by G J Ogden
“Report, Lieutenant Razor,” said Sterling, glancing to his chief engineer at her station at the rear of the bridge. “Why the hell are we out here?”
As usual, Razor was flitting from console to console, running multiple scans and analyses at once.
“I’m running every standard scan I can think of, Captain,” Razor replied, while continuing to work. “But so far, this just appears to be empty space.”
Banks then turned around and rested back against her console, looking thoughtful.
“We’re not looking for something standard,” she said, trying to work through the conundrum. “Whatever the admiral sent us here to find must be out of the ordinary, and something that a standard scan won’t pick up.”
“Like what?” asked Sterling. He couldn’t fault his first officer’s logic, but he didn’t see how it helped them.
Banks shrugged. “She suggested this would be a way back to Fleet space, so perhaps a wormhole?” she wondered. “Either that, or she hid a Fleet of warships somewhere in this system so we could surge back to G-sector and kick the Sa’Nerra off our lawn.”
Sterling huffed a laugh, but then had a thought. “What if there is a wormhole out here, but it’s not actually a wormhole, but another aperture?” Razor stopped working and started paying attention. “We know the Sa’Nerra established a number of long-range apertures, which they then abandoned for obvious reasons. What if Fleet was doing the same?”
From the thoughtful expression on Banks’ face, his first officer appeared to be attracted to the idea. Razor, however, had already returned to her consoles. Several seconds later, Sterling’s console chimed an update.
“You were right,” said Razor, turning back to face her Captain. “There is an aperture at the co-ordinates Admiral Griffin supplied. The signature is similar to the unstable apertures we found in Sa’Nerran space. Not exactly alike, but close.”
Sterling checked his console and saw that the location of the aperture was now showing on his scanner readout. He rested forward on the console, sliding his hands into the grooves on its side.
“The problem is we might ride this aperture and end up crippled again on the other side,” Sterling said, tapping his finger on the side of the console. “Can we send a probe?”
“We’re fresh out, I’m afraid,” replied Banks. “This time we’re going to have to ride it blind.”
Sterling shook his head, though he’d already resigned himself to the fact that they really had no choice. It was either surge or remain in the Void.
“I can modify our surge field to compensate, but there’s no question it will be a sporty ride, Captain,” Razor added.
Sterling sighed and glanced at Banks, who also had a resigned look on her face.
“Okay, Lieutenant, make the modifications,” Sterling replied. “But if we keep riding the rapids like this, we’re going to have to get chairs fitted to the bridge,” he added, tightening his grip on the console. Sterling then turned to Shade. “Take us to battle stations, Lieutenant, just to be on the safe side. Who knows where this thing will take us…”
The alert klaxons sounded and the bridge was bathed in red. It seemed to Sterling that they’d spent more time at battle stations than they had at any other condition.
“The new surge parameters are programmed in, Captain,” said Razor, bracing herself against one of the consoles at the rear of the bridge.
“Very well, take us in, Ensign,” said Sterling, nodding to his eager helmsman.
“Aye sir,” replied Keller, smartly. “Approaching aperture threshold now. Ten seconds to surge.”
Sterling cleared his head and tightened his grip further. He hoped that he wasn’t about to experience a repeat of the disembodied hallucinations he was subjected to the last time they surged through an unstable aperture.
“Surging in three,” Keller called out. “Two…
However, there was no call of, “one”, at least not that Sterling heard. The ship had already been consumed by the sub-dimension of space that facilitated aperture travel. Sterling again found himself conscious of his own lack of existence, and also swamped by images and memories of recent events. Scenes of battles they’d fought and alien warriors he’d slain were interspersed with more banal scenes with the crew. Then he found himself standing in front of Mercedes Banks, in the corridor outside the medical bay.
“I’m glad you’re with me, Mercedes,” Sterling said. He was again unable to stop himself speaking the words, as if he were an observer of his own past. “I need you by my side.”
Mercedes Banks then moved closer and wrapped her arms around Sterling’s neck.
This isn’t what happened… Sterling thought, but then he was immediately unsure of himself. Or was it?
“You can have me, Lucas,” replied Banks, pulling Sterling closer. “Whenever you want.”
Did this happen? Sterling asked himself, as Banks’ face drew so close that he could feel her breath on his skin.
Mercedes Banks then pulled Sterling’s body against her own and kissed him passionately on the lips. Sterling was unable to resist, partly because of Banks’ overpowering strength, but also because he didn’t want to.
Suddenly the bridge exploded back into reality and Sterling found himself face down on his console. Alarms were sounding from multiple stations and the bridge lights were flickering chaotically.
“Captain?”
Sterling felt hands grip under his armpits and he was hauled upright. His head was thumping and his eyes were blurry.
“Captain, can you hear me?”
Sterling blinked his eyes and shook his head, despite the fact this made it throb even harder. Then his vision cleared and he saw Commander Banks standing in front of him. His cheeks flushed red, suddenly reminded of the vision he’d had during their recklessly-long surge.
“Are you okay, Lucas?” said Banks, lowering her voice.
