Dreadnaught: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Omega Taskforce Book 5) Page 13

  “Mercedes, do you read me?” Sterling reached out to his first officer with all his mental energy, but the stabbing pain simply intensified ten-fold. Sterling cried out, powerless to resist the pain any longer, but he was determined to break through. “Mercedes…” he tried again, but the result was the same – more pain and more anguish.

  “A neural suppression field was the one thing the Sa’Nerra never could master,” spoke the voice of Emissary Lana McQueen. Sterling could tell that she was standing behind him from the direction of her voice, but he couldn’t see her. “Colicos tried to teach us how it worked, but the Sa’Nerran scientists couldn’t replicate the technology with any success.” The slow and steady clap of boots on a hard floor followed, and seconds later McQueen was standing beside Sterling, a thin smile curling her lips. “Intense pain, however, achieves the same result, instantly crippling one’s ability to form neural links. It also has the benefit of being far easier to administer.”

  McQueen held up a device, no larger than an old-fashioned zippo lighter, with a dial in the center. The Emissary cranked the dial higher and the pain inside Sterling’s head intensified. He screamed, the shame of his weakness adding to his agony, but there was no defense against McQueen’s attack. He was utterly at her mercy. The Emissary then dialed the power level down on the device and the pain diminished enough to allow Sterling to take a breath and attempt to regain his shattered composure.

  “Now, neural broadcasting; that is something we have been able to master,” McQueen went on, as if the tormented shrieks that Sterling had unwillingly howled into the air had never happened. “I believe you already witnessed the effects of this new technology at F-COP?” Her smile broadened. “It’s what allowed us to turn the Hammer and all of its crew in a matter of seconds. It’s just a pity it requires so much power that only a ship the size of our super-dreadnaught can utilize it.”

  “What do you want, Lana?” said Sterling, fighting to get the words out through labored breaths. He was already tired of her smug face and pointless chit-chat. “You’ve kept me alive without trying to turn me for a reason, so just get to it. Then I can tell you to piss off and we can all move on.”

  McQueen’s smile fell away, she gritted her teeth and punched Sterling in the ribs with all of her strength. The pain was nothing compared to the agony of the device McQueen had used earlier, and Sterling managed to stop himself from crying out. McQueen raised her hand again and he prepared himself to take another blow. However, instead of hitting him, the Emissary slowly lowered her hand to his face and began to tenderly stroke his aching head.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Lucas,” McQueen said with a sudden softness and tenderness that was the polar opposite of her mood only seconds earlier. “You know how much I wanted us to be together. I wanted you at my side, not as my enemy.”

  “You know that’s never going to happen, Lana,” Sterling said, trying to pull his head away from McQueen’s caresses. “The only way I’ll join you is as another turned slave.” McQueen switched to tracing her finger up and down the center of Sterling’s chest. “But then that wouldn’t really be me, would it?” he continued, finally understanding why the Emissary hadn’t attempted to turn him. “You want me to join you voluntarily, of my own free will. You want me to choose you.”

  McQueen recoiled then slapped Sterling across the side of his face. She had removed her gauntlets, diminishing the effect of the blow, but Sterling could still feel a trickle of blood rolling down his cheek from where McQueen’s nails had sliced his flesh.

  “You flatter yourself!” McQueen raged, raising her hand again. “If I wanted you then you’d already be mine!” She struck him with the back of her hand, then grabbed Sterling around the throat and leant in so close that he could taste her breath and smell her hair. It was instantly familiar. Despite all the other changes the former Omega Captain had undergone, part of her was still the Lana McQueen he remembered. “I offered you the choice to be a part of this great new empire out of respect, and all you did was spit it back in my face.”

