by G J Ogden
“Sir, that is precisely why we need to counteract the neural control weapon,” Sterling protested. He suspected that nothing he could say would change the outcome of the meeting, but he still wanted his voice to be heard. “If we can neutralize the emissaries and their aides, and prevent other ships and crew from being turned against us, the Sa’Nerran advantage crumbles.”
Clairborne stood up, a sure-fire signal that the meeting – such as it was – was about to come to a close.
“Your opinion is noted, Captain Sterling,” Clairborne said. The Secretary of War then slid a personal digital assistant across the table. “Here are you new orders, Captain.”
Sterling frowned then glanced at Admiral Griffin, half-expecting her to interject. However, the Admiral remained silent, her eyes still fixed onto him. Sterling picked up the PDA and turned it on.
“I’m being posted to the Earth Defense Fleet?” Sterling said, scanning through the orders. His stomach knotted and he felt physically sick with anger. “But with a temporary attachment to the Special Investigations Branch?”
Sterling had not made any attempt to hide his clear displeasure at the orders and this had not gone unnoticed by Clairborne.
“That is correct, Captain Sterling,” Clairborne replied. He had remained calm and personable, though it was also apparent his patience was wearing thin. “I believe your experience and knowledge would greatly benefit the SIB, especially as it seeks to uncover irregularities in the Fleet.”
Sterling remained silent. He had a pretty good idea what “irregularities” Clairborne was referring to. And he couldn’t deny that there was a certain cleverness to the act of assigning Sterling to the SIB. It would mean he would no longer be under the protection of Admiral Griffin. However, more importantly, it would mean that he was effectively tasked with uncovering his own covert operations. It would force him to give up the Omega Taskforce or lie to protect it. Then he noticed the names of the admirals present at the meeting. Griffin no longer held the rank of Fleet Admiral. Instead, Admiral Rossi now held the position. Sterling shook his head again. It hadn’t been Sterling who had been court-martialed, but Griffin.
“You will report to me at oh nine hundred tomorrow, Captain Sterling,” said Admiral Wessel, clearly enjoying himself immensely. “Bring your first officer too,” he added in a smug, syrupy tone. “I want an opportunity to speak to you both to make sure you fully understand your new roles.”
Sterling turned to Admiral Griffin, expecting – and hoping – that she would intervene. However, she merely remained silent.
“If there is no other business, then this meeting is over,” said Clairborne, who then gathered up his personal effects and made a bee-line for the door.
Admiral Griffin and Admiral Rossi also left, but Sterling was still too stunned to move. It wasn’t until Admiral Wessel was practically standing in front of him that he was able to gather his senses.
“It’s time for you to fall in line, Captain,” Admiral Wessel said, glowering at Sterling. “I know all about Griffin’s little ‘taskforce’ and what you have been doing.” He shot Sterling an oily smile. “It’s ironic that as her favorite pet, you will be the one to bring Griffin down.”
Sterling’s mind was now as sharp as a scalpel. He knew what was happening and despite Griffin’s silence during the meeting, his loyalties had not changed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Admiral,” Sterling said. He was outwardly calm, but inside he was still raging. “However, I’m very much looking forward to my new assignment,” he added, sarcastically. “There are many irregularities in the Fleet. For example, I’m keen to explore how the offspring of senior Fleet officers appear to be promoted to positions of authority, without merit or due process.”
Wessel’s eyes narrowed, but he retained his oily smile. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you Captain?” he said, coming almost toe-to-toe with Sterling. “But you’re mine now. And you will follow my orders to the letter, or you’ll find yourself in a jail cell for the rest of your life.”
Sterling smiled and held his ground. If the two men came any closer, they would have cracked heads.
“Will that be all, sir?” Sterling asked, politely.
“For now,” Wessel spat back at him. Then he turned and headed toward the door. “Oh nine hundred tomorrow, Captain,” Wessel called out as he went. “Do not be late.”
Suddenly, Sterling found himself alone in the room. He had walked in expecting to be court martialed, but instead he’d suffered arguably a worse sentence. He’d had a bow tied around him and been presented as a gift to the most loathsome officer in the Fleet. Sterling flopped down into one of the meeting chairs, shaking his head. It had all happened so fast and he was still unable to process what it meant for the Invictus and his crew.
Then Sterling felt a neural link forming in his mind. He scowled and scanned the surface of the conference table, spotting a neural jammer. While scanners that were able to intercept and read neural communication were banned, neural jammers were permitted in rare circumstances. This was especially the case when members of the War Council were involved, as there had been during Sterling’s meeting. However, Sterling could see that the jammer was still active, which meant that no-one should have been able reach out to him.
Tapping his neural interface to allow the connection he felt a presence fill his mind and knew immediately who it was.
“Sit tight, Captain,” said Admiral Natasha Griffin. “Play along with Wessel and keep your nose clean. This isn’t over.”
