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

by G J Ogden

  “We need to secure the Vanguard first,” said Banks, reaching into the weapons locker and taking a second pistol, along with three grenades. “And the only way we’re going to take down all those machines is with either the plasma turrets on the Invictus or the combat shuttle.”

  Sterling removed the remaining grenades, then split them between himself and Lieutenant Shade. “Not for the first time, we find ourselves in a situation where we could have used the talents of Ensign Keller,” he said, closing the locker. “He could just fly around in the garage and pick them off, one-by-one.”

  “I’ll try not to take that as a personal attack on my piloting skills, sir,” replied Banks, drolly, “but I tend to agree.” She suddenly looked more serious. “There are still seventy-six Obsidian Soldiers in total and nine of us, most of whom haven’t held a plasma pistol since their last weapons proficiency test.”

  “I’m hoping Razor has some genius plan to scramble the circuits in these machines,” Sterling said, moving up to the door and peering around it. “This is one instance where a straight-up power play isn’t going to cut it.”

  Sterling hustled out into the corridor with Banks close behind and Shade covering their rear. The motion scanners on his computer were now showing heavy clusters of movement, all heading toward the docking garage where the Invictus still lay crippled on the deck. The thud of metal feet on the deck was already resonating through the ship. It sounded like an entire army, marching in perfect synchronization. Sterling reached the corridor leading on to the docking garage and pressed his back up against the wall before edging closer to the opening. Peeking around the corner, he saw the Obsidian Soldiers clustered around the Invictus. They had pushed storage containers underneath the ship and had climbed on top of them in order to reach the raised rear ramp of the Marauder. Each robotic soldier wielded a plasma pistol set to cutting mode and they were focusing the narrow beams at the ramp.

  “They’re trying to cut through,” said Sterling turning back to Banks and Shade. “I count ten around the ship, no sign yet of any others yet.”

  “I take it back,” Banks said, raising both pistols. “I think this is the perfect time for a straight-up power play.”

  Sterling peered back out at the Obsidian Soldiers, stacked up on the storage containers, and waved Banks over. His first officer crept to his side and took a peek into the garage.

  “Do you think you can hit those storage containers from here?” Sterling asked. “If we blow the containers out from underneath the robots, it’ll make it a hell of a lot easier to mop up the remains.”

  Banks took a step back, holstered her pistols and removed a grenade from her belt. “You just watch me,” she said, arming the potent plasma explosive. “If you keep feeding me grenades, I’ll hit them till there’s nothing left but splinters of metal.”

  Sterling holstered his pistol and plucked a grenade from the stow on his armor. Shade did the same, ready to relay another explosive to Banks, should the need arise. Banks stepped further out into the corridor, though still not quite far enough to be seen by the Obsidian Soldiers, and weighed the grenade in her hand. Sucking in a deep breath, she then jogged out into the docking garage and let fly. Sterling watched as the grenade sailed high and long, as if it were a baseball that had been struck so hard it reached the crowd. The weapon bounced once, about ten meters short of the Invictus, then detonated. The blast from the explosion rocked the first stack of storage containers and sent three of the Obsidian Soldiers crashing to the deck.

  “Reload!” Banks cried, stepping back into cover and holding out her hand. Sterling slapped the grenade into his first officer’s waiting palm.

  “I set the fuse two seconds longer,” Sterling said, as Banks again danced down the corridor.

  The grenade flew high through the cavernous docking garage. Sterling watched as the three Obsidian Soldiers that had fallen clambered to their feet. The others had now stopped cutting and were sweeping their pistols around the garage, looking for the source of the attack. Then the second grenade landed directly in the middle of the pack and detonated. Two Obsidian Soldiers were pulverized by the explosion and the remaining five that had still been standing on the containers were blasted to the deck.

  “Hit them again then we advance,” said Sterling, as Shade moved ahead, holding a third grenade out to Banks, like a relay runner passing the baton.

