“Activating the Impulse Barrier, test one point zero. Subject: nine simulation drones and the Hephaestus Zodiac.” The words echoed around the inside of the Zodiac as a high-pitched whine came from 47’s control chair powering up.
“Activating what?” Damion screamed.
“Core going offline for fifteen seconds,” 47 informed him as a shot from the Hephaestus grazed their hull.
The thrum that had begun from 47’s chair and spread to the ship suddenly hit a crescendo, a loud, bass boom bursting from inside Ares and rattling its occupants. A circle of crackling light exploded outward from the Ares, passing over the nearby Hephaestus and drones, sending them all into uncontrolled spins as the light hit them. Leather creaked and a thump could be heard as 47 collapsed back into his chair, panting.
“Fighter Hawk has approximately thirty seconds remaining to dispatch the opposition before all enemy systems come back online.”
The voice over the comm system sounded weak but confident.
“Holy fuck! I don’t know what you did, but thirty seconds is more than enough time.” Damion was a little scared and confused by whatever his Core had done but also excited as hell, adrenaline ripping through him. He began to eliminate everything in his path—except for Arkin’s Zodiac. He made sure all the remaining drones were out of the way so that the Hephaestus would be dead in space without killing him.
Damion heard Arkin’s scared and fury-filled voice over the scratchy comm. “What the hell are you doing? What was that?”
“Surviving your cowardly attack.” Damion smirked. “I should just kill you.”
“There is a 78.3 percent chance that Fighter Arkin will attack us again in the future. It would be wise to terminate him now,” 47’s weak voice advised through the comm speaker in Damion’s ear.
“My Core tells me to kill you now and save me the trouble later.” Damion half agreed with 47, but he refused to be a coward like Arkin and kill a man in a disabled ship.
“You don’t have the guts!” Arkin snarled, his obvious false bravado evidenced by the hitch in his voice.
“Righhhhht,” Damion drawled before shooting at the stern boosters of the Hephaestus. Even when the Zodiac came back online, it wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without assistance.
“Fifteen seconds until the Hephaestus comes back online. Core 92 will not awaken by that time. He has taken permanent damage to his cerebral cortex from the Pulse. Enemy Zodiac’s booster capacity disabled, life support at 49 percent and falling since Core 92 went offline,” 47 reported. His voice over the comm was becoming stronger.
“You killed my Core!” Arkin must have noticed his Core’s unresponsiveness.
“Maybe if you ask nicely, the Commander will send a crew to come get you.” Damion turned the Ares around and headed back toward the upper hangar bay of the Zeus. “47, you okay?”
“I am still at an operating capacity,” 47 stated, not really answering the question. “Core 92 is not terminated, merely disabled. The effect the Pulse had on him was an unexpected variable that I did not consider. It is one of the things that I will have to take into consideration when I make additional modifications.”
When they arrived back at the Zeus, the bay doors failed to open at first, and Damion worried whether they would be permitted to dock. He let out a sigh of relief when the doors eventually did part to admit them.
“Command, this is Ares. It seems there is a Zodiac outside. An unauthorized one.” Even though there was no response from Command, which was suspicious, it didn’t affect Damion’s mood. He had been grinning since the docking doors had opened, but the smile quickly faded once he set eyes on 47 as they exited the Ares. “You look like hell. What did you do?”
47 was obviously attempting to pretend he didn’t need to use the Ares’s hull to remain upright, but Damion suspected he did to avoid collapsing onto the cold metal of the catwalk under his feet.
“I have not been able to determine how to install an additional energy supply specifically for the Pulse yet. I routed it through me so it would not take away from any of the Ares’s other systems. The energy the Ares uses is electrical, and the normal human body has electricity constantly moving through it. Cores have an increased electrical charge because of our body modifications at birth and our input ports. I merely had the Pulse take the energy from me instead of the Ares. It was my first test of the weapon. I will have to modify it with the results gathered from the deployment.”
“I’m not sure if trying out experiments in the middle of a firefight is the best of ideas.” Damion sighed as he went over and helped 47, wrapping an arm around his thin waist. “I bet there are a lot of disappointed and pissed off people on the bridge right now, so we better stay in our quarters until we get further orders.”
“It was not something I could test within the Zeus. I ran many simulations and scenarios. There are only so many analyses that you can perform before you need to test out the real thing. That was my first opportunity.” 47 hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around Damion’s waist. It would have been more helpful around Damion’s neck, but then 47 would have been on his toes. “Fighter, I do apologize for bringing you into a hostile situation. It was never my intention.”
“Don’t call me Fighter. Besides, we survived. Now we just have to get you fixed.”
Damion was walking down the catwalk toward the exit when the Commander marched out from the main door. His face was red and Damion could see the obvious irritation.
“I do not require medical attention, merely to rest,” 47 replied quietly.
As the Commander strode toward them, 47 bowed his head and went silent. Damion could tell that at this point it was taking everything in 47 not to fall asleep.