  “Now, there’s an idea,” Sterling croaked before spitting at McQueen. Because of the pressure of the Emissary’s hand around his throat, he barely managed to spray her with a light mist of spittle. However, it was still enough to shock the woman into releasing her hold on him. She wiped the saliva from her face and smiled before grabbing the back of Sterling’s neck and pulling him toward her. Sterling expected another blow to follow – perhaps a headbutt – but instead McQueen kissed him on the lips, adding so much pressure that his teeth ached. She then pulled away, with Sterling’s bottom lip clenched between her front teeth. The iron taste of blood filled his mouth, and he lifted his head as far as he could off the table in an effort to reduce the pull. McQueen finally released him and Sterling’s head thumped back onto the surface. The Emissary remained in front of him, her mouth smeared with Sterling’s blood like smudged lipstick.

  “You always did like to play rough, Lucas,” McQueen said, as a drop of his blood fell from her chin. “It’s one of things I always loved about you.”

  Sterling laughed, spitting blood onto his face and chest as he did so. “That’s funny because I never really liked you at all,” he hit back, managing a smile of his own. “You were just a convenient lay. An easy way to pass the time.” He laughed again and attempted to shrug his shoulders. “You weren’t even that good a lay.”

  The next blow came without warning, and again Sterling was unable to stifle his cries. McQueen had driven her elbow directly into his groin and left it there, pressing harder and harder to intensify the pain.

  “Fine, if you don’t want to play then let’s get down to business,” McQueen finally said, releasing the pressure on Sterling. All he wanted to do was bend double and curl up into the fetal position, but he was still unable to move. The pain became so intense he thought he might black out. “Tell me about these robot soldiers you brought with you,” the Emissary continued, though Sterling could barely make out the words due to the throbbing pulse in his ears. “Are they Griffin’s work? What is their purpose?”

  “Why don’t you just turn me and ask me then?” Sterling wheezed. “Why bother torturing me when you can get the answers without any of this theatre?”

  “Why have you risked coming all the way out here to recover the Vanguard?” McQueen went on, ignoring Sterling’s questions. “Griffin must know that one dreadnaught is no longer sufficient to turn the tide of this war, so why are you here?”

  Sterling raised his head and frowned at the Emissary. “Answer my questions and maybe I’ll answer yours,” he said. It was a lie and he knew McQueen would see through it, but the Emissary was in a talkative mood and Sterling hoped she might reveal something of value.

  “If I turned you then you would accept the Sa’Nerra’s authority without question or condition,” McQueen said. “You would gain the same clarity of purpose that I now have.”

  “So get on with it then,” Sterling said. McQueen’s answer had only reinforced the stupidity of attempting to gain his cooperation through torture and coercion.

  “I don’t want you to simply believe, I want you to understand!” McQueen snapped back. “I want you – the real you, human failings and all – to realize that I am right. That the Sa’Nerra are superior. That humanity deserves to die!”

  McQueen had become agitated, almost unhinged. She then grabbed Sterling’s shoulders and again pulled herself closer to his face.

  “You must see the futility of your struggle?” McQueen said. She was practically pleading with Sterling. “Humanity is decadent, corrupt and irredeemable. Fleet merely spread our diseased souls to the stars, corrupting all the planets it touched. The Sa’Nerra are strong, just and of one mind. They do not murder each other, or deceive each other. They are as one – a perfect society, based on strength and purpose.”

  Sterling tried to process everything McQueen had just said, but it just sounded like the ravings of a zealot or even a lunatic.

&nb
sp; “They’ve really done a number on your brain, haven’t they Lana?” Sterling said. Bizarrely, in that moment he actually felt sorry for her. “You’re forced to believe all this crap, but I think that deep down in the recesses of your subconscious, you know it’s all horseshit.”

  McQueen released Sterling and straightened up. This time she didn’t look angry, but embarrassed. It told Sterling everything he needed to know. It told him that his comments had hit the mark. McQueen wanted Sterling to accept her version of the truth as the man he was, not as a turned slave. If Sterling could be made to understand and to convert of his own free will then it would validate McQueen’s enforced faith in the alien race. It would mean she was right and not just programmed to believe. It would quiet the niggling doubts that obviously plagued her.

  “You know nothing of the Sa’Nerra,” McQueen said, her voice now more subdued. “And you don’t know me.”

