by G J Ogden
“Report!” Sterling called out, backing further into the center of the circle. The smell of burned flesh flooded into his nostrils and assaulted his senses. However, unlike the vile odor of charred Sa’Nerran or human flesh, this smell was sweeter and even pleasant.
“We lost one commando, but the beasts are now backing off,” Banks said. She was glancing down at her computer while standing back-to-back with Lieutenant Razor. “The remaining blips also seem to be moving away. I think they’ve got the message.”
“No, Commander, they’ve got their meal,” Sterling answered, looking at the smeared trail of blood left behind by the dead commando. “They’ll leave us alone now, at least until they get hungry again.”
Sterling noticed that there were teeth lodged into Lieutenant Razor’s commando armor. He lifted his engineer’s wrist to examine the damage more closely.
“Are you injured, Lieutenant?” Sterling asked, picking out one of the teeth. It was curved like a jambiya dagger, but had a serrated edge like the half-moon blades Sa’Nerran warriors used.
“No, sir, it didn’t penetrate through, thanks to Commander Banks,” Razor said. Her white hair was now almost entirely stained red. Sterling thought it actually suited her.
“Regroup then prepare to move out,” Sterling ordered.
“Aye, Captain,” Banks replied. She then plucked the tooth out of Sterling’s hand and pressed it inside one of her storage pouches. Sterling frowned at her, but Banks smiled. “Just a little souvenir…” she said, flashing her eyes at him. She prodded one of the burning alien beasts with the bayonet attached to the end of her rifle. “Graves was right about one thing,” she added, breezily.
“And what’s that?” Sterling replied. He could tell that Banks was in one of her darker moods.
“These alien dinos actually smell pretty good cooked over an open flame,” Banks added, still smiling.
Sterling snorted a laugh and shook his head. “Well, if we survive this then perhaps you can roast one for dinner. We could do with saving on meal packs.”
Banks flashed her eyes at Sterling again, then moved off to organize the remaining commandoes. Sterling turned to see one of the Obsidian Soldiers standing behind him. The others had formed a defensive perimeter, their black armor now painted red like Razor’s hair.
“All hostiles have been eliminated,” the Obsidian Soldier said.
“All hostiles have been eliminated, sir,” Sterling answered, correcting the machine.
There was a pause, then the Obsidian Soldier restated its report. “All hostiles have been eliminated… sir.”
However, to Sterling’s ears, it still sounded like the machine had used the honorific begrudgingly.
“Re-group and prepare to move out,” Sterling replied. “We’re on the clock and need to take command of reactor control as soon as possible.”
The fighting machine nodded its dome-shaped head. It half-turned to leave, but hesitated and turned back to face Sterling.
“Was there something more?” Sterling asked, eyeing the machine with suspicion.
“Why are we killing the Sa’Nerra, sir?” the Obsidian Soldier asked.
Sterling’s frown deepened and he folded his arms. The question was asked with almost childlike innocence.
“The Sa’Nerra have waged war on us, soldier,” Sterling replied, emphatically. “They intend to wipe out the human race, so we have to stop them.”
There was a moment of pause before the Obsidian Soldier replied. “So we must kill in order that we survive, sir?” the machine asked.
“Yes,” Sterling answered. “All living things must fight to survive. It’s just nature. It’s the way of things.”
The machine was again silent for a time, but Sterling could sense there were more questions rattling around its artificial brain.
“We are neither human nor Sa’Nerran, yet we fight only for you, sir?” Sterling’s frown deepened. He didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking.
“That’s right, soldier,” he answered confidently. He hoped that if nothing else his own clarity of conviction would rub off on the machine. “We made you, so you fight for us.”
“Will I be destroyed, sir?” This time the machine’s question was asked with barely a millisecond of delay.
“Soldiers fight and soldiers die; that’s what soldiers do,” Sterling answered, remaining cagey in his responses. “To survive, we have to fight smarter and fight harder than our enemy.”
“And our enemy is the Sa’Nerra, sir?”
