Starship Valor (The Galactic Wars Book 5)

by Tripp Ellis

  Pretty soon, his pulse and respiration were normal. He stopped sweating. His mind was empty. The flow of information stopped.

  This had never happened before, and the tech was sure the system was experiencing a malfunction. He rebooted the system and ran a diagnostic. Everything checked out okay. He ran the protocol again, but still could not download any information from Walker's mind.

  The technician’s face twisted up, baffled by the situation. He determined that this was going to take further investigation. He called for the guards to escort Walker to the prisoners’ barracks, until he got the neural transfer system sorted out.

  The barracks were nothing more than shacks with rows of bunkbeds. There were a row of port-a-potties on the north side of the camp, but not near enough to service the number of prisoners. It made for constant lines.

  The bunkbeds were just wooden planks with no mattresses. The living conditions were deplorable. And without regular access to showers, the barracks had a stench that would curl your nose hairs.

  The guards tossed Walker inside. All eyes were upon him. He scanned the sea of ragged faces. They had only been in the camp a few days, but they already looked bleak and hopeless.

  One of the men stepped up to Walker. “Lieutenant Robert Braun, UPDF Marines."

  “Commander Kurt Walker, Navy Reapers.”

  “Congratulations, Commander. You’re now the senior officer of this barracks.” He didn't seem thrilled about losing his position of authority, but he was a good sport about it.

  "What can you tell me about the facility?"

  “Well, we've been probing for weaknesses, but we obviously haven't come up with an escape plan yet. We get one meal a day, if you can call it that. And they’re randomly bringing people to the neural transfer facility. Some of them come back, some of them don't." Braun pointed to a Marine sitting in a chair, staring into space. His expression was blank, and he seemed oblivious to his surroundings. “They took him yesterday. Murphy hasn't ever been quite the same."

  Murphy was a blonde haired young man that couldn't have been more than 19. He was probably going to spend the rest of his life as a zombie. Walker cringed at the thought.

  “They seem to be looking for the location of the fleet. Or rather, what's left of it. They've got Admiral Slade in solitary. I don't think she's cracked yet."

  Walker’s eyes widened. “Admiral Slade is here?”

  “Unfortunately,” Braun sighed. “They captured her this morning. She was leading the resistance."

  34

  Walker

  "Where are you going?” Lieutenant Braun asked.

  “To get her out of solitary,” Walker said.

  “Hang on there, Commander. You can't just break her out.”

  “Why not?"

  “For starters, the building she's in is heavily guarded. You don’t have any weapons. And even if you do get her out, where are you going to go after that?"

  "I'll improvise.” Walker stepped outside the barracks. There was a narrow alleyway between the structures. Walker strolled to the end of the shack and peered around the corner.

  Braun followed after him.

  Walker surveyed the campgrounds. His eyes darted from the command structures to the guards standing post around the camp. Then to the containment wall, and the guard towers. His eyes shifted to the main entrance. Then he glanced to the landing pad by the processing facility. A gunship was currently sitting on the tarmac.

  “She’s in that building, there.” Braun pointed to the detention center.

  Walker pushed the Lieutenant’s hand down. "Try not to make it obvious."

  Braun cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry, sir."

  Behind the office buildings, Walker could see a small, heavily guarded, power plant that was running the camp. It had its own containment wall. Mechanized soldiers stalked the perimeter.

  “Get back in the barracks,” a synthetic guard yelled. He slung his rifle into the firing position and marched toward them.

  Walker stood his ground.

  “I said move!"

  Walker grinned, then eased back into the alleyway between the barracks—the barrel of the assault rifle inches from his face. He strolled backwards toward the entrance, keeping his hands in the air.

  Once he was obscured from the view of the guard towers, Walker made his move. Everything happened in a split second. He grabbed the barrel of the guard’s assault rifle, pushed it aside so the barrel cleared his head, then cracked the synthetic in the face with the stock.

  Blood trickled from the biosynthetic’s nose. It had an odd quality about it. It looked more like motor oil than blood. The impact stunned the synthetic momentarily—an overload of sensory input. The synthetics were designed to perceive the full range of human experiences. They had an enhanced sense of touch, and were able to experience pleasure. But the downside of that meant they were also able to feel pain.

  Walker stripped the weapon away and whacked the guard in the jaw. His lower mandible dislocated. The guard tumbled to the ground. Walker pounced on his chest, and repeatedly cracked the robot’s skull until it shattered.

  Braun looked on with wide eyes. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed the assault. But the alleyway had provided them with cover.

  “Help me,” Walker said as he grabbed the body.

  Braun grabbed the guard's legs, and they carried him into the barracks. Walker’s shrapnel wound stabbed with pain from the added weight.

  Braun kicked the door closed behind them, and they set the guard atop a bunk.

  Walker stripped the guard of his uniform and put it on. It didn't quite fit. Walker was a big guy, and the uniform was a little snug. But it was going to have to do.

  He put on the helmet and tactical gear and strapped on the utility belt. Walker pulled the sidearm from its holster to press-check the weapon, but it wasn't a pistol—it was a neural disruptor. It would disrupt the neural pathways of human beings, rendering them unconscious for roughly an hour or two, depending upon their synaptic response. But would it work on a synthetic?