  “I know the real you, Lana,” Sterling replied, calmly. “The Lana McQueen in front of me is the one I don’t know.” He sighed and rested back on the table. “I also know that no matter what I say, you’ll still believe this Sa’Nerran dogma, because you have no choice. But you should know something else too.”

  “And what’s that?” McQueen said, sounding bitter and resentful.

  “You should know that I’ll never believe it, and do you know why?” Sterling added.

  “Enlighten me,” McQueen replied, spitting the words at him.

  “Because it’s all lies,” Sterling said. He then looked away from McQueen and fixed his gaze onto a ceiling light tile above him. “Now either turn me or kill me. I’m done talking.”

  McQueen’s boots clacked on the hard surface and the Emissary slipped out of view behind Sterling. For a few seconds there was silence, until he felt the breath of her voice whisper into his ear.

  “I’m not done with you yet.” The words were like honey, dripping into his ears. “We’ll see how you feel about Sa’Nerran dogma and lies after a whole night spent awake and in agony, contemplating your mistakes.”

  Suddenly, the shooting pain in Sterling’s head began to intensify again. McQueen’s boots began to clack away, the sharp sound growing more distant with each measured, calm pace. And the further away McQueen went, the more the pain built inside Sterling’s head. Already it was worse than when he’d first experienced it, when attempting to reach out to Commander Banks. Already, he’d bit his tongue and lost control of his bladder. And already he knew that no matter how much agony he was forced to endure, the moment Emissary Lana McQueen returned, he’d spit in her face again and tell her to go to hell.

  Chapter 16

  A strange goodbye

  Sterling ran along the corridor, which seemed to stretch out in front of him without end. Cursing, he looked for an exit – any exit – but could find none.

  “How the hell do I get out of here?!” he cried out, dropping to his knees, breathless and sweaty. Then the stabbing pain inside his head bit harder and he clamped his hands to his temples. “Stop! Make it stop!”

  “Lucas…”

  Sterling recognized the voice of Mercedes Banks, but he couldn’t place where it was coming from.

  “Keep going, Lucas,” the voice continued. “Keep going and I’ll find you.”

  He braced himself against the pain and exhaustion that wracked his body, and pushed himself up. His legs were heavy and every muscle burned to the point where even the slightest movement caused even more pain. Nevertheless, he pushed himself forward, each thud of his boots on the deck sending another shockwave of agony through his fragile frame.

  “Just hold on, Lucas, I’m coming for you,” said Banks, the voice again enveloping Sterling like a cloud of smoke.

  Sterling continued to run, but he knew his body wouldn’t hold out much longer. Despite his tormented and broken state, his mind remained strong and determined. They won’t beat me… Sterling thought, as he again forced one leg in front of another. They’ll never beat me…

  Then he saw a turning ahead; a single opening in what had thus far been a never-ending corridor. Hope created a swell of relief that helped to ease his suffering enough to make it the last few steps to the junction. He swung around the corner and came face-to-face with Commander Mercedes Banks.

  “Mercedes!” Lucas cried out, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. His eyes teared up and his legs finally gave way, but he did not fall. Raising his gaze to meet Banks’ eyes, he saw that she had caught him and was now gripping him tightly against her body to stop him from falling.

  “I told you’d I’d come,” Banks said, whispering the words into Sterling’s ear.

  The sound of her voice and the smell of her hair was an instant tonic, like a hot bath soothing away his aches and pains. The next thing he knew, Banks’ lips were pressed against his and she was kissing him, deeply and passionately. At first, he was too stunned to respond, but soon he was kissing her back. The pain was unexpectedly gone, and even more bizarrely he discovered that he had barely any recollection of it at all. Nothing existed but the feel of Banks’ lips and the warmth and vitality of her body. Then she pressed him away, breaking up their embrace as suddenly as it had begun. Sterling was held at arm’s length, still too weak to resist or even move.

  “Goodbye, Lucas,” Banks said, offering Sterling a warm but also sad smile.

