Ghost Squadron Omnibus

by Sarah Noffke

  I don’t know how.

  He’s in your mind. Causing this pain.

  I know!

  Just grant me full access. Turn it over to me. You’ll still have control, but I need a chance to put up a firewall.

  But how?

  Pretend to go to sleep.

  How could she sleep when the aching, throbbing torture was robbing every moment of her sanity?

  Let go, Pip urged.

  Julianna tried to pull in a conscious breath, and snot trickled down out of one nostril. She was losing control. It was only a matter of time before her heart stopped beating.

  Let me have control. It’s as easy as handing me the key.

  Julianna didn’t know what that meant. She did know what it felt like to surrender, though. With the blaring pain still overwhelming her, Julianna pretended as if this were a battlefield and it was time to surrender. She acquiesced with her last bit of remaining strength, her eyes falling shut, and the world going black.

  Fuck. This better work.

  Pip was frantic. This was a chance. A risk. But Julianna had done what he’d asked—she’d turned her mind over to him. Now he had to hold up his end of the deal. Save her life.

  No biggie.

  Her heart rate is dropping. Oxygen levels are on the decline.

  Focus, Pip.

  Stop talking to yourself.

  Stop telling me what to do.

  There it is! There’s the firewall for Julianna’s consciousness. If I can just reinforce it, then I can shove this fucking cyborg all the way out.

  Oh, fucking shit. Blood pressure plummeting. No! No! No!

  Don’t you quit on me, Julianna Fregin. I’ve nearly gotten that trespasser out of your brain. I just need ten more seconds to reinforce perimeters. Firewall will be impenetrable in five, four, three, two…

  Wake up!

  Julianna felt like she was drowning.

  Wake up already.

  Her head cramped as she pushed drool away from her mouth. She didn’t realize she was sitting back on her heels until her eyes opened to find the smoky room.

  Oh, good, you’ve decided to fucking join me.

  Julianna still couldn’t remember where she was or why a red-eyed robot was staring at her. She did recognize the voice in her head, though, as if it were her own.

  Pip, when did you start cursing?

  Since you decided you could take a nap on me and nearly die.

  Die? Julianna looked around. Eddie was sprawled out beside her. Oh, fuck! That cyborg.

  Yes, and he’s going to turn Teach’s brain to pudding unless you stop him. I have the firewall protecting you, but there’s nothing I can do for the captain.

  But I don’t know how to kill this one. He appears to be mostly metal. How am I going to find the weak spot?

  He doesn’t appear to be the physical type, so why don’t you just leave him here and run the fuck away?

  You know I can’t do that. However, that does give me an idea.

  She dug into her pocket furiously. Testing her limbs, she jumped to a standing position and darted for Eddie. He was pale and looked like he was suffering worse than she had.

  Damn it, he’s almost gone.

  Because I can’t guard him the same way I can you.

  I get the point. We will discuss this sharing you business later, once I’ve saved Eddie’s ass.

  Julianna lifted Eddie up with ease, securing him on her shoulder. He started to convulse.

  The cyborg is trying to kill him. You have to get him out of here.

  Julianna knew Pip was right; they didn’t have a moment to spare. Taking off at a sprint, she didn’t even worry that she was dragging Eddie’s legs. They bumped over the trash and fallen cyborgs in the other room. When Julianna was almost out of the second area, she pulled the clip from the “holy” hand grenade Hatch had given her and launched it back, straight through the door and into the room where the red-eyed cyborg was.

  She darted forward, continuing on. The blast knocked both her and Eddie into a wall, but she didn’t stop. Distance was key. When they were almost to the Q-Ship, she realized that Eddie’s feet were underneath him, and he was ambling forward, like a drunk man being led to bed.

  “Eddie, are you alright?” she asked.

  He picked up his head, but kept his eyes shut. “Yeah, but I feel like I’ve been shot in the head.”

  That sounds about right, Julianna thought.

  I’ve uncloaked the Q-Ship and it’s ready for departure.

