Dreadnaught: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 5)

by G J Ogden

  McQueen nodded to the warrior and Sterling’s binds were released. He collapsed to the deck, his legs and arms unable to support his weight. Sterling tried to push himself off the cold, metal tiles, but it was like he was wearing a coat made of lead. All he could do was lie there; his face pressed to the floor in a slowly expanding pool of his own saliva.

  “The mighty Lucas Sterling, Omega Captain,” said McQueen, tapping Sterling with her boot as if to check he was still alive. “How pathetic you now are. Such a waste.”

  Sterling felt a sharp prick of pain to the side of his neck, followed by a hissing sound. However, this was the hiss of an injection device, rather than the dialogue of an alien warrior. Within seconds, Sterling could feel strength and vitality returning to his body. Whatever had just been injected into his bloodstream had worked fast. As the drugs continued to surge around his body, Sterling found that he was able to stand, the aches and pains and weariness of his overnight ordeal almost entirely gone. It was then that he realized he was in the Vanguard’s hospital wing. His mind, like his body, had also become sharp again, and he knew his precise location on the ship. McQueen had been smart to pick medical as her base of operations, Sterling realized. The medical wing was close to both the docking garages and the CIC, the latter being only a few decks above them.

  “Bring him,” said McQueen.

  Sterling expected the warrior to grab him and force him to go wherever McQueen wanted him to go. Instead, the warrior hissed into a communicator and doors to Sterling’s rear swished open. A second warrior moved inside, dragging one of Shade’s commandoes behind it, like a corpse being hauled to a mass grave.

  “Prop the prisoner up against the wall,” McQueen added. She then stepped away from the table that Sterling had been bound to and pointed to the deck. “Aide Sterling, you will stand here.”

  Sterling obeyed the command from his new master and moved to the exact spot McQueen had indicated. Stepping out from the gloom of his torture chamber, he suddenly realized he was wearing Sa’Nerran armor. His addled mind couldn’t be certain, but he did not remember being dressed in the armor before being left to wallow in pain all night. The thought that the aliens had stripped and redressed him while he lay in an agonized stupor only made him hate them more. His continued humiliation was almost worse than death; at least in death, the suffering ended.

  The second warrior marched over to the injured commando, who had been pushed against the wall, and hauled the woman to her feet. Sterling looked at the commando’s face and recognized her at once. She had led one of the squads which had stormed the reactor control room. In the past, he would have barely known the faces of these commandoes, and certainly wouldn’t have remembered their names. However, recently he had made an effort to memorize the names of the faces of the brave men and women who had performed their duties with such skill and conviction. This commando’s name was Corporal Jeanette Dietrich.

  “Aide Sterling, I want you to kill this human,” said McQueen, pressing her hands behind her back. “I would like you to strangle her to death.”

  Sterling forced down a dry, hard swallow and began to pace toward the corporal. Dietrich’s swollen and bloodshot eyes followed him as Sterling approached. The corporal knew she was about to die and Sterling knew that he had no choice but to kill her. He had to gain McQueen’s unconditional trust. It was the only way to get close to her. It was the only way to take the Emissary down. And so doing, maybe it would even provide him with an opportunity to escape, he realized. A moral and honorable man would never sacrifice one of his own soldiers to save his own skin. However, in the war with the Sa’Nerra, Sterling had to do everything he could to win. There was no line he would not cross. No weakness he would allow himself to suffer. If killing Dietrich was the only way he could get to McQueen, and neutralize the threat she posed to their mission, then so be it.

  Sterling stopped directly in front of the commando, whose hands were bound behind her back. He could see that McQueen had tortured the woman too, and he could see that she was afraid. However, he also knew that like him, Corporal Dietrich would not beg for her life. She would face it with the dignity of a soldier and a member of the Omega Taskforce.