  Banks took the explosive and skipped down the corridor again. The grenade flew from her fingers, but moments later Banks caught a plasma blast to the chest. She went down heavily as if a mule had kicked her. Shade managed to drag Banks to safety before any more blasts could catch her. Sterling rushed to his first officer’s side, dousing the flames surrounding the fresh hole in her armor with his unfeeling bionic hand.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” said Banks, scrambling to her feet.

  Sterling checked the wound more closely and could see his first officer’s burned skin through the hole.

  “It’s not bad, just a minor burn,” he said, as more blasts from the Obsidian Soldiers thudded into the corridor walls.

  “I don’t actually know if that’s a burn I already had or a new one,” Banks said, trying to peer through the hole in her armor to inspect the wound herself.

  Plasma blasts continued to thud into the walls, but Sterling could see they were now creeping closer. Sterling chanced a look around the corner and saw that five Obsidian Soldiers were advancing on their location. Two of the five were damaged, but not seriously enough to impede their ability to move and attack.

  “There are five left,” said Sterling, unhooking a grenade from his armor and weighing it in his hand like Banks had done. “I’m no good at throwing distance, but I do throw a mean pitch,” he added, stepping out into the corridor. Plasma continued to thud into the walls to his side, but the Obsidian Soldiers still didn’t have a clear line of sight. “Pistols ready, in case I don’t take them all down.” He glanced back and met the eyes of Banks and Shade in turn. However, both his Omega officers already had their sidearms raised and ready. Sterling smiled then focused ahead. Pulling his arm back he raced out into the line of fire, took a moment to lock onto his target – the center robot in the row of five – then hurled the grenade before diving to the deck. Plasma raced over his head, but before the Obsidian Soldiers could lower their aim, the grenade struck the robot in the middle of the pack and detonated. The explosion tore the machine to pieces and critically damaged the two Obsidian Soldiers immediately flanking it. However, the two outermost machines, while down, were not out.

  With their legs blasted from their frames, the last two Obsidian Soldiers crawled forward, while also trying to aim and fire with the pistols clutched in their damaged hands. Blasts skipped off the deck to either side of Sterling as he scrambled to his feet and withdrew. Then a torrent of plasma fire raced past him in the opposite direction and he saw Shade and Banks advance, both firing with plasma pistols in each hand. The remaining Obsidian Soldiers were struck repeatedly all across their already mangled frames and rapidly reduced to scrap.

  Sterling rejoined his officers, drew his own pistol then tapped his interface and reached out to Commander Graves. “Commander, myself, Lieutenant Shade and Commander Banks are approaching the rear ramp,” he said, widening the link so that his officers could monitor. “Lower the ramp, but be prepared to close it again rapidly. We have incoming hostiles.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Graves replied. Through the link, Sterling could detect that his normally unflappable medical officer was flustered. “There were two Obsidian Soldiers assisting me in packing my medical lab. They turned on us. Doctor Hoshi is down, but stable.”

  Sterling cursed. “What’s the status of the machines?” he asked, quickening his pace toward the ship. The ramp was already beginning to lower.

  “Ironically, I disabled them with the assistance of the medical bay’s surgical robot,” Graves replied. “However, the surgical robot will no longer be able to assist me with any medica
l procedures.”

  “That’s the least of our concerns right now, Commander,” Sterling replied. As usual, his medical officer had a curious sense of priority. “Meet us in the cargo bay, and come armed,” Sterling added. “Razor and the rest of her engineering crew are also en-route, but there’s an army of Obsidian Soldiers on their tail.”

  “Aye, Captain, I am making my way there now.” The link went dead.

  Sterling reached the Invictus and rested forward on his knees, chest heaving and struggling to suck air into his lungs. Then the ramp hit the deck with a heavy thud that resonated through Sterling’s bones. However, even after the ramp had stopped moving the deck still shook. Glancing across to the far end of the docking garage, Sterling saw the cause of the tremors. Wave after wave of Obsidian Soldiers were filing in, like an infestation of cockroaches. In front of them, Sterling saw four other figures running for their lives.

  “It’s Razor!” said Sterling, readying his weapon. “We need to hold back that army long enough for her to reach the ship.”