  Thanks.

  The cyborg appears to be offline now.

  So it’s dead? Julianna asked as she loaded Eddie’s mostly limp form into the back of the ship.

  Yes, I don’t think it could have survived that blast.

  That cyborg was an evil motherfucker.

  Agreed.

  And he’d have killed both of us if not for you.

  If that’s your way of saying ‘thank you’, then you’re very welcome.

  Julianna slipped into the pilot’s seat, letting out a weighty breath. That’s my way of saying I have a lot to think about.

  Like that I should share a place in both your head and the captain’s?

  Julianna cloaked the ship, lifting it into the air and up to the door they’d come through.

  We will discuss it later. For now, open the gate to this place, or Hatch will have my ass for banging up his ship.

  Already done. I’ve hacked into their security system. You’re good to go.

  Chapter Eight

  Intelligence Center, Ricky Bobby, Behemoth System

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t get it,” Marilla said, leaning over Chester’s shoulder and eyeing his screen.

  An exaggerated sigh fell out of his mouth. “It’s easy. You make your character get a job. You have to feed and socialize them and take care of their basic needs.”

  “But why?” Marilla asked.

  Chester moved the cursor and made his sim sit down and watch TV. “Because it’s fun. You know, that emotion that makes you happy?”

  Marilla straightened, shaking her head. “I don’t see the point in playing a video game that simulates real life. Why not live life?”

  Chester paused his game and spun around to face her. “That’s boring. And there’s many benefits to playing a game of this sort.”

  A challenging look sprang to Marilla’s face, and her brown eyes narrowed. “Do indulge me, Mr. Wilkerson.”

  Chester held up a single finger. “For starters, playing the Sims helps to calm our brain and feed our need to have control over our life.” He leaned forward, looking around with mock caution. “Don’t tell anyone, but we actually have little control; it’s all an illusion.”

  “Not only does none of that make sense, but you’re totally making it up.” Despite her attempt at skepticism, Chester spied the laugh Marilla was hiding.

  It was Chester’s turn to give Marilla a look of utter offense. “I do not spout lies nor am I one of those pesky people who pretend to know things or make them up as I go. This universe, sweet, naïve Mar, isn’t a system that we control.”

  “How do you know that?” She stood back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  “Simple. I study the codes that string this universe together.”

  Marilla flashed him a mutinous expression. “You’re a hacker.”

  “Bingo. And who better to understand how the universe is striving for chaos rather than organization than a hacker?”

  “Chester, I’m usually open to many things you try and lecture me on, but—”

  A startled gasp fell out of Chester’s mouth. “How dare you? I don’t lecture you.”

  Harley trotted over, interested in the heated exchange that was only half-bordering on joking.

  “As an anthropologist, I—” Marilla began.

  “You want to believe that there’s meaning to all this,” Chester said, cutting her off again. “You want to hope that there’s a cosmic purpose that we’re all building toward.”<
br />
  “I do believe that.” Marilla threw her arm out indicating the room at large. “How can you be a part of Ghost Squadron and not know that?”

  How did an instructional lesson on a video game turn into a philosophical argument? Chester probably should have seen this coming. This wasn’t really about God or life or purpose. Usually the smaller underlying things fed these much larger diatribes. Strange, but true.

  “Mar, do you really think that one day our job on Ghost Squadron will be done?” Chester paused, waiting for her answer. When there wasn’t one, he said, “Because I don’t. There will always be a bad guy to fight or a terrorist to stop. That’s because the universe doesn’t strive for perfection, but rather chaos and disorder.”

  “That’s a very pessimistic perspective to have,” Marilla said, leaning down to pet Harley, but looking like she was the one who needed the reassurance.

  “Chester is most likely correct,” Ricky Bobby chimed overhead.

  The scowl on Marilla’s face deepened. “What? Ricky Bobby, how can you say that?”

