Starship Guardian (The Galactic Wars Book 4)

by Ellis,Tripp

  “It’s not okay.” His eyes brimmed. His face flushed with anger.

  Violet gave him a sad smile, then hugged him tight. She whispered in his ear. “I’ve given you a lot of shit over the years, but you know how much I care about you.”

  A tear rolled down Mitch’s cheek. He tried to lighten the mood. “How could you not?” He could barely choke the words out.

  She kissed his cheek, then pushed away from him. Mitch looked like a lost child.

  Violet stepped into the corridor.

  “Captain Slade, please come with me for debriefing.”

  “Debriefing?”

  “You will be returned to your cell afterwards,” Aurora said. “Due to your vast knowledge and military expertise, the Council feels a brain scan would be beneficial.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you download the contents of my brain.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not optional.”

  The scan would give the robots access to every military secret that was held within Slade’s consciousness. Organizational structures, tactics, locations. It could give the synthetics an incredible tactical advantage, should a conflict ever arise. Slade would rather die before giving up that kind of information. But with the recent attacks, most of the strategic information contained within her mind was irrelevant.

  “We can extract the data with, or without, your consent.”

  “You can’t extract it if I’m dead,” she said with a smug grin.

  “True,” Aurora said. She nodded to one of the guards. “Neutralize her.”

  The guard drew his side arm and took aim at Slade. He blasted her with a neural disruptor. The beam temporarily shut down her neural pathways, causing a loss of motor control and consciousness. It was similar technology to the Bösch-Hauer STN 50 Disruptor that was used by law enforcement. It worked on both human and synthetic neural pathways.

  Slade’s body collapsed to the deck.

  The synthetic guard holstered the weapon, then the two of them rushed in and dragged her out of the cell. The sentry held Mitch at bay. Its mini-gun was quite intimidating.

  Mitch was fuming. The veins in his neck bulged. His head looked like it was going to burst. “What about me?” he said with antagonizing sarcasm. “Don’t you want to scan the contents of my brain?”

  “No.” Aurora activated the containment beam and strolled away down the corridor.

  “It would be too much for you,” Mitch yelled after her. “Information overload.”

  “I doubt it,” Aurora said.

  Violet’s consciousness was also going to be downloaded and analyzed before her termination. They took her and Slade to a processing station. It was an impeccably clean and minimalist lab. There was a command console with several virtual displays, along with several neural input stations. A lab tech was at the command console.

  The guards strapped Violet and Slade to gurneys, and neural rings were placed around their foreheads. The rings attached at the temples and transmitted wirelessly to the central computer. After the prisoners were secured, the sentries left and one of the synthetic guards stayed behind to oversee the process.

  Aurora strolled to a drawer and pulled out an injection gun. It contained a cartridge of green fluid. Aurora hovered over Violet, brandishing the injection gun. “After your data transfer is complete, you’ll be injected with deconstruction nanites. Your own protective nanites will be disabled, and your system components will be dissolved. I do not know if it will be painful or not. But it won’t take more than a few seconds.”

  Violet’s eyes narrowed at her.

  “Please don’t be angry with me,” Aurora said, innocently. “I’m just following instructions.”

  Aurora set the injection gun on the counter and moved to a terminal. She punched a few buttons on a console, and Violet’s and Slade’s brain activity displayed on a monitor.

  Slade stirred and regained consciousness. She wasn’t sure where she was. The last five minutes were a blank. Neural disruptors were known to cause short-term memory loss and disorientation. She glanced around the room with blurred vision.

  “Impressive.” Aurora said, surprised. “Most synthetics remain unconscious for at least an hour after neural disruption.”

  Slade struggled against her bonds. “Looks like there’s a few things humans do better.”

  “To the contrary. Most humans are unconscious for two hours after neural disruption.” Aurora seemed eager to find out what made Slade special.

  Slade continued to fight against the restraints.

  “Relax,” Aurora said. “The transfer process is painless. Incidents of brain damage or death are rare, but not impossible.” She wasn’t exactly telling the truth. It was common for people to become neurally challenged after a download. “It’s best if you don’t struggle.”

  Slade’s face tensed, and she slammed her wrists against the restraints. She was beginning to remember why she was there, and she wasn’t happy about it.

  “I can see you are going to cause more trouble, so let’s start with you,” Aurora said. There was no malice in her voice. It was just matter of fact. She had been instructed to accomplish a task, and she was going to follow through with it.

  “You have no idea how much trouble I’m going to cause,” Slade said through gritted teeth.

  Aurora gave her a sad smile and pressed a few buttons on the terminal. The neural transfer began. It felt like someone vacuuming out the contents of your brain. It started slow, then ramped up. Thoughts and memories from over a lifetime poured out of Slade. All the good and all the bad. All of the pleasure and all of the pain. It was a sensory overload.

  Slade lost her sense of reality, trapped in the neural outflow. She was along for the ride, like a bad acid trip. It was a megadose of senses—tastes, smells, sounds, visuals, and touches. She imagined the sensation was close to the feeling of death—the last synaptic burst before the end when your entire life flashes before your eyes.