  “I’ll get on the shuttle’s guns,” said Banks, hurrying up the ramp. “At least those damned robots aren’t armed, otherwise Razor would be mincemeat by now.”

  “Her along with the rest of us,” commented Sterling, though his first officer was already out of earshot. Sterling took aim with his pistol, but realized the futility of the gesture. “We’re going to need something more powerful than these.” He holstered the weapon, slapped Shade on the shoulder and headed up the ramp after Banks. The whine of the combat shuttle’s engines then erupted into the cargo hold. Sterling could see his first officer through the cockpit glass, hurriedly working on the shuttle’s controls and no doubt bypassing every safety check and procedure in the book.

  “Captain!”

  Sterling looked past the shuttle and saw Commander Graves running toward him. The medical officer had three weapons slung over his shoulder and was wearing body armor, though it was fastened loosely and did not suit the man.

  “I took the liberty of stopping by the armory on the way here,” Graves said, slipping one of the weapons off his shoulder and handing it to Sterling.

  “A sniper rifle?” Sterling said, inspecting the high-powered precision plasma weapon. “There are a few too many of them to pick off one-by-one, Commander,” he added, doubtfully.

  “We only need to take out the ones that are immediate threats, sir,” said Graves, handing a second rifle to Shade before moving ahead and dropping to one knee. The chief medical officer raised the final weapon to his shoulder, peered through the telescopic sight and fired. The blast raced through the docking garage and cored a hole through the head of an Obsidian Soldier that was closing on Razor’s group.

  Sterling raised an eyebrow. “Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked, moving to the opposite side of the hold and adopting a similar firing position.

  “I pride myself on my surgical precision in more than just medicine, Captain,” Graves said, firing again with similarly devastating results.

  Normally, Sterling would have found this statement to be more than a little ominous. However, considering the circumstances, he wasn’t complaining. Sterling fired, blasting the leg off an Obsidian Soldier before using his scope to focus in on Razor. She was a couple of hundred meters away, but the army of soldiers was gaining on her. A series of blasts then raced across the hangar. Sterling pulled his eye away from the scope and looked right, seeing the leader robot and a dozen more Obsidian Soldiers move onto the deck. However, unlike the bulk of the robot force streaming in from the far side of the docking garage, these soldiers were armed.

  “Contact right!” Sterling called out, adjusting his aim and pulling the trigger. His shot hammered into the side of an approaching machine, but the robot continued to advance. Sterling felt a link form in his mind from Commander Banks.

  “Stand clear, I’m heading out,” Banks cried.

  The roar of the shuttle’s engines rose higher and the shuttle powered out of the hold, heading directly for Razor and her three engineers. Sterling watched as Banks turned the craft ninety degrees then opened fire with its plasma cannons, blasting two of the armed Obsidian Soldiers to pieces. The rest took cover, but continued to fire, their focus now split between Razor’s group and the crew holed up in the Invictus. A blast hammered into the hull centimeters from Sterling’s head and he fell back. Graves moved up and took his place, aiming and firing with the calm, steady professionalism that Sterling expected from a surgeon of Graves’ caliber. It reminded him there was still much he didn’t know about his chief medical officer. More than anyone else on the ship, he was an enigma.

  Sterling scrambled to his feet and moved back into position alongside Shade, who was also concentrating her fire on the new group of Obsidian Soldiers. Glancing into the docking garage, he then saw Banks set the shuttle down and open the side hatch. Sterling could feel Banks urging Shade on, but despite giving his engineer a closer target to aim for, the leading wave of Obsidian Soldiers was almost on top of her.

  Come on, run! Sterling urged, turning the sights of his rifle toward the advancing horde. He aimed and fired, streaking the blast of plasma over the shuttle and Razor’s head and into the chest of an Obsidian Soldier. The machine fell and was trampled underfoot by the machines to its rear. The advance of the robotic soldiers was unrelenting. Finally, Razor reached the shuttle, but one of her three crewmembers had fallen behind. Sterling watched helplessly as the young officer was pulled into the throng and torn apart, limb-from-limb, as if by a pack of flesh-crazed zombies.