“What the fuck happened out there, Hawk?” the Commander growled, stopping approximately two meters away and crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“Sir.” Damion stood straight and gave a salute—a bit sloppy, but a salute. “I was going through the simulation exercises when another Fighter joined the battle against me. He was firing live rounds at my Zodiac, so I had to defend myself. I left him alive, but his Core was damaged and his Zodiac stranded.”
“And how in the hell did you damage his Core?” The Commander’s gaze flickered to 47’s limp form. “And what the hell is wrong with him? He try and kill you yet?”
“It seems an EMP—an electromagnetic pulse—swept through the enemy vessels. My Core protected my life, shielding me from it,” Damion lied, partly because 47 did save his life and now was drained as a result. And because he really had no clue how the Core had achieved the EMP, even though 47 had explained it to him.
The Commander was silent for a few moments, glaring at the top of 47’s bowed head. “You’re telling me that after he killed three other Fighters, he suddenly decided to save your ass? That makes no sense, Hawk.”
A sound from across the bay distracted the Commander, and he moved his look of death from 47 and Damion to out over the bay. Arkin’s Zodiac was being towed into the bay by hauler vessels. They could see the man’s glare through the Zodiac’s window even from where they stood.
“You had better be tellin’ me the truth, boy, or your Core isn’t going to be the only object of my ire.”
“I’m sure it’s also not true, sir, that you authorized Fighter Arkin to try and kill me. I trust you far too much as a superior officer to believe you would attempt such an act.” Damion bowed his head for a moment. “Request to be dismissed so that I can take my Core to Medical, sir.”
The Commander stood there for a long moment, grinding his teeth. His fists clenched in anger before he answered. “Get the fuck out of my sight, Hawk, and try to stay out of it.” The big man strode off toward Arkin’s disabled Zodiac.
“Yes sir.” Damion saluted awkwardly again and then walked out the exit with his Core next to him. Arkin would not have been able to head out there without clearance. Arkin was a cocky son of a bitch but he wouldn’t risk his Alpha status.
He had to have permission to go out there from the Commander.
They were in the elevator on the way to Medical before he spoke to 47 again. “He’s going to be pissed for a while. I can understand why he might be peeved with you ’cause you killed those other Fighters, but I’m starting to suspect, with his reaction there, that he wants you dead for more reasons than that.”
Could Damion prove it? If the Commander was out to end 47 because of his past actions, would Damion be able to stop it? Would he have any support in proving the man in charge of planned homicide? He doubted there were many willing to put their necks out to protect a Core.
“I really do not require medical attention,” 47 said quietly, with his head resting against Damion’s shoulder. Damion was certain 47 was on his feet and awake by strength of will alone. “And who is going to be… pissed?”
“The Commander. It’s not good when the guy who hands out assignments wants you dead.” Damion blew out a long breath. “And yes, you need to get looked at since you’ve never done that before. How do you know you didn’t blow something in that crazy brain of yours?”
“The Commander does not want you dead,” 47 attempted to assure him in his not very encouraging monotone. “I did not, as you say, blow something. The Pulse merely pulls on the electromagnetic waves in my body to produce enough electricity to activate the Pulse. Therefore I merely require rest.”
“Sure, I believe that you have it all figured out, but since it’s never been done before, like I just said, let’s just have them plug you in and check.”
Damion shook his head at the stubbornness of his Core. For someone who was supposed to follow his commands, 47 did have an opinion on just about everything.
“As you wish,” 47 replied after a moment. Damion saw 47’s eyes widen, trying to stay open, but Damion had caught him closing them a few times.
Finally, he was too tired to keep awake anymore. “Apologies,” he managed to murmur, before falling into an exhausted sleep against Damion’s shoulder, going limp in his grasp.
Cursing under his breath as he took on 47’s full weight, Damion picked up his Core easily and carried him to Medical, handing him over to the first person he saw. He described what he had observed during the flight—which was nothing—and watched them drag 47 into one of the special Core pods that they used for scans. He could only hope that 47 had been telling the truth and that all he needed was rest… or it was going to be a very short partnership.
Chapter Four
Core 47
IT WAS only an hour later when 47 awoke with a gasp. He attempted to sit up quickly but immediately was jerked back when the cables plugged into his ports wouldn’t allow him any more movement. Heart pounding and eyes unfocused, it took him a few moments to figure out where he was. Once his vision cleared and 47 realized he was in Medical, he sank back into a supine position while beginning to take an internal diagnostics check. He was still tired, but not as much as he could have been, thanks to the electrical pulses through the cables that renewed his internal reserves. For a human it would have been the equivalent of drinking twenty-four cups of coffee in an hour. It would take true sleep to completely heal him, but for now it would do.
“Hey there, 47.”
His brows knitted together as he saw Damion. He then experienced a rush of numbness, which preceded momentary confusion. “You are still here.”
“Needed to make sure no one tried to kill you in your sleep,” Damion said with a shrug and a small smile. “I did run back to my room, but I returned here within twenty minutes. I figured typing out the sim report would better serve us if I got it done early rather than letting the Commander make it up for us.”
47 was silent for a few moments, staring at his seated Fighter searching for something. “Logical,” he finally stated. “May I go back to our quarters now?”