  Sterling frowned back at his first officer and was about to question her strange statement when Banks raised a plasma pistol and aimed it at his head.

  “Wait!’ Sterling said, reaching up and trying to push the barrel of the weapon away, but even at full fitness he could never have resisted her. “No!”

  There was a bright flash and Banks vanished, along with the corridor and even his own body. All that remained was the pain, constant and never-ending.

  Chapter 17

  Whatever it takes

  Sterling awoke and found himself staring into the egg-shaped yellow eyes of a Sa’Nerran warrior. Its leathery face was so close that he could see the lines in its tough skin and practically taste the meat of its last meal on its musky, hot breath. Sterling didn’t believe that anything could have made his tortured body feel worse than it already felt, but the proximity of the alien somehow amplified his suffering to a new height.

  The warrior appeared to make some adjustments to the table Sterling was lying on before grabbing and tugging at his tunic. He tried to peer down to see what the warrior was doing, but the alien merely grabbed his forehead and slammed it against the table, hissing wildly as it did so. Finally, the Sa’Nerran moved away, though Sterling could still smell it and knew it hadn’t gone far. A motor whirred and the table began to tilt upright. As it did so, the pain in his head lessened. The absence of pain felt strange and unreal; he had grown so accustomed to it that his mind seemed somehow empty and wooly without its influence.

  “I trust you’re now in a more compliant mood, Captain Sterling,” came the voice of Emissary Lana McQueen. The former Omega Captain stepped in front of Sterling and held up the device that had been the cause of all his suffering. McQueen teased him with the control unit for a few seconds before dialing down the level to zero. Sterling immediately felt dizzy and disconnected from his body, and his head flopped from side to side uncontrollably. Then the rough, long-fingered hands of the Sa’Nerran warrior grabbed his chin, holding his neck steady and forcing Sterling to look at the Emissary.

  “It gave me no pleasure to leave you in agony for the whole night, Lucas, but it was a necessary part of your re-education,” McQueen went on. She pocketed the device that controlled the level of pain Sterling was forced to endure and folded her arms. “Now, we’ll try again, shall we?”

  Sterling snorted and tried to spit in McQueen’s face, but all he managed to do was project a thin dribble of spittle onto his own chin.

  “It would be a mistake to do that again,” McQueen said, quickly switching up her own level of aggression.

  “Go to hell, Emissary,” Sterling hit back, while unsucces
sfully trying to shake loose the grip of the warrior holding his chin.

  “I take it your answer is still no then?” McQueen said before letting out a disgruntled sigh. “You’re a stubborn fool, Lucas. I didn’t want it to end this way.”

  “I’d rather be dead than willingly betray my own kind,” Sterling hit back. “So just get on with it, already.”

  McQueen’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. “So be it, Omega Captain,” she growled. “Lucas Sterling will die, and Aide Sterling will be reborn from your ashes.”

  The Emissary then nodded to the warrior, who released Sterling’s chin only to wrap its fingers around his face instead. He struggled against the warrior, but with his hands and legs still bound, it was no use. Then he felt something latch on to the side of his head, locking onto his neural implant like a magnet. He felt pain, but nothing remotely close to the agony of McQueen’s torture device. It was more like a low-level electric current had been applied to his temple.

  “Now, you will become one with the Sa’Nerra,” McQueen said, unfurling her arms and standing tall. “But you no longer have the honor of being an Emissary at my side. Instead, you will be my personal servant.”

  Sterling suddenly realized that McQueen was trying to turn him, rather than kill him. However, the neural control weapon that he assumed the alien had attached to his interface hadn’t worked. Colicos’ firewall had blocked its attempts to reprogram Sterling’s mind.

  McQueen stepped forward, brushing the warrior aside as she did so. She held Sterling’s eyes and raised her chin, peering down her nose at him,

  “From now on you shall be known as Aide Sterling, and you will serve me and only me, is that clear?” said McQueen.

  “I understand, Emissary,” Sterling replied, quickly adapting and improvising to play the role expected of him.