“Yes, our enemy is the Sa’Nerra,” Sterling confirmed. He felt uneasy about the need to reiterate that fact. If these machines were really incapable of forgetting, as one of the other robot warriors had told him earlier, it suggested the Obsidian Soldiers were less aware of their situation than he had assumed.
“I understand,” the Obsidian Soldier finally replied. The machine then spun on its metallic heels and marched away to re-join the others. This time, however, Sterling couldn’t help but notice that the AI soldier had omitted to add the honorific, “sir.”
Chapter 11
Inspired by Banks
Sterling inched himself along the corridor wall then carefully glanced around the corner at the defensive position the Sa’Nerra had set up on deck fifteen. Twelve warriors armed with plasma rifles stood guard by the door to the reactor control section. With a dozen robotic soldiers at his command, Sterling knew that a dozen warriors wouldn’t ordinarily be a challenge. However, the Sa’Nerran guards were not solely relying on their alien plasma rifles to defend their position. Set up several meters apart from one another were also two heavy repeating plasma cannons.
“These alien bastards haven’t just come to play,” said Banks, peeking over Sterling’s shoulder. “Just one of those heavy cannons could rip our entire squad to shreds in a matter of seconds.”
“And the gun shields on those cannons are tough enough to repel a blast from a Homewrecker,” Sterling added. He then ducked out of sight and pressed his back up against the wall.
“So if a direct attack is off the table, what’s our next move?” asked Banks, sliding down beside Sterling. “I’m so used to just going with a straight-up power play that I don’t know what else to suggest.”
Sterling thought for a moment then remembered how the Sa’Nerra’s tactics had become more cunning since Emissary McQueen had joined their ranks. Perhaps in this instance, they needed to be smart too, he thought.
“What we need is a distraction, and I think I have the perfect one,” Sterling said, hatching a plan in his mind. He quietly scoured their immediate area for the maintenance hatch he was sure should be there. He knew the dreadnaught-class as well as anyone, but on a ship four kilometers long, it was impossible to know every inch of the vessel with the same intimacy as he knew the Invictus.
“That sounds ominous,” said Banks, who had stayed quiet, apparently in the hope that Sterling would elaborate on this plan. “Care to share?”
“Actually, you were the inspiration for the hairbrained scheme I’ve just come up with,” Sterling replied. He then spotted the hatch he was looking for and began leopard crawling toward it, in order to stay out of sight of the warriors.
“Now I really am worried,” said Banks, dropping down by Sterling’s side and following her captain’s lead. “Though I can’t believe you’re planning to bust through a service crawlspace into a rest room. Especially not after all the crap you continue to give me about that plan to this day.”
Sterling huffed a laugh and smiled at his first officer. “Right first time,” he said, causing Banks’ eyebrows to lift in surprise. “I don’t intend on going anywhere near a rest room this time, though. I just need to use the crawlspaces to get behind those warriors and ambush them.”
Sterling reached the hatch and read the ID code on the plaque just below it. Flipping over onto his back, he then brought up a schematic of deck fifteen, section five on his computer. Tapping the hatch code into the computer, the
schematic updated, highlighting the maintenance crawlspace he was lying underneath, along with others it connected with in the same section.
“Right there,” said Sterling, highlighting another maintenance hatch. This one was just inside the reactor control room, directly behind the doors the Sa’Nerra were guarding. “If I crawl underneath the deck to that hatch, I can blindside those alien bastards and take out those gun emplacements before they know what’s hit them.”
Banks studied the schematic on Sterling’s screen, wearing a look of intense concentration. However, he could tell she wasn’t fully sold on the idea.
“Let me do it,” Banks said, suddenly coming across much more severely. “I’ll have a better chance of taking out those guns than you will.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Commander,” replied Sterling, sarcastically. He’d guessed correctly that his first officer wasn’t fully behind the idea, yet the reason why she wasn’t had taken him by surprise.
