The Exile: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 3)

by G J Ogden

  “We’ve all had to make hard choices, Lieutenant,” Banks eventually replied, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “The difference is that the choices that we make affect the outcome of the entire war, not just the lives on a couple of backwater planets a long way from home.”

  “These two ‘backwater planets’ are my home, Commander,” Fletcher replied, though he too had reined in his anger. “If I don’t fight for them, no-one will. That’s the truth of it.”

  The group fell silent for a moment. Their exchange felt oddly cathartic, despite the requirement for Sterling to remain guarded about his mission. Though he wasn’t ready to trust Fletcher, their chance meeting had only reinforced the feeling in his bones that the older man had a lot of fight left in him. Despite the ignominious manner in which Fletcher was dismissed from Fleet, the man had retained a sense of honor too.

  “Well, I’m glad you all got that off your chests,” said Jana, stepping in and breaking the wall of ice that had frosted up between the current and former Fleet officers. “Now how about you military bulldogs stop barking at each other and get along? We have enough enemies as it is.”

  Fletcher glanced at Jana then looked at Sterling. Sterling glanced to Banks then back to Fletcher. It was like a Mexican standoff, but instead of waiting to see who would be the first to shoot, it was a case of who backed down first. Fletcher then let out a boisterous laugh, which struck Sterling with such force that he almost fell backwards.

  “Trust Jana to act as peacemaker,” Fletcher said, hugging the colonist. “Fine, if Jana likes you then I’ll get off your asses too,” the old soldier went on.

  Fletcher’s mood had changed so quickly it was like a switch had been flipped. Sterling quietly observed the interactions between Jana and the commander of the Bismarck for a few seconds. It was clear there was a connection between the two of them. However, he didn’t feel like it was an appropriate time to ask what that connection was and, if he was honest, he had little interest for such matters of small-talk, anyway.

  “I haven’t seen a ship like that before,” Fletcher then said, glancing across to the Invictus with admiring eyes. “Then again, I haven’t seen a Fleet ship in Middle Star for many years.”

  Sterling smiled. Showing appreciation for the Invictus was an easy way to get into his good graces. It was also a suitable ice breaker. Even a hard-ass like Mercedes Banks could be swayed by someone offering compliments about their ship.

  “She’s called the Invictus,” Sterling replied, also admiring his ship. “It’s a Marauder Class Destroyer, just over a year in service.” Next to the boxy and utilitarian design of the generation-one destroyer, the Marauder looked alien and otherworldly. “It was designed for long-range strike missions,” Sterling went on. “It’s compact and lean, but packs the offensive power of a third-generation heavy destroyer. It also has regenerative armor, which essentially repairs itself.”

  “You’re on the third-generation now?” said Fletcher, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll bet you haven’t seen an antique like the Bismarck in quite some time then?” He hooked a thumb in the direction of his ship.

  Sterling huffed a laugh. “You’d be surprised. It seems that these old gen-ones are the favored mode of transportation for many of the Void Marshalls.”

  The mention of the Void Marshalls seemed to stir something inside Fletcher.

  “The Marshalls…” Fletcher said, almost spitting out the word. “Those crooks make the lawmen of the Old West look like saints in comparison.” He cocked an eyebrow at Sterling. “I heard Marshall Masterson Junior got killed recently. Word is that a Fleet crew was involved.”

  “Masterson got what he deserved,” Sterling replied, though his answer didn’t appear to shock or perturb Fletcher. “But he’s not why we’re out here. Now, I’m afraid we really do have to be on our way.”

  Fletcher nodded, respectfully. “Very well, Captain Sterling,” he said, affably. “I’ll inform the rest of my squadron that you’re not a threat. They’ll allow you to pass through Middle Star without any further trouble.” The older man then shrugged. “Well, without any trouble from us, anyway. I can’t vouch for the Marshalls or the Void Pirates, though the latter stay away, knowing that we’re still out here.”

