Tyranny: Bombardier Trilogy Book One

by SD Tanner

  “Why’s he doing that?”

  “I don’t know, but I think there’s some sort of resistance inside of the Guild.”

  “That’s a very dangerous game.”

  While they walked across the dry plain, he could only agree with her. He’d always assumed the people who fit within the narrow parameters of the Guild were happy with their lot, but he’d been wrong. It appeared the Guild had been making enemies and some of them were inside of their own ranks. This could be the opportunity he’d always hoped for and he quickened his step, eager to talk to the other renegade leaders.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Drones (Ark Three)

  Tank had woken them from stasis just before they’d landed at CaliTech. Still full of the goo he detested, he walked with his squad towards the Navigator barracks where they still had quarters. Tank’s squad had their own building near theirs, but it was even less appealing than their own. As they ambled past the long rows of single story white buildings, he felt the muscles that had tightened inside of stasis slowly releasing. Dunk Three had hinted they were developing a faster way to travel and he could only hope it would end the need for stasis. Until they could move through space faster, it wasn’t easy for humans to survive the journey. That thought led him to wonder why he was still human. It wasn’t as if he was destined to stay that way.

  Entering a white building, he dropped his pack onto the first of the eight beds stretched out before him. Although there were only five people in each squad, originally his had eight. Three of them hadn’t cut the grade so they were no longer with them, and their beds had been pushed together, making room for several battered sofas.

  As he walked to the end of their barracks, he waved his hand at the squad. “Huddle up.”

  Lace, Cardiff, Mex and Samson followed him, throwing themselves into the well-worn chairs.

  “Whassup?” Mex asked.

  Not really sure where to start, he looked down at this hands as if they might have the answer. “I…I don’t think I can do this.”

  Cardiff’s eyes immediately looked worried. “Do what? What are you being asked to do? Who asked you?” With a triumphant flick of her head, she said confidently, “No one can make you do anything, not with us around.”

  Her instant need to protect him was endearing and the reason he always forgave her for being such a pain in the ass. Leaning across the small divide between their chairs, he patted her hand affectionately. “It’s not like that. I mean, I don’t think I can destroy another species that way again.”

  “But you didn’t do it,” Mex replied, sounding surprised.

  It was Samson who said what he knew to be true. “Yeah, we did. What are we going to do with the next species we find? Just hand them over to CaliTech knowing what they’ll do?”

  With her full lips curling in disgust, Cardiff replied, “That was some bad shit on that planet. I don’t wanna ever do that again.”

  “I dunno how we’re supposed to stop it,” Mex said dourly. “We’re the army, not the commanders.”

  The Navigator army had a typical command structure. Squads of five men and women were put into larger fighting teams of two or more. Those teams then formed a group of fifty or sixty men and women to create a platoon. Twenty or more platoons represented a battalion and multiples of those made up a brigade. Leaving logistics and administration to the civilians, every Navigator was trained as a combat soldier, taught through endless drills to fight both human and alien enemies. Each brigade was led by a General and they all reported to Commander Casey and her five star Generals.

  Once he was transformed, he would become the Commander of the Bombardiers, carrying the rank of a five star General. It would make him equal to Commander Casey, answerable only to Dunk Two and, if everything went according to plan, ultimately Dunk Three. Given that the Bombardiers usually disappeared within ten years, it meant he was likely to die well before he and Dunk Three ever had a chance to rule the Guild, but there was another option. If Dunk Two were to die then Dunk Three would succeed him, putting them both in control of the Guild. All they had to do was get rid of Dunk Two and, providing he was already a Bombardier, between them they would own both armies.

  Eyeing his squad, he said, “I think we need to become Bombardiers sooner than we planned.”

  Cardiff shrugged dismissively. “We’re supposed to do that in the next five years anyway. I don’t see a problem with doing it now. I’m sick of going into stasis.”

  Where Cardiff would do anything he asked, Samson always wanted to understand his orders. “Are you trying to take control of the Bom army?”

  “What army?” Mex asked. “There’s only two thousand and they’re scattered across space.”

  Lace screwed up his face, looking at Mex as if he was a dumb hick. “Have spaceship, will travel.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Rolling her eyes at Mex, Cardiff replied, “It means they don’t have to stay scattered, we can call them together.”

  “To do what?”

  She flicked her thumb at him while continuing to look at Mex. “Once Ark Three transforms he becomes a five star General, which means he can do whatever he wants with the Boms.”

  Mex turned his gaze on him. “What do you want to do?” It took him a few beats, but he eventually added, “Sir.”

  It was a reasonable question, but he hadn’t planned ahead other than to know he didn’t want to remain under the control of Ark Command. Sharing his name with them was misleading. He worked for them and not the other way around.

  He shook his head at Mex. “I don’t know. All I know is that if we find another species I don’t want to be forced to hand them over.”

  “But the Boms have to do that too, don’t they?”

  The Bombardiers lived in space and were banned from earth, so they couldn’t be controlled the way a Navigator was. Forced to walk away from their families, they had no reason to fear retribution from the Guild. It meant there was no way to control what they did once they were transformed. In trying to defend earth from the risk of rebellious Bombardiers, the Guild had no levers over them. As Tank had pointed out, once they were in space he was the commander of his battleship, answerable only to himself.