  “I have them… returning now,” said Banks, through the neural link.

  Sterling slung the rifle and hurried to the auxiliary controls for the docking ramp. Plasma blasts continued to thud into the ramp and the ship from the attacking machines, but Shade and Graves were doing an impressive job of holding them off. The shuttle’s thrusters fired, but it was already covered with Obsidian Soldiers that had clambered onto to its hull like spiders.

  “You must have a dozen of those things crawling all over the shuttle,” Sterling said through the link to his first officer. “Can you shake them off?”

  “I have an idea…” Banks replied. “Stand ready to close the ramp.”

  Sterling could sense that whatever this idea was, his first officer was far from certain of its success. However, there was no choice but to trust her. Sterling rested the thumb of his bionic hand onto the ramp close button then turned to Graves and Shade.

  “Get ready to move,” Sterling called out loud, as Graves landed another precisely aimed blast of plasma between the optical scanners of a robotic soldier. Then his medical officer was hit in the chest and fell backward. Shade was quick to run to his aid and pull him into cover, but Sterling could see that the wound was bad. He was about to order Shade to patch up the injury when the roar of the shuttle’s engines stole his attention. Banks was accelerating the shuttle toward the group of Obsidian Soldiers that had entered the garage from the direction of the CIC. He watched with astonishment as she ploughed the shuttle through the crates and storage racks the machines were using for cover. The Obsidian Soldiers scattered, avoiding being smashed to pieces, but the wreckage of the objects Banks had collided with did an effective job of cleaning the machines off the shuttle’s hull. Sterling was about to call out to Banks to commend her for her ballsy move when the shuttle veered out of control and crashed twenty meters shy of the Invictus. Cursing, Sterling threw down the rifle and drew his pistol.

  “Get on the ramp controls,” Sterling called out to Shade, while practically sprinting down the incline toward the shuttle. Shade finishing applying a plasma burn dressing to Graves’ wound, then did as ordered, rushing to the controls that Sterling had been poised beside moments earlier.

  An emergency escape hatch blew off the shuttle and Sterling saw Banks pull herself clear. He glanced into the garage and wished he hadn’t. The wall of metal soldiers was now less than a hundred meters away. The thump
of their feet was so heavy that Sterling could hear the deck plates groaning under the pressure. Banks pulled Lieutenant Razor clear of the shuttle and passed the dazed and semi-conscious woman to Sterling. He slung the engineer’s arm over his shoulder and began dragging her toward the ship.

  “The other one is dead,” Banks called out, hauling the second survivor out as if the man weighed nothing at all. She slung him over her shoulder in a fireman’s lift and began sprinting toward the ship.

  “Lieutenant, start closing the ramp!” Sterling called out, pushing his body harder to keep pace with his near super-human first officer.

  “Aye, sir,” Shade called back. His weapon’s officer hadn’t hesitated in her reply, though Sterling could still sense her reservations about the order. Neither himself nor Banks had made it to the foot of the ramp yet.

  Banks reached the ramp first, but it was already at hip-height. She lifted the wounded engineer over the edge then turned back to Sterling, holding out her hand to help him. Sterling held out Lieutenant Razor to his first officer then collapsed to his knees as Banks practically tossed the chief engineer on-board. Then he felt his first officer’s hands close around his body and she lifted him up too. He knew that Banks wouldn’t ordinarily presume to help, but this was no ordinary situation, and on this occasion, Sterling welcomed any help his tired body could get.

  Banks dumped Sterling unceremoniously on the ramp then jumped up and caught the lip. The first wave of Obsidian Soldiers arrived seconds later and Sterling heard the clang of metal fingers clasping the edge of the ramp. Scrambling to the edge, he drew his pistol and blasted an Obsidian Soldier in the head. The robot’s grip relaxed and the machine tumbled to the deck, bowling over a dozen of its comrades in the process. Sterling adjusted his aim and blasted another soldier that was climbing up on a different part of the ramp, causing it to also land like a bomb amidst the machines on the ground.