Cyborg Corps Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “We can’t get in,” Craig said. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it a hundred times. But anything short of a nuclear blast isn’t going to crack this thing. What’s your plan?”

  “I know the code,” Warren said with a smirk. Twenty-two digits later, the door clicked several times and swung open a few centimeters.

  Craig and Hendrose stared at it with open mouths.

  “How did you get the code?” Hendrose asked. “Only the captain knows the code.”

  Warren smiled, then he turned back to the heavy door and slowly opened it. “That’s what we wanted everyone to think,” he said. “But codes are only changed when a ship receives a new captain. The Reotian spy network was compartmentalized. You didn’t need to know the code had been discovered, so you weren’t told.”

  Hendrose opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded as he stared wide-eyed at the contents of the room.

  Warren ignored the piles of credits and went straight to a rack of meter-wide square, eight-centimeter-tall silver boxes. There were six total and he took them all.

  “We need to take these back to the CUP,” Warren said, happy he knew the term without difficulty.

  The others followed him without saying a word. Warren’s steps were more careful and slower than before. The boxes he held in his arms were far too important to hurry with.

  When they arrived at the Cyborg Upkeep and Production room, Warren selected a table and carefully set the stack of boxes on top. He set the top box to the side, unhooked a couple of metal clasps holding it closed, and opened it, revealing fifty four-centimeter cubes. After removing one, he inspected it using the overhead lights and his enhanced vision. The microscopic cuts on the cube reflected the lights like a prism back into his eyes.

  To think something so small could be so important.

  “Put this into the cube-writer,” Warren said as he handed it to Hendrose.

  The technician inspected the item, shrugged, then carefully deposited the cube into a socket on the wall. A moment later, a smoky-gray cover closed over the device and it began to glow a pale blue.

  “It’s ready,” Hendrose said.

  “Link me in.” Warren stepped into the alcove and closed his eyes. He heard some tapping as the tech entered some commands into his tablet, and a moment later he found himself back in a familiar landscape of blackness and a constellation made up of tiny green pixels.

  He concentrated on a specific piece of information he’d stored within his memory. Several hundred dots began to swirl around him until they formed something like a constellation above his head. A moment later, a copy of each pixel returned to the landscape, leaving the constellation in place.

  FILE COPIED

  Warren thought about the data cube, and a pale green cloud appeared in front of him. He reached out as though he could touch the data and moved it into the cloud. It was a matter of symbology using innocuous images from his past to keep from alerting anyone of what he was doing.

  FILE WRITE: SUCCESSFUL

  Returning to the real world, Warren turned to the technician. “It’s done,” he said and stepped out of the alcove.

  “What’s done?” Craig asked.

  Warren took the cube from the writer, opened a storage compartment in his thigh, and smiled at the other cyborg. “Need to know.”

  “What, I don’t have a need to know?”

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Warren said with a laugh. “Trust me—you’ll love it.”

  Hendrose looked at each of them nervously. “I’m a Cyborg technician, and I don’t like the sound of this. Don’t you think I should know?” He gestured at the leg Warren deposited the CDC into.

  “All in good time, Doc,” Warren said.

  “Are you afraid I won’t like what you’re planning?” he asked.

  “I know you won’t like what I’m planning,” Warren said. “But trust me anyway.”

  “Oh, the technician won’t like it?” Craig leered at the other man. “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Now we need to make some modifications to the war computer,” Warren said as he left the room.

  The others followed and Hendrose had a hard time keeping up again. It wasn’t as far to the second vault, though. This one included a palm reader and ocular scanner, rather than a keypad.

  “It takes a full human to open it,” he said to the tech.

  Hendrose looked uncertain. “You said I wouldn’t like what you had planned. What makes you think I’m going to unlock this vault and give you direct access to the war computer?”

  “Call it a hunch,” Warren said.

  “Call it whatever you like,” Craig grumbled as he approached the man. “Call it pain and suffering. Call it seeing your kidneys for the first time.”

  “That’s enough,” Warren said, stepping between them and facing Craig. “Hendrose has taken a huge risk helping free us. He’s risked his life on nothing more than a hope and a dream. We’re that hope and dream.”

  “Might help if I knew what you were doing,” Craig said as he took a step back.

  “Mission security,” Warren whispered as he placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “This plan has been in the works for a long time. I mean a really long time. I know you don’t like being kept in the dark, but right now it’s necessary for both of you. I can’t be sure the Republic hasn’t planted listening devices on the ship. They’ve done worse.”

  “Yeah,” Craig said. “A lot worse. I trust you, man. Do what you’ve got to do.”

  Hendrose watched the interaction with interest. When it was all over, it seemed to be enough to convince him unlocking the vault was the right thing to do. He placed his hand on the palm reader and stared into the ocular sensor. A second later, there was an audible click and the door opened.

  “Thank you,” Warren said, and he took a step into the vault. “Listen—I need you both to stay outside. Guard duty, so to speak. I don’t want either of you touching anything in here. It’s all delicate.”

