Warp Three
A Niakrim War Short Story
David J. VanBergen Jr.
Fairfield Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Thank You
Preview: Discovery
Copyright © 2017 David J. VanBergen Jr.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Thank you so much downloading this short story which is kind of a prequel to the Niakrim War series. In this story, you will learn more about Cyrus and gain some background information on the powers that rule the galaxy at the time of the Niakrim War. I really hope you like it and can’t wait to share more with you.
Chapter 1
Cyrus didn’t remember opening his eyes or waking up, but he was suddenly aware of his surroundings. He was alone in a bright room made of stainless steel, but had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he was actually there. But that didn’t make any sense. How could he see if he wasn’t here?
Before he could contemplate any further, everything faded away.
* * *
Cyrus Jones stood at attention in the front row with nineteen other IMF starship pilots—at least soon-to-be pilots. Four more rows of twenty cadets stood behind him. One hundred of the toughest and smartest men and women on the planet. The truly elite of the human race. At least that’s what had been drilled into them for the last eighteen months.
Admiral Ablak himself stood at the podium addressing the cadets, imparting words of wisdom to the men and women who would be the next generation of IMF officers. Cyrus didn’t hear a word the leader of the Intergalactic Military Forces said. His attention was focused on the ship behind him.
The Falcon 3W was the fastest ship ever built. According to the engineers, it was capable of warp three, but no one had ever attempted to go that fast before. Not yet anyway.
Cyrus had passed every class with flying colors. He had successfully completed every simulation and had never crashed, regardless of how difficult the simulations were made to be. His reflexes and hand eye coordination tested off the charts. Simply put, no one had ever seen a pilot with his ability. He liked to believe the Falcon 3W was built solely for him.
An elbow in the ribs brought Cyrus out of his daydream. He glanced at the cadet at his right, a blond-haired woman named Annika. She gestured toward the podium with her chin.
“The world expects great things from you, the one hundredth graduating class of the Trinity Interstellar Space Academy,” the Admiral said.
The admiral stepped out from behind the podium and came to stand in front of Cyrus. “Graduating at the head of the class,” his voice boomed, “Lieutenant Cyrus Jones.”
Cyrus saluted as a staffer stepped forward and attached a pin to his collar as the admiral moved to the next person in line.
And that was it. Cyrus Jones was now officially an IMF junior officer—and pilot. There was no fanfare or cheering for him like there was for most of the other cadets-turned-officers, but he had grown accustom to being alone. No family had come to visit and he had not left the base in the northern California mountains since arriving eighteen months ago. Why should he? Everything he needed to become the best pilot in the galaxy was right there.
After all of the new officers had received their pins, the admiral returned to the podium for a few more words of inspiration before dismissing the new graduates to a night of celebration before beginning their new assignments. Most of them would be leaving in the morning for various training facilities around the world to begin their careers as gunship or transport pilots. A few would begin training to pilot low-warp vessels.
Cyrus would not be joining his fellow graduates in celebration. He was going to begin preparing for his assignment. In the morning, he would begin flying the Falcon 3W. He didn’t know how long it would be before they let him push the vessel to its engineered limits, but he figured it would be soon. He was the best and you don’t put the fastest bird in a cage for long.
Chapter 2
Cyrus slowly became aware of his surroundings again. The room looked as it had before: bright lights shining on stainless steel. He tried to look around, but couldn’t move. In fact, he didn’t even feel like he had a body. It was as if he was viewing the room from far away.
As everything faded away, he saw a severely maimed man lying on a table. It left him feeling queasy. Just before everything faded to black, he realized he knew who that man was.
It was him.
* * *
Something was wrong. It was supposed to be a simple exchange, but they had been gone too long.
Normally, the IMF didn’t negotiate with hostiles, but word had come down from ITC command to proceed with caution. They didn’t want an expensive war if it could be avoided. In his short time as an IMF officer, Cyrus had learned that profit often ruled their actions. And that the Intergalactic Trading Company, who supplied their ships and had final say on all operations—military and civilian—cared about nothing more than profits.
Cyrus tapped the intercom button. “Naizaire, energize the warp system,” he directed the Falcon 3W’s warp engineer.
“Do I need to remind you that warp travel is not permitted in this sector?”
Cyrus was very aware of that particular regulation. After losing three warp-enabled ships in this sector, the ITC had decided that no ITC or IMF ships could travel at warp speed there. It had taken them weeks to reach this particular cluster of asteroids once they entered the warp-free zone. It normally would have taken a few hours.
“Better safe than sorry.”
Cyrus knew Naizaire would have the warp field generators ready for warp speed, if needed. He continued scanning the area for anything that might indicate trouble.
The sensors picked up the high-energy blasts a moment before the distress call came.
“Cyrus, we’re under attack.” It was Captain Chavez. “Energize the photon cannons and give us some cover.”
