by G J Ogden
Banks picked up the injured hound and turned to Sterling. He was about to tell her to leave the animal where it was and explain that they had more important considerations than tending to a wounded pet. However, the expression on his first officer’s face completely disarmed him. It wasn’t a mawkish look, nor did Banks look to be on the verge of tears. Tears were not Mercedes Banks style. He doubted that Omega officers even had tear ducts. However, what was clear was that this particular Omega officer did not want the dog to die. He could see it in her eyes; if she could have given her own body and lifeblood to save the animal, she would have done so right there and then.
“Bring her with us,” Sterling said, resuming his journey toward the med lab. “We’ll see what Graves can do.”
Banks carried Jinx along the corridor and, dripping a trail of blood in her wake, followed Sterling into the med bay. Six of the beds were occupied by injured members of the Invictus’ crew, who were being attended to by the ship’s medics. Sterling saw Commander Graves inside the compact surgical bay. He pushed through the door to find James Colicos on the operating table. Graves was working on the scientist’s injured hand – the one Sterling had blasted off back on the space station. Resting on a tray beside the table was a bionic prosthetic. It was still in a raw format, lacking any artificial flesh or skin covering.
“Is he conscious?” Sterling asked, pointing to Colicos on the table. He couldn’t see the scientist clearly owing to a curtain shielding his face.
“Yes, I’m conscious,” Colicos snapped back, before Graves could reply. “I just don’t like seeing blood, that’s all. I wanted him to put me under, but he said he didn’t have a spare bed for me to recover in.” The scientist’s hostility and complaining was doing nothing to endear the man to Sterling.
“Is he secured?’ Sterling directed the question at Graves.
“Yes, he's strapped me down like a lunatic, if that’s what you mean,” Colicos again interrupted. “It’s degrading, I…”
“Shut your traitorous mouth!” Sterling barked, causing the scientist to stop mid-sentence and fall silent. “I don’t want to hear another damn word from you until I ask you a question.”
Sterling could not see the scientist’s reaction, but Colicos remained silent.
“Commander Graves, give me a moment with the prisoner,” Sterling said to his medical officer. The doctor turned to leave, then saw the injured beagle that Commander Banks was holding in her hands. “See if you can fix the dog while you’re waiting,” Sterling added. Then he again noticed the prosthetic hand on the tray next to the operating table. “Maybe you should test out your skill with prosthetics before you attach that asshole’s hand. If he can’t operate a computer console, we may as well airlock him now.”
“Of course, Captain,” said Graves, appearing oddly amused by the order to attend to the dog before his human patient. Sterling nodded to Banks and she and Commander Graves left the surgical bay.
Sterling waited for them to close the door then stepped closer to Colicos. He could see the man’s feet flinch with each thud of his bootsteps. He tore the curtain away and peered down at the scientist’s startled and petrified face. Colicos looked away, too fearful to meet Sterling’s eyes, but only succeeded in seeing the stump where his left hand would have been. Yelping like a dog who’d had its tail trodden on, Colicos twisted his head to the opposite side and pressed his eyes shut.
“Here’s the deal, doc,” Sterling began, grabbing Colicos by the jaw and turning his head to face him. The scientist forced his eyes open and reluctantly met Sterling’s gaze. “The neural weapon that you so kindly developed for the enemy is causing us to lose the war,” Sterling continued, still gripping Colicos’ chin. “Since the weapon first appeared, the Sa’Nerra have captured almost a hundred Fleet ships and turned them against us. Colonies in the Void have been made to produce munitions and resources for the enemy, the people then taken and forced into labor. Now the Sa’Nerra are pushing toward earth with a super-weapon the purpose of which we have no idea.” Sterling paused and drew his head closer to the scientist. The sweat from his brow dripped into Colicos’ eyes, forcing him to blink away the hot, salty liquid. “You’re going to tell me everything you know,” Sterling went on, his words dripping as heavily as his sweat, “and you’re going to find a way to reverse this neural weapon.” He drew back and released Colicos’ jaw, then continued, “Or I’m going to have Graves perform some little experiments of his own on your body.”