  Warren took a moment to stare at the source of so much angst among his fellow cyborgs. The device, which nearly filled the ten-meter wide and deep room, was almost beautiful.

  The computer resembled a house of mirrors. Rather than reflecting him, the glass panels, some of which hung from the ceiling while others were anchored to the floor or even the wall, reflected a process each panel was working on.

  Pictures and diagrams flashed across hundreds of surfaces. One clearly showed Warren. It could see through his eyes and projected what he was looking at.

  Little red icons representing compulsion chips blinked angrily next to many of the diagrams and video images. The war computer was still trying to get the rogue cyborgs to comply with its programming. Although the computer was home to a rudimentary artificial intelligence, it couldn’t understand that no matter how hard it tried, the cyborgs were free.

  Warren turned a wary eye to Craig, who was sneering at the machine. He, more than any others, had suffered because of the computer. It had forced him to do things his mind couldn’t comprehend. He’d been zapped by it so many times, Warren thought the cyborg might have been used to it.

  War was always easier for those with weak morals. Killing became a job. It wasn’t personal—it was business. Craig seemed to be of the other variety. He seemed to have a strong sense of justice. His moral code was chafed every time he’d been forced to do something that went against his basic principles.

  The constant reminder that he was no longer human, and had no control over his own actions, had been too much for him. Though he seemed to be handling freedom well enough, his mind was still only human.

  “Craig,” Warren said.

  “Huh?” The other cyborg looked like he’d just dragged himself from a bad memory.

  “This is important. If you don’t think you can be trusted not to smash this thing into bits, I’d prefer if you went somewhere else. Nothing personal, but this is a critical part of the plan.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best,�
� Craig agreed, tearing his eyes from his oppressor. “That way I’m not tempted beyond what I can handle. This thing is our slave master. Was, anyway.”

  “I know,” Warren said, standing frozen in place, waiting to see what the other cyborg would do. “But this is a mission-critical device, and when my plan is done, I’m going to make it our bitch.”

  One corner of Craig’s mouth turned up. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear. I like how that sounds. Trust me, I’m not going to stop you.”

  Warren nodded and carefully made his way through the maze of crystalline quantum computer circuits. It was a delicate maze, and he hadn’t been kidding about it being mission critical. If he wasn’t able to complete his plan, he didn’t think any of them would survive.

  The memory called out to him. He was looking for panel 312. It would be smaller than the rest—an accessory panel that could be present in a ship’s war computer or not. The Ruthless had one, though.

  The panel’s official purpose was to restrict what the war computer was capable of doing. It was a way to handicap the otherwise-powerful device—limiting its capabilities down to only the bare essentials.

  Quantum computers were difficult to design, even for Republic engineers. When the Senate had declared a change to how cyborgs operated more than a hundred years ago, they were left with a problem. They needed to limit what the war computer could do without having to design a new one from scratch.

  The result had been panel 312. According to the historical records, the busy engineers had taken advantage of the situation and also designed the panel to be used as an extra feature, should the need arise.

  The Republic engineers had done their best to future proof the panel they designed. Though the Senate had only asked for a way to restrict the capabilities of the cyborgs, there might come a day when they were asked to reverse the process. Even more, they might be asked to see if they could increase the capabilities of their slave-like troops exponentially. Though it wasn’t how they’d planned it, that day had come.

  Warren quickly inspected the small, silver tags at the base of each panel. They hadn’t been installed to make them easy to find. Also, he hadn’t been able to get his hands on the plans for the room layout for his HUD. Searching would be the only way.

  A few minutes later, he found the one he was looking for. It was a small panel that stuck out from the bulkhead near the top. The device was only about the size of his palm, but it held the power of a dozen unaltered war computers. He regarded it with a feeling of respect, pausing before pinching it with two fingers. With a gentle tug, he slid the device from its socket before rotating it counter-clockwise ninety degrees, rotating his wrist one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, and carefully sliding it back into place.

  All the panels went dark, becoming nothing more than panes of exquisite glass sticking out from the bulkheads, deck, and overhead at odd intervals.

  Warren opened the storage compartment in his leg and inserted the portable device he’d hidden there into a nearby reader. On it was a virus. It would bypass all the security protocols the Republic had instituted to prevent what he was about to do. It was a risk, but so was everything else.

  For a moment, he worried he’d mis-remembered the information. Maybe something had gone wrong, and the data he thought had been real memories had become corrupt. If so, anything could be happening now, but it was too late to turn back. A moment later, though, they came back on. Each one displayed the same thing: a skull that looked like it was made out of brushed steel after being hammered into shape. A second later, the panels returned to what looked like their normal state.

  “You rebooted the war computer,” Hendrose said, his voice barely above a whisper. “What was that skull? What did it mean?”

  “The skull was a computer virus—specifically designed to unlock things that only the Senate was allowed to access before. It worked, only because I did it from the inside of the computer.”

  “It looks different,” the tech said. There’s new information on the panels.”

  “Three twelve,” Warren said as he carefully made his way back. “That’s the panel number of the quantum circuit that was preventing the cyborgs from reaching their potential. Nobody knows about it except for a few engineers back at Republic Navy headquarters. It’s the best kept secret, but someone spilled the beans. Chances are, nobody will ever know, unless we tell them.”

