Tyranny: Bombardier Trilogy Book One

by SD Tanner

  Cardiff was peering through the glass tube and he could tell from the colors that flowed around her that she was worried. Feeling the strain against his hardened face, he managed a small grin.

  When he said as clearly as he could, “I’m okay,” he didn’t recognize the tone. Unsure whether his hearing had changed or the timbre of his voice, he said again, “I’m okay.”

  Cardiff must have heard him speak and she smiled, giving him the thumbs up gesture to show she’d understood. The doctor joined her to peer at him. Holding up a tablet with a clock, it was counting down from ten minutes. Nearly an hour had passed, only it hadn’t felt that long. Once his nerves had begun to die, never to be replaced, the process was intriguing. Muscle was still being added to his spine, upper shoulders and butt, pushing him so far from the back plate that he was straining against the cuffs.

  Although he’d read about the process no one had ever told him how he would feel once it was done. Where he’d always had a torn muscle or an angry joint, now there was no sensation other than feeling fitter than he ever had. The modified cells had turned him from a vulnerable human into a machine. His breathing slowed until he was barely taking in any air. The heart that had been thudding at fifty beats per minute came to a virtual standstill. Nails that had once protected the end of his fingers clattered to the floor, no longer needed. Even his teeth became larger and thicker, not that he would need much food to fuel him. His new hide would absorb energy in the same way their ships did.

  The tube that had surrounded him sank into the floor beneath his feet and the cuffs snapped away. Unsure of his new body, he took a tentative step forward. Where his mind lacked confidence, his body didn’t and his new foot slammed down, holding him in perfect balance.

  Cardiff was still standing in front of him, looking up in awe. “Woah! You look awesome.” Her colors shifted again as she became worried. “Did it hurt much?”

  Just as he didn’t remember being born a human, already he couldn’t quite recall his birth as a Bombardier. “If it did then I’ve already forgotten.”

  Holding her fist up, she offered him a bump. Raising his own hand, it was more than twice the size of hers. While he bumped his fist to hers as gently as he could, she said, “I’m next and hold the dope.”

  Walking towards the door, he said, “I need to find Tank.”

  Before he left the room, it was Lace who called him back with a look of disgust. “Clothes, dude…seriously, you’re making us all look bad.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Nowhere left to run (Granger)

  “There’s a Bom here who wants to talk with you.”

  Gently disengaging his arm from around his sleeping son, he eased himself from the makeshift bed. After meeting with Ark Three while he was in prison, a Navigator had taken him from his cell. Expecting to be executed, he was surprised when he and twenty other men and women were loaded into an airship and flown to the outskirts of civilization, where he and his female partner were freed. Never understanding why the Navigator had let him go, he’d often wondered whether it was Ark Three who had somehow saved him. The woman, Joan, had returned with him, joining his group to care for his baby son and young daughter as if they were her own. Despite himself, he was growing fond of her, but his heart still belonged to Vela.

  He and some of the renegade leaders had met only a few days ago to discuss their change in circumstances. Finding out that there was some sort of rebel group inside of the Navigator army was significant, but no one knew how to take advantage of it. Over the decades, they’d managed to gather some of the Navigator gear, including visors and weapons. It wasn’t enough to mount a winning attack against CaliTech, but if they could count on the support of the Navigators behind its walls then they could at least do some damage. The problem was he didn’t know how to find the Navigator who’d twice saved him. He didn’t even know his name. After deliberating for hours, they’d concluded that knowing they had allies didn’t help. The meeting had ended inconclusively with everyone agreeing that, although they were willing to fight, they needed more information.

  After pushing the man outside of the dirty room in what must have once been a large and well cared for property, they stood outside on the broken porch. “I don’t know any Boms, so why would one want to talk to me?”

  “He says he’s Ark the Third.”

  “Is he?”

  “I don’t know. The guy that spoke to me is a Bom.”