  Sterling wrapped his hands around Corporal Dietrich’s throat and increased the pressure. Whatever stimulant the alien warrior had pumped him full of was now at maximum effect and he felt stronger than ever. Dietrich croaked and spluttered and tried to resist, but the two warriors held her steady, allowing Sterling to intensify his hold on the woman. He bit down hard, putting all his strength into the endeavor, hoping to at least spare the corporal a protracted and painful death. However, Sterling knew that there was no merciful way to strangle a person to death. It was brutal, agonizing and slow, which was precisely why McQueen had chosen it. The Emissary wanted Sterling to feel it. McQueen wanted him to look into the corporal’s eyes and see the light leave them. Above all, McQueen wanted to be sure that Sterling would not falter or show any sign of defiance.

  Eventually, Corporal Dietrich stopped writhing and squirming and Sterling unfurled his fingers from around her neck. The warriors also released their hold on the corporal and the woman slumped to the side. Her head slammed into the deck, with a hollow thunk, like a coconut rolling off a market stall onto the road. Sterling sat back on his heels, chest heaving from the exertion, and looked into the commando’s blood red eyes, which stared ahead blankly. There was a pattern of finger-shaped bruises and cuts around her throat from where Sterling’s hands had dug into her flesh. It looked like a ghoulish necklace made of tattoos.

  “Very good, Aide Sterling,” said McQueen, speaking as if she was talking to a kindergarten class. Sterling obliged and turned to face the Emissary. He had worked hard to control his breathing and to not look fatigued, remembering how turned humans exhibited unnatural strength and resilience. “Come here,” McQueen ordered, issuing the command as if she were talking to a dog. Sterling stepped closer to the Emissary, noting that the two Sa’Nerran warriors quickly moved to stand to her rear, their yellow eyes watching Sterling closely. “Now kiss me.” McQueen demanded.

  Sterling wanted to curse McQueen and spit in the woman’s face, but he managed to hold his nerve and composure. He had to continue the deception, because as soon as McQueen realized that the neural control weapon hadn’t worked, he’d lose any opportunity to take her down. Then he saw that McQueen had a plasma pistol holstered at her hip and realized he would soon get his chance. Taking another step toward the Emissary, Sterling slid his arms around her waist. He pulled McQueen toward him, knowing how the former Omega Captain liked to play rough, then kissed her in the way he knew she liked. McQueen was hesitant at first, but soon took control of the embrace, pushing Sterling against the wall and kissing him with even greater intensity. He could feel her hands slipping underneath his new alien armor and caressing his body. The taste and touch of her repulsed him, but he couldn’t let her see it. Instead, he played along, slipping his hand inside McQueen’s armor and hearing her moan. At the same time, he also slid his hand onto the grip of McQueen’s plasma pistol and drew it quietly from its holster. Finally, McQueen pulled back from the kiss and looked into Sterling’s eyes with a mixture of yearning and smug satisfaction.

  “I think we’ll continue the next stage of this assessment in private,” McQueen said, eyeing Sterling like a hunk of meat. “After you’ve helped me to kill the rest of your crew and take back this ship, of course.”

  “Wait, Emissary McQueen, I have urgent news,” said Sterling, keeping McQueen close to help hide the weapon in his hand.

  “Go on, Aide Sterling, but make it quick,” McQueen said, showing a flicker of suspicion.

  Sterling leaned in close, his face brushing against McQueen’s flushed cheek and whispered into the Emissary’s ear. “Your neural control weapon doesn’t work on me,” he said, speaking the words softly and tenderly.

  McQueen drew back, her brow scrunched into a scowl. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sterling
had already squeezed the trigger. The blast of plasma burned through McQueen’s armor, vaporizing her heart before punching its way out through her back. The Emissary spasmed as if she’d been stung by a hornet and her mouth fell open, eyes wide with surprise. Sterling remained fixed on those eyes, waiting for the life to leave them. He wanted to remember the horrorstruck expression on Lana McQueen’s face at the moment she died. He wanted to remember it and never forget.

  Both alien warriors to McQueen’s rear reached for weapons, but Sterling had blasted the first in the head before the body of McQueen had even hit the deck. The warrior’s face melted like butter, then Sterling turned the pistol on the second warrior and fired. A blast raced back at him from the alien’s own pistol and Sterling felt it glance off his new Sa’Nerran armor. By sheer good fortune, his own shot evaded the warrior’s armor, blasting the alien’s arm clean off at the shoulder. The warrior hissed and cradled its injured flesh before a second shot exploded its head like water-balloon bursting.