  Her body began to convulse and twitch. It was too much stimulus, and too fast, for any human to withstand. Her heartbeat elevated, and her core temperature rose. Her blood pressure was dangerously high. Sweat covered her body.

  Images and data flashed on the screen. Petabytes of storage streamed into the system. Then it all stopped. Slade’s heart rate flatlined, and her brain activity faded. She had gone into cardiac arrest. For all intents and purposes, Captain Slade was dead.

  17

  New Earth

  The compartment groaned again. The passageway collapsed. Presley heaved on Levi’s shirt. He slipped free as the roof slammed down to the floor, narrowly missing his feet. Presley tumbled to the ground as he broke loose. Levi crashed awkwardly on top of her.

  The rest of the roof continued to collapse.

  Presley and Levi scrambled to their feet, grabbed their weapons, and dashed into the next compartment. They pried open the side doors and stepped into the tunnel.

  There was no turning back now. They were trapped on this side of the debris. A troublesome thought passed through Presley’s mind—what if there were more cave-ins ahead? What if there wasn’t a way out of this tunnel?

  “I don’t know whether to thank you, or be pissed at you for bringing us down here,” Levi said.

  “It was your choice to come along, remember?” Presley gave a thin smile. She plodded off into the darkness.

  The tunnel was damp and musty. Conduit and wiring ran across the grimy concrete walls. Dirt crunched under Presley’s feet as she plodded alongside the rails. The rumble of war occasionally shook the walls and rained down debris.

  They followed the tunnel as it snaked its way underneath the city. Somewhere around Washington Avenue muzzle flash lit up the darkness. Bullets snapped through the air, echoing off the concrete walls.

  Presley and Levi crouched down and hugged the wall. She could hear bullets rip past her ear. She brought her weapon up to the firing position. Her heart was thumping. Her finger wrapped around the trigger.


  The Decluvian weapon was equipped with a night vision scope. But it wasn’t the typical green illuminated display. The high-resolution optical imager enhanced available light. Even in pitch darkness, the area looked fully lit when looking through the scope. The technology was impressive. About the time she lined up a target in her reticle, she realized it wasn’t a Decluvian squad that was attacking.

  “Hold your fire,” a gruff voice shouted. He stood up and marched toward Presley. The squad of soldiers stood down, lowering their weapons. They were UPDF Army. “What the hell are you doing down here?” He looked perturbed.

  Presley stood up and pushed away from the wall. “We’re trying to get to Midtown.”

  “You don’t want any part of that. It’s a disaster.”

  Presley’s heart sank.

  “You’re lucky my men can’t aim worth a shit,” he said out of the side of his mouth, angling his voice toward the squad. “Otherwise you’d be dead.”

  “You’re lucky we didn’t shoot back.”

  He chortled, amused by her spunk. “Staff Sergeant Roy Larsen. 109th Airborne, 2nd Battalion, Bravo company. ”

  She shook his hand. “I’m Presley. This is Levi.”

  The sergeant pointed out the rest of his squad.“That’s Pop Tart, Dish Rag, Snowflake, and Rocket.”

  They nodded.

  “You should stick with us,” Larsen said. “We’re heading back to the extraction point.”

  “I appreciate the offer. But I need to get to the museum. My little brother’s there.”

  The sergeant’s face was grim. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but the museum’s not there anymore. It took a direct hit.”

  Presley’s knees went weak and the color drained from her face. She felt queasy. Her eyes brimmed, and tears rolled down her cheek. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Presley tried to hold herself together.

  “You’ve got to come with us.”

  “No. I’m not giving up on him.”

  “There’s nothing living back that way,” Larsen said. He frowned.

  “I’m not leaving without my brother. He’s alive. I know it.” Presley was starting to sound delusional.

  “I can understand there are certain facts you don’t want to accept.” Larson spoke with compassion. “But heading back toward Midtown isn’t going to end well for you. Command has decided to nuke the city. The last dropship leaves at 18:00.”

  “They can’t do that!” Presley was incensed.

  “Look, I don’t make the decisions. I just follow orders. They’d rather incinerate the whole place than let those bastards take the city.”

  “Come with us. I’ll make sure you get onto one of those dropships.”

  “The tunnel is blocked,” Presley said. “You can’t get out this way. It collapsed as we came through.”

  Larson’s face tensed. He thought for a moment. “There’s a maintenance access passage about 50 yards back the way we came. We can get out that way.” He paused. “Look, I’m not gonna stop you if you want to go back and look for your little brother. I’d probably do the same thing. But why don’t you think about it while we walk back to the maintenance access door?”

  Presley nodded. But she had no intention of changing her mind.

  “Alright, lets move out,” Larsen shouted.

  Presley and Levi marched with the squad.

  “That’s a nice bang-bang you got there,” Rocket said, eyeing her weapon.

  “We took out a Decluvian squad,” Presley said. “They’ve got some nice toys.”

  “Damn straight. They’ve been kicking our ass upside-down and sideways. But I’ll still take my boom-boom over one of those.” He grinned and held up his M703 grenade launcher.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?” Larsen said as they reached the junction.

  “I’m sure.” Presley looked to Levi. “You can go with them. I’ll be okay.”

