Do No Harm
Book Nine of The Omega War
By
Robert E. Hampson & Chris Kennedy
with Sandra L. Medlock
PUBLISHED BY: Seventh Seal Press
Copyright © 2019 Robert E. Hampson, Chris Kennedy,
and Sandra L. Medlock
All Rights Reserved
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Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”
and discover other titles by Chris Kennedy at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/
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Do you have what it takes to be a Merc?
Take your VOWs and join the Merc Guild on Facebook!
Meet us at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/536506813392912/
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Dedication
For Ruann, the love of my life; for Mom, my first fan; for Dad, my hero and role model.
—REH
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Acknowledgements
Chris Kennedy likes to say that Four Horsemen stories start out in a bar. In this case, it had to be a virtual one, but I think Tales from the Lyon’s Den counts.
I first entered the universe of the Four Horsemen for Earth—4HU—with a short story…late…twice. Blame the day job. Mark and Chris were kind and generous, so they accepted that story and I even received a second invitation. This time I paid attention and used a bit of my science knowledge to write about the “pinplants”—brain-computer interfaces, or BCIs. Then I ambushed the two of them with an idea for a third short story and eventually wore them down.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was inadvertently building a piece of the 4HU and had way more ideas about those quirky Wrogul that were the highly specialized surgeon-scientists of the Galactic Union. So, once again, I blindsided them with a proposed story that would be told from multiple points of view, with different authors supplying some of that unique POV. I wore them down until they acquiesced, and you are holding the result.
I want to thank my co-authors Chris Kennedy for “Verne” and Sandra Medlock for “Marinara.” Many, many thanks to Mark Wandrey for creating this fun universe and providing hours of reading enjoyment, and, of course, Chris for co-creating, co-writing, and publishing it. 4HU fans are wonderful and supportive; they’ve encouraged Mark, Chris, me, and the many other writers in creating a rich and varied universe. I’ve written a lot of non-fiction and short fiction but writing full-length is a different story; I am grateful to everyone who has given me an opportunity to improve my craft.
Many thanks to Brent a/k/a Evil Penguin for suggesting the name and profession of Marinara. You have survived this novel and even get center stage for a while. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the next one.
Mostly, I thank my family for supporting me. I thank Chris S., KC, Doc, Cathe, Eeps, Jeremy, Mike, Brian, and Bridget for writing challenges and cracking the whip of encouragement. Again, I thank my co-authors who shared the vision for how to tell the story.
Rob Hampson
Kernersville, NC
February 2019
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Cover Design by Brenda Mihalko
Original Art by Ricky Ryan
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Contents
Prologue: Azure
Part 1: Todd
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Intermezzo
Part 2: Verne
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Intermezzo
Part 3: Marinara
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Intermezzo
Part 4: Molina
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Intermezzo
Part 5: Harryhausen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue: Nautilus
Join the Merc Guild
About Robert E. Hampson
About Chris Kennedy
About Sandra L. Medlock
Excerpt from Book Ten of The Omega War
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy
Excerpt from Book One of the Earth Song Cycle
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Prologue: Azure
The Tri-V screens in the hall showed various scenes from First Contact. The first screen showed a loop of the Buma representative from the Trade Guild, Shin-al-ra, stepping off the shuttle onto the reception barge in the Hudson River. Beside it was the frozen image of Ambassador Stephenson giving a thumbs-up to the cameras in the UN General Assembly. Alert viewers could see the slightly blurred image of the ISIL suicide bomber approaching the platform. The third screen showed an ashen-faced Ambassador Thales being escorted off the MinSha dropship after having witnessed the Union’s “retribution” against Iran for the surprise attack.
“Sun Tzu wrote ‘He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious’ in The Art of War more than twenty-five hundred years before the Galactic Union came to Earth. Who can tell me how his quote could be applied to Human First Contact with the Union?” The lecturer looked expectantly at his class. The students sat in orderly rows along the center and right side of the auditorium. He could see several students consulting slates. “No looking up Ambassador Thales’ memoirs. That’s cheating.”
“If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t winning,” came an anonymous voice from the back of the room.
“Use your annunciators, please,” the lecturer admonished. “And to answer your comment, Mister Dillon—since I would recognize your voice anywhere, John Edward—the expression is ‘If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.’ It was a favorite of Earth’s Air Combat operatives. However, in this course, if you cheat, you fail. If you fail, you won’t be working for a merc company, and if you’re not working for the mercs, you’re stuck with either BLA or working the farming rafts.” Unlike the vast majority of Earthers, the Azure Colony prided itself on not being dependent on the Basic Living Allowance, so he could see frowns on several faces.
After several moments of silence, a red light switched on in front of one of the students. At a nod, she stood and addressed the class. “If ISIL had known the MinSha would turn Iran into radioactive waste, they wouldn’t have assassinated the Trade Guild representative. Then they would have had many more mercenaries to kill aliens and get paid.”
Another student announced his intention with the annunciator signal light. Again the instructor nodded, and he stood to counter his classmate: “If they hadn’t fought in the first place, the MinSha wouldn’t have known Humans could fight, and there wouldn’t be any merc companies.”
The instructor shook his head and motioned both students to retake their seats. “Liesl, I think Colonel Shirazi may object to your analogy using his slogan. I also think he would say Asbaran Solutions has done quite well using pure spite as a substitute for numbers. Hakeem, you’ve gotten a bit off topic, but don’t you think Liesl’s logic also implies that mankind should never have taken the Alpha Contracts?” The student mumbled something inaudible to the rest of the class, but it was picked up by the translation program on the lecturer’s slate. After a quick glance he smiled. “No, I thought not.”