  When he’d met Ark Three in the prison, he’d been human, meaning this could be a trap. “Where is he?”

  “He spoke to me at Rock Springs and followed me back here.”

  Giving him a worried look, he asked, “Why did you bring him back here?”

  “I couldn’t stop them. I mean, they’re Boms and they can see us no matter how hard we try to hide.”

  “They?”

  “Yeah, there’s two of them, but one hasn’t said anything, not to me anyway.”

  He contemplated getting his gun, but then decided it would be a waste of time. If two Bombardiers wanted to destroy them then they could take them apart with their bare hands. Following the man, he was led to the small stream that ran through the cluster of long abandoned houses. Both Bombardiers were sitting on a low outcrop of rock, dwarfing the idyllic scene around them. Dressed in the rugged battle armor usually reserved for space travel, they looked alien against the leafy green backdrop of earth.

  He held his hands up, making it clear that he was unarmed. “You wanna talk to me?”

  Neither Bombardier moved, remaining seated while they slowly turned their heads in his direction. With their block colored eyes, it wasn’t clear if they were watching him, not that it mattered. Thanks to their transformation, they had advanced vision similar to the Navigators. He envied what they could do, wishing he could transform as well. Although the renegades had managed to steal a few of the Navigator visors, without training, they still didn’t know how to use them.

  Coming to a standstill in front of the seated Bombardiers, the one with sharp blue eyes nodded at him. His face was now transformed, larger than before and roughly carved, but he recognized the young man’s broad jawline and wide features.

  “Ark Three?”

  Although his smile strained against the stiffness of his mouth, he could still see the face of the young man he’d met in the prison. “Yeah.” Waving his hands in front of his enormous frame, he slowly winked. “I’ve had a little upgrade since we last met.”

  Sitting on the rock opposite them, he studied their bulky presence with interest. There weren’t that many Bombardiers and they were rarely allowed on earth, so he’d never seen one in real life. Like most people, he’d only ever watched footage of them on the Network news service. In person, they were larger and more threatening, moving with an odd fluidity despite their size. Although they retained the facial features of the original man, it was clear they were no longer human. With their exoskeleton and ability to kill without weapons, they were dangerous so he could understand why the Guild had banned them from earth.

  Sitting side-by-side on the rocks, their posture was so relaxed he could tell they were no enemy of his. Tension he hadn’t known he was feeling drained away, and he nodded back at Ark Three. This was a change in their situation and for once, it could be for the better. In a world and universe controlled by CaliTech and the Guild, their chances of survival were ever decreasing. He wanted his children to have a life better than the one he and his dead wife, Vela, had shared. Whatever it took and whoever’s ass he had to kiss he’d do it.

  “How can I help you?” Pulling a wry expression, he added with a slight shrug, “Can I help you?”

  Ark Three nodded. “It seems we have a common enemy.”

  Although he was sure he didn’t mean the enemy aliens, he asked, “Do you mean the critters?”

  Tilting his head, Ark Three gave him a knowing look. “Don’t play coy.” Leaning his enormous frame forward, he added, “We can’t solve the problem if we don’t speak openly
about it, so I’m going to be straight with you.”

  The world as he understood it was shifting before him. A Bombardier should never have a reason to speak with a renegade and yet here were two of them. In the unlikely event that a renegade and Bombardier met, their first words should not have been treason, but Ark Three was saying that they needed to be open with one another.

  Sounding as wary as he felt, he hammered down the spark of hope fluttering across his chest. “I’m listening.”

  “Thank you.” Seeming to stare into the distance, Ark Three spoke as if this were the first time he’d put his thoughts into words, halting every so often to find the right way to explain himself. “The Guild isn’t real…I mean, it is real, but it’s…designed to divide and conquer by keeping everyone distracted from its real purpose. CaliTech, and specifically Dunk through his clones, are controlling everything it does. It’s…it’s a front to keep our people and the other countries under control so it can use them. Its sole purpose is to acquire power, not do what is right and good for our people. Or rather it does bad things and tells us they’re necessary, without even looking at other ways to solve the problem.”

