by G J Ogden
“You only have a few seconds left, Captain,” the warrior hissed, peeking around the back of Banks’ head. “Soon, she will be mine, just like all the others.” A long, snake-like tongue slipped between the warrior’s lips and lashed the side of Banks’ head. The tongue slowly drew itself down across Banks’ long neck, leaving a slimy trail in its wake.
“Get off her!” Sterling yelled at the alien, his entire body now trembling with rage. “I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands, you alien piece of shit!”
Sterling adjusted his position to get a better angle, but it was as if the alien could read his mind. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get a clean shot at the warrior. Sterling and the alien continued this abhorrent dance for several seconds, and all the while the warrior continued to lick Bank’s face. Sterling couldn’t stand it any longer and tightened his grip around the trigger. Then, finally, the alien retracted its tongue back into its mouth and curled its slug-like lips into another grotesque smile.
“You can end it now,” the warrior said, slipping out of sight behind Banks’ head. “Just shoot and it will all be over. Do what is necessary, Captain. Prove she means nothing to you.”
Suddenly the indicators on the neural control weapon stopped blinking and the rageful expression on the face of his first officer became blank. There was no longer any anger or revulsion at what the alien had done. It was like a switch had been flipped in her brain.
“Look, she has turned,” the warrior said. “You’re already too late.”
Sterling roared and thrust the plasma pistol at Mercedes Banks, forcing himself to meet her soulless, dead eyes. He added pressure to the trigger, but then Banks opened her mouth and spoke.
“Join me, Lucas,” said Banks, stretching out a hand to Sterling. “We can be emissaries together, you and I. You want us to be together, don’t you?”
Sterling gritted his teeth and shook his head. “You won’t win,” he spat. “You won’t beat me. I’ve been tested before. I’ll beat the test again.”
Banks simply smiled back at him, as if Sterling’s words had washed over her unheard. “You can be with me, Lucas,” she said, with a sudden softness and tenderness. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to kill me,” she continued, still holding her hand outstretched. “The rest of the fleet doesn’t deserve your sacrifice. Humanity doesn’t deserve your loyalty. They fear and despise you Lucas, the same as they fear and despise me. We’re outsiders. Freaks. We belong together.”
The alien’s long fingers then released their hold on Banks’ neck and she stepped off the command platform. Sterling jerked away and took a hurried pace back, still aiming the weapon at his first officer.
“Join me, Lucas,” Banks continued, her words so soft and her eyes so adoring that Sterling could not help but be swayed. “They don’t deserve you. They don’t want you. But I do, Lucas. I want you. We deserve each other.”
Sterling shook his head again and added pressure to the trigger, but he couldn’t pull it, not while he still held Banks’ eyes.
“Join me, Lucas,” he heard Banks say again. “Love me, as I love you.”
However, Sterling had already looked away and closed his ears to his first officer’s pleas. A flash of plasma lit up the bridge like a bolt of lightning illuminating the night sky. It was followed a moment later by the thump of Mercedes Banks' headless body hitting the deck. Sterling lowered the pistol and raised his eyes to the Sa’Nerran warrior, avoiding looking at the corpse.
“You won’t beat me,” Sterling said as the alien continued to smile back at him, hissing slowly as it breathed in the cool air of the Hammer’s bridge. “I’ll do whatever it takes to beat you.”
“We shall see…” the alien replied.
Sterling squeezed the trigger again and blasted the alien in the face, splattering its leathery skin and brains across the viewscreen behind it. He then drew in a deep breath, tasting the burned flesh of both Sa’Nerran and human, and tossed the weapon to the deck.
“Lucas…”
Sterling froze. No, it’s not possible…
“Lucas!” the voice said again. A familiar voice. Then Sterling felt a neural link begin to form. He fought it, but the connection was too powerful.
“Lucas!” the voice of Mercedes Banks cried out in his mind, so loud and clear that it caused a shooting pain to race through his temples.