“If you think you’re ready and the med girl thinks it’s all right.” His Fighter’s shoulders rose and lowered again. “She said you were drained pretty bad.”
“A negative side effect of activating the Impulse Barrier. Next time we enter battle, I will attempt to have the modifications in place so that it will not happen again. I apologize for the inconvenience. I do believe I am ready to leave.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I do not find the medical facilities… personally acceptable.”
“You don’t like them? I can understand that.” Damion smiled. “I don’t care for them much myself. As for the Impulse… let’s not do that again unless we really, really need to.”
“You do not approve of the Barrier?” 47 tilted his head to the side in his questioning, and the jacks plugged into his temples and behind his ears pulled against their moorings in the capsule.
“I don’t approve of you killing yourself.”
Damion reached out and began to gently pet the top of 47’s head.
“If I were terminated, you would be free to be chosen by a Core not suspected of possibly terminating your life prematurely. Is that not agreeable?” 47 was surprised to find Damion’s hand on his hair… pleasant.
“I’d have to wait to be rechosen. And you’re forgetting that more than likely they’re now trying to kill me along with you.” Damion chuckled. “Basically keeping you alive and me alive is one and the same.”
“Logical in some ways. It would not take you long to be rechosen. Once I was deceased, the Commander would provide you with accolades. With all the evidence provided, you still attempt to keep me functional. Why?” 47 was being bold, seeing how far this kindness would go. He’d never had anyone touch him with anything other than malicious or clinical intent before.
“You didn’t kill me,” Damion answered simply, as if it were the only answer needed. And to Damion, 47 deduced it was. Damion was a good pilot, but they both knew it was their cooperation and working together as partners that finally saved them from being killed.
47 was confused, and it was something he was unfamiliar with. He was never confused. Inquisitive, yes; confused, no. But ever since he met Damion, he seemed to be feeling this… repeated emotion. Damion attended to him in a way no one else ever had. He treated him as… something other than a tool, a computer, an inanimate object. Damion treated him like what he really was—something living. Human. “I do not understand at this time. But I will try to in the future. May we leave now?”
“Yeah.” Damion turned and called over the attending nurse.
She typed for a short while on the console next to 47’s head, then looked up and spoke directly to Damion. “He’s free to go. We’ll continue monitoring him through his daily rest periods.”
She stepped around and stood at 47’s side, and with a wave of a hand over another screen, she retracted the connectors.
Unable to help it, 47 gasped as the jacks drew back from his input ports, feeling his world go almost dark again. He was in one world now, instead of two, and he felt the loss of his friend, and without the constant feed of energy, the weight of exhaustion took over. His body and mind were tired again, but he wanted to go back to his quarters and his familiar capsule. The ones in Medical did not contain enough plugs, since he had twenty-two in total and the typical Core had ten.
Placing his hands on the sides of the pod, 47 pulled himself into a sitting position. “Thank you.”
Damion helped him out of the capsule and walked beside him as they headed back to their room.
“Tomorrow we have another sim, hopefully without the murderous Fighter on our tail.”
“I do not believe it is enough time to modify the Impulse Barrier’s electrical draw feed,” 47 stated, wondering if he had available opportunity to accomplish his work between now and the next day, since he found his final conclusion on the Barrier lacking. “There is a 42 percent chance that we will be attacked again.”
“I think we’ll be fine.” Damion smiled, and it was obvious his Fighter was attempting to calm 47’s alarm over the recent events, which 47 did not share. “They won’t try it again, not until they
can figure out what you did. And honestly, no one else can do what you did.”
“There is approximately a 98 percent chance that no Core will be able to copy the Barrier and an even higher probability against deducing how to prevent it,” he replied confidently.
“Then they won’t try. Trust me. My gut feelings tell me we’ll be okay for a while.” Damion smiled once again. “Hungry?”
47 couldn’t understand what Damion meant by “gut feeling,” but he felt that he had already asked too many questions for the day. “I do require some sustenance, yes.”
“I’ll go down to the mess once you’re safe in the room.” Damion frowned. “What do you want to eat?”
47 didn’t want to tell Damion that being in their room did not guarantee Damion’s safety, much less his own.
“The Cores are only allowed the food exclusive for us. If you tell them that you are retrieving food for your Core, they will give you the appropriate sustenance. Though they will find it strange that a Fighter is collecting rations for his Core since it is usually the other way around.”
“I don’t mind being different.” Damion shrugged but seemed agitated by 47’s words. “And it gives me a reason to stop by and see what Juni’s found out about Arkin.”
“You have always been different,” 47 said casually as they arrived at their quarters and he scanned his passkey. “I will watch you through the security system and therefore know if you are in trouble.”
“Even if I am, keep your ass here,” Damion commanded sternly.
47 opened his mouth to protest, but just as quickly shut it. He strode into the room, toward his capsule. “Core 47 will obey.” It was the standard monotone reply in the words that many Cores used in response to orders given. Perhaps Damion wasn’t that different from the other Fighters.
“I hate that number crap.” Damion had shown increased discomfort using 47’s designation, and it seemed to be agitating him further. “Just stay here. I’ll be back soon. Maybe Juni found out more about Arkin.”
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