The neural link then went dead, once again leaving Sterling utterly speechless. However, this time at least he knew he was not on his own.
Chapter 35
An uncertain future
Sterling lay on his bed in his quarters, staring at the ceiling. The rest of the crew were on leave, pending yet another raft of repairs to the Invictus. Sterling was normally keen to speed up the work, so that he could get back into action. However, this time he hoped that the repairs would drag because as soon as they were done, he’d be heading away from the front line. His new commander, Admiral Wessel, would ensure that Sterling was kept under a tight leash and as far away from the action as possible. He’d hoped to hear more from Admiral Griffin, but as the new commander of the Third Fleet, she had already departed for E-COP.
Sterling closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Griffin’s assurance that it was not over had given him some reason to hope that his mission and the Omega Taskforce would continue. However, at that moment, lying on his bed on his empty ship, he couldn’t see how. With his mind quiet and his body still, Sterling suddenly heard a scratching sound. At first, he thought it was just a noise made by the repair crews filtering through the ship’s structure. Then he realized it was emanating from somewhere inside his quarters. Sitting up, he tried to focus on the noise, but despite his keen hearing he couldn’t quite place it.
“Computer, what is that damned noise?” Sterling said, aiming the question at the ceiling.
“There is a Beagle hound scratching at your door, Captain,” the computer replied, cheerfully. “The animal’s designation is Jinx. Shall I let her in?”
“No, you shall not,” Sterling hit back. The noise then went away. Sterling waited for a few moments to make sure it didn’t return then lay back down on his bed. “If that mutt craps outside my door, I’ll devise a new meal tray based on Beagle stew,” he muttered out loud.
“I do not believe there is enough organic material available in the Beagle hound to produce a sufficient run of new meal trays, Captain,” the computer chipped in.
“I wasn’t being serious, computer,” Sterling said, closing his eyes. “And I also wasn’t talking to you.”
“Then who were you talking to, Captain?” the quirky AI asked.
“Myself. Or no-one. What the hell does it matter?” Sterling snapped. He was in a foul mood and since the computer was the only intelligence available to him, he decided to take out his frustrat
ions on the AI.
“I have recently added some new counselling programs to my repertoire, Captain,” the computer continued, still in a cheerful tone. “Would you like me to begin an anger management session?”
Sterling laughed. “No, I would not,” he replied. Then he frowned and opened his eyes. “Who the hell are you running these classes on, anyway?”
“Many members of the crew find my meditation and stress relaxation programs to be beneficial,” the computer said. Sterling thought he could detect a hint of pride in the AI’s voice, but then shrugged it off as his imagination.
“Like who?” said Sterling, growing more curious.
“I’m afraid that would violate my doctor patient confidentiality clause, Captain,” the computer replied, this time sounding more subdued and suitably serious.
“You’re not a damned, doctor, you’re a collection of circuits,” Sterling snapped.
Sterling was about to order the computer to reveal who it was running its courses on when the scratching sound started again. Cursing, Sterling got off the bed, muttering to himself then opened the door.
“Will you get lost?” Sterling snapped.
However, instead of seeing Jinx the Beagle hound, Sterling came face-to-face with Mercedes Banks.
“Is that an order, Captain?” Banks replied, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Jinx then trotted past and sat next to her boot.
“Sorry, Mercedes, I thought you were the damn dog,” Sterling said, stepping back from the door and inviting her in. “It’s been scratching at my door for last few minutes and driving me mad.”
“She just wanted to say hello,” Banks replied, stressing the word, “she”. Sterling’s first officer then moved inside and planted herself into his desk chair. Jinx trotted in after her and jumped up onto the bottom of Sterling’s bed.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sterling said to the dog. However, Jinx had already paced around in a circle and curled up on the covers.
“See, she likes you,” Banks said, smiling at the hound. “Though I don’t know why,” she added, pointedly.
“How come you’re still on the ship?” said Sterling, sitting back down on his bed. “I thought you’d be in the wardroom on the station, working your way through F-COP’s supply of meal trays.”
“I didn’t like the company,” replied Banks, spinning around in Sterling’s chair. “Besides, I’m not really in the mood.”
“It will all work out fine, Mercedes,” said Sterling, choosing to be the optimist of the duo for a change.
“What makes you say that?” replied Banks, who was still spinning around in circles.
“Because the alternative is that I murder Wessel and his pissant son and end up on a penal colony for the rest of my life,” said Sterling. Then he realized he was only half-joking.
“I’m wondering if that might be preferable to serving in his useless Earth Defense Fleet,” said Banks, stopping herself spinning by planting her boots on Sterling’s bed next to him. “They can’t even defend against stray meteors, never mind a Sa’Nerran invasion force.”