  “What do we do with him?" Braun said.

  “Put a blanket over him,” Walker said. “He's taking a permanent nap."

  Braun rolled the guard onto his side and tried to cover the obvious damage to his face. He threw a blanket over him, and at a quick glance, he looked like any other sleeping prisoner.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to keep improvising,” Walker said. “You’re going to create a diversion.”

  “Like what?"

  “Start a fight. Or a rebellion. Be creative."

  “When?”

  “About a minute after I get into the detention center. Whatever you're going to do, I'll need it in full swing by the time I get out of there.”

  Braun nodded.

  Walker stepped out of the barracks, walked through the alleyway and marched toward the detainment center. He couldn't show any signs of a limp—it might draw unwanted scrutiny. Walker had stress fractures in both his legs during BSCT, but he toughed it out. He didn't want to get rolled back on a medical, so he kept his mouth shut and took the pain. He was used to pain, and the sensation in his leg was nothing compared to the long list of injuries he had suffered in the past.

  Two guards stood out front of the detention center.

  Walker stormed to them. “Lieutenant Drek wants me to bring one of the prisoners to the extraction facility.”

  The guards nodded and let him pass. Walker pushed through the door. There were three guards at the command station. Behind them, were a row of solitary confinement chambers. Each was contained with a force shield.

  Walker drew the disruptor pistol, and blasted off three shots. The device made a subtle low-frequency sound.

  Whoomp.

  Whoomp.

  Whoomp.

  The synthetic guards went limp and crumpled to the ground.

  Walker stepped aside. He knew the guards outside would hear the disrupter,
and would rush in. As they did, Walker took them out with two blasts. They face planted on the ground.

  Walker had to hurry. It wouldn't be long before someone would notice the missing guards out front and start to inquire as to why. He raced down the cellblock and found Slade in one of the containers. She was slumped in the corner and looked battered and bruised. She had a black eye and abrasions on her face. Her lip was crusted with blood.

  Walker's face tensed. He pressed the button on the wall, deactivating the force field. Slade jerked with panic, thinking it was a guard.

  Walker rushed to her. “Hey, hey, it’s me.”

  Her eyes filled with relief when she recognized him. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

  “What did they do to you?"

  “Well, the neural transfer didn't work, so they decided they'd beat the information out of me.” Slade smiled. “That didn't work either."

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you."

  “So, you're admitting it now?”

  Walker shrugged.

  Slade grinned.

  “Come on. Let's get out of here.” Walker helped her stand.

  They moved into the corridor and headed toward the command station.

  Two more guards burst in. Their eyes found the downed guards on the floor, then shifted to Walker.

  He blasted them with the disruptor, but not before one of them could fire off a shot. Muzzle flash erupted. Smoke wafted from the barrel. The bullet drilled through the air.

  It slammed right into Slade.

  Crimson blood spurted from both the entry and the exit wound. Walker's eyes filled with terror. Slade dropped to the ground.

  35

  Tyler

  After a few futile attempts to start the dump truck, Tyler gave up. He pushed open the door and hopped out of the vehicle. He called back to the team, “We’re moving out on foot."

  The platoon jumped out of the truck bed. Faulkner grabbed O’Malley, but he had already undergone major changes. He was almost unrecognizable. He certainly wasn’t human anymore. His skin was oozing and sloughing off. The exoskeleton was beginning to form.

  Faulkner recoiled. “Oh, hell no.”

  Tyler grumbled at him. “Get it in gear, Faulkner.”

  “O’Malley ain’t quite himself no more.”

  “I don’t care,” Tyler yelled. “Grab him and lets go.”

  Faulkner reached down to grab O’Malley, but before he could get to him Horton blasted a shot into O’Malley’s skull. Blood and brains splattered about the bed of the truck.

  “What the fuck, man?” Faulkner shouted. He shoved Horton, who responded by aiming his pistol at Faulkner.

  “Back off man. I just did you a favor.”

  Faulkner drew down on Horton with his machine gun.

  Horton’s eyes were wide. “It was only a matter of time before he started gnawing on one of us.”

  Tyler was pissed. The veins in his neck were popping out. “Faulkner, get down here, now! Horton, congratulations. You get to carry O’Malley’s body.”

  Faulkner jumped out of the truck. Horton grabbed O’Malley and lowered his body down. Faulkner grabbed the corpse and set it on the ground. A sea of creatures surrounded them, but the bugs were keeping their distance.

  The minute Horton hit the ground, Tyler slammed him against the side of the truck. He pushed the barrel of his sidearm under Horton’s chin. “I don’t care who you work for, you disobey one of my orders again, you’ll be dead. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tyler released him. The two soldiers glared at each other.

  “He’d have taken out more of your men,” Horton said, calmly. Then he hefted O’Malley’s grotesque carcass over his shoulder.