  Heart thumping in his chest, Sterling turned to the still-open door leading out of the hospital wing, but then saw more warriors charging his way, alerted by the gunfire. Cursing, he ran to another door and hit the button. The door whooshed open and he was about to charge through before another group of warriors turned the corner. Blasts thumped into the walls by his side and Sterling doubled back, barging past medical stretchers and pushing over equipment in an effort to reach another exit. However, before he was even half way across the large, open ward, the third door slid open, revealing two more warriors. Sterling stopped and spun around, finding himself surrounded. The hiss of the aliens grew to a roar then Sterling watched as the yellow eyes of one alien fell onto the body of Emissary Lana McQueen. The warrior hissed again then met Sterling’s gaze before raising a pistol and aiming it at his head.

  Chapter 18

  A matter of trust

  Sterling threw himself to the deck as plasma blasts crisscrossed above him. Still amped up on the drugs McQueen’s guard had given him, he managed to shoot back, blasting a warrior in the thigh. The alien hissed and was pulled back as more alien soldiers advanced. Rolling into what little cover he could find, Sterling was soon pinned down. Plasma hammered into the metal cabinets he’d hidden behind, tearing through them like cannon rounds punching through drywall. Sterling moved, firing blind over the top of a medical bay, but a swarm of incoming blasts forced him down again. Cursing, he slapped the side of his head, trying to jolt his weary brain into coming up with a plan, but he knew it was futile. He was trapped and outnumbered. He knew then that he would die in that room, but if he was going to meet his end then he’d do it as an Omega Captain. He would be ruthless to the last, and die on his feet, pistol in hand, killing as many of the alien bastards as he could.

  Sterling rolled into a new position as plasma fire began to obliterate the bed he’d been hiding behind. Glancing up, he saw blasts continue to crisscross above his head. If he could position himself between the blasts, there was a chance the aliens would shoot themselves instead of him, Sterling considered. Springing up, he rushed the closest group of warriors, firing and killing one of the aliens with a precise blast to its head. Plasma raced back at him and thudded into his armor below the chest. He felt the searing bite of pain and fired again, killing a second alien warrior. Two more blasts hammered into his armor, one to his back and one to the thigh. He dropped to one knee as another blast fizzed above his head. The garbled hiss of alien warriors followed and Sterling smiled, realizing that the aliens had fallen into his trap. Biting down against the pain, he punched his injured leg, trying to drive some life back into it, then stood tall again. His next shot decapitated the warrior charging at him before his pistol was hit and exploded in his hand. He fell to his knees again, clutching his arm. It was then he realized that it hadn’t just been the pistol, but his entire hand above the wrist that had been blasted off. The vile smell of his own burned flesh flooded into his nostrils, but strangely the injury did not hurt.

  Warriors appeared all around him, encircling him like vultures waiting for a fresh corpse to feast on. One of the aliens motioned for Sterling to stand, hissing at him wildly as it did so. Sterling pushed himself up and met the alien’s egg-shaped eyes. Its armor, like McQueen’s, was more ornate. It reminded Sterling of the armor the Sa’Nerran Commander he’d once encountered had worn and surmised that this alien was of a higher rank than the others. The warrior grabbed Sterling’s chin and twisted his head to the side, inspecting the neural control device that was still attached to his implant. The alien poked and prodded it with its leathery fingers, before releasing its hold on Sterling and hissing an order to another warrior close by. The commander then stepped back and the other six aliens raised their weapons. Sterling straightened his back as best he could, considering the pain shooting through his body, and continued to hold the gaze of the alien commander. The warrior hissed at him and Sterling hissed back at it, like an angry snake.

  “Go on, kill me you alien bastard,” Sterling spat at the commander. “I only regret that I won’t get to see my crew rip you to shreds.”