“You think I wanted this?!” Colicos screeched, struggling in vain against the restraints that held him to the surgical table. “What choice did I have? Griffin threw me to the wolves. She cast me out into the Void, and for what?!” The scientist was suddenly raging, though beneath the anger there was still a suffocating blanket of terror. “I was working for Fleet, helping the war effort. If you’re looking for someone to blame, Captain, blame your precious Admiral!”
Sterling sighed and shook his head. He had wondered what the character of this supposed genius would be like. He’d hoped that the Sa’Nerra had perhaps coerced him and broken him down over weeks or months. Perhaps they’d even turned him using his own weapon. However, it seemed that Colicos was just as spinless and weak as he had imagined him to be.
“You had a choice, Doctor Colicos,” Sterling said, toying with the prosthetic hand that Graves had prepared. “You could have fought the Sa’Nerra who took you. Perhaps tried to escape. Maybe even taken your own life.” Sterling dropped the hand back into the tray. It landed with a loud clang, making Colicos jump, as far as his restraints would permit. “But instead, you helped our enemy develop a weapon that is already responsible for the loss of hundreds of thousands of lives. Human lives.”
“That blood is on Griffin’s hands, not mine!” Colicos hit back, clearly incensed by the accusation of cowardice. “Why should I take my own life? Why should I care about a people that abandoned me, like an unwanted pet!”
Sterling’s attention was caught by a tray of surgical instruments to the side of the operating table. It was typical of Graves to favor the tools of a bygone surgical era, when practitioners sliced into flesh using sharpened steel, instead of lasers. It also fit Sterling’s own notion of his medical officer as a “Jack the Ripper” style persona. Sterling pulled the tray closer and removed an old-fashioned metal scalpel.
“Wait, what are you doing with that?” Colicos said, urgently, pulling his head as far away from the scalpel as possible. “Help!” the man yelled. “Someone, help me!”
Sterling brought the tip of the scalpel toward Colicos, twisting it in his fingers and admiring the way the spotless metal reflected the light.
“No-one on this ship will come to your aid, doc,” Sterling said. “The only reason you’re here is so you can undo the damage you’ve done.”
“It’s impossible,” Colicos answered. “I’ve already tried to reverse the effects of the neural control device. I worked in secret, at night when the Sa’Nerra weren’t watching. But it cannot be done!”
Sterling was already tired of the man’s excuses and protestations of innocence. Leaning in closer, he laid the flat of the scalpel blade on top of Colicos’ Adam’s apple. The scientist froze as if Sterling had just placed a scorpion on his neck.
“I’m telling you the truth!” Colicos pleaded. “In nearly sixty per cent of cases, my subjects died instantly. More than thirty percent who survived were driven mad. The rest were like empty shells, as if I’d sucked the souls from their minds!”
Sterling lifted the blade off the scientist’s neck. For the first time since they’d been talking, Colicos had actually revealed something of worth.
“You said that reversing the effects was impossible,” Sterling said, still toying with the scalpel. “What you’ve just described sounds like your process had potential.”
“Yes, yes, I misspoke!” blurted Colicos, apparently seeing an opportunity for a reprieve. “It is possible. Just challenging. And agonizing. It is a painful pro
cess, and one that so far no-one has recovered from.”
Sterling lifted the tip of the scalpel blade so that Colicos could see it. The scientist’s eyes grew almost as wide as the Sa’Nerra’s egg-shaped orbs.
“Believe me, the suffering of your patients is nothing compared to what will happen to you if you fail, or refuse to help,” Sterling said.
A neural link formed in Sterling’s mind. He allowed it through and connected to Lieutenant Shade.
“Captain, MAUL has just surged into the system along with six phase-one Sa’Nerran Light Cruisers,” Shade announced, calmly. “Two of the cruisers were torn apart on arrival from the surge stresses, and the four that made it through took heavy damage. Even so, they will intercept us before we reach the aperture to Thrace Colony.”
“Understood, Lieutenant, I’m on my way,” Sterling replied. He then tapped his interface to close the link.
