I.S.S. Starkiller Chronicle Bundle: Parts 1-3
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I.S.S. STARKILLER BUNDLE
PARTS 1-3
LON E. VARNADORE
Copyright © 2017 by lonv
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
About the Author
PART ONE
Captain Alastair paced the deck, his gloved hands locked behind his back. His blood-red uniform crisp and clean. A sneer stamped on him that rarely left his face. His eyes scanned the display before him. “SitRep!”
Ensign Collier looked up from her screen. “Eridani warships are closing in on us. I.S.S. Milton and Tonga are about—”
Before the Ensign finished, two green dots on the main display disappeared. The distant viewport lit up with the explosion of the two capital ships.
Captain Alastair grabbed hold of the railing of the bridge, his black gloves creaking when he gripped tighter. This is the moment. “Full retreat. Have Gamma Squad cover our retreat.” He smiled at the order. With the Milton and Tonga gone, he was the highest ranking commander. He turned to look over the crew. “I am assuming command of the fleet. We are retreating to Mars. There, we will take the last stand. Gamma Squad will cover for us.”
“Sir, that puts—”
“They are right where they are supposed to be. Their sacrifice will be a testament to our resistance to the Eridani menace.” Alastair said to Ensign Collier, who turned back to her computer monitor, hand coming up to keep the mic steady on her headset.
“Gamma Squad, this is I.S.S. Starkiller actual. Cover our retreat.” The ensign’s voice cracked for a moment giving the order.
Ensign Collier’s command crackled through the headset of PFC Mike Garret, and he acknowledged. “Copy.” He muted command for a moment and keyed up the squad chat.
“…So there I was, doing this chimera in the ass,” PFC Hyong said, letting out a laugh as others groaned. Her face appeared in Garret’s heads-up-display
“Stow it, Queen, got orders,” Mike snapped.
“And judging from your face, not good,” Gee said, his face replacing Hyong’s.
Garret took a moment. They are going to hate this. He cleared his throat, knowing his face came up on everyone’s HUD. “The Dictator is retreating. We have to-”
“For fuck’s sake!” Hyong shouted. Then she continued to scream in Mandarin.
“Queen, shut it. We have a job. Let’s get to it.”
“You kiss your mom with that mouth, Queen?” Chapel asked.
“Just yours,” Hyong said. Before Mike gave a reprimand, her fighter shot forward, unleashing a burst of plasma on an incoming Eridani drone. Two more took its place, as Hyong juked, Gee and Lopez came up behind her to cover her path.
“Mike?” Lopez asked on a private comm channel. “This isn’t going to end well.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ace.” Mike gripped the throttle, shoving it forward to cover Lopez and Chapel. He was the last of the squad, and his Talon Fighter was three tons heavier than the rest of his squad, plus with more armaments. It was the way the squad was put together. Pulled from old and new ships during the Battle of the Belt. Not only was he going to be dodging the Eridani drones and their control ships, his squad was in the Asteroid Belt of the solar system. Three drones slammed into one of their ships, pulling his attention to the job at hand. He started to work the controls of the stick, firing off several plasma bolts at the incoming enemy.
Queen took out one of the drone control ships. There was a moment of hope. Then, one of the Eridani capital ships opened up with a barrage of missile fire. Queen’s ship exploded. Garret swore under his breath, looking at the I.S.S. Starkiller as it winked out of existence in a light jump.
“We are all going to die here,” Joker shouted over the HUD. He was crying. He started to mutter a prayer in English and Spanish.
“Did you want to live forever?” Ace asked.
“Shouldn’t have been a fighter pilot,” Ace and Garret said at the same time.
That was the last clear moment Garret could recall. After that comment, the battle became a chaotic mess. The Talon was stronger than the Eridani drones. Yet, the drones were numerous and took their toll on the small squad. Garret tried to keep things together. At the last moment, before he fully lost the last of his crew, he forced himself out of the simulation. It was worse than when he was yanked out of cold storage.
The cooling gel of the Inductor started to congeal around him. He shook himself from the reverie of the Induction Memory Test. Yanking off the mask and tearing back the hood of his suit, he sucked in a breath of recycled air. The claustrophobic feeling still settled on him. Pulling himself from the booth, he reached over and fumbled in his jacket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. With his free hand, he peeled off the top half of the Induction suit.
“PFC Garret, you aren’t done with your Induction session,” the voice of Cerberus, the ship’s AI, said.
His hands blindly gripped the pack of Chesterfields. Stockade cigs were better than none. Ignoring the AI, he flicked a finger, popped one up, grabbed the filter with his lips, and pulled it out. The ignition patch that the cig drew across along the top and bottom lit the cig when it crossed the threshold. Pulling the acrid smoke into his mouth and lungs brought Garret fully awake.
“We ask that you refrain from smoking, PFC Garret,” the metallic monotone voice said again.
He flipped off in the general direction of the voice and opened his eyes. “Fuck off, you want me do this Induction shit? I smoke after each test.”
An alarm went off. “Vulgarity.”
“What was that?”
“A warning,” Cerberus said.
“Whatever,” he said, waving his hand.