“I mean it Lucas, let me go,” Banks continued, remaining stony-faced. “You’re too important to risk on this. And besides, it’s my job to keep you safe.”
Sterling lowered his arm to deactivate the computer then met his first officer’s eyes. It was unheard of for Banks to take such a hard line about him getting his hands dirty on an operation. Risk was part of the game; she knew that just as well as he did.
“I’m no more important that anyone else right now,” Sterling replied, matching his first officer’s firmness. “We’re all soldiers now, Mercedes. The fact is, your strength means you can wield two heavy weapons against the enemy compared to my one. It makes sense for me to create the distraction and for you and the others to mop them up.”
Banks opened her mouth and was on the verge of answering back, but instead she let out an aggravated sigh and clenched her fists.
“Fine, but no unnecessary risks,” Banks replied, her tone still unsympathetic. “If McQueen gets hold of you then you’re still in big trouble.”
Sterling could see that his first officer was more than just unhappy; she was bordering on being pissed off. In fact this was the closest Mercedes Banks had ever come to openly questioning his orders.
“I’ll do what I need to do, Commander,” Sterling hit back. Now was the not the time for a softly-softly approach. They all had to do whatever it took to secure the ship. “This isn’t about ego and it sure as hell isn’t about Lana McQueen. It’s about doing what’s right for the mission.” Banks’ eyes narrowed, but her jaw remained clamped shut. “Just make sure you and the rest of the squad are ready to raise hell the moment I create the distraction.”
“Aye, Captain.” Banks practically forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Just how do you intend to create this distraction, anyway?”
Sterling removed two standard plasma grenades from the attachments on his armor and held them up. “When I roll these into their nest, they’ll scatter like startled pigeons,” he said. “So as soon as you hear the boom, you storm those doors like your life depends on it.”
Banks acknowledged the order with the same grudging respect and Sterling was going to leave it at that. However, his first officer’s expression remained as dark and foreboding as a storm approaching on the horizon. In the past, this wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest. The crew didn’t have to like his orders, they just had to obey them. This was as true for his first officer as it was for anyone else under his command. Even so, Sterling felt the need to say more. He wanted to show Banks that he wasn’t ignorant of her concerns, or blind to her responsibilities toward him as first officer. It wasn’t necessary to say it, or even imply it, but all the same he felt compelled to do so.
“Or, if it helps, storm that position as if my life depends on it,” Sterling went on, causing Banks’ glower to soften a touch. “Because I guarantee you that it does.”
“Captain, if you pull this off, I’ll hit that position so hard, all that will be left is a hole between decks fourteen and sixteen,” Banks replied. Ordinarily, Sterling would have expected a smirk to follow a statement like that. However, on this occasion Mercedes Banks was deadly serious.
He set his plasma pistol to cutting mode and carefully sliced through the retaining bolts holding the maintenance hatch in place. It was slow, painstaking work, made all the more difficult by a constant need to check that he remained unnoticed by the squad of warriors close by. Banks had already crawled back to rejoin the commandoes and the Obsidian Soldiers, though he remained linked to her in his mind. He could feel her unease and apprehension as keenly as if it were his own. However, he could also sense the energy surging through her body. She was like a one-hundred-meter sprinter, poised on the start line, waiting for the starter’s pistol to fire.
Sterling cut through the final bolt on the maintenance hatch and the slab of metal covering the opening fell away. Taken completely by surprise, Sterling dropped his pistol and instinctively reached out with his hands to shield his face. The hatch door slammed against his palms, sparing him from being knocked out or having a broken nose. However, the lower section of the hatch landed on his body and dug into his ribs, stealing the breath from his lungs. Despite his best efforts not to, Sterling let out a muted cry.
“Lucas, are you okay?” said the voice of Mercedes Banks in his mind. She had evidently sensed his panic and discomfort.
“I just got attacked by a hatch door, but I’m fine,” Sterling replied through the link. He hoped that his mental voice came through more convincingly than his real voice would have done at that moment.