  Nothing Ark Three had said was news to him. Living outside of the Guild had given him a clear view of how it really worked. He’d always known it was a tyrannical empire, sacrificing people like him while claiming it was good for all. His only crime was being born with the wrong DNA. Even the Navigators were being played for fools, spending all of their time training to fight an enemy they’d never seen, when the threat of them was really being used to control the population. As for the Bombardiers, those poor souls were stripped of their human genes, sent into space supposedly to look for the enemy, but they were really being used to expand the empire.

  “I know what the Guild is. What are you going to do about it? What can you do?”

  It was a challenging question and Ark Three’s answer extinguished his initial optimism. “I don’t know.”

  Snorting softly, he replied, “Then you’re no more use than the renegade leaders.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Feeling the hard rock cutting into his buttocks, he shifted his position and tilted his head at Ark Three. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for us? We have no home. We’re hunted for sport. If we’re caught, nobody cares if we die. But we’re tough, so we have kids, raise families and try to cope because there’s nothing else to be done.” Leaning forward, he said sternly, “If you want to start a war then we’re with you, but don’t come to me with some half-assed plan.”

  “That’s fair, but all I have is a half-assed plan. Right now, all I know is that I’m willing to give up everything to fight for what I believe is right.”

  “With what army?” He asked, barely able to conceal his scorn.

  “I don’t know.” Ark Three tilted his head back at him. “You tell me. Just how serious are you about being willing to fight? Is that what you’ll do or just what you tell yourself you’ll do?”

  His cheeks grew hot with anger. “Are you calling me a coward?”

  When Ark Three didn’t reply, his opinion was obvious. Staring past his large head, he thought about his dead wife and their kids. His young son and baby daughter had no future other than to live life on the run. It wasn’t what he wanted for them. They deserved an education, a safe home and a future.

  Finally, Ark Three said, “Dunk Two has a virus that targets only the enemy DNA, but leaves all other life untouched. If he uses it here then you’re all dead, including your kids.”

  According to the Guild, almost everyone in the renegades carried too much enemy DNA. If they had a virus that could kill only them then there was no future. He couldn’t outrun a virus. He and his children would be wiped from the earth without a single shot being fired.

  The worry that was always with him hitched up another notch, competing with a weariness he felt to his bones. “My wife died a few months ago. Shot by a Navigator learning to hunt.” In speaking the words, a bitterness he didn’t know he had poured out of him. “She was a good woman. A mother. A wife. I couldn’t give her a home, or even the promise of another meal, but she trusted me enough to bear me two beautiful children, and I can’t give them any more than I could give her.”

  “I don’t have your pain, but I get it.” Glancing at the Bombardier by his side, Ark Three added, “We saw what that virus did to the aliens on another planet. It’s bad, really bad.”

  His fear for his children overwhelmed his weariness and he sprung to his feet, swearing and kicking at the rock he’d been sitting on. “Why?” Whirling around to glare at Ark Three, he shouted, “Give me a reason! You were raised in that fracking hellhole! You must know why!”

  It was the other Bombardier who answered in a steady voice. “Ultimate power ultimately corrupts, and Dunk was an asshole from the get go.”

  Surprised by the man’s comment, he stopped his useless flailing to stare at him. “How do you know that?”

  Ark Three replied for him, “This is Tank. He’s the last survivor from the first alien massacre. He knew the first Dunk, but Dunk Two is the same jerk.”

  “And Dunk Three?”

  Raising his hand, clearly shutting down his line of questioning, Ark Three replied, “I don’t know, but it’s not important for now.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “We need your help.”

  His voice echoed the disbelief he was feeling. “How on critters earth can I help you?”

  “I need to get two aliens out of the medical center. It’s heavily guarded and I only have ten Boms. I need you distract the navs by mounting an attack.”