He had already anticipated the need and immediately opened fire on the men pursuing the landing party. Cyrus was careful in his aim, preferring to distract and injure instead of kill. He didn’t believe in unnecessary killing and he didn’t know enough to determine if these men deserved to die.
The moment the hatch to the cargo hold closed, Cyrus took off. By the time the captain returned to the bridge, the Falcon 3W was speeding away from the renegade outpost, but they were far from in the clear.
“Seven enemy ships in pursuit captain,” Cyrus reported.
“Full power to the shields,” Captain Chavez ordered. “There’s too many to fight. We’ll have to outrun them.”
“That’s not going to be easy, Captain. We may be the fastest warp ship in the galaxy, but we aren’t designed to outfly Vim fighters at sub-warp speeds.”
“Do your best.”
Cyrus knew that even his best couldn’t make the Falcon 3W faster than Vim fighters. They may not possess time-warp technology, but the Vim were masters at everything battle-related. It only took a few moments for the chasing fighters to close in.
“The lead ship is nearly in firing range, Captain,” Cyrus reported. “Our only option is to fight or jump to warp speed.”
“Warp travel is prohibited in this sector,” Chavez replied. “Besides, it’s too dangerous.”
“So is trying to fight seven Vim fighters.”
A photon blast shook the ship. “Shields eighty-eight
percent,” a computerized voice reported.
“Captain, we need to make a decision.”
Captain Chavez was uncomfortable disobeying ITC regulations, but he was even more uncomfortable with the idea of facing seven fighters. “Take us to warp speed, Cyrus,” he said reluctantly.
That was all that Cyrus needed. “Prepare for warp speed, Naizaire,” he said into the intercom.
“Ready when you are, Cyrus.”
The Jabuka warp engineer made time-warp travel possible, but it was the pilot who controlled it. Without another word, Cyrus raised the warp field and engaged the engines. The Falcon 3W momentarily froze in time then disappeared into the asteroid field.
There was a reason that warp travel was banned in this sector. There were too many chunks of debris that were big enough to destroy a ship. Enough collisions with even small meteorites could destroy a ship. The only chance a ship traveling at warp speed had was to avoid any debris that penetrated the warp field. Even experienced warp pilots rarely made it back from a warp-speed flight without heavy repair work.
Cyrus wasn’t an experienced pilot, he was the best pilot that the Intergalactic Military Forces had ever trained. Within an hour, they had cleared the no-warp zone unscathed and were flying at warp three toward Earth.
Cyrus had never learned what they had been sent to retrieve, and he didn’t care. To him, it was just another successful mission on his flawless record.
Chapter 3
Cyrus woke again in the same bright stainless-steel room. This time he could sense his body, even if he couldn’t feel anything. He still couldn’t move, but he realized he could blink. Maybe I didn’t die after all.
There was movement in the room, but he couldn’t actually see anyone. As he struggled to move his head and get a better look, he alerted…someone…to his consciousness. He soon felt a presence directly above him, but still couldn’t see anyone.
Whoever was in the room was talking in quiet tones. He couldn’t understand anything that was being said, but he got the impression the speaker was trying to comfort him. A moment later, a gloved hand brought a mask down over his face.
Everything faded away once again.
* * *
Warp three. The fastest a human being had ever traveled. Cyrus had flown at three hundred times the speed of light so many times it was second nature. And he was now the only pilot in the IMF certified to fly at that speed.
Too many ships had been destroyed and the Intergalactic Trading Company had started regulating who could fly their fastest ships. Cyrus wasn’t sure if the ITC was more upset about the money or the loss of life. Probably both…because it took both a niakrim warp generator and a Jabuka warp engineer to fly at warp speeds. Both were extremely rare.
It wasn’t that Cyrus didn’t care about his fellow pilots, he just didn’t worry about things that didn’t directly effect him. As long as he kept getting to fly the Falcon 3W, he didn’t really care if no one else was allowed to.
“Bring us out of warp at the next star system, Cyrus,” Captain Chavez interrupted his thoughts. “It’s been a long day and you need some rest.”
Another one of the ITC’s pointless regulations as far as Cyrus was concerned. He didn’t need anyone telling him when to stop flying.
Cyrus wasn’t ready to stop flying for the day and figured the captain didn’t know the star charts well enough to realize he could stop any time he wanted. He kept on flying.
Nearly an hour passed before the captain spoke up again. “Did you hear me, Cyrus? It’s time to stop for the night.”
He could hear the accusation in Captain Chavez’s voice. “Next system is only a centi-year away, Captain. Should be there in fifteen minutes.”
Cyrus turned back to the captain with a smile, meaning to assure him. It was the first mistake Cyrus had ever made as a warp pilot. The look of terror on Captain Chavez’s face told him all that he needed to know.
