Admiral Wolf

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Admiral Wolf Page 1

by C. Gockel




  Admiral Wolf

  Archangel Project. Book Eight

  C. Gockel

  Illustrated by

  Tom Edwards

  Contents

  About Admiral Wolf

  Get sneak peeks and exclusive content

  Also by C. Gockel

  1. Dark Armada

  2. Duty is a Harsh Mistress

  3. First Strike

  4. Luddeccean Offline

  5. Blood in the Water

  6. Luddeccean Self-Preservation

  7. Mechanical Diplomats

  8. Mission Creep

  9. Containing the Flood

  10. Diplomatic Maneuvers

  11. Stunned

  12. By the River Styx

  13. Charon

  14. Luddeccean Intelligence

  15. Divisions on the Homefront

  16. Crossed Circuits

  17. Autodestructus Interruptus

  18. Always Connected

  19. Arrival

  20. Unimaginable

  21. True Love Found

  22. Unforgivable

  23. Home

  24. Beyond Everything

  25. What Are You Doing?

  26. The Best of Terrible Options

  27. Tribe Human

  28. Family Matters

  29. Twisted Mindscapes

  30. Duty Before All

  31. The Mission

  32. Handling It

  33. Reunion

  34. Admiral Wolf

  35. Battle

  36. Pressing Worries

  37. Hell

  38. Hund of War

  39. Unwinnable War

  40. Fallout

  41. The Admiral Gives Her Orders

  42. Eliza’s Ashes

  43. Courting Disaster

  Contact Information

  About Admiral Wolf

  To protect the human race, 6T9 evolved with the flip of a switch and a few lines of code.

  But he’s made himself a killer as well as a protector. The programming that may save humanity has driven him from Volka, the woman he loves. In the heart of the Dark’s first strike against the Republic, 6T9 must discover what he has become, who he wants to be, and who he wants to be with.

  Slowly and almost unnoticed, Volka has been evolving, too. Heartbroken by 6T9’s departure, she is torn between love and duty. Accepting the latter, she takes a mission that will lead her to the edge of the universe. There, she will be tested, and her evolution will pass a point where there will be no turning back.

  An android who has become more than a sex ‘bot, a mutant who has developed startling abilities, 6T9 and Volka have become more than human. The changes they’ve endured may save the galaxy, but have driven them further apart.

  Will they find a way forward together, or will the bond between them become another casualty of the Dark?

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  Also by C. Gockel

  The Archangel Project

  Archangel Down

  Noa's Ark

  Heretic

  Carl Sagan's Hunt for Intelligent Life in the Universe: A Short Story

  Starship Waking

  Darkness Rising

  The Defiant

  Android General 1

  Admiral Wolf

  Supernova

  I Bring the Fire (A Loki Series)

  Wolves: I Bring the Fire Part I

  Monsters: I Bring the Fire Part II

  Chaos: I Bring the Fire Part III

  In the Balance: I Bring the Fire Part 3.5

  Fates: I Bring the Fire Part IV

  The Slip: A Short Story (mostly) from Sleipnir’s Point of Smell

  Warriors: I Bring the Fire Part V

  Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI

  The Fire Bringers: An I Bring the Fire Short Story

  Atomic: A Short Story

  Magic After Midnight: A Short Story

  Rush: A Short Story

  Take My Monsters: A Short Story

  Soul Marked: I Bring the Fire Part VII

  Magic After Midnight I Bring the Fire Part VIII

  Other Works

  Murphy’s Star: A Sci-fi Short Story

  Friendly Fire: A Sci-fi Short Story

  Let There Be Light: A Sci-fi Short Story

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  Visit my website: www.cgockelwrites.com

  Follow me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CGockelWrites

  Or email me: [email protected]

  1

  Dark Armada

  Galactic Republic: Time Gate 1

  Volka stood on Sundancer’s bridge. Carl Sagan, the long-haired, golden werfle lay on her arm, ten little legs akimbo. The ship’s usual pearly white interior had a grayish cast, reflecting Carl’s and Volka’s moods. Volka still wore her envirosuit, though her helmet lay at her feet, and she could swivel her ears and smell. She hadn’t had time to strip off the suit since her last adventure. Just minutes ago, she’d left Alaric in Gate 1’s hospital after retrieving him from the battle of System 5.

  Sixty had stayed in System 5. He hadn’t even said goodbye. Her ears drooped. She was trying very hard not to think about that.

  Around her were the Marines who’d fought with Carl, Sixty, Sundancer, and Volka on the uncolonized world of System 33, Shinar’s mental hospital, and at Reich Corporation’s research headquarters. After the disastrous events at Reich, they’d voluntarily joined her in her quest to rescue Alaric in System 5. She swallowed.

  Not all the Marines from those adventures were here. Ben, who had been her friend and could have been more, had killed himself after becoming infected with the Dark. If he hadn’t, the Dark would have gained access to his mind. Hale had died in a fusion blast rather than be enslaved by the Dark. Dr. Warren had succumbed to other demons—an addiction brought on by chronic pain. Maybe that was the Dark’s fault, too. Dr. Warren had resisted treatment because it would take her from her team and the fight against the Dark.