  “How many of you are left?” Sterling asked, curious to dig deeper into the status of the other mutineer ships from the Battle of Middle Star.

  “All of us,” Fletcher replied, with a palpable sense of pride. “All thirteen ships from the Battle of Middle Star still protect this system, and occasionally others too. We’ve even added a few more to our ranks since then.”

  “How many is a few?” Sterling asked, growing even more curious.

  Fletcher smiled. “Not enough to match one of your fancy gen-three fleets,” he replied, evasively. “But enough to keep the Sa’Nerra at bay, and that’s all that matters.”

  Sterling nodded. He had held back information from Fletcher, so could hardly feel aggrieved that the older man had done so with him. However, there was a piece of information he felt he could reveal and, in doing so, he hoped it might reveal something about the former officer too.

  “Between us, Mr. Fletcher, we could use all the ships we can get,” Sterling said, taking a suddenly graver tone. “The war is going badly. The Sa’Nerra have a new weapon. A ship that can potentially destroy an entire COP in one shot, and perhaps even a small moon.” Fletcher’s expression hardened as Sterling spoke, but he did not interrupt and instead listened with keen interest. “Together with their neural control weapon, the United Governments are contemplating offering terms.”

  “What?” Fletcher replied. The man barked the word so harshly that a bystander might have thought Sterling had just insulted the man’s mother. “They can’t be serious?”

  Sterling nodded. “I’m afraid so,” he replied, calmly. “We’re out here to try to change things, but the Sa’Nerra have the advantage. The truth is you may not be able to stay out of this war for much longer.”

  Fletcher drew in a long, deep breath then let it out slowly. “My war ended a long time ago, Captain,” he replied with a steadier and wiser tone that more closely suited his regal appearance. Then Fletcher offered his hand to Sterling. “But I wish you good fortune in your war.”

  Sterling accepted Fletcher’s hand and finally they shook. Fletcher turned to Jana and gave her another brief hug.

  “Any chance I can convince you to come with me and get off this old rock?” Fletcher said to the colonist.

  Jana shook her head. “My home is here, uncle,” she replied, warmly. “But don’t be a stranger. You know where I am.”

  Fletcher nodded then turned to Commander Banks’ and nodded again, though a little more reticently. Sterling’s first officer returned a similarly awkward and guarded gesture. Fletcher then again met Sterling’s eyes.

  “Good hunting, Captain,” Fletcher said, offering a lazy salute, which Sterling returned with more practiced professionalism.

  The man then turned on his heels and marched back toward his ship. Sterling smiled. Even after all the years that had passed, Fletcher still possessed the unmistakable, regimental gait of someone who had trained and served in the military.

  “See you around, Captain and Commander,” Jana said. “Thanks again for the food.”

  Sterling and Banks said their goodbyes, then the colonist moved away, leaving the two of them alone, standing between the old Fleet Destroyer and the state-of-the-art Invictus.

  “I don’t think that’s the last we’ve seen of Christopher Fletcher,” commented Sterling, as the cargo ramp of the Bismarck began to grind shut.

  “Nor do I,” Banks replied, also regarding the old ship as it prepared to leave. She then sighed and finally unfurled her arms from around her chest. “Thing is, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  Chapter 12

  Thrace colony in the void

  Ensign Keller made another slow pass around Thrace Colony, while Commander Banks and Lieutena
nt Shade examined their scanner readings of the settlement. However, even from the aerial image on the viewscreen, it was clear to Sterling that the colony had been attacked. Half of the buildings were either completely or partially destroyed, and those that weren’t appeared to be without power. Windows were smashed and the walls of the intact buildings displayed the obvious scars of plasma weapons' fire.

  “This place is as bleak as they come,” commented Banks as a flash of lighting streaked past the viewscreen. “It looks more like a prison gulag than a settlement.”

  The desolate appearance of the settlement wasn’t helped by the fact they’d arrived in the dead of night, during a heavy thunderstorm.