  Once again, Cardiff explained his thinking for him. “Nah, what the frack can the Guild to do to us once we’re Boms?”

  Samson grinned and nodded. “Once we transform we’re free.”

  “To do what?” Mex asked plaintively, clearly not getting it at all.

  Nodding to Cardiff as he stood up, he said, “Get him up to speed, will ya?”

  Leaving them to educate Mex, he walked out of their barracks. Making his way along the brick road between the rows of buildings, he was heading towards his other bed in the main building. He needed to talk to Dunk Three, but as he strode along, another Colonel he knew saw him.

  “Ark Three!” The man called as he made his way towards him. “Come join us. We’re having a drink in the mess.”

  No one drank alcohol anymore, and Navigators were banned from using the feel good drugs distributed to the civilians. A drink would only mean a mug of coffee, albeit a decent one. Privately sneering at his gifted rank, his peers didn’t bother with him much, only politely deferring too him due to his position with the Dunks. He knew an invitation into the officer’s mess was more out of courtesy than genuine comradery.

  He was about to say no when he changed his mind, following the man into a building with their flag fluttering over its door. The long room that greeted him was very different to the barracks. Clean and sturdy three and four seat sofas were grouped together. Multiple large flat screens stretched across the walls showing footage of training and the Navigator news service. Civilians dressed in light blue suits were quietly making their way around the room, serving food and drinks to the seated men and women talking in small groups. The room had the muted air of powerful people who knew exactly how important they were.

  Another Colonel appeared by his side, running her hand seduct
ively up his back. “You smell like you’ve been in space.” When he turned to face her, she gave him a slow wink. “I like it.”

  Her name was Crystal and when he’d met her she’d been a lowly Captain. After a yearlong relationship, he’d dumped her for being too accommodating and therefore uninteresting, but it appeared she’d earned herself a significant promotion thanks to her time with him. He’d never given it any thought until now, but he realized she’d been assigned to him and then promoted for a job well done. The more he looked, the more he was learning that nothing and no one in his life was genuine, except for perhaps Tank and Dunk Three.

  Leaning into her body in a way that was too intimate now, he asked softly, “Are you enjoying the fruits of your labor?”

  She pulled away from his body, giving him a sharp-eyed look. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what? Honest? Is that what you don’t like?”

  Her eye widened in surprise, but she leaned her mouth close to his ear, speaking softly and quickly. “It wasn’t like that. I cared about you. You still matter to me. Please don’t be angry.” When she pulled away, she looked into his eyes and he could see the hurt in hers. “No one is free.”

  It wasn’t as if he’d loved her, their relationship had felt hollow and now he knew why. The Guild had them all hogtied, caught in a game that gave them no opportunity to think for themselves. Still standing at the entrance to the room, he surveyed the men and women who managed the Navigator army. They could have been cut from the same cloth. All were aged between forty and sixty, wearing the well-tailored dark blue uniform of the senior officers. Healthy and fit with greying hair, they were all clean-cut and lean. With every skin color present, not one of them looked anything other than a perfect example of a human. Seeing them for what they were for the first time, some of them stared back at him with somber eyes. Did they know that they’d been chosen less for their leadership skills and more for what they looked like? Just as he’d been gifted the title of Colonel, doing nothing to earn it, they too were fraudulent, promoted for no other reason than they fit the acceptable mold.

  Giving Crystal a final look that he suspected showed his contempt he turned to leave, colliding into a man as he walked through the door. Glancing at his face, he appeared to be younger than the others were, but the telltale creases around his eyes indicated he was probably the same age.

  “Sorry, sir,” the man said.

  Being called sir was a title he’d never felt comfortable with. He was only twenty-one years old, and hearing people more than twice his age deferring to him had always sounded odd, but now he knew why. The entire fabric of their society and command structure was so insincere none of it meant anything.

  “Don’t call me sir.”

  The eyes on the boyish face briefly narrowed and then he nodded knowingly. “I understand. Good speed, Ark Three.”

  He knew by saying good speed that the man was wishing him safe travels in space, but something about the way he’d said it implied more. His face must have shown his confusion and the man gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, indicating no more should be said. Leaving the officer’s mess determined never to go there again, he continued along the path towards the main building. It would seem there was more happening behind the walls of the Guild than he understood.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: Clones or clowns? (Ark Three)

  Walking into the office at the top floor of the main building, Dunk Two and the younger version of himself were sitting at the meeting table.

  Dunk Three waved him over. “You should join us.”

  After their frank discussion on the bird planet, Tank had given him a stern warning to zip his lip. Dropping into a chair at the table, he studied Dunk Two and his mini self. Between the three of them, they controlled the known universe, but he wasn’t sure he held an equal seat at the table.

  Dunk Two eyed him back only his gaze was that of boredom. “The alien you brought us has unique DNA.”

  Assuming he was referring to Mariana, he replied sharply, “She has a name.”