  Sitting heavily onto the rock, he felt his spine jar with the impact. “Are you serious? We don’t have the weapons to deal with them. They’ll slaughter us.”

  Ark Three shook his head. “I just need a distraction so we can get into the medical center. Once we have the aliens, we’ll grab our battleship with the attack ships. Before we leave, we’ll bomb the barracks. They’ll be so worried about the hell we’re causing that you’ll have time to escape.”

  “And then what? Dunk Two releases a killer virus and wipes us out?”

  “I don’t think Dunk Two will be worrying about you.” Giving him a strained grin, Ark Three added, “He’ll be more worried about what I’m doing.”

  “And what will that be?”

  “I won’t be the bad guy. CaliTech might be full of genius engineers, but the Guild is corrupt. I won’t defend an empire that crushes some people, destroys others and numbs the rest.” Waving his hand at Tank and then at him, he said fiercely, “This planet is for all of us. It doesn’t matter what our DNA is. Dunk doesn’t get to set the gold standard for what’s acceptable and what isn’t. None of us agreed to make that asshole the boss.”

  Chuckling, Tank slapped Ark Three hard across his shoulder. “You just defined democracy.”

  “They should never have handed control to a dictator.”

  “There wasn’t much left back then, but time has moved on.”

  “Then it’s time we updated Dunk’s rules.”

  Tank carried himself with a weary confidence, as if he’d seen more than his fair share of battles. Where Ark Three was full of self-righteous indignation, the one that appeared to be older was steady and battle scarred. They made a good team, giving him the confidence that, although Ark Three might not have the experience to implement his plan, Tank did.

  Returning his attention to him, Ark Three asked, “Are you in?”

  “We’ll die.”

  “Some of you will,” Tank replied with confidence.

  Appreciating his directness, he nodded. “But it sends a message, doesn’t it?”

  “Dunk Two will eventually release the virus here, so you’re gonna die anyway.”

  He nodded at Tank again. “There’s one other thing you need to know. I, along with twenty other prisoners, were released as part of a Navigator hunt, but my hunter let me go. It’s the second time that g
uy has covered my ass. I think you have allies inside of their ranks.”

  Ark Three gave him a contemplative look. “Is he a guy that looks younger than he is? Kind of boyish.”

  Raising his eyebrows in surprise, he asked, “Do you know who he is?”

  “No, I’ve never spoken to him, but I’m pretty sure I met him in the officer’s mess.”

  Shrugging, Tank said, “We can’t rely on him to help during the fight. For all we know he’s a lone rebel.”

  Rubbing the spot on his neck where they should have injected the chip, he added, “The technician didn’t chip me or the woman I partnered with so I know he’s not alone.”

  “Interesting,” Tank replied. “But it doesn’t help us. We don’t know who these rebels are, but I’ll see if Ark Command have any intel on them.”

  “Don’t compromise the guy. I owe him big time.”

  Raising his hand, Tank nodded. “Don’t worry, I have contacts at Command.”

  Leaning closer to him, Ark Three asked, “So, are you in?”

  “I’ll have to convince the other leaders.”

  “Will they agree?”

  “Yes, but only because we have nothing to lose.”

  Ark Three’s hardened hand felt oddly warm against his when he gripped it tightly. “I’ll change that. I promise.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Smart critter (Ark Three)

  “You do understand that you’re going head to head with the navs, don’t you?” Tank asked.

  Returning to CaliTech, their ship had landed badly onto the Navigator airbase pad. Only the smartest ships were used for space travel, otherwise if they didn’t power up reliably or were prone to misunderstanding orders, they were only used for earth-based air travel. The one they’d borrowed from the Navigators was a lousy map-reader and managed to get lost, taking them for a tour over Sacramento. They’d wasted a whole day flying across the city, but it had given him a chance to see Dunk’s empire one last time before he would never be welcomed on earth again.