  “According to the meteorological readings this weather is mild by Thrace Colony standards,” Sterling replied as several more flashes lit up the horizon.

  “I’m picking up readings that suggests there may be life or at least a weak source of power down there,” said Banks, glancing over to Sterling from her station. “But honestly, it looks like whatever happened here went down a long time ago. I’m not sure what we can hope to find.”

  Sterling sighed and nodded. He’d come to the same conclusion as Banks had. However, Thrace Colony was their only lead to the whereabouts of James Colicos. If there was even a small chance that they could find something in the colony that might direct them to where they needed to go next, they had to take it.

  “I don’t see that we have a choice,” Sterling replied, pushing himself away from his console. He looked over to Ensign Keller, who was still maneuvering the Invictus around the colony, like a hawk surveying its hunting grounds. “Land on the outskirts of the main settlement, Ensign. I’m going to take a closer look.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Keller replied, immediately adjusting course and swooping down toward a section of hard ground at the edge of the ramshackle colony.

  Any other helmsman would have flown further out from the settlement in order to make a more gradual approach. Keller simply turned the Marauder on a dime and began the landing cycle with a fluidity that made the ship seem organic in nature, rather than technological. Sterling likened the comfort with which Keller performed the maneuver to the way Fletcher had navigated the old destroyer, Bismarck. Despite decades separating the two pilots, Keller was easily a match for the veteran spacefarer when it came to flying a warship. Sterling felt a distant thud through the deck as the landing struts made contact with the ground. He could even detect the gradually descending whine of the engines through the vibrations in his console. In all, he knew that the Invictus had completed its landing cycle even before Keller had informed him of this fact.

  “Down and secure, Captain,” said Ensign Keller, spinning his chair to face the command platform. “Shall I open the cargo bay door?”

  “Not yet, Ensign,” Sterling replied. He turned to Shade at the weapons console. “Order the commandoes to set up a secure perimeter around the ship. I don’t want to be caught out again, like we were in Middle Star,” he said, remembering how easily Marshall Masterson had snuck up on them. “Then meet the commander and me outside. The three of us will check out the main settlement administration block on foot.”

  “Aye, sir,” Shade answered. “I’d recommend full commando armor, Captain. It’s forty degrees outside and the storm doesn’t appear to be letting up.”

  “Agreed, Lieutenant, we’ll get kitted out while you organize the perimeter,” Sterling said.

  Shade nodded then hustled off the bridge, tapping her neural interface en route in order to relay her orders to the commando units.

  “I hate the rain,” Banks commented, securing her station and stepping beside Sterling with her arms folded across her chest. “Why can’t this trail lead us to some tropical planets for a change? You know, azure water and long, golden beaches…”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” replied Sterling, smiling. “Give me an inhospitable hellhole any day.”

  Sterling invited Banks to take the lead and tapped his neural interface to connect with his chief engineer.

  “Lieutenant Razor, the ship is yours while I’m gone,” Sterling said through the neural link. “But if so much as a gnat buzzes past this planet, I want to know about it.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Razor replied, smartly. “I’m on my way to the bridge now.”

  Sterling wasn’t a fan of wearing commando armor. He found it to be too bulky and restrictive compared to his regular uniform. However, as he and Banks stepped onto the deck of the cargo area, and heard the rain hammering down onto the lowered ramp, he was glad of the extra protection it offered. Lieutenant Shade appeared at the top of the ramp, rifle slung over her shoulder, and waited for Sterling and Banks to arrive. Rain streamed off her armor like water off a car windshield. The wetness caused the dull-grey, composite material to shimmer with a soft luster, reflecting what little light the planet’s twin moons offered.