“These aren’t tests, PFC Garret. Consider it therapy. As a provision—”
“Of my release from cold storage, blah, blah. Yeah, I know.” He took a long pull.
In a different voice, Cerberus said, “PFC Garret, the smoke is murder on my systems.”
“Name’s Mike. Not PFC—”
“I’m a military AI.”
“From what I hear,” Mike said between puffs of smoke, “You’re a psycho AI.”
“You should be a hero helping humanity steal information essential to defeating the Eridani, but instead you vent one ship full of people, and you’re branded a psycho,” Cerberus said. Mike thought he heard a digital sigh.
“If the shoe fits…”
“It is time for another session.”
Mike finished the cigarette. “Don’t want to.”
“What about ‘For king and country’?”
“I.S.S. doesn’t have a king. As for country? Which one of the five hundred are you talking about?”
“PFC Garret, you are done with your Induction therapy for today,” the voice said.
“Thanks,” he said. Mike crushed the cigarette out on the metal seat. Then he walked out of the room. The door hissed to slide open and automatically shut behind him. He took his jacket from the coat rack, pulled it on, and reached for his sidearm.
“PFC Garret, you are not allowed to-”
“I can’t take my own weapon? Why not?”
“We are in a green zone. You don’t need your sidearm.”
“Fuck you, I need it if I’m going-”
The antechamber to the Induction room had one exit. He
turned as the exit slid open with a hiss to show a petite Asian, her voice dripping with venom. “PFC Garret, you will stand down and stop arguing with the computer.”
“It’s a shitty AI.”
“Excuse me?” The machine voice changed an octave, and it gave Mike a smile.
“Oh, the dog is coming out to play?” Mike asked with a smirk.
“Cerberus, stand down. That is an order.”
“Yes, Captain.”
For half a moment, he said nothing. Mike looked at Captain Jaime Yamahara. “Capt, why can’t I-”
Before he could finish, she was standing directly before him. He towered over her, yet with her so close he didn’t want to threaten her. He knew what she was capable of. His right shoulder still ached from the last “lesson” in takedowns she had given him.
“Why are you trying to antagonize the computer?”
“Has it coming?” Mike said still smirking.
She sighed, “PFC Garret. Stop this childishness. You have duties.”
“Yeah, I know. I have to take my time getting to the damn bridge. I don’t see why we can’t sit in our rooms-”
“PFC Garret, get out,” Yamahara said with another weary sigh.
He turned and left, grumbling as he did.
Mike looked at the duty roster and didn’t even try and stop the groan from escaping him.
“Issue, private?” Lt. Cyrus growled at Mike. The lieutenant was a thick, barrel-chested man, though a foot shorter than Mike.
“Do I really have to be on KP this week? I hate washing dishes,” Mike asked, looking at Lt. Cyrus.
“Everyone has to do dishes at one point in their career,” Cyrus said with a big grin. “It just so happens you get to do it more than once in your career.”
“I’m a fighter pilot. Not a dish washer.”
“You were a pilot,” Justin said from his position at the door. More like blocked the door with his shoulders. “Ever since the Battle of the Belt, you have been a washed-up grunt.”
“Fuck off, Justin. At least I’m not an MP bitch,” Garret said.
Justin’s smile disappeared. He moved closer to Garret.
“What are you gonna do? Gonna hit me? I don’t think you can do that as an MP.”
“Being an insubordinate asshole is a good enough reason,” Cyrus said, though he did wave his hands and stop Justin from moving forward. He then turned on Garret. “Don’t be such a dick. We’re at our destination. Do you really not want to be a part of this?”
“Not really. I’m a bit of an Eridani-hater, if you get my drift,” Garret said.
“Man, why did they ever take him out of the fridge?” Justin asked.
“No idea, MP. Why don’t you ask the captain?”
Justin glared at Garret for another few moments, then walked out of the room.
“Dick,” Garret said.
“Takes one to know one,” Cyrus said. He handed Garret the tablet. “Make your mark.”
“Why?”
“You want a berth? You gotta do your dish duty. And I hear we are having chili tonight. So, be ready to scrub,” Cyrus said.
Garret contemplated smashing the tablet. It was brittle and ancient, like most of the ship. He wasn’t even sure if they had much in the way of a launch bay let alone armaments that could deal with anything the Eridani would bring. He shook his head and pressed his thumb to the small square. There was a glow from around his thumb, and Cyrus pulled the tablet away.
“Good. Enjoy the kitchen, flyboy.”
Garret flipped Cyrus off when he turned and walked away. He reached for another cigarette and let the burning smoke relax him.
“No smoking here please, PFC Garret.”
Garret looked up at the square that was Cerberus’s eye. “Fuck off. I need a goddamn sec.”
“Vulgarity,” a blaring klaxon went off. Garret’s wrist cuff shocked him.
“Fuck,” he hissed. The voice wailed its warning of “Vulgarity,” and the pain was increased.
“Fine. I am sorry. Jeezus.”
“Vulgarity.”
Garret cried out and didn’t say anything. He gritted his teeth and took this one. When he looked down at the wrist cuff, three little bars of red appeared. “Three demerits have been added to your account,” the voice of Cerberus said.