Sterling took Banks’ hands, which he realized were still holding him and gently pushed them away. “I’m fine, Commander,” he said, turning back to the viewscreen. “What’s our status?”
Banks remained by Sterling’s side for a moment, a questioning look on her face, but then moved back to her console.
“The reactor is offline, but emergency power cells are functioning,” Banks said, working her station. “We’re receiving reports of multiple minor hull breaches. The cargo bay has completely depressurized. Seventeen more wounded.”
“There won’t be anyone left on the ship at this rate,” Sterling said, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain that was throbbing through his temples. “Do we know yet where the hell we are?”
“Star fixes and surge data suggest we’re in F-sector, quadrant one,” Banks replied.
“F-sector?” Sterling said, checking and confirming the readings on his own console. “That’s one a hell of surge.”
“Aye, sir,” said Banks, echoing Sterling’s sentiment. “It looks like we’re close to Pandora, one of the evacuated outer colonies. That would put us about three standard surges from F-COP.” Banks’ console then chimed an alert and her brow furrowed. “There’s a ship incoming,” she said, working her console. The image of a Fleet Frigate appeared on the viewscreen. “It’s the Corpus Christi, sir. A gen-two Patrol Frigate.” Banks console then chimed another update. “It’s hailing us.”
“I suppose we should be glad they didn’t just shoot us on sight,” Sterling said. He then straightened up, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, ready to speak to the frigate’s commander. Somehow, he had to explain how they’d just appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Put them through, Commander.”
The commander of the Corpus Christi appeared on the viewscreen. She appeared even more bemused than Sterling had expected her to look.
“This is Commander Rosa Dotson of the Fleet Frigate Corpus Christi,” the commander began, still wearing a slightly pained expression. “Identify yourself and explain your purpose here. This is now a restricted area.”
�
��I’m Captain Lucas Sterling of the Fleet Marauder Invictus, Commander,” Sterling replied, managing to sound stronger than he felt. “However, how we ended up here is going to take a little more time to explain.”
“I suggest you try to make it brief, Captain,” Commander Dotson replied, skeptically.
Sterling’s console chimed an update then he saw that the Corpus Christi had locked weapons onto them. If Commander Dotson had been standing in front of him at that moment, Sterling imagined she would have pulled a pistol and trained it on him with her finger on the trigger.
“I suggest you remove your weapons lock from my ship, Commander,” Sterling replied, stressing Dotson’s lower rank. “We’re on the same side here.”
Commander Dotson was not swayed. “Not until I’ve confirmed your identity and established exactly how you got here, Captain,” the woman hit back. “Those are my orders. You and your crew could be turned for all I know.”
Sterling appreciated the predicament that the commander was in. However, he also knew he could throw the same logic back at her.
“I could say the same for you and your crew, Commander Dotson,” Sterling replied. “We could go around in circles all day trying to convince one another of who we are. At some point we’re going to need to trust each other.”
“Trust is in pretty short supply at the moment, Captain,” Dotson answered. There was a fatalistic air to her statement that suggested the situation within the Fleet had worsened while Sterling had been away. “At least tell me how you got here. Give me something.”
“My mission is classified, Commander,” replied Sterling. He figured that if Griffin had been so secretive about the hidden apertures, she must have had her reasons. Sterling’s console chimed, but he kept his eyes fixed on Commander Dotson.
“Light Cruisers Centaur and Champion just surged in, Captain,” said Commander Banks. “They’ve set an intercept course and are charging weapons.”
Sterling cursed under his breath. He realized he was in a bind with no way out. His only choices were to fight the Fleet ships then try to escape, or surrender and be escorted to F-COP like a captured enemy. However, one way or another he knew he’d have to answer for his actions by disobeying orders and heading into the Void.
“Commander, I request that you escort the Invictus to F-COP,” said Sterling.
Dotson sighed. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I have my orders,” the commander replied. “Any vessel that has potentially come into contact with the enemy or returned from enemy-controlled space must be seized and its crew quarantined under guard.”
“That really isn’t necessary, Commander,” Sterling protested, but the officer held firm.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but these orders contain no ambiguity,” Dotson cut in. “Now surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded. Fail to comply and I will be forced to declare you and your crew aides to the emissaries and enemies of the United Governments.”
Sterling glanced down at his console and saw that the two light cruisers were already in weapons range. Even a completely fresh Invictus operating at peak efficiency would struggle to take on two gen-three cruisers and a frigate. As it was, their reactor was still down, they had no engines or weapons and their atmosphere was slowly leaking into space.
“Very well, Commander Dotson, I surrender the Invictus to you,” Sterling said, still managing to stand tall, despite the humiliating act. “I will make preparations to receive your crew.”
“Thank you, Captain Sterling,” replied Dotson. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary, Commander,” replied Sterling. “You are only doing your duty.”
Sterling was about to end the transmission when a question popped into his head. It wasn’t especially important, but unless he asked it, he knew it would gnaw at him.
“One last thing, Commander Dotson,” Sterling asked.
“Go ahead, Captain,” Dotson replied, more than a little reticently.
“Who gave the order to capture any ships returning from enemy-controlled space?” Sterling asked.
