He exited his quarters and stepped left, but a heavy growl from his stomach gave him pause. With a sigh, he changed course to the right, in the direction of the R&D dining room. He cursed his hunger every foot of the way.
The few colleagues who hadn’t given up trying to engage him in common social courtesies had their ‘good mornings’ fall on deaf ears, not that they expected more. Those who still attempted to derail his train of thought with pointless gestures of false pleasantries likely did so because of an unfortunate reflex their parents had wrongly instilled in them.
He grabbed an apple, a pastry, and a bottle of water from the counter. It was food he could eat while working and which would stave off hunger long enough for him to review the data from the previous evening’s session.
Fine-tuning the operating code and exact layout of the wetware had turned out to be more tedious than he’d anticipated, but progress was made with each try. Another week of painstaking work and Stanner should be able to handle the neural load of sustained combat without the risk of brain damage or forced shutdown.
His heart raced faster as he came into sight of his cubicle. He flopped down into his chair just as an urgent message alert appeared on his screen and vibrated his wrist computer. Anger flared, turning his cheeks bright red.
It’s probably that damn Major Lowen wanting another update on his pointless pet project. I’d have BattleSwarm in field testing already if it wasn’t for him.
“Open message.”
The face that appeared wasn’t Major Lowen and the anger he was feeling instantly changed with terror.
Kendra Dean, his boss, his ex-wife, burned a hole through him with the heat of her glare. The intensity of her eyes lost nothing from their filtration through the recording.
“Xavier, what the hell are you up to? I just received notification that you used my authority to transfer an infantry corporal to your research as some kind of aide.” Her chubby face leaned in. “You don’t like anyone enough to have an aide, Xavier, so that leaves only one reason why you’d have this...,” she glanced off screen, “Michael Stanner assigned to you.
“I did some checking into your work and see you’ve been logging lab time well above and beyond what’s needed for the Claymore project. In fact, I see you’re in the lab with someone before and after your assigned subject is in the restricted area.” She crossed her arms. “You do realize all of that information is logged in and available to me, don’t you? How long did you think you’d get away with this, Xavier?”
Kendra rubbed her temples. “I can’t believe you did this. After all I’ve done for you, you go around my back and use my name to pursue your delusional dream. I’ve indulged your research long enough.” She slapped the table, sending a sharp clap across the void between worlds. He jerked. “I expect an explanation, Xavier, and I expect it now.
“You are this close,” — she held two fingers a millimeter apart — “from being recalled and fired. If that happens, I’ll make damn sure the only job you can get will be repairing rides at the amusement park.”
The screen cut to black.
Bach sat there silent, motionless save for the shallow movement of his chest as he took in just enough air to stay conscious. He’d known Kendra would discover his scheme sooner or later, but he’d been hoping for later, after he could prove beyond a doubt the validity of BattleSwarm.
His stomach fell into his heels. He was close, so close, but still not to the point where he could convince her skeptical mind. There had been too many failed attempts and false hopes he’d played up to extend her approval of his research for him to go to her with anything short of perfection.
No. He balled his fists. I’m too close to be stopped now. I can taste it. I won’t be denied. I will show you. I’ll show everyone, and they will finally have to acknowledge my genius.
Bach opened a com-link. It chimed for several seconds until it connected. “Mr. Stanner, I need you in the lab right away.”
Stanner arrived an agonizing twenty minutes later. Scruffy hair and eyes with morning goop still crusted in the corners spoke to his scrambled efforts to arrive as fast as possible. His jaw threatened to unhinge with a large yawn. “Okay, doc. I’m here. What’s so important?”
“We must conduct a simulation.” Bach’s hands zipped around his cube to snatch tablets and data-drives. “Immediately.”
Bach filled his arms and launched himself toward the simulation rooms, making it fifteen feet before realizing Stanner wasn’t following. He stopped and whipped around. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste.”
Stanner stood still with a blank expression. “What the hell? That’s why you woke me up early on my only day off in weeks? To do what we’re scheduled to do in twenty some hours?” He narrowed his eyes and looked Bach up and down, crossing his arms. “You’re scared or something. Does this have anything to do with Stephanie? Captain Butler, I mean?”
“Who? No.” Bach’s head shook side to side. “What are you talking about? We don’t have time for this.” He false-started. A muted step landing short.