  “In my research, I’ve found that systems that are left alone gradually devolve into disorder,” Ricky Bobby stated matter-of-factly. “Nothing in this universe is certain except entropy.”

  “Nice word,” Chester said with a big smile. Entropy was exactly how he defined life. Everything was constantly moving toward a disarranged state.

  “Are you saying that the only certainty in life is that there isn’t any?” Marilla asked, a new ache in her voice.

  “I’m saying,” Ricky Bobby began, “that all systems break down, and we’re constantly combating entropy. The only certainty in life is that we’re in a constant state of change. From my research, I’ve deduced that the purpose in life is to try and do everything we can to combat this eventual degradation through acts of survival.”

  Chester clapped once and held his arms out wide. “Which perfectly explains how the Sims video game mirrors our own life, and therefore has value.”

  “You’ve spent over thirty-six hours playing that game in the last few months,” Ricky Bobby said. “I can only deduce that it is a drain on your productivity and possibly on your creativity.”

  Chester’s mouth popped open. “I would implore you, good sir, to mind your own damn business.”

  He’d expected that this jab would bring a smile to Marilla’s face, but she didn’t even look close to grinning. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she chewed on her lip.

  “Hey, Mar,” Chester said, softening. “It’s all theory. Life is what you make it.”

  She nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced.

  “Life is more complicated than that, but currently there’s something else more pressing,” Ricky Bobby stated.

  “What’s that?” Chester asked.

  “I believe it will be brought to your attention in a moment,” Ricky Bobby replied.

  Chester and Marilla shared a bemused expression. “The big guy in the sky loves mystery. He can’t simply tell us what’s going on; I, of course, am referring to Ricky Bobby, if you were confused.”

  Marilla sniffed, a fragile expression lingering in her eyes.

  Chester was about to say something comforting—that was obviously bullshit, by his standards—like ‘everything is going to be alright’, when he was interrupted by a banging noise. As Harley barked wildly, Chester looked up, as he usually did when waxing with Ricky Bobby. “I’m guessing that’s the interruption you were alluding to.”

  “You are correct,” Ricky Bobby replied.

  With a sideways look at Marilla, Chester took off for the far wall. A loud bang reverberated from behind the wall before it popped out completely. Liesel stumbled out, falling on the metal panel as it crumpled to the deck.

  “Are you alright?” Marilla asked, stooping down to help Liesel up.

  Chester peered into the cramped vent space from where Liesel had emerged. It was a dark mess of wires and tubes, and two beady eyes stared at him from up high. Chester shrank back, directing his attention at Liesel.

  She had grease smeared on both of her cheeks, and her hair was matted to her head.

  “What were you doing in there?” he asked her.

  Letting out a breath, Liesel smiled. “I was rewiring the Intelligence Center. I think it’s up to your specs now.”

  Chester peered back into the chasm. “You already finished the rewiring job? By yourself?”

  Liesel laughed. “Don’t be silly. I had help.” She clicked her tongue twice, and the beady-eyed animal scurried down a series of tubes until it was on the ground, the ferret that was usually on Liesel’s shoulder.

  “Sebastian helped you with the wiring?” Marilla asked in awe.

  “Of course,” Liesel said with another laugh. “You don’t think I could have fit into those tiny places and have done all the work myself do you? That’s mad.”

  Chester popped his head into the inside of the ship for a third time. “Yeah, Mar, completely mad. What were you thinking? Obviously Liesel had a ferret helping her.” He pointed to Harley, who was eyeing Sebastian hungrily. “I’m thinking of teaching Harley here code so that I can be that much more productive.”

  “Cutting back on your video game time is probably the most viable option to increase productivity,” Ricky Bobby cut in.

  “Thanks, Rick Bob, but again, your observations aren’t welcome here,” Chester stated, winking at Marilla.

  Liesel brushed off her pants. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation regarding the universe and, well, the purpose of life.”

  “Because you were inside the walls of the ship?” Chester asked playfully.