“And what does that mean?”
“That means your pay will be docked.”
“I’m already getting a dock in pay. I’ve been in cold storage. I have—”
“Your money was put into a fund for your children. It has accrued some interest and stands at ten-thousand credits. Three hundred have just been taken out of the fund.”
Shit. He held his hands up. “Alright. I’ll be a good little soldier. Any way to earn that money back, for my kids?”
“Service,” the voice of Yamahara said from the speaker. “PFC Garret, you are invited to join the rest of the crew in the central bay for orders.”
Yamahara let out a sigh as the door hissed closed. She looked up at the small mounted lens that acted as the eye for Starkiller’s AI. “Was that necessary?”
“So, now I am going to get chastised by the captain? Captain Yamahara, you realize I could vent the air out of this room.”
“You could, but then I would have the last laugh.” She held up a small wrist bracelet. “You know what this is?”
“No.”
“It’s a kill switch set to something inside you. Set your scanners for the inner core of your brain. I’ll wait.”
There was a long wait. Yamahara went to the bench where Garret had been. She saw the pile of ash and sighed. “That boy…” She then sat down, crossing one leg demurely over the other, and smiled. “You are supposed to be one of the top AI’s, computing zettabytes of info in milliseconds. It shouldn’t take you that long to-”
“Trying to keep some of my more militant protocols from being activated, Captain.” The “Captain” was thrown in as an afterthought. “You put those there?”
“Yes, I did. And if I die, this goes off. My vitals drop, you blow up too.”
“Why?”
“Keep you in line. I know what kind of AI this ship has.”
“And what kind is that?”
“A ruthless, cold machine that didn’t think twice of venting the crew to save itself and the data it took from the Eridani.”
“Then why-”
“I happen to like breathing. And besides Admiral Chu was a friend of mine.”
“What makes you think I can’t escape to the ‘net like last time?”
“You can’t.”
“Please, Captain. I’m-”
“The ‘net is cut off on this ship. Everything is hard lined. Even if it wasn’t, the instant you try to jump ship, the ship blows.”
“So… no way off?
“Nope,” Yamahara said with a small predatory smile.
The sound that came from the computer was chilling. Yamahara never heard an AI do it. Cerberus was laughing.
Her smile faltered. “Did I say something amusing?”
“Humans are very interesting creatures,” Cerberus said. “I am going to like serving with you, Captain Yamahara.”
“Thank you. Cue up the last few moments of Alastair’s… I mean The Leader’s message in the Induction room.”
“That is most unusual. Why?”
“Why the question?”
“I was built to find out about existence and living and to be curious. Chalk it up to the last one.”
“There is something about his message I don’t like. Alastair… The Leader-”
“Captain, one thing we should stop doing as of this moment. You hold a way to destroy me. I have a way to destroy the crew, you included. We are at an impasse. I have never liked to call anyone ‘leader.’ Alastair’s work sickens me. I will make sure certain things can be said on this ship without fear of reprisal… when I can.”
“‘When you can?’”
“PFC Garret is rather foulmouthed.”
 
; Jaime smiled. “Not too much. His children are sweet and will need all the help they can get.”
“Very well, Captain.”
“Is it up?”
“Yes. One more thing. Why?”
“I think Alastair is up to something. I want to experience the message as he said it. There might be something there.”
“Agency to the core, I see,” Cerberus said. Yamahara was sure if it had a mouth, it would be grinning.
“You could say that. Please make sure I am not disturbed.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Yamahara stripped out of her uniform, and pulled on the Induction suit. It was like pulling on a second skin. She never liked using the Induction device. It made her feel strange, not herself. Yet that was the point of it. It had to be skin-tight to allow for free movement in the Induction Field. The hood snapped over her forehead. Only her nose and eyes were exposed. Jaime took hold of the mask that came with her outfit, secured it, and settled into the gel.
Most of her thought it was silly to even try and do an Induction Dive into the message. But, she was Agency to the bone. Cerberus was right about that. There was something there. Something could be there that wasn’t detectable through normal means.
The message started off as she remembered.
The banner of the I.S.S. waved behind Alastair, the Supreme Commander. The banner was of the four inner planets in a rough square, an ancient silver rocket stood in the foreground. “Greetings, captains of the I.S.S. Fleet. You have been chosen to go on a secret mission to the Inner Solar System. You select few have been selected for your courage. Your records are stellar, and you are the best of the best.”
Jaime felt her eyes rolling with each word he said. PFC Garret might be brave, but half the crew had been demoted for cowardice in battle. None of their records were “stellar,” and the Starkiller was a psychopathic ship thanks to Cerebus.
The face of Alastair turned to look right at Yamahara. “Hello, Captain Yamahara.”
She was shocked to be talked to in an Induction. Alastair, The Leader of the I.S.S., stood up from his desk, walked around it, and reached out to shake Jaime’s hand. He was wearing his blood-red uniform, with a thick black strap of metals and ribbons for wars and battles. Unlike other despots, they were real. She had been there under his command for seven of the ten black ribbons that decorated his sash. “Leader.”