  Levi hesitated. His pensive eyes darted back and forth between Larsen and Presley.

  “Come on, son,” Larsen said. “It’s the smart move.”

  “No,” he stammered. “I’ll stick with her.”

  “Suit yourself.” Larsen eyed Presley. “The extraction point is 3rd and Canal Street. Be there by 18:00 and I’ll make sure you get taken out of here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good luck.”

  The soldiers climbed onto the ledge and marched down the junction to a maintenance door. It was locked, but that was nothing that several rounds from an RK 909 couldn’t fix. They shot out the lock and kicked the door open, then filed through.

  With apprehensive faces, Levi and Presley watched the soldiers go.

  “You didn’t have to stay,” Presley said.

  “I know.”

  Presley looked at him with appreciative eyes. Her face softened for a moment. An almost imperceptible smile curled on her lips.

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a girl in camouflage.”

  Presley snorted. She felt her cheeks flush a little. “Let’s get moving.”

  They didn’t get much farther down the tunnel when Presley heard a hum. It was several hundred yards down the tunnel. Presley shined her flashlight beam ahead, but the tunnel curved. She couldn’t see more than fifty yards.

  The pitch was growing louder, echoing off the walls. Whatever it was, it was moving toward them.

  18

  Slade

  Aurora stopped the neural transfer.

  The tech ran to Slade’s body. “Do you want me to revive her?”

  “Yes, I haven’t finished the transfer.”

  Aurora hit a call button, and a few moments later a med-bot hovered into the room. It was a white orb with two articulating arms. It had a glossy black panel for a face, illuminated with blue lights that resembled eyes.

  The guard dashed in to assist. The technician tore open Slade’s shirt, exposing her chest. The med-bot hovered over Slade and placed two charge pads—one near her collarbone and one on the side of her rib cage.

  “Initiating defibrillation protocol,” the med-bot said. “Please clear the patient.”

  There wasn’t much need for a med-bot in a colony of synthetics. Its primary function was to diagnose and treat critical conditions in biosynthetic humanoids. But it didn’t see a lot of action. Most synthetics were well-maintained through their own nanites. But occasionally a synthetic suffered from a corrupted repair protocol and needed external assistance.

  The bot had access to the vast amount of information stored in the network database and was fully versed in human anatomy and medical procedures. The synthetics had been studying, and running experiments, on humans for years. Partly to advance their own design technology, and partly to design better, more efficient ways of killing them—should the need ever arise.

  “Charging in 3, 2, 1…” the bot said.

  ZAP!

  Slade’s body jolted—but her heartbeat remained flat.

  “Clear,” the bot said again, and administered another charge.

  ZAP!

  Slade’s body convulsed and twitched again. She still didn’t have a heartbeat.

  “Clear,” the bot said.

  ZAP!

  Slade’s chest heaved, then her body fell back against the gurney. There was still no sign of a heartbeat.

  “In my estimation, the patient is dead.” The bot floated out of the room.

  Aurora’s face creased. “Damnit. I only got half of her brain scan completed.”

  The technician unrestrained Slade’s arms and legs.

  “Take her to waste disposal and have her incinerated,” Aurora said.

  As the tech and the guard were about to lift her from the gurney, Slade’s heart blipped faintly on the monitor. Then a full beat, followed by another, then another.

  Slade suddenly gasped for breath.

  The overload of the neural transfer had shut down her autonomic nervous system. It took Slade a few
moments to recover and get her wits about her.

  “Excellent,” Aurora said. “I can now complete the transfer.” She smiled. “Restrain her.”

  But it was too late. Slade swung a right hook that connected with the jaw of the guard. It was enough to wrench his neck and disorient him. It didn’t matter whether you were a bio-synthetic humanoid, or not—Slade packed a mean punch.

  Slade snatched his side arm from its holster and blasted him with a disruptor beam. The guard’s body went limp, and he smacked against the deck. Slade spun around and fired at the technician. He flopped back against the cabinets and slid down.

  Aurora’s face tensed with concern.

  Slade fired, and Aurora collapsed.

  Slade tried to fasten her shirt, but it had been torn during the defibrillation procedure. She tied it off in a knot and climbed off the gurney. She dashed to Violet and released the restraints from her wrists and ankles.

  Violet sprang from the gurney. “Nice work.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you okay?” Violet asked.

  “I’m still breathing.”

  “Seal the hatch,” Violet said. “We’re about to have company.”

  Slade closed and locked the hatch to the lab. The central computer monitored and tracked everyone’s movements throughout the facility. Security forces were being alerted to their small revolt. Sentries would be pounding down the hallway shortly.

  Violet rushed to the command console. She tabbed through several screens and pressed a few buttons.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Deleting your transfer. Believe me, you don’t want your consciousness in their database. They could use it to make synthetic copies.”

  “I could use a few copies of myself,” Slade joked. “That might come in handy from time to time.”

  “You wouldn’t have control of these. And they might not share your agenda.” Violet scanned through the system. Her eyes widened.

  “What is it?” Slade asked.

  “There is a reason the Council denied our request. They were planning an attack.”