“The orders were relayed by Admiral Wessel,” Dotson replied.
Sterling laughed and shook his head. “Thank you, Commander,” he replied. Dotson nodded respectfully then cut the transmission.
The viewscreen updated to show the Corpus Christi looming in space ahead of them, with the two cruisers slowly moving in behind it.
“Wessel…” said Commander Banks, spitting the word out like poison. “It would have to be him.”
Sterling sighed and nodded. Wessel knew that there was only one Fleet ship out in the Void, so the order was specifically directed at them.
“Commander Banks, inform the crew to return to their quarters and cooperate with the boarding party,” Sterling said, stepping down from the command platform. “And ensure that any data pertaining to how we got here is mysteriously ‘corrupted’ in the ship’s logs.”
“Aye, Captain,” Banks said, setting to work.
“Then once you’re done, meet me in the wardroom,” Sterling added, heading for the exit. However, Banks appeared perplexed by the addendum to Sterling’s last order.
“Why exactly am I meeting you in the wardroom, Captain?” she asked.
“For dinner, of course,” Sterling said, continuing toward the exit. “After all, this might end up being our last meal.”
Chapter 34
An unexpected assignment
Lucas Sterling had never considered himself to be a proud man. He took pride in his work, the mission, his ship and his crew, but to him that wasn’t the same thing. That was pride in duty and service, not himself. Even so, the act of having his ship seized and flown back to F-COP in disgrace while he sat alone in his quarters was difficult to swallow. He accepted it as a consequence of his actions, yet he regretted nothing. His actions were in support of the war and he had succeeded. They now had in their custody the one man who could potentially nullify the Sa’Nerra’s key advantage. If the neural weapon could be rendered useless then the suspicion and fear that were running rampant inside Fleet command would end. They could throw their ships into a direct assault at the Sa’Nerran invasion armada and crush them, once and for all. Yet, as he waited outside the door to the room where his court martial hearing had been convened, he pondered whether he would be sitting out the rest of the war in Grimaldi.
Finally, the door opened and Sterling was invited in. However, rather than being confronted by the Judge Advocate General and a panel of other senior officers, he was met by Ernest Clairborne, the United Governments’ Secretary of War.
“Come in, Captain Sterling,” said Clairborne, ushering him inside. “You can remain standing. This won’t take long.”
Sterling moved inside and saw that Fleet Admiral Griffin was also in the room, along with Admiral Wessel and Admiral Rossi, the commander of the Third Fleet. The Judge Advocate General, however, was conspicuous by her absence.
“I’m confused, sir, I thought this was going to be a court martial hearing?” Sterling said, as Clairborne took a seat at the conference table. The admirals had all remained standing.
“Yes, well, certain matters have been brought to my attention that change things,” Clairborne replied.
Clairborne shot a sideways glance at Fleet Admiral Griffin as he said this. Griffin, however, did not meet the Secretary of War’s eyes and was instead focused on Sterling. The intensity of her stare was more unsettling than being brought before the secretary without knowing why.
“In light of this new information, you have no charges to answer, Captain,” Clairborne went on. “In fact, we may end up pinning another damned medal on your chest,” the politician added, with a gruff laugh.
“That’s not necessary, sir,” Sterling, replied. The last thing he wanted was another medal.
“There is a matter that remains unresolved, however,” Clairborne added, becoming a touch sterner. “We have still not established how you found your way to F-sector when your
last reported location was the Void.”
Sterling shrugged. “As I detailed in my report, sir, I honestly don’t know what happened,” he lied. Sterling had already taken the decision to keep the knowledge of the unstable apertures a secret. “My chief engineer believes it could have been a wormhole, or perhaps a freak accident. We were badly damaged and our surge field generator was malfunctioning.”
“I see,” replied Clairborne. Though, even with a politician’s tact for disguising their true feelings, it was clear to Sterling that Clairborne did not trust his answer. “In any case, we will continue to analyze your logs,” the Secretary of War went on. “It is, however, a pity that so much of the data is corrupted.”
Sterling shrugged again. “As I said, sir, we suffered heavy damage in the Void.”
“Of course, of course,” said Clairborne with the same forced politeness. “Anyway, I’ll cut to the chase, Captain, to save us all time,” Clairborne went on, becoming more upbeat. “By recovering James Colicos from the enemy, you have done Fleet and the United Governments a great service,” the Secretary went on. However, despite the laudatory nature of the statement, Clairborne did not appear particularly enthused. “The damage, however, is already done. We may already be too late to do anything about the neural control weapon.”
“Sir, if I may,” Sterling cut in, but again Clairborne waved him off.
“I’ve read your report, Captain, and I understand your position,” the Secretary interrupted. “You may be right, and we will utilize Colicos’ talents in order to search for an ‘antidote’ to this neural disease.” Sterling could tell there was a “but” coming, and Clairborne didn’t disappoint. “But the fact remains the enemy is at our gates. Their armada, which now includes dozens of our own damned ships, outnumbers ours. And while our forces are superior in skill, the Sa’Nerran advantage remains.”