t in the mood to play games. “In that case, I’ll make doubly sure that the crew do their jobs well.”

  Sterling and Banks covered the short distance from the bridge to the docking hatch at a brisk pace. A squad of four commandoes met them at the hatch to dispense weapons and body armor to the officers. Razor had detoured to engineering to collect the equipment she needed, but was now heading toward them. Commander Graves, the ship’s medical officer, was walking alongside her.

  “Here, Commander, put this on,” said Sterling, throwing a set of body armor to Graves.

  The doctor frowned at the armor then reluctantly pulled it on. “I would prefer to remain in the medical bay, in order to receive the wounded that will inevitably come my way, Captain,” the doctor said.

  “There could be people in urgent need of treatment on the station, Commander,” Sterling replied, taking one of the spare pistols from Lieutenant Shade and offering it to the doctor. “We need you on this one.”

  Graves gave an acquiescent nod then accepted the weapon from Sterling. “Very well, Captain,” he said, holstering the pistol.

  Lieutenant Shade handed a set of armor and a pistol to Razor before moving into the docking umbilical to co-ordinate the commandoes. Razor placed down the case of equipment she’d brought from engineering and began to don the protective gear.

  “Isn’t ‘do no harm’ the maxim all you doctors live by?” said Lieutenant Razor as she buckled up the body armor and slotted her own pistol into its holster.

  “I do my utmost to uphold that oath when it comes to Fleet personnel, Lieutenant,” replied Graves, in his usual, dry, factual manner. “However, I am perfectly at ease with doing a great deal of harm to the Sa’Nerra.”

  Razor laughed then realized that no-one else had joined in. Graves moved into the docking umbilical and took up position behind the commandoes, Commander Banks and Lieutenant Shade.

  “Did I miss something?” asked Razor, once there was only her and Sterling remaining. “Or was that not a joke?”

  “Commander Graves never jokes,” replied Sterling, adjusting the power level of his plasma pistol. “And he’s also as adept at killing as he is at saving lives.”

  Razor nodded, though she appeared to be impressed rather than shocked. “Quite the crew you have, Captain,” she said, picking up the case of equipment, she’d lugged along with her.

  “A crew that you’re a part of, lieutenant,” replied Sterling, inviting Razor to head down the umbilical to join the rest of the team.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Razor, though her reaction was muted. Sterling was reminded of Razor’s feelings for Fleet, and he accepted and even understood her grievances. However, in a way, the crew of the Invictus were all estranged from the regular service. Sterling hoped that Razor would appreciate that in time and start to feel that she fit in.

  “We’re ready to open the door, Captain,” said Lieutenant Shade as Sterling approached.

  Sterling raised his pistol and nodded to his weapons officer. “Go, Lieutenant.”

  The chunky hatch door hissed then slid opened, followed soon after by the inner airlock door. A wave of cold, stale air washed through the docking umbilical. It tasted of death and decay, like an old tomb that hadn’t been revealed for thousands of years. The commandoes moved in first, securing the dock, followed by Shade and then Banks. Sterling had also stepped through before the call of “clear,” had resonated through the room.

  The commandoes took up positions, aiming their plasma rifles along the corridors connecting the dock to the rest of the station. Lieutenant Razor knelt down in the center of the room and began to set out her scanning equipment on the deck. The engineer worked fast and with proficiency and was back on her feet within a minute. Razor then tapped the computer wrapped around her left forearm and the screen solidified. Moments later a scan of the research station appeared on the display.

  “Check your computers,” Razor said, while studying the s
chematic as it was being built up from the new readings taken by the portable scanner. “You should all be getting a feed now.”

  Sterling tapped his computer and confirmed that he too was getting a readout of the station’s internal layout. The installation was small compared to regular Fleet outposts and especially the city-sized COPs. However, it still spanned five levels and occupied about the same floor area as an average ice hockey arena.