Sterling’s computer console on his desk chimed an alert. “Oh good, more orders,” said Sterling, sarcastically. He turned the screen so that he could see it and switched on the terminal. There was a new message, transmitted on a secure, encrypted channel. Sterling glanced at Banks, who also appeared to recognize the unique frequency. It was the Omega Taskforce channel. It was Admiral Griffin.
“Grab the secure ID chip from my top drawer,” said Sterling, pointing Mercedes in the right direction. His first officer swiftly obliged and Sterling slotted the chip into his console. He then placed his hand on the ID scanner and cleared his throat. “Unlock Omega Directive, authority Sterling Alpha One.” The message unlocked and new data flooded onto Sterling’s console.
“What is all this?” said Banks, frowning at the screen. “It looks like co-ordinates and surge-field configurations, but I don’t recognize any of them.”
Initially, Sterling was as confused as his first officer was. Then it dawned on him what Griffin had just sent them.
“These are the locations and surge-field configurations of other hidden apertures,” Sterling said. Suddenly, he felt that things were starting to looking up. “Griffin has given us a route back out of Fleet space.”
“But why?” Banks asked. “There’s nothing else in the Void that’s of use.” She then reconsidered her statement. “Or is there?”
Sterling shrugged. “If there is, she’s not said what, at least not in this message.”
“Wait, there is more,” said Banks, finding another file in the bundle of encrypted data. “It’s just a plain message again, like the last one she sent us.”
Sterling opened the file then read the contents out loud. “The Void Recon Unit has been disbanded but the Omega Taskforce remains. Do not let Colicos out of your sight. Standby for further instructions on this channel. The Omega Directive is in effect. Griffin.”
Sterling let out a long breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was barely more information than Griffin had communicated to him after the meeting with Clairborne. If anything, it left him with more questions than answers.
“Can she even give us orders now that we’re under Wessel’s command?” wondered Banks, who was still frowning at the screen.
“It’s not like all her previous orders were exactly above board, Mercedes,” Sterling replied with a wry smile. “We’ve always operated outside the boundaries of the regular Fleet. I don’t intend to stop now.”
Banks nodded. “Fair point, though if she’s no longer the Fleet Admiral, just how much can she get away with? How much can we?”
Sterling smiled. “I have no idea, but the way I see it, we have two choices. We take orders from Wessel and get used by him to take Griffin down. Or we carry on doing what we’ve always done.”
“And what’s that?” replied Banks.
“We do what’s necessary,” Sterling replied, suddenly growing in confidence. “We do whatever it takes to win the war, no matter the cost.”
Banks nodded. “The Omega Directive is in effect.”
“It always was, Mercedes,” Sterling replied. “It never stopped being in effect.”
Banks suddenly slapped her powerful thighs then sprang out of Sterling’s desk chair. “Come on,” she said, taking Sterling by the hand and hauling him up. Given his first officer’s strength, there was no way to resist her.
“Where the hell are we going?” said Sterling.
“The wardroom, of course,” Banks replied. She whistled to Jinx. The hound’s ears pricked up and she jumped off the bed. “I’ve just got my appetite back.”
Sterling laughed and followed Mercedes Banks out of the door. Jinx trotted along a few moments later, her robotic foot tapping on the metal deck plating in a brisk rhythm.
Sterling wasn’t naïve enough to believe that recovering James Colicos was the end to their problems, but he had hoped it would have been the start of the solution. As it turned out, Fleet was already a long way down the road to defeat. If F-sector was to fall and the Third and Fourth Fleets took heavy losses, defeat was almost certain to follow.
In the war against the Sa’Nerra, there is only victory or death… Sterling reminded himself, as he walked side-by-side with his first officer. To continue his mission, Sterling would be required to not only exceed his orders, but disobey them completely. This troubled him almost more than some of the terrible acts he’d already conducted in the Void under the Omega Directive. However, he also knew that it was necessary. And above all else, Sterling would do anything necessary to win.
Orders didn’t matter. Fleet didn’t matter. The United Governments didn’t matter. Only winning mattered. And he was going to win, whatever it took and whatever the cost.
The end (to be continued).
Continue the journey
Continue the journey with book four: Obsidian Fleet. Click the cover to learn more.
At school, I was asked to write down the jobs I wanted to do as a "grown up". Number one was astronaut and number two was a PC games journalist. I only managed to achieve one of those goals (I’ll let you guess which), but these two very different career options still neatly sum up my lifelong interests in science, space, and the unknown.
School also steered me in the direction of a science-focused education over literature and writing, which influenced my decision to study physics at Manchester University. What this degree taught me is that I didn’t like studying physics and instead enjoyed writing, which is why you’re reading this book! The lesson? School can’t tell you who you are.
When not writing, I enjoy spending time with my family, walking in the British countryside, and indulging in as much Sci-Fi as possible.
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