“Saved by the bell, doc,” Sterling said, dropping the scalpel back into the tray by the side of the operating table. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Sterling then turned to leave, but Colicos’ indignant screeching followed him.
“You can’t just leave me here like this!” the scientist protested. “Where is the surgeon!”
Sterling peered through the glass and saw that Commander Graves was operating on Jinx the beagle hound. Banks was standing to Graves’ side, watching the medical-doctor-turned-veterinary-surgeon like a hawk.
“My medical officer has a more important patient to attend to,” Sterling said, as the door slid open. “He’ll be with you when he’s free.”
Sterling stepped outside and waited for the door to slide shut behind him, cutting off the panicked squawks of Dr. James Colicos as it did so.
Chapter 30
Fortune and providence
Sterling strode onto the bridge with Commander Banks close behind and jumped onto the command platform. The viewscreen was already focused on the squadron of Sa’Nerran vessels that were in pursuit.
“Report, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, aiming the statement at his weapons officer. Then he noticed that Lieutenant Razor was also back on the bridge, in her usual place beside the aft consoles.
“We’re receiving a hail from MAUL, Captain,” said Shade, her voice containing the subtlest hint of intrigue.
“Well, you’d better put it on the viewscreen then,” replied Sterling, also intrigued to hear what the commander of Sa’Nerra’s most decorated warship had to say. Sterling glanced across to Banks, who appeared just as curious to learn the reason for the communication request as he was. Moments later, the image of the approaching Sa’Nerran warships faded and was replaced by Emissary Clinton Crow, dressed in Sa’Nerran armor.
“Captain Sterling, what a surprise to find you out here,” said Crow, sounding not in the slightest bit surprised. “I would have expected you to be with the rest of your Fleet, attempting to stave off our invasion armada.”
Sterling smiled. “Oh, we’re just out here running some shakedown tests, you know? We have a few upgrades and I wanted to try them out.”
Crow’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s not play games, Captain,” he said, suddenly taking a more menacing tone. “I know why you’re here and I know what you’ve done.”
“Then you also know that no matter what you say or demand, my answer will be the same,” Sterling replied, calmly.
“And what answer is that, Captain?” Crow spat.
“That you can kiss my ass, Emissary Crow,” replied Sterling, with relish.
Sterling ended the transmission and turned to Shade. “What’s the condition of the Sa’Nerran squadron, Lieutenant?”
“MAUL has fallen to the rear of the formation, Captain,” Shade replied. “It’s in bad shape, but our scanners detect its weapons are still online.”
“What about the cruisers?” Sterling added, updating his Captain’s console with the latest scan data.
“They all took heavy damage during the surge,” Shade replied. “I’m reading multiple hull breaches and power fluctuations. They might fly themselves apart before they even reach us.”
Sterling huffed a laugh. “I think we’ve used up our quota of luck for this mission, Lieutenant,” he replied. “What about the torps we jettisoned as mines?”
Shade worked her console then the viewscreen updated to show the location of the torpedoes and the course of the Sa’Nerran squadron. “They’re heading straight for them, sir,” she announced. Sterling detected a modicum of satisfaction in his weapons officer’s voice. Killing Sa’Nerra was about the only thing that brought Shade close to appearing happy.
“At their current speed the enemy squadron will be within optimal firing range in five minutes,” Banks then chimed in. “But it will take twice that length of time for us to reach the aperture and surge. Even then, there’s nothing to stop the cruisers following us through.”
Sterling turned to his chief engineer. “This is the part where you explain your genius plan to boost our engine power, Lieutenant.”
Sterling’s statement had been worded a tad facetiously, but he was deadly serious. The engineer was equally as deadpan in her reply.
“I can give you more power, sir, but it’s the dirtiest hack job I’ve ever done in my life,” Razor replied. “I can’t promise how long the boost will hold, but I can promise you that it will be a close-run thing.”
“Do it, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied. “Give Keller everything you’ve got.”