  “What about the energy readings, Lieutenant?” Sterling asked, scowling at the new map on his screen. The data was still populating, and he couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. “Can you determine if there’s anyone alive here?”

  “Negative, Captain, there’s still no movement and no signs of recent respiration,” replied Razor. “However, I am picking up what appear to be active medical bays or perhaps stasis pods in the main lab area above this floor.”

  Razor then tapped a sequence of commands into her computer and a section of the map was highlighted in red on Sterling’s screen. A route from their current position then appeared, snaking through the installation’s various corridors.

  “This is the quickest route to the lab, sir,” Razor added, lowering her wrist to deactivate the computer.

  “Okay, let’s check it out,” said Sterling, nodding to Lieutenant Shade. His weapons officer then moved ahead with her squad of commandoes. Sterling and Banks followed with Graves and Razor picking up the rear.

  “This is a cheery place,” said Banks, as they moved through the bare metal corridors of the research station. The installation was on minimal life support and was as dark and cold as a cave. “I wonder what the hell Colicos was doing out here?”

  “I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” said Sterling, sharing his first officer’s sense of foreboding.

  The commandoes continued to lead the way, their heavy boots clacking against the metal decking as they hurried through the stairwells and corridors, rifles raised.

  “There’s blast damage to the wall here,” said Banks, pausing for a moment as Shade and the commandoes cleared the next room.

  Sterling used his computer to shine a light on the area then ran his hand across the scorched panels. “This was definitely caused by a plasma weapon,” he said, suddenly feeling like he was being watched.

  “There are more blast marks further along,” said Banks. She was also now looking at her computer. “From the damage pattern, I’d say it’s a mix of Sa’Nerran and earth-designed weapons, though I can’t be sure if they were Fleet or not.”

  Sterling nodded then continued to follow the commandoes through the station. “Something definitely went down here,” he said, stepping out into what appeared to be a large open-plan lab. “But it looks like we missed it by quite some time.”

  Razor moved up from behind Sterling and hurried deeper into the lab. She was staring down at her computer and following it like a compass.

  “Over here, Captain,” Razor then said, picking up her pace even further. “These look like stasis pods.”

  Sterling and Banks followed the engineer with Graves trailing them a few paces behind. Shade and the commandoes again took up defensive positions, but Sterling noticed that Shade’s expression was even bleaker than usual. He felt a neural link from his weapon’s officer form in his mind.

  “There are too many entry points onto this level, Captain,” Shade said through the neural link. The weapons officer had opened the link so that Commander Banks could monitor too. “It will be difficult to defend. I suggest we do not stay here long.”

  “Understood, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, tapping his interface to close the link.

  Sterling noted that there had been no hint of alarm in Shade’s voice. She was simply reporting in her usual, cool and measured way. However, the fact she had highlighted their exposed position told Sterling that his weapon’s officer was concerned, even if that concern didn’t manifest itself as emotion.

  “They’re human,” said Razor, who had begun an analysis of the stasis pods while Sterling had been speaking to Shade. “There are five pods here; the occupants of four of them are already dead.” She then tapped her finger onto the nearest pod. “This one is still alive, barely.”

  Razor then smoothed her hand across the glass canopy that cocooned the survivor inside the pod, wiping away a layer of frosty condensation. Sterling moved closer and saw the face of a woman through the glass. She was dressed in the sort of clothes that were common to many of the Void colonies. There was also something about the woman’s outfit that Sterling found familiar, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. However, far more troubling was that her neural implant was showing signs of corruption.

  “Commander Graves, what do you make of this?” asked Sterling, ushering the ship’s sinister doctor over.

  Graves stepped up to the first stasis pod and began working on its controls. A look of deep concentration spread across his face, like that of a physician performing open-heart surgery.

  “Female, twenty-seven years old, and in reasonable health,” Graves began, speaking in his usual measured, dispassionate tone of voice. “Signs of moderate recreational drug use, in additional to medical drugs used to treat a variety of sexually transmitted infections…” Graves went on.