  Everyone in this room was missing someone, and Sixty wasn’t dead. He was where he could do the most good—in System 5.

  She had to focus on the people who were here now, but it was hard. Less than a day ago, Sixty had asked her to marry him. It had been a surprise and rash on his part to propose. It had been rash on her part to have accepted, but her lips warmed, and body flushed at the memory—the proposal, the kiss. Almost immediately afterward, the Dark had attacked the inner planets of System 5—only it had been a ruse, as Alaric had warned them it would be. The Dark’s true objective had been to steal Reich’s faster-than-light ships from a planet far from System 5’s core. With attention focused elsewhere, they’d gotten away with it.

  “The Dark has stolen fifty of Reich’s ships,” Lieutenant Young said, usual boisterousness gone. “But between the Galactic Fleet, Luddeccean Guard, and local forces of the established systems, they are outmatched.”

  Volka’s ears flicked. How could that be? The Republic only had one faster-than-light ship—Sundancer. The Luddecceans had a few faster-than-light ships, and more in the works, but she doubted they had fifty.

  Wiping his eyes, Young continued, “Thousands of infected left with those ships. It seems like a large number but compared to the population of the Republic it’s trivial. Also, Central—the computer at Reich Industries—has confirmed that the people who joined the Dark and left on those vessels were scientists, designers, engineers of the highest caliber—”

  Volka was tired, and when she was tired, she was telepathic. For a moment she saw images of frozen bodies in the hallways of the Reich underground facility—the humans who had not left with the Infected. When the Dark had turned off the
facility’s heat, the non-infected had piled on top of one another, trying to stay warm as long as possible. The image was infused with despair and a deep, simmering rage. She glanced up at Young; his eyes were distant, his expression like stone. She suspected it was his memory she saw. Young absently rubbed his neural port, a dull, titanium disk set into his skull. Galactic Republic humans like Young were mentally connected to each other and vast computers via the ethernet through their neural ports. Volka didn’t have that connection. On her home planet, Luddeccea, radios and televisions were the most advanced tech civilians had access to, although the Luddeccean military was another matter.

  Carl squeaked sadly in her arms. He was more telepathic than Volka, and he could do things with his mind and the quantum wave she couldn’t—start fires, move things, and speak over the ethernet. He wore a little “necklace” around his neck that converted the ethernet to speech. He held out a tiny paw to Young, and the necklace crackled. “Lieutenant Young, you must continue.” Young’s eyes regained focus, and though Volka hadn’t sensed any compulsion from Carl, the Lieutenant did continue. “The Dark has kidnapped high-level people it can’t afford to lose if it wants to make more faster-than-light ships. And it has to make more faster-than-light ships if it wants to wipe out humanity.”

  Volka’s brow furrowed. “Can’t they just send the ships they have now to unincorporated outposts, infect them, and let those infected people slowly drift into the Republic?”

  A new Marine she hadn’t met stepped forward. With his helmet off, Volka noted he had a tiny red cross on the collar of the under-suit he wore. He was a doctor—not a replacement for Warren, but a replacement for another doctor they’d lost in Shinar. They’d been there rescuing a Republic scientist wrongly committed to a mental institution, and Warren’s replacement had been shot. Volka couldn’t remember that doctor’s name. She hadn’t known her long enough. Young said, “Volka, this is Dr. Elam.”

  Elam held out a hand, and Volka shook it. His handshake was firm, not limp like he expected Volka was made of porcelain. Her ears folded. Compared to the Marines with their augments, she was relatively fragile.

  “It is a good question,” Elam said. “It would be the best strategy if it weren’t for the fact that we’ll develop a cure.”

  Volka’s ears shot forward. She was overwhelmed with hope. But then it fled from her like frightened prey. Her ears went back. “The People never developed a cure,” she said, referring to the alien race exterminated by the Dark a million years ago.

  Holding up a wickedly sharp, curved claw, Carl squeaked. “I have a theory about that.” Sliding from Volka’s arms, he rose to his hind paw pairs and intoned in a scholarly voice: “My species, The One, are obviously superior to humans.”

  There were collective snorts and eye rolls from the Marines. Corporal Sharon Rhinehart, the lady Marine, snickered. “Well, bless your little hearts.” She was a head taller than Volka, and her volume was on par with Young’s, but her pitch was surprisingly feminine.

  Blinking up at Sharon, Carl said earnestly, “Thank you.” He touched four paws to his chest. “But I am already blessed. I can surf the quantum wave and have lived a thousand lives. I am not prone to the heat and chills of furlessness, and I am not naked and ugly … Not that it’s your fault you look like you have mange on a good day—”

  “Carl,” Volka huffed. “Get to the point!”

  He blinked at her, squinted, looked side to side, and twiddled his paws.

  Volka sighed. “Did you forget your point?”