The asteroid was nearly on them by the time the turned back. Even with the delayed response, Cyrus nearly avoided it…but it was too close. The asteroid tore through the ships shields and smashed into the port-side wing, destroying the warp field generator on that side. The ship nearly tore itself apart before Cyrus could shut down the starboard side engine.
Cyrus regained control of the ship and quickly began diagnosing the ship’s condition. The port side wing was gone, but the ship was otherwise in tact. With engines on only one side of the vessel, travel would be difficult, but not impossible. He was already formulating a plan when he was interrupted by a cry of terror.
Cyrus looked up just in time to see a large asteroid smash into the ship. The bridge exploded around him.
Everything went black.
Chapter 4
There were bright lights and people rushing everywhere as Cyrus was pushed down the hallway on a stretcher. Things were happening too fast for him to comprehend. The nurse walking at his side was saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. Based on the look of pity in her eyes—or was that disgust—she might have been trying to comfort him.
Cyrus tried to move but all he got for the effort was shooting pain from head to toe. He felt like he had been crushed by a ten-ton boulder. As he tried to recall what had happened to him, he realized that wasn’t far from the truth. The last thing he remembered was smashing into a huge asteroid. He had no idea how he had gotten here—to Earth?—which was light years from where he had crashed.
The medical team pushed the stretcher though stainless steel double-doors into a huge operating room. Equipment of every kind was arrayed around the room. Above the room, behind a large glass window, a gallery full of people looked down on him. Cyrus saw one woman cover hear face and turn away. He also saw several men wearing military uniforms—was that Vice-Admiral Spiraculi?
A face suddenly appeared in front of Cyrus. A doctor by the looks of it. He was asking him something, but Cyrus still couldn’t make out any words. All he heard was a jumble of sounds. The doctor either relayed everything he wanted to or just gave up. A moment later a mask was placed over his face.
Everything went black.
* * *
Cyrus woke in a hospital bed. He was propped up and had tubes and wires connected to his arms, head, and chest. He lay still for a moment, afraid to move. He wasn’t sure what he feared most: the possibility of being unable to move or the possibility of extreme pain when he tried. Before he could muster the courage to try, a doctor walked into the room carrying a shiny metal clipboard.
“Ah, Mister Jones,” the doctor said. “I am so glad you are finally awake.”
“Where am I?” His throat was dry and his voice was very weak, but he was thankful he could at least form words. Not to mention being able to hear and understand what the doctor had said.
“New York,” the Doctor said. “You’re in the ITC Hospital of Bio-Robotic Medicine.”
“Bio-Robotic?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “We specialize in using robotic technology to save—and extend—human life.”
“Why…”
Cyrus never finished his question. He saw his reflection in the shiny metal clipboard the doctor was carrying. He knew he shouldn’t be able to see his reflection clearly, but it was like looking in a mirror.
He screamed in agony—and despair.
“I will give you some time to yourself,” the doctor said sympathetically. “I will come back in a while to answer your questions.”
Cyrus didn’t even notice the doctor leave.
Why couldn’t they just let me die?
* * *
For eight days, Cyrus didn’t let anyone into the room other than the floating robots that brought him medicine and food. He had regained some strength and could now walk around the room with the aid of a walker.
As he looked out the window, he could see a faint reflection of himself. What he saw both disgusted and intrigued him. He moved his now-robotic right arm. Other than being metal, it was almost no different than h
is left arm. Cyrus could actually feel with his fingertips. He had even tried stabbing himself with a needle he found in one of the drawers. The needle had bent, but he felt a sharp pain when he had done it. He had no idea bio-robotic technology had advanced so far.
During his days of isolation, Cyrus had come to terms with his robotic arm. If he wore long sleeves and a glove, no one would even know it wasn’t real. And there were definitely going to be advantages. His robotic arm was infinitely stronger than any organic limb. On top of that, it was faster and more precise—he had literally plucked the wings off a fly as it buzzed around his head.
What he hadn’t come to terms with—and probably never would—was his face. Or what was left of it. His right eye and nearly a quarter of his face and skull was gone. In its place was a metal skull and robotic eye. There would be no way to hide that.
As amazing as the robotic technology in his arm was, Cyrus knew the technology in his head was far superior. When he could push the self-loathing aside, he had explored some of the capabilities of his robotic eye. He could see perfectly at virtually infinite distance, almost like looking through a telescope. It had taken some time to get used to focusing, but now he could instantly change his focus from right in front of his face to a hundred kilometers away. He had also learned how to see heat patterns, which allowed him to see in the dark better than any night vision goggles.
Cyrus knew it was crazy, but he almost felt smarter. His focus was sharper than it had ever been before and he seemed to be able to think through problems virtually instantly. He could recall things he didn’t think he should know. Unfortunately, he still didn’t know how he had gotten to Earth or what had happened since he crashed into the asteroid.
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