“I see what you’re doing to her.” Stanner took three strides closer and thrust a finger ahead of him. “She’s a zombie when she leaves here. Eyes bloodshot and a headache so bad she can barely talk.”
Bach had no idea where this irrational line of questing was coming from. He stood slack-jawed, unable to see the logic or germaneness of the protest. “I — I don’t understand what you are talking about. This has nothing to do with Captain Butler, nor do I have any control over whatever is happening to her. So please, follow me. Time isn’t on my side.”
“What is being done to her, then?”
Why can’t anything be easy? Bach calmed himself with deep breaths. He wasn’t getting Stanner out of here until he told him something about Ms. Butler. “Her project is classified...”
“I know that.” Stanner flipped his wrist. “That’s why I haven’t mentioned it until now.”
“I can assure you, however, that I am doing everything I can to minimize her discomfort. Frankly, I believe the project is a waste of time and not worth pushing her to her limits. Until Major Lowen concedes defeat, though, I’m afraid it will continue.”
Bach meant every word of it. He had been holding back the worst of it for Butler. Why do you care?
A bolt of understanding struck Bach. He has feelings for her. Yes, of course, I am a fool. They were in combat together, behind enemy lines. That is certain to forge a bond between them. He suppressed the evil grin that wanted to grow. I can use that to my advantage.
Bach set his arm full of material down. “There is a way you can help her. Save her from her suffering. Save her from the project which I believe is stressing her mind.” He saddened his gaze and locked eyes with Stanner. “If I’m pulled off her team, I won’t be able to help her. Major Lowen will find someone without my compassion, someone who will push her. I’m afraid of what might happen if that were to take place. Based on my lack of results, I fear that could be any day now.”
The blood drained from Stanner’s cheeks. “What can I do?”
Bach came to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Show them it’s not needed. Our best minds have spent years looking for the next step beyond BattleMasters. Those who don’t believe in you will keep pushing Ms. But...Stephanie until she breaks.
“Unless.” Bach pointed at the ceiling. “You make them believe in you. Show them that you are the next step. Show them they need to look no further for the weapon that will finish this Godforsaken war.”
Stanner broke away from him and headed for the lab with long strides. “Okay, then. C’mon, doc. Let’s show ‘em what I can do.”
“Yes,” Bach said under his breath, “Let’s show ‘em what I can do.”
Six hours later, Bach was staring at a 3D display of Stanner’s brain with a smile on his face. Whole regions were lit up like the fireworks on Founder’s Day as he ran through his fifth simulation of the morning.
Wetwa
re uncoiled itself along the path he deftly chose. They were making great progress. The subject’s combat efficiency increased by the second. This might be easier than I thought. There’s no substitute for a properly motivated participant.
Beep. An alert sounded. The blinking red light over Stanner’s vitals illustrated the strain on his body. His heart rate had leapt to one-hundred six with a skyrocketing blood pressure.
He jerked his head toward the chair. Stanner was beet-red, sweat soaked his clothes, and his frame contorted with jerking movements.
“Initiating shutdown,” an emotionless computer voice declared.
“No!” Bach jabbed the override icon. “We’re too close!” If the failsafe activated, the system wouldn’t let them start again until an examination was conducted. Not only couldn’t he afford the time, but it greatly increased the chance that his reckless regard for Stanner’s wellbeing would be discovered. Not to mention the questionable methods he’d employed to get the project off the ground.
He’d been taking Stanner’s development slowly, aborting when the stress on his body grew intense enough to risk a failsafe trigger. That luxury was no more. It was now or never and in that moment he decided it was worth Stanner’s life to push it to the edge.
Wide-eyed, he stared at the readout. Pulse was now up to two hundred beats and his blood pressure was even higher. The computer tried to shut down, but Bach pressed the override every few seconds.
Fiber dug deeper and deeper, laying multiple lines in some places.
“Come on.” He gritted his teeth and pounded a fist onto the table. “Do it! Become the BattleSwarm. Become what you were born to be!”
***
It felt like a hot icepick had been driven between Stanner’s eyes. It had never been this bad. The swarm of Wasps buzzed inside his skull, bounding around like marbles set free on the floor of a shuttle during reentry.
He was overwhelmed, no longer in control.
Unsure what to do other than follow their default programming, the drones circled Stanner to protect their master. Enemy fire claimed kills by the second as they surrounded him.