  Carl’s whiskers twitched. “I would, err, never … Oh, yes, wave immunity! The One have wave immunity! If the aliens were like us—and there is evidence they were—they were powerful telepaths capable of nudging the thoughts of predators. They must have had wave immunity. That explains everything!”

  There was a beat of silence. Volka’s ears flicked. Marines shifted on their feet.

  “Wave immunity?” Dr. Elam asked.

  Carl waved his paws. “We don’t need antibiotics, antivirals, or nano scrubbers. We are capable of killing infections and cancerous cells with our minds before they get too advanced.”

  Volka scowled. “Shissh couldn’t save Ben.” Her words were bitter, even though they shouldn’t have been. Shissh, Carl’s once-sister inhabiting the body of a Bengal tiger, had nearly destroyed herself trying to save Ben.

  Carl’s ears curled, and his whiskers drooped. “No, she couldn’t. The reason why The One can’t beat the Dark by manipulating the quantum wave is because the Dark is a being of the quantum wave. It is immune to The One. It was immune to The People.” He bowed his head, and his whiskers sagged, but then he straightened and threw up four paws. “But humans are wave ignorant! You’ve developed more primitive ways to tackle cancers and infections.”

  “More primitive,” Young said dryly.

  Carl’s eyes narrowed. “Definitely more primitive, but someone expecting phaser pistols might not notice the man sneaking up on him with a hammer.”

  “We have cured one person,” Dr. Elam said, referring to Alexis Darmadi, Alaric’s wife.

  “Alexis’s cure wouldn’t have worked if it hadn’t been in the earliest stages of the disease,” Volka protested.

  Holding up a hand, Elam continued, “We will find a real cure. However, now the Dark controls the minds of scientists who know what we’re capable of. It will know that a cure is only a matter of time—years, a decade at the most.”

  Volka pieced together what he and Young were saying. “So, it has to strike soon, but to do that, it needs more ships.”

  Lieutenant Young met her eyes. “Yes, that is why we have to find where they’ve gone.”

  Volka wrapped her arms around herself. “We tried to find Reich’s ships. It didn’t work.” Sundancer had traveled, literally, to the end of the universe to find the missing ships. It had been no use. Perversely, Volka’s heart lifted. She wanted to help fight the Dark, but in a choice between a hopeless task and fighting alongside Sixty, she’d fight alongside Sixty.

  Carl sighed. “Last time we tried to follow the ships, Volka, but too much time had lapsed. This time we could do a methodical search, based on where they’re most likely to be.”

  “They could be anywhere in the universe,” Volka countered.

  “Not anywhere,” Carl replied. “Black holes, supernovae, neutron stars, and their gravity wells are all off the list.”

  “Which still leaves all of space between them,” Volka pointed out.

  “Nah, it doesn’t.” This was said by Ramirez. Volka turned to him in shock. She knew he hated waiting around feeling useless as much as she did. Why would he want to go on a wild werfle chase?

  Ramirez cleared his throat. “To build ships they’ll need materials.”

  She rolled her eyes, almost said, “That’s just about every asteroid cloud in the galaxy,” but caught herself. She remembered her parents’ house in the Weere settlement on Luddeccea. The house had been pieced together from rubble left over from the bombed city of Old Prime. “They’ll need someplace with scrap,” she murmured. Mining ore and refining it would be much harder than scavenging old ships.

  Lieutenant Young nodded. “Former settlements of The People would be the first places to look.”

  “Could it be in the World Sphere?” Volka asked, ears coming forward, remembering The People’s inside-out world that encircled an artificial sun.

  “No,” said Young. “Our team there would have noticed. It knows we know about the World Sphere. We could drop in at any time and destroy their base.”

  Dr. Elam added, “Also, there is no gravity or atmosphere there. It will choose a place suitable for human habitation if it can.”

  Carl sighed. “It will be a place we’ve never been before. A place where the Dark infected aliens had industry.”

  Volka gulped. In a place like that, the Dark was likely to have drones that would attack them on arrival. Sundancer had armor—but it wasn’t invincible.

  “W
e have to do it,” said Carl.

  Volka took a shaky breath. She’d really wanted to go help Sixty … but if Carl thought it was important—

  Carl’s thoughts intruded in her mind. “I do, Hatchling.”

  Sixty had boarded System 5’s time gate because he would be of most help there. She would be of most help here. Sixty was programmed to do the right thing even if he didn’t want to—he was angelic that way. Maybe she would be more faithful to who Sixty was if she helped the Marines? “Of course we’ll help,” she heard herself say.

  “Thank you, Volka and Carl,” Young said. Grinning up at the ceiling, he saluted. “And thank you, Sundancer.”

  The ship didn’t understand words, but some of Young’s emotions must have shone through in that last comment, because Sundancer’s hull briefly flashed cheery yellow.

  Dr. Elam nodded at Volka. “I look forward to working with you, ma’am.”

  Ramirez grinned. “Knew you’d come through.”

  Jerome slapped her on the shoulder. The other Marines cheered.

  Bending down to Carl, Rhinehart cooed. “Who’s a good boy going to help us?”

 

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