“Stay down, we’ve got movement coming your way,” Banks said.
Suddenly, instead of being gripped with pain, Sterling was gripped with terror. Lying on his back, winded and with a metal hatch lying across his body, he was in no position to fight.
“There are two Sa’Nerran warriors coming your way,” Banks added, even more urgently. “I’m moving into position now.”
“No, wait!” Sterling called back through his thoughts. “If we attack now, those cannons will annihilate us and half this section. Hold position, that’s an order.”
There was moment of pause, during which time Sterling could feel the swell of anger surge through his first officer’s psyche. “You have sixty seconds to get in that hatch before they see you,” Banks finally replied. “If you’re not inside by then, in precisely sixty-one seconds, I come out shooting.”
“You hold fire till the last millisecond,” Sterling hit back, adrenaline flooding into his bloodstream. He then spun himself onto his stomach, hatch still in hand and pressed himself up before glancing back along the corridor. It was clear.
“Forty seconds, Lucas. Hurry!” Banks called out.
Sterling jumped up and slid one foot into the crawlspace. The adrenaline was helping to numb the pain and give him the strength he needed to grip the hatch, but already his fingers were burning.
“Thirty-seconds…”
Cursing, Sterling let go of the hatch with one hand in order to drag himself deeper inside the maintenance crawlspace. The pain grew to excruciating levels, but he held on with white fingertips. Bizarrely, Sterling’s mind went back to when he and Banks were forced to sneak into the void on G-COP to avoid Emissary Crow. The situation then was no less dire, except this time he didn’t have Commander Banks to back him up.
“Twenty seconds, push it, Captain!”
Sterling could feel that Banks was getting more and more agitated. He knew she’d already be in position to cover him should he fail. Yet, he also trusted that she wouldn’t blow their cover unless absolutely necessary.
“Ten seconds…”
Finally inside the crawlspace, Sterling adjusted his grip on the hatch and pulled it back over the opening. He was desperate to let go, but at the same time he didn’t want to risk the hatch falling open again. If that happened, Sterling knew he’d find the leathery fingers of two Sa’Nerran warriors dragging him out of his hole, like a cornered fox on a hunt.
“Hold f
ast, they’re right outside,” said Banks. Her voice in his mind was now calmer and more assured. He could even feel that her anxiety levels had dropped by several notches.
Sterling couldn’t respond. The effort of holding the hatch in place required every bit of strength and concentration he had. Then the familiar, waspish sounds of the alien’s language filtered into his ears. Despite the thick metal plate separating him from the warriors, the hiss still came through strongly.
“They’re having some kind of damned conflab,” Banks said, again growing more agitated by the second. Then she cursed. “A warrior just picked up one of the retaining bolts you sliced off.” Sterling heard the hisses grow louder, as if the aliens were directly on the other side of the hatch. “I’m taking them out, Captain, this is too close!”
“Hold…” Sterling hit back. One word was all he could manage.
More seconds passed, with each one feeling like an hour. Then Sterling heard the chink of metal on metal, like someone had accidently dropped a coin on a deck. Shortly after, the sound of alien boots reverberated through the crawlspace, with each step growing quieter and quieter.
“Mercedes, I can’t hold it much longer!” Sterling called out in his mind. It felt like needles had been inserted into each of his fingernails and were being slowly driven deeper into his flesh.
“You’re clear!” Banks cried out.
Sterling allowed the hatch to ease open then adjusted his hold on it to relieve the pressure on his fingers. Peeling one hand free, he shook it vigorously to get the blood flowing again.
“Damn it, Captain, that was close,” Banks said, her relief palpable through their intimate link.
“We proceed as planned,” said Sterling, finally managing to secure the hatch. His fingers were warped like claws, as if he were an evil sorcerer trying to conjure a wicked spell. “Return to your position and get ready to move out.”
“Aye, Captain.” Sterling could still sense Banks’ unease and frustration with his commands, but this time she responded without delay. “I’ll be standing by. Good hunting...”