  Tyler marched the dirt road toward Station 5. His skin was burning from the DETMT and starting to blister. He wasn't sure if he was having some kind of reaction to the chemical, or if the high concentration was responsible. The rest of the platoon looked red and irritated, but Tyler seemed the worst of the bunch. Every part of his body itched. His neck, his face, his abdomen. He resisted the urge to scratch, knowing it would only make it worse. He could scratch until his skin bled—it wasn't going to do any good.

  The creatures were out there in the darkness, surrounding them. But the repellent was keeping them at bay. The air was filled with the clatter of their movement and the rustling foliage as the creatures scampered about the jungle.

  Station 5 was another mile up the road.

  Tyler gripped his weapon tight, ready for an attack. The two moons of the planet bathed the jungle in a pale light. Night vision almost wasn't necessary. Tyler scanned the edge of the jungle, keeping an eye on the creatures. Most seemed oblivious to the platoon. But one of the monsters seemed to be tracking parallel to the squad.

  Tyler began to worry that the repellent was wearing off. But it was far too soon for that. Perhaps this particular creature was immune to DETMT?

  The platoon jogged at a steady pace toward Station 5. The sounds of the jungle filled the thick night air, along with the smack of the platoon’s boots against the dirt.

  It wasn't long before one of the creatures was edging closer to the platoon. Tyler took aim at the beast.

  It charged toward the squad.

  Tyler squeezed the trigger unleashing a flurry of bullets. Muzzle flash lit up the darkness. Soon the entire platoon was peppering the creature with bullets.

  The insect shattered into a thousand pieces. Bits of exoskeleton, guts, and appendages splattered everywhere.

  “Double time, people,” Tyler shouted.

  The platoon increased their pace.

  The commotion had garnered the attention of several other creatures. Most were still oblivious to the platoon, but there was a growing number that was becoming aware. It was as if they were adapting to the repellent.

  The squad raced as fast as they could down the path. As Tyler rounded the corner, he could see Station 5 ahead. It was maybe 500 yards away. He picked up the pace even faster, running uphill.

  There was no telling what awaited them. The substation could have been breached. It might be crawling with those damn things.

  It wasn’t long before another creature lurched onto the path ahead. It scampered toward Tyler at a frantic pace.

  He lined the beast up in his sights and blasted off several rounds. The bolt locked forward—the magazine was empty. He pressed the mag release button and dropped the magazine out.

  The insect was still barreling toward him.

  Elliott took up the slack, finishing the creature off.

  Tyler gave him a quick nod of thanks. Maybe Weston wasn’t so bad after all.

  Tyler slammed another magazine into the well and pressed the bolt catch. He moved with technical perfection. The procedure happened within the blink of an eye. He blasted a flurry of rounds at another incoming creature. Its carcass flopped to the ground. Bug juiced oozed over the clay path.

  Another darted out of the jungle.

  Then another.

  A hail of gunfire eviscerated the creatures. Pale blue gun-smoke wafted through the air, backlit by the dual moons.

  Boots slammed against the clay as the platoon ran toward the substation.

  Creatures leapt out from all angles, attacking the platoon. Chaos ensued. A mix of bullets, blood, and bug parts.

  Horton struggled to keep up. With O'Malley's body slung over his shoulder, he fell behind. He blasted the oncoming creatures with his sidearm. He ran through the 17 round magazine in the blink of an eye.

  He dropped O'Malley's mutated body to the ground, and exchanged magazines. Two creatures were streaking toward him from opposite directions. He emptied an entire magazine into one, then spun around, reloaded, and took out the other one. Horton was good with a weapon. There was no arguing that.

  Horton reached down, grabbed O'Malley's body, and hefted it on his shoulder. His boots dug into the ground as he sprinted to catch up with the rest of the pla
toon. He ran as hard as he could. His chest heaved for breath. He only had a handful of rounds left.

  Another creature sprang out of the foliage toward Mosley. It caught him off guard. By the time he swung his barrel around, the creature had pounced on him. The horrid thing tore into his flesh. Its a razor-sharp mandibles disemboweled Mosley in a matter of seconds.

  Horton emptied the rest of his magazine into the creature. He shrugged off O'Malley's body. There was no point in carrying it any longer. The odds of getting off the planet weren't looking too good. No body bags were going home—there would be no one left to take them. They were all going to die here.

  Horton reached down and grabbed Mosley’s weapon—it wasn't like he needed it any longer.

  Another creature lurched at him from the jungle.

  Horton peppered the insect with a hail of gunfire. It erupted in a gooey mess.

  He grabbed a couple of extra magazines from Mosley’s tactical vest. Then he sprinted to catch up with the rest of the squad. They were now 400 yards from the substation. It might as well have been a million miles. Creatures were attacking left and right.

  36

  Walker

  Walker dropped to his knees. He applied pressure to Slade’s wound to stop the bleeding. The bullet missed the subclavian artery by 5mm. Missed the brachial plexus. Slade got lucky. The bullet that impacted her shoulder with 1300 foot-pounds of force tore through flesh and bone, but it didn’t kill her. Not yet, at least.

  Walker had a rare look of panic on his face. He took a tactical knife from the guard’s utility belt and cut a strip of fabric. He tied it off around Slade’s wound, hoping to stem the bleeding. Then he helped her to her feet. "We need to get moving."