  “I promise I don’t eavesdrop regularly,” Liesel said with an apologetic smile. “Next time, I’ll tell you all when I’m working on your area.”

  “Or better yet, have the mongoose tell us,” Chester said.

  Liesel turned to Marilla offering her a sensitive look. “Although I think that Ricky Bobby and Chester make some valid points, they don’t entirely line up with my thinking on the matter.”

  “It’s hard to argue with an AI,” Marilla said, her tone dry.

  “That’s true, but even Ricky Bobby is not a supreme source of knowledge,” Liesel stated. “For what it’s worth, my own inner journey to discover the outer world has taught me something entirely different than the points they were trying to make.”

  “What’s that?” Marilla asked, hope springing to her eyes. Chester liked that expression on her; it was the one she wore most days when talking of her work. Marilla was usually full of wonder and reverence for the world, rather than discouraged by it like she was now.

  “It’s true that we are constantly moving in the direction of death,” Liesel began. “I can’t argue with that. All stars must burn out; it’s inevitable. But they burn for a reason. The fact that they are progressing toward an end shouldn’t undermine that they exist in the first place. Isn’t it the finite aspect of life that gives it purpose? In a way, I think our constant progression toward death is an attempt by the universe to conspire for our own good.”

  “I’m not sure that Zen business makes any sense,” Chester argued.

  “It’s all about perspective,” Liesel said with a smile that reached up to her blue eyes. “You think there’s no purpose. That there’s nothing out there. That life is an eventual path to destruction, right?”

  “Through the walls of the ship and huddled around parts and wires, you can hear perfectly fine, I see,” Chester said.

  “I simply believe that even if we are headed toward nothing, that the path is still meaningful.” Liesel shifted her gaze to Marilla. “That’s what worried you before, right? That we’re here for no reason and going nowhere?”

  Marilla nodded. “It’s a cold possibility. I’ve studied hundreds of races. How can it be that there’s no meaning to it all?”

  “Because maybe we’re not as important as we like to think we are,” Chester argued. “We could be a speck on the tip of a p
encil, for all we know.”

  “You and Ricky Bobby believe that there’s no certainty in life, and that our only purpose is to preserve ourselves as long as possible, correct?” Liesel asked.

  “I liked the way Ricky Bobby put it better, but yes,” Chester said.

  “And you, Liesel, believe something different?” Marilla asked.

  “She has faith,” Chester interjected. “You believe there’s a bigger purpose, a cosmos connecting us all.”

  “I might,” Liesel said brandishing one of her pirate smiles.

  “Well, sweetheart, there’s nothing to prove that you’re right,” Chester said.

  “And the same goes for you,” Liesel fired back. “There’s no way to prove the absence of something. But I can prove that we have a bit more control than you think.”

  “How’s that?” Chester challenged.

  “Well, even if we’re headed for death, our path is inside our control,” Liesel said.

  Chester pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’ll argue that you’re wrong.”

  “Because everything is random, in your opinion?” Liesel asked.

  “I pretty much rule the Dark Web, so I’ll argue that my opinion holds a bit more weight than others,” Chester said with a laugh.

  “I have a method that will prove to you that there’s a symmetry to life. There’s a synchronization that connects us all and proves that there’s meaning to our lives,” Liesel said.

  “Prove away, then.” Chester pushed his arms out wide, exaggerating the movement for effect.

  His overstated movement knocked a can of pens to the ground, and the sudden commotion spooked Sebastian, and the ferret streaked out of the path of the falling objects and through Liesel’s legs, sprinting for the exit. Harley whipped around and ran after the ferret, barking.

  “Sebastian!” Liesel called, running out of the Intelligence Center and after the racing animals.

  Chapter Nine

  Jack Renfro’s Office, Ricky Bobby, Behemoth System

  Toweling off after a ten-mile run, Jack checked himself out in the mirror. His parents told him that obesity ran in their family and may be unavoidable. He’d politely told them that was a self-fulfilling prophecy. At thirty-six, he was in the best shape of his life.