Sterling spun around to see Banks standing behind him. Her entire face was melted away. Sterling screamed, but his cries were strangled as Banks' hands closed around his throat and applied pressure. He fought back, but there was nothing Sterling could do against the super-human strength of his first officer.
“Lucas!”
Sterling shot up in bed and saw Mercedes Banks in front of him. She was squeezing his shoulders with her vice-like grip and staring into his eyes, with an expression of concern, confusion and sheer bewilderment.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Banks asked, as Sterling shuffled away from her, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he could hear it pounding in his ears. His t-shirt was soaked through and his skin was hot and clammy.
“It’s nothing, it was just a dream,” said Sterling, fighting hard to regain his composure. He then threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Dizziness almost overcame him and he was forced to press his hand to the wall to keep from falling over.
“Like hell it was ‘just’ a dream,” Banks hit back, pushing herself off the bed and facing Sterling. “I hit the door call button ten times before the computer let me in,” Banks continued. She sounded angry at him, which only made Sterling react more defensively.
“Remind me to re-program that damned thing,” said Sterling, glancing up at the ceiling. However, the cheerful voice of the ship’s AI remained conspicuously absent.
“You were really zoned out there, Lucas,” Banks said, refusing to let the matter drop, “and when I formed the neural link, it felt like you were dying.”
Sterling sucked in a deep lungful of the ship’s recycled air and let it out slowly. His heart-rate was returning to normal and he was already feeling more in control. These were techniques Sterling had honed over the last year in command of the Invictus in order to combat his frequent nightmares. He was again master of his own consciousness. The raw, primal emotions of his sleeping mind had been relegated to the depths of his psyche.
“I get intense dreams sometimes, there’s nothing more to it than that, Mercedes,” Sterling said, turning to meet his first officer’s eyes. “Now can we drop it?”
Banks’ frown deepened, but whatever questions or concerns were racing around her mind, she left them unspoken.
“Consider it dropped, Captain,” Banks replied, straightening her back. She then raised her hands and waved them at Sterling. “Mind if I use your head, though?” she added, nodding in the direction of Sterling’s compact shower room. “I still have your sweat on my hands.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow at his first officer then extended a hand to his rest room. “Be my guest,” he said, stepping over to his wardrobe and pulling out a clean uniform. “But be quick, I’m going to need a shower.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Banks called out from the shower room. A plume of steam from the hot water tap was wisping out of the door.
“Unless you mean how I forgot to actually invite you in, I don’t think so,” Sterling replied, tossing a pair of pants and a tunic onto the foot of the bed.
Banks emerged from the rest-room, a thin smile curling her lips. “I mean your ritual fifty push-ups,” she said, pointing to the floor. “I can sit on your back again, if you like? Unless that was too difficult for you?”
Sterling folded his arms and glared at his first officer. “I managed it just fine the first time, didn’t I?” he said. A challenge had been made and he wasn’t about to let it go unanswered.
“Drop and give me sixty then, sir,” said Banks, inviting Sterling to assume the requisite position on the deck.
“Well, seeing as you managed fifty ‘just fine’, I thought we could push it a little,” Banks replied, standing behind Sterling. “Unless it’s too tough for you, that is?”
Sterling laughed then sprang into a plank position. “Just plant your ass down on my back and count,” he said.
Sterling was counting on the adrenalin that was still surging through his veins to spur him on. And he was also hoping that some hard exercise would help to shake the tension from his body and mind. Banks obliged then straddled Sterling and lowered herself into position. Sterling winced, forgetting that his first officer’s incredible muscle density meant that she was significantly heavier than her athletic frame suggested.
“Lieutenant Razor has managed to narrow down our next destination from the data Admiral Griffin provided,” Banks said, as Sterling began his set. “Based on her analysis of the shuttle’s trajectory as it departed Far Deep Nine, she extrapolated that the vessel would have travelled through Thrace Colony.”