  The warrior hissed another command then plasma blasts filled the air. Sterling flinched, expecting to feel searing hot pain assault his body. Instead, the Sa’Nerran Commander fell, followed quickly by two more of the alien warriors surrounding Sterling. The remaining warriors opened fire, but their weapons were no longer aimed at him. Turning to one of the exits to the hospital wing, he saw Lieutenant Opal Shade storm into the room, surrounded by the black-armored frames of Obsidian Soldiers. Alien bodies exploded all around Sterling, pulverized by Homewrecker rifles and powerful plasma hand cannons. Hot flesh splattered into his face and armor as blasts continued to race all around him. It was a brutally efficient attack, and the entire assault was over in seconds.

  Then, through the smoke of burning bodies, Sterling saw Commander Mercedes Banks advance, a Homewrecker rifle held in each hand. She met Sterling’s eyes then tossed the weapons down and ran to him. Sterling was still rooted to the spot, too stunned to speak or even move. Banks thumped into his body, threw her powerful arms around his neck and squeezed him against her own armored chest. Both Sterling and the alien armor he was wearing groaned under the pressure of the woman’s powerful embrace. Banks pulled back, beaming at him as if she’d not seen him in years. She opened her mouth to speak, but then her gaze fell to Sterling’s alien armor and her expression darkened. Shoving him back, Banks then saw the neural control weapon attached to his head and held out an outstretched hand to Lieutenant Opal Shade.

  “Give me a weapon, now!” Banks yelled.

  Shade reacted instantly, slapping her pistol into Commander Banks’ waiting hand, all the while fixated on Sterling’s eyes like a homing missile. However, while there was no hesitation in her actions, Sterling could see that Shade was conflicted, and he could see the same conflict in his first officer’s eyes too.

  “Mercedes, it’s okay, it’s me,” Sterling said, keeping his voice calm and level, though the pain of his injuries was now returning in full force. “The neural firewall worked. I haven’t been turned.”

  “Stay where you are,” Banks hit back, thrusting the plasma pistol at Sterling’s chest. Her aim was steady, but Sterling could see that maintaining her composure was requiring the entire strength of her will. “You’re wearing their armor. You’re one of them.”

  “McQueen dressed me in this damned costume and tried to make me her pet,” Sterling replied, feeling his legs start to waver. “But she’s dead now,” he added, nodding in the direction of the Emissary’s body. “I killed her, Mercedes. She’s gone.”

  Banks’ eyes narrowed and flicked over in the direction Sterling had indicated. McQueen lay on her back, a hole burned clean through her chest. Sterling could see that the Emissary’s eyes were still open and that the startled expression on her face had remained, as if it had been cast in iron.

  Sterling suddenly felt weak and was compelled to grab the side of the m
edical bay to stay upright. His severed hand had been instantly cauterized, but he was still losing blood from other injuries he’d sustained. Banks’ eyes returned to him and Sterling could see that she was concerned. However, her weapon remained squarely aimed at his chest.

  “How can I be sure that you’re still you?” Banks said.

  Sterling laughed. “How the hell am I supposed to answer that?” he said, slumping on the side of the bed. “I guess we should have figured that part out before now.”

  “We could have Graves examine him,” said Lieutenant Shade. Her expression displayed none of the concern that Banks had shown. Nor would Sterling have expected it to. “He’ll be able to find out if this man is telling the truth.”

  Banks nodded then jabbed the pistol at Sterling. “On your knees, Captain,” she said. “You’re coming with us, as my prisoner.”

  Sterling was about to slide off the bed and drop to his knees as ordered when he felt a link form in his mind. From the expression on the faces of Banks and Shade, he could tell that they’d received the same communication.

  “Captain, Commander, and anyone who is left, this is Commander Graves on the Invictus,” the voice of the ship’s medical officer began. The link was weak, but Sterling could sense the man’s unease. “Sa’Nerran forces are attacking the command post. Repeat, Sa’Nerran forces are attacking. They mean to take the Invictus.”

  Sterling cursed and was about to respond, but Banks beat him to it.

  “Hold them off, Commander, we’re on our way,” said Banks. She then turned to Lieutenant Shade. “Go, now. Take the Obsidian Soldiers and destroy the remaining Sa’Nerran forces.”

  “Aye, Commander,” Shade replied, briskly. Then she looked at Sterling. “But what about him?”

  “I’ll deal with him and meet you back at the ship,” Banks said, still with the pistol trained on Sterling. “Now move out!”