Sterling turned to his helmsman. “I’m afraid that’s not the only miracle I need performing today,” he said, meeting the ensign’s curious eyes. “I need you to vector a surge deep into the Thrace Colony system. We need to emerge so far away from that squadron of alien killers that they have no choice but to give up the chase.”
Keller twisted back toward his station and moments later a number of surge projections were displayed on the viewscreen.
“I took the liberty of running some calculations already, Captain,” Keller said. The ensign’s head was turned away from the command console, but if the young officer had been looking, he’d have seen his captain swell with pride. “I can get us close to the aperture to Middle Star. Close enough that they’d never reach us before we surged.”
Sterling slapped his hand on his console in triumph. If they could reach Middle Star then Christopher Fletcher’s fleet would deter the Sa’Nerra from continuing their pursuit. “Good work, Ensign. Enter the program and stand-by to surge.”
“Aye, Captain,” Keller replied, continuing to tap away at his helm controls. “There might not be much of us left once we emerge.”
“I don’t care if we have to get out and push the Invictus through that aperture to Middle Star, Ensign,” Sterling hit back. “Just get us there.”
Lieutenant Shade’s console then chimed an update.
“Captain, the lead cruiser is approaching the minefield,” the weapons officer announced.
“Put it on the viewscreen,” Sterling said, sliding his hands into their familiar grooves on the sides of his console. “Let’s see if lady luck is still with us.”
A magnified image of the lead Sa’Nerran Light Cruiser appeared on the screen. Its three companions were clearly visible to its rear, though MAUL was trailing far behind. Sterling updated his scans of the alien’s top gun and saw that it was faltering badly. Two surges through an unstable aperture were too much even for the Sa’Nerra’s mightiest warrior, it seemed.
“Twenty seconds to impact,” Shade called out.
Sterling held his breath and waited. If he could disrupt the alien’s pursuit even for a moment, it might be enough, in tandem with the engine boost, to pull the Invictus clear of danger.
Several flashes lit up the viewscreen. Banks shook her fist and cried out, but Sterling’s head hung low. He knew that the flashes were not caused by torpedo explosions, but by Sa’Nerran plasma weapons.
“The lead cruiser has targeted and destroyed the torpedo, Captain,” Shade said, confirming Sterlin
g’s suspicions. More flashes popped off in the darkness. “They’re targeting the other torpedoes too. It didn’t work.”
This time Banks slammed her hand down on her console. Despite the fact Razor had reinforced the stem, on account of the first officer’s frequent, super-human outbursts, the metal still groaned like an old shipwreck.
“How the hell did they see them?” Banks said, throwing her arms out wide.
“They didn’t,” Sterling said, realizing what had happened. “But MAUL did.”
Banks cursed then squeezed her hands into fists. “Damn it, one day soon that ship is going down,” she said, seething with anger. “Even if I have to tear it into scrap with my own hands.”
The Invictus was then rocked hard as if they’d collided with an invisible object directly ahead. Sterling was thrown over the top of his console and landed heavily on his back. Strident alarm tones pierced the air and Sterling was peppered with debris from exploding consoles and power relays.
“Engine one has overloaded, Captain,” Razor called out, raising her voice to a yell to be heard over the commotion on the bridge. “I have to shut it down or it'll blow, taking half the ship with it!”
“Do it, Lieutenant!’ Sterling called back, dragging himself to his feet. “What’s the status of engine two?”
“It’s stable, for now,” Razor replied, rushing from console to console to perform the necessary actions. “But the momentum we’re carrying, plus the thrust from the remaining engine won’t be enough.”
Sterling cursed as he clawed himself back around the front of his console. Banks was at her station, sporting several additional cuts and bruises, while Shade was also dragging herself back to her feet.
“Get down there and do whatever you can, Lieutenant,” Sterling called over to his engineer. “If we can’t reach the aperture before they’re in weapons range, there’ll be nothing left of us to surge.”
Razor acknowledged the order and staggered off the bridge as Sterling turned his attention to the damage report. Despite the violent reaction to the engine overload, the additional damage to the ship hadn’t been severe.