  “The commando units are in position and I’ve placed sensor beacons around the ship,” said Lieutenant Shade as all three began to step down the ramp. “If anything tries to creep up on us this time, we’ll know about it.” Shade then raised her left arm. The computer screen was showing a rough, wireframed schematic of Thrace Colony. “This appears to the be the main administrative building for the colony,” Shade went on, highlighting the building in red. She scrolled the display to the right and highlighted a larger, multi-story structure. “This appears to be a standard colony accommodation block. The energy readings we picked up from the ship are concentrated in these two areas.”

  Sterling nodded then unslung his plasma rifle. “We check out the administration building first,” he said, dialing the power level of the weapon to a medium setting. “If any of the colony’s scanners were active during the time Colicos’ shuttle passed through here, we might be able to retrieve some information from their logs.”

  “With power out, we might need to force entry,” Banks added. She then jogged to the side of the hangar bay and lifted a hefty-looking, reinforced backpack off the wall. “This pack includes some basic tools and equipment, along with some portable power cells,” she said, slinging the pack on as she returned.

  “I didn’t have you down as a cat burglar, Commander,” teased Sterling. “I might have to check the ship’s stores to make sure there are no missing meal trays.”

  “If I wanted to break into the stores, I wouldn’t need the gear in the backpack,” Banks replied, tightening the strap. “I’d just rip the door open.”

  “Noted,” replied Sterling with a smile. He then looked up at the dark sky and driving rain and the smile fell away. “Okay, let’s move out,” he said, stepping out into the elements and instantly regretting it as rain hammered down on his helmet. It sounded like someone was playing a drumroll on his head.

  “Let’s make this quick, before the weather takes a turn for the worse,” Banks said, appearing at Sterling’s side. She was scowling up at the swirling black clouds, blinking rainwater out of her eyes.

  “Can it really get any worse than this?” Sterling replied, stepping off the ramp and into the mud. His boot sank into the ground then made a sickening organic squelch as he pulled it out again. “On second thoughts, don’t answer that,” he said, not wanting to tempt fate.

  Lieutenant Shade took the lead and soon they had reached the sensor perimeter the commandoes had set up around the ship. The computer on Sterling’s left arm bleeped an alert as Shade stepped across the threshold, followed by two more alerts as he and Banks followed soon after. The mud made progress slow and laborious, but eventually the sludge retreated and gave way to the synthetic road surfaces that most outer-world colonies used. Even so, some of the structures on the outskirts of the colony town had still been built on elevated footings over coarse gravel surfaces. Over time, Sterling knew that these temporary structures would have been replaced with permanent buildings as the colony developed. However, it was clear that the Sa’Nerran attack had spoiled those plans a long time ago.

  “
I think I preferred the mud,” said Sterling, pausing for a moment to survey the colony, which looked even bleaker up-close than it had from the air.

  Wind howled through the streets, whistling through smashed windows and slamming doors that were already partly broken off their hinges against the walls. However, while Sterling counted weapons and even the odd boot amongst the litter lining the streets, the absence of one thing in particular was beginning to concern him.

  “Where are all the bodies?” said Sterling, kicking one of the boots across the hard floor. “The Sa’Nerra just leave the dead to rot, but if the Sa’Nerra did this then we should be seeing some evidence of human remains.”

  “And Sa’Nerran remains,” Banks added, kneeling down to pick up a satchel that was strewn across the street. “Those alien bastards don’t care about their own causalities either,” she added, unzipping the bag.

  “Animals could have eaten the bodies, though I’d still expect to see sections of warrior armor scattered across the ground,” Lieutenant Shade pointed out.

  Shade was scouring the area like a hunter, though unlike himself and Banks the rain did not appear to faze the weapons officer in the slightest. Banks finished rummaging through the bag she’d found, pulling out a broken personal data assistant, a half-drunk plastic bottle of water and a wallet. She flipped open the wallet, the contents of which had largely perished under the continual, driving rain that afflicted Thrace Colony, and scowled down at an ID card.

  “Anything useful?” asked Sterling.

  Banks tossed the Satchel away then moved over to Sterling, holding the ID card up so that he could read it.