Another red light came on high on the wall along the left side of the lecture hall. One-third of the room was filled with what looked like a large aquarium tank. It was relatively shallow, with a sandy bottom, and the water was only about half-a-meter deep. Several 1.25-meter-long cephalopods—similar to an Earth octopi—were visible near the glass wall; their eyes with the strange W-shaped pupils periodically shifted from the Tri-V to the rest of the class. The top of the tank was open to the room so the inhabitants could interact with the students, and once the instructor had acknowledged the request to speak, one of the cephalopods rose to the surface and hung several of its arms over the edge of the tank. It didn’t need to be physically in the air to address the class, but it was considered common courtesy.
“Ambassador Thales’ witnessing of the MinSha attack was how he learned when to fight and when to stand.” The voice was clearly synthesized and issued from several speakers around the room tuned to make it sound as if the voice came from the creature holding onto the side of the tank. “Until the Alpha Contracts, no one on Earth knew their own capabilities with respect to the Galactics. Any knowledge anyone thought they had was inaccurate. Thus, the learning is much more important than the knowing. The victory lies in making sure you always learn.”
“Excellent point—” the instructor consulted his slate, “—Anson. A very good point.” He turned back to the class as an amber light began to blink on his podium. “That’s all for today. Midterm essays are due next Twoday, and if you are choosing to write an Honor’s Thesis this term, I need your outlines on Fiveday. Dismissed.”
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Part 1: Todd
Chapter One
The Scientist was startled out of his dormant period by the alarms. “Alert, all hands to emergency stations.” The Scientist received the message through his pinplants—cybernetic implants that provided bidirectional brain-to-computer interfacing. Instead of a verbal report, he received a data message containing information about the emergency, his duty station, assigned tasks, and the duration of the anticipated crisis. There were systems throughout the ship to repeat the message in light pulses and sound, but most of the crew was equipped with pinplants, so response to the situation was almost immediate.
In the Scientist’s case, his emergency station was his own quarters, but that did not mean he was being kept out of the way or out of direct responsibility for the ship. It was simply that his mission was highly specialized, and, to aid in his concentration, all of his instruments had been installed adjacent to his feeding and rest facility. He activated his linkage to the monitoring system and was granted a view projected directly onto his visual cortex. It showed multiple scenes: the bridge of the ship, several crew areas, engineering spaces, and a view from outside the ship.
The space outside was totally black, not the blackness of space with distant points of lights from stars and nebulae, but an unrelenting, unrelieved blackness. It was nothingness, and it was not supposed to be there. He concentrated on the view of the bridge and “listened” to the light flashes between the crew:
“We’re not in position yet.”
“I don’t care; we’ve got to drop out now!”
“Three ships off the port bow.”
“They’re firing!”
“Drop now.”
“The reactor is not ready. We need another four segments.”
“Evasive maneuvers.”
“Brace for impact!”
The impacts were conveyed throughout the entire ship by the water filling the crewed spaces. Aquatic species had an advantage in space, as they could withstand much higher acceleration—just so long as they could be completely immersed in water. Unfortunately, water is not compressible, and the same fluid that cushioned them during acceleration transmitted even the slightest shock to all connected spaces. When the ship sensed the first impact, the security instruments in the Scientist’s room sealed it off from the rest of the ship, evacuating the water from the region between the walls. His quarters were now a fluid-filled ball inside a vacuum inside a fluid-filled ship. He was safe from any additional impacts, but he was also trapped and isolated.
Through his pinplants, he saw a compression wave start, first in the aft engineering spaces, and then the forward sensor bay. Each momentary overpressure had minimal effect on the ship and crew, but when the two waves met in the vicinity of the bridge, the forces combined with destructive results.
If they had been anywhere else, the ship would have had protective shields—the best in the Union—but outside the ship was a place where shields simply did not work. The captain was giving the order to drop out when the bridge erupted in bubbles. The hull had been breached, and the life-giving water was boiling away as the pressure dropped. It had to have been a massive breech to drop the pressure that rapidly.
There would be injuries and deaths among the crew. Would they still have the power to drop out? As if in answer to his question, his view of the bridge cleared long enough to see the captain push the dead helmsman off of his perch and activate the drive.
The world briefly went white and then black again.
This time the blackness was in his mind as well, and the Scientist was no longer aware of anything.
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Chapter Two
The instrumentation monitoring the Scientist’s chamber was not particularly intelligent, yet it still managed to detect that its occupant’s life was in danger. It did so through the simple expedient of incorporating biological tissue into its own circuitry. When the first missile hit the ship, the shock wave was transmitted through the fluid-filled spaces of
the ship and caused shearing across the synthetic nervous tissue wired in-line with the sensors monitoring the ship. The damaged tissue interrupted a circuit holding a vacuum valve closed. The open valve evacuated the space between the inner and outer walls and caused a different circuit to engage the bolts, securing the chamber’s access points. Retracting those bolts could only be accomplished when a new set of biological chemoreceptors detected the presence of life-giving fluid outside the chamber. In the meantime, anesthetic chemicals were released into the interior, and power was shut off to keep both the occupant and his equipment dormant until rescue.
This state kept him entirely unaware of the activity outside his protective shell.
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“Damn! That fucker’s been shot to shit!”
“Language, Mickey! You’re on open comms.”
“Sorry, Captain.” The co-pilot went back to plotting his approach to the derelict, but the other occupant of the cockpit had to admit, vulgarity or not, her subordinate had a point. The workboat hardly needed two pilots, which was one reason she was letting LaFanto do the flying. She was only here so the group of roughnecks and mechanics in the back had an authority figure to command them.
There was a lot of glittery reflection in the debris field. A voice came over the open channel connecting the cockpit with the members of the salvage crew currently occupying the cramped cargo hold. “Is that…ice?”
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