  “Why?” Craig said, an eyebrow cocked.

  “Because the engineers didn’t do what the Senate asked of them. They did more. A whole lot more. And you know what happens to people who don’t do what the Senate wants.”

  “I’ve heard rumors,” Craig said as he stepped back to the doorway.

  “They’re executed for treason,” Hendrose murmured. “What did you do?”

  “I only did what the Republic should have done eons ago,” Warren said. “I unlocked our full potential. We have instant comms. We have access to all the information the Republic has been holding back. We’re about to get a major upgrade.”

  23

  Warren was about to tell Craig and Hendrose about the new functions the computer and cyborgs could perform but was interrupted.

  “New signal on the sensors,” Cooper said. “It’s a big one. Looks like a Republic Destroyer. I don’t have any other details and I can’t tell who it is.”

  “How far out?” Warren asked.

  “I’m sitting next to the tech,” Cooper said. “He says he’s not sure, but it’s definitely too far out to hit it with the particle cannons. They arrived in orbit and haven’t moved any closer. We should figure out how to get some guns and sensors out onto the moon at some point. If we had some there, this ship would be well within range.”

  “Agreed,” Warren said. “But that doesn’t help us now. Luckily I have something that will. I don’t want to give away that the Ruthless isn’t under Republic control anymore. We don’t have enough people on board to use it effectively anyway.”

  Warren switched to the all-cyborg channel before transmitting again. “Listen-up, everyone. You’re about to receive some data from the war computer. Accept it. It’s a software upgrade. There will be about a thousand packages.”

  After everyone answered in the affirmative, Warren sent a special message directly to the war computer that initiated the data transfer. Within seconds, the computer’s rudimentary AI collected and packaged every single cyborg module it had in storage and began transmitting.

  The amount of data pouring into Warren’s mind overwhelmed and made him feel drunk—a not unpleasant experience. He swayed with the motion of non-existent waves. Information slammed into his brain like a dump truck full of bricks. Exabytes of data were transferred into his memory faster than anything he’d ever experienced.

  An alert popped up on his HUD, pulling him back from the waves of raw information. His central processor was warning him of a fever. His brain was beginning to warm up. It hadn’t reached a danger level yet, but he decided to keep an eye on it.

  When the stream ended a few seconds later, his temperature returned to normal.

  Although it felt like the data had taken several minutes to load, a quick check of his internal chronometer told him that it had only taken thirty seconds.

  “Holy shit,” Craig whispered, his face droopy with disbelief. “I think... no, I completely understand how to fly a fighter. Several fighters, actually. And trigonometry. Why do I know trigonometry?”

  Rumblings from the other cyborgs began to trickle in, creating overlapping voices on the feed.

  “Listen up,” Warren transmitted. “As you can tell, each of you just received a huge boost in knowledge. These are modules the Republic was supposed to load into our brains from the beginning. The Senate decided that too much knowledge could be dangerous, though. They were afraid that if we learned too much, we might find a way to break our chains. I guess they weren’t too far off.”

  Several cyborgs responded with laughter.

  Hendrose squinted at Warre
n with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, probably due to the fact he wasn’t privy to the transmission. “What did you do?”

  Warren smiled at the technician, not hiding his mirth. “I loaded the cyborgs with the knowledge modules.”

  “Which ones?” Hendrose asked.

  “All of them.”

  “What do you mean, all of them?” Hendrose asked, his voice squeaking with surprise. “You can’t mean every single one the Republic has?”

  “That’s exactly what I meant, Doc. Every single one the Republic has.”

  “All at once?” Hendrose asked, his face taking on a waxy ashen hue.

  “It didn’t seem like we had a lot of time to be picky. I couldn’t decide which ones to load, so I gave us all of them,” Warren said with a shrug. “At one time the Republic thought it would be important to bestow this kind of knowledge on their troops, and by their troops, I mean us.” He emphasized the word by jamming his thumb into his synthetic chest.

  “But why now?” Hendrose asked. “And why didn’t we have the time? It would have been safer.”

  “Because our enemy has just arrived,” Warren said. “Cooper has reported a Republic destroyer in high orbit around this planet. Right now, they’re too far out of gun range to shoot them down. They might know what we have, or they might just be exercising caution.”

  “With the spies we found, it wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve been apprised of the situation. Maybe even current, right up to this very second,” Hendrose said.

  “We probably have a lot more spies here,” Craig added. “The ones we killed were Commonwealth. You know both sides dropped resources just in case they lost... again.”

  “I don’t think we’re ready.” Hendrose said, his panicked eyes looking back and forth between the two cyborgs. “What are we going to do if they attack?”

  “Kill,” Craig said simply.

  “We’re going to do a lot more than that,” Warren said, tapping the side of his head. “With everything I’ve uploaded into the cyborg corps, and with the resources we have available, we have the advantage. I’ve been told the domes can survive a direct strike from a Republic bomb. How accurate is that?”