  “I meant what do you make of the corruption to her implant, Commander,” said Sterling, trying to hurry the doctor on. “I don’t need her full medical history.”

  Graves stopped working and glanced over at Sterling. If the doctor had been wearing spectacles, he would have been peering over the top of them.

  “It is all pertinent, Captain, but I shall come to why in time,” Graves said, turning back to the stasis pod. “The corruption to the neural impact is broadly consistent with a first-generation Sa’Nerran neural control weapon,” Graves went on. Then the doctor’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “However, there are markers that suggest the device used on this woman was not the same as the one we are familiar with.” Graves straightened up then turned to the captain. “I would need to examine the implant more closely. I suggest we bring this subject back to the ship.”

  Sterling shook his head. “We don’t have time for that, Commander,” he said, forcefully. “That heavy cruiser out there could spot us at any moment. Find out what you need here.”

  Graves’ bushy eyebrows raised up on his forehead. “It will require that I conduct an invasive examination Captain,” the doctor said. “In short, I may need to cut into her head. She is unlikely to survive.”

  This time it was Razor’s eyebrows that raised up, but Sterling did not flinch. “Is this woman… salvageable?” he asked, struggling to find the right words.

  “Salvageable, Captain?” replied Graves.

  “Has she already been turned?” Sterling replied, putting it more bluntly.

  “Her cognitive state is uncertain, Captain,” Graves replied, again studying the readings on the stasis pod’s screen. “However, there is significant neural corruption. There is little possibility of recovery,” he added, speaking as if giving a patient a terminal diagnosis.

  Sterling nodded. “If she’s turned then she’s already dead,” he said, without feeling or remorse. “Do what you have to do, Commander. But keep her sedated. The last thing we need is a turned colonist running around here.”

  Graves nodded then returned to the stasis pod’s controls and initiated the deactivation sequence. The pod began to thrum with energy as it set about reviving the woman from her induced slumber. Sterling then recalled Graves’ earlier comment about how the colonist’s medical history was somehow important.

  “You said that this woman’s past ailments were ‘pertinent’?” he asked the doctor, as the stasis pod continued to deactivate. “What did you mean by that?”

  “There were several factors that led me to my conclusion,” Graves began. He was busy setting out a number of medical instruments on the side of the pod, including the metal scalpel that Graves favored over modern laser equivalents. “However, the key indic
ator was the specific types of venereal diseases that this woman has been infected with and treated for,” the medical officer added.

  “The key indicator of what, Commander?” asked Sterling, feeling like he was pulling teeth to drag the information out of his officer.

  “Where this woman originated from, Captain,” Graves said, glancing across to Sterling. “These specific diseases and treatments are common to prostitutes that work at the spaceports in Oasis Colony. The drug used to treat them is native to the third planet.”

  Sterling then realized why he’d found the woman’s appearance familiar. Her clothes were similar to those that Dana, the owner of the Hotel Grand, had been wearing.

  “So Colicos abducted this woman and brought her to this station, is that what you’re suggesting?” Sterling asked.

  “That part is for you to deduce, Captain,” replied Graves, somberly. “But if you’re asking my opinion, then yes, I believe so.”

  “But why?” asked Banks. “What the hell has he been doing here?”

  “Captain…”

  The call was from Lieutenant Razor. She had moved away from the stasis pod while Sterling had been talking to Graves and was now in front of one of the main research computer consoles.

  “I’ve found something,” Razor added, activating a holo recording and pausing the playback. The image of a late-middle-aged man wearing a smart suit hovered next to Razor, flickering gently. “It’s a personal log or journal by James Colicos.”

  Sterling felt electricity tingle in his spine. Razor’s discovery might give them the information they needed.

  “Finally, we might actually get some answers,” Sterling said, glancing over to Banks.

  “And from the horse’s mouth too,” replied Banks, looking similarly buoyed by the discovery.