Sterling pushed out a rep and sucked in another lungful of air before answering. “That’s where James Colicos gathered some of his test subject from, right?” he said before continuing the push-ups.
“That’s right,” replied Banks, as Sterling continued to bob up and down, quickly reaching then surpassing the half-way mark. “He took them from the wreckage of a battle between Fleet and the Sa’Nerra, some years ago.”
Sterling considered this for a moment, though his focus was distracted by the burning pain in his chest and shoulders and the tightness of his breath. “But if that was years ago then surely the chances of that shuttle still being at Thrace Colony are practically nil?” Sterling eventually said, though getting his words out was becoming a struggle.
“Most likely, but it’s our only lead,” said Banks. “Maybe someone at Thrace came into contact with them, or the Shuttle was forced to refuel and there’s a record of it. Who knows?”
Sterling nodded, but he was too breathless to respond verbally. He then squeezed out the remaining few push-ups and held himself in plank. Banks, however, remained seated on his back.
“You can get off now,” Sterling said, wondering why his first officer was still using him as a bench.
“That’s only fifty-nine, Captain,” Banks replied, dryly. Sterling couldn’t see her face, but he guessed she was grinning.
“Are you sure? I definitely counted sixty.” Sterling hit back.
“Come on, Captain, just one more,” Banks said, oblivious to Sterling’s protests. “Unless, you’ve had enough, of course?”
Sterling shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t take the bait, but he wasn’t about to let Banks win. Dropping his chest to the deck he then squeezed out a final push up. The effort was excruciating and it felt like his head was going to explode.
“There, sixty,” said Sterling, triumphant. “Now can you get off?”
Banks stood up and stepped to the side. Sterling suddenly felt like he was about to float off the deck.
“Nice work, Captain,” Banks said, giving him a sarcastic-looking hand clap. Sterling pushed himself upright, feeling a little light-headed. Then Banks sniffed the air. “Now you really do need a shower,” she said, smiling.
“Thank you for that expert assessment, Commander,” Sterling replied, metering out an appropriate amount of sarcasm. “Let me finish up here and I’ll meet you in the wardroom in twenty.” He headed towards his shower cubicle.
“Aye, Captain,” Banks replied, moving up to the door and pressing the button to open it. She stepped into the threshold then stopped and turned back, looking a little perplexed.
“Was there something else, Mercedes?” asked Sterling, touching the stream of water from the shower to test if it had gotten hot.
“You’re not the only one who gets ‘intense’ dreams, you know,” Banks said, meeting Sterling’s eyes.
Sterling frowned, but didn’t answer. In truth, he didn’t know what to say. However, as it turned out, no response was necessary. In his moment of delay, Banks had already stepped out into the corridor and the door had slid shut behind her.
Chapter 5
A brief moment of respite
Commander Mercedes Banks slid two meal trays onto the table then planted herself firmly into the seat opposite Sterling. He paused, with the remaining half of his grilled ham and cheese in his mouth, staring down at the trays.
“We’re low on supplies, remember?” Sterling said, after taking a bite of the sandwich. “Don’t you think you can ration yourself to just one breakfast?”
Banks tore the foil off the first tray, allowing the steam to billow out above a course of sausage and fried potatoes. “I’ve implemented a quota system already,” said Banks, tucking in to the food. “It comes into force tomorrow, though,” she added, with a mouthful of food. “I thought I’d let the crew have one last meal, before they get stuck with commando bars and coffee for breakfast.”
Sterling smiled. “I’m sensing a little bit of motivated self-interest in that decision, but okay, Commander,” he replied, returning to his own food.
There was a strident “yip” from beneath the table and Sterling leant over to see Jinx staring up at Commander Banks with big, brown eyes. Banks smiled at the dog then skewered a sausage on a fork and offered it to her. The animal snatched it and devoured it in a matter of seconds.
“Where the hell is that thing going to do its… you know?” said Sterling, hooking a thumb at the dog.