  “Right on both counts. It is female and it does have a name.” He leaned forward, now sounding interested. “Both of the aliens you’ve brought back are compatible with humans.”

  He didn’t like what Dunk Two was implying and the tone of his voice dropped lower. “What are you planning to do?”

  Dunk Two sat back in his chair. “The obvious. If we can mix their genes with ours, we should be able to dilute their high levels of enemy DNA, plus we’ll have new cells to use for transformation. Who knows what we could create with them.”

  It was a lot of information to absorb at once. Dunk Two had just informed him that Mariana had high levels of enemy DNA, which meant he would want to destroy her species. Additionally, he planned to use her like a farm animal to create a new species, but the cells of her offspring would be transformed to make even more tools for the Guild.

  Feeling deeply suspicious, he asked, “What have you done?”

  As his body grew still, Dunk Two looked back at him with narrowing eyes. “Nothing yet.” Just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Her levels of enemy DNA are the highest we’ve ever seen, so we’ve dispatched a virus pod to her planet.” Beaming as if he’d done a good job, he added, “Can’t be leaving anything as dangerous as that around.”

  Without knowing it, Dunk Two had just given him the timeline he needed. He had to grab Mariana and stop the virus pod. It was only after he’d thought it that he realized this had been his plan since visiting the planet with the birds. He was going to become a Bombardier and change the universe. The only thing he didn’t know was whether Dunk Three would join him.

  Feeling a coldness settling inside of his chest, unwilling to let Dunk Two know what he was planning, he followed Tank’s advice and zipped his lip. Leaning into the table, he fixed Dunk Two with a hard stare. “She’s our guest not a prisoner.”

  “Sure she is,” Dunk Two replied, giving him a knowing smirk. “We put all of our favorite guests up in the medical center.”

  “I didn’t bring her back here so you could use her like a lab rat.”

  Dunk Two’s eyes widened with fake disbelief. “Yes, you did. It’s your job to bring back alien species.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he added, “Anyway, it’s a moot point.”

  “Why?”

  “The medical team don’t want to dismantle her. They think they might be able to lighten her alien load by mixing her with one hundred percent human DNA.”

  “How will they do that?”

  His eyes lit with mischief and he leaned into the table again. “Well, now that’s the interesting thing about this specimen…”

  “She’s not a lab rat, Dunk,” he growled.

  Frowning at his comment and sounding almost petulant, Dunk Two replied, “That’s exactly what she is.” With a faint shrug of his shoulders, he added thoughtfully, “Although I can see why you’re attracted to her. She’s fascinating.”

  Giving him a knowing smile, Dunk Three added, “We heard about your date. Maybe you’d like to breed with her.” Glancing at Dunk Two, he added cheekily, “It could save us a job.”

  Glaring at him, he replied firmly, “It wasn’t a date. I just think she should see more than the inside of the medical center.”

  Dunk Two shrugged. “If you want to take her for a walk then I have no objections, but next time stay out of the prison.”

  The muscles in his jaw contracted with cold rage. “I saw what your virus did. They disintegrated. We had to shoot the dying.”

  “We watched the footage,” Dunk Two replied, sounding bored. “We already knew what the virus would do to the enemy DNA.” Sounding a little offended, he added, “What sort of scientists would we be if we hadn’t known?”

  “Why don’t you ever consult with me about this stuff before you do it?”

  Dunk Two and Dunk Three shared a confused look between them. Finally, Dunk Three replied, “It’s not
your job to deal with the research.”

  “How is wiping out a species research?”

  “You’re not going to be here, Ark. Your job is to run the Bombardiers to extend our borders and send back anything we can use. Our job is to make use of whatever you send and eliminate any risks to earth. A planet full of enemy DNA is a risk and we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t get rid of it.”

  Clearly, nothing he’d said to his brother had sunk in. Either Dunk Three was blindly following the status quo or he hadn’t agreed with him. “When did you dispatch the pod?”

  “A few days ago. Why?”

  Not bothering to answer him, he stood and walked into their shared living quarters. Dunk Three followed him, firmly closing the door behind him. “You didn’t answer my question. What’s up with you, you haven’t been the same since you started long hauling in space.”

  He turned to study the man he called his brother, noticing he looked more tired than he usually did. The burdens of CaliTech and the Guild were already weighing heavily on his shoulders, just as they were on his.

  “Do you ever wonder if there’s a better way?”

  “Better than what?” Dunk Three asked, giving him a puzzled look.

  “Better than destroying an entire species on the off chance they could become our enemy.”

  Sighing deeply, Dunk Three sat on one of the sofas with his shoulders slumped in defeat. “We talked about this the last time you were home. Like I said, they’re a weapons cache so we need to get rid of them.”

  Sitting on the edge of the sofa opposite him, he replied, “But they don’t know that’s what they are.”

  “Ignorance is no defense.”

  “But who are we to put them on trial in the first place?”

  “We’re the guys who can kill them so that makes it our decision.”

  The idea that Dunk Three could become his enemy made his chest ache. If he did what he was planning to do, and Dunk Three stayed committed to the Guild, then they could no longer call one another brothers.