“No, I don’t know,” replied Banks, tearing the foil off her second tray and starting on the ham and eggs.
“You know, it’s ‘business’,” replied Sterling. Then he threw his arms out wide. “Come on, I’m eating, don’t make me be any more descriptive.”
Banks shoveled some more eggs into her mouth and shrugged. “Well, pretty much wherever she needs to,” she replied, drawing a horrified stare from Sterling. “Outside the door to your quarters is one of her favorite places.”
Sterling folded his arms. “You know, I’m considering a no dogs policy on this ship,” he said, as Banks fed Jinx a few pieces of bacon. “And also a ‘no Mercedes’ policy.”
Banks laughed. “Relax, Lucas, Jinx is very well trained,” she said, patting the hound on the head. “She’s an Omega ship’s dog, after all.”
Sterling rolled his eyes then started grazing on the rest of the food on his tray. It was then he spotted Ensign Keller out of the corner of his eye. He was already holding a meal tray, but instead of sitting down he was standing in the middle of the wardroom, looking like he was lost.
“Put the kid out of his misery already,” said Banks, wafting her fork, which had a piece of sausage on the end, in the direction of Keller.
Sterling snorted a laugh then kicked out a chair from under the table. It screeched across the floor, causing Keller – and the other crew in the wardroom – to jerk around, looking for what made the noise.
“Take a pew, Ensign,” said Sterling, tossing the crusts of his grilled ham and cheese back onto the tray.
Keller trotted over and slid his tray onto the table. “Thanks, Captain,” the helmsman said, sliding into the chair that Sterling had kicked out. “I’m never sure whether I’m intruding,” he added, while adjusting the position of his meal tray and tucking in his seat. “You know, you two could be discussing secret command-level secrets, for all I know.” The ensign then spotted Jinx underneath the table and reached down to pat the hound on the head.
Banks dropped an elbow on the table and leant in closer to Ensign Keller, fork still in hand. The sudden closeness of the ship’s first officer clearly made Keller nervous and he pushed himself flat against the back of his chair.
“Is this a private room, Ensign, or can any officer come in here?” Banks said, locking eyes with the helmsman.
“Well, all the Invictus’ officers can come in h
ere, right?” said Keller. He sounded uncertain, as if he was worried that Banks was trying to trick him.
“Don’t answer a question with a question, mister,” Banks replied, skewering another piece of sausage and slotting it into her mouth.
“Yes, Commander, any officer can come in here,” Keller said, this time with conviction.
“So, what are the chances that me and the Captain are discussing something that is for command ears only?” Banks continued, chewing on the sausage.
“Umm, none?” said Keller, again a little uncertain.
“Right again,” replied Banks. She then lifted her elbow off the table and rested back in her chair. “So next time, just come over and ask to join us, rather than standing in the middle of the room like a kid on his first day at a new school.”
“Aye, Commander, I’ll do that,” Ensign Keller replied, almost instantly becoming more at ease. The helmsman then tore the foil off his meal tray and grabbed his fork, ready to get stuck in. Banks peered down at his tray with interest. Sterling realized that it was a number thirty – a rarity on the Invictus.
“Damn it, I was going to have that for lunch,” said Banks, eyeing up the pepperoni pizza slice on Keller’s tray.
“I’m sure you’ll find something else to eat,” said Sterling, cutting in before Keller politely – and foolishly – offered to give the pizza to his first officer.
Lieutenant Katreena Razor then strolled over with a meal tray in hand. Her bright white hair and dazzling, augmented eyes were a stark contrast to the austere, military architecture of the wardroom
“Mind if I join you, Captain, Commander?” she said. Her question was asked with none of the timidity or self-consciousness of Ensign Keller.
Sterling kicked out another chair. “Be our guest, Lieutenant.”
Razor scowled at the chair that Sterling had pushed out and navigated to the opposite side of the table. Choosing a different chair she then sat and slid her meal tray out in front of her.