A surge of agony dropped him to his knees. Clawing at his head, he tried to rip out the pain. He screamed a sickening roar.
Then the pain was gone and everything fell into focus.
The sea of buzzing insects became a chorus of harmony. Ten windows displaying unending data points opened in his mind’s eye.
He understood it all. The location and status of each grouping was as clear as two plus two. He saw the battlefield through their eyes and a singular picture of the entire situation formed.
The enemy’s disposition, their strengths, weakness, and plan of attack were all so apparent now.
How could I have missed it before? It was all right there in front of me.
In the blink of an eye, the surviving fifteen hundred Wasps darted off in a seemingly wild pattern. Forming strings of black carbon, they flowed through the enemy position. Slipping through cracks in the line, the Wasps engaged armored vehicles and soldiers from multiple angles. Targets were identified and assigned appropriate numbers of drones to quickly dispatch them and move onto the next.
One Wasp could burn a hole through a grunt’s vitals, while it took hundreds to coordinate on a main battle tank.
The simulated Chinese army eroded away in the face of the restless storm cloud of pure black. The battle degraded into a rout and they were run down and burned to the ground.
Stanner did all of this.
`He was a virtuoso of destruction.
He was a SwarmMaster.
“Simulation complete,” a booming mechanical voice declared. “Objectives achieved.”
Stanner was bathed in darkness and thrust inside his own body without the wetware feeding images to his mind’s eye. Save for the hum of computers in the lab, it was silent.
He opened his eyelids to see Bach starting at him with an unreadable expression. “You did it.”
Stanner squirmed as he become more aware of his person. His clothes were soaked and clung to his skin. His throat was dry. “Wa...” He coughed. “Water.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Bach hurried to the corner with a small cooler and handed a bottle to him, “It was amazing. Better than I even expected. The combat efficiency numbers are off the charts. Ninety-nine percent.”
Stanner gulped half the bottle. “What does that mean, doc? Are we done? Will that free Stephanie from her project?”
Bach sat down and rolled to his side, putting a hand on Stanner’s arm. “This will change everything, Michael. Nothing will be the same from now on. Many in the old guard will not like that, but in the end, these results cannot be ignored.”
“What’s next?” Stanner finished the bottle.
“Now,” Bach stood, sending the chair rolling back. “I tell everyone about what we achieved here. I have a lot of work to do to package this revelation. They won’t believe it at first, but they will come to accept it. Progress won’t be denied.”
“What do I do?”
“Go home and rest. Your work isn’t finished, either. You will be put through every test a dozen times to prove to the powers-that-be that you are for real. Old ideas die hard, after all.” Bach stared into his eyes. “Prepare yourself for prejudice. The BattleMaster Corps. is a hotbed of sexism, and you will not be welcomed into their ranks with open arms.”
Stanner’s thoughts drifted to Captain Chandler. The image of her face when she saw him in the signature black body suit made him smirk.
Could it be? Was this whole thing real? It all felt so surreal. One minute he was an overlooked slug-throwing infantryman and now he was a new class of warrior. How was anyone gonna believe it if he could barely do so himself?
“No, I don’t think they will like it.” Stanner shook his head. “But damn ‘em. I’ll show them I belong.”
“You will, Mr. Stanner. You certainly will.”
***
Bach waited by his terminal as if Kendra’s reply had the potential to arrive instantaneously after he sent his detailed package of data on the project. The laws of physics, however, dictated that the fastest response could be no sooner than ten minutes.
That only allowed for five minutes each way for the signal required at this stage in Liberty and New Calcutta’s orbits. Given the sheer volume of information he dumped on her, he didn’t imagine she could digest even a cursory review and formulate an initial message in anything less than thirty minutes. That meant at least forty minutes had to pass before he had any right to grew impatient. And that was assuming she opened it the moment it landed in her inbox.
He glanced at the time on his wrist computer. It had been fifteen minutes. This is taking forever. I wonder if she’s reading it right now?
His mind wondered to memories of them working together on their first project at military R&D. They had been a great team then, running ideas by each other and working through problems as they thought out loud.
They were peers and their relationship was perfect, both romantically and professionally. It remained so until her superior people skills allowed her to surpass him on the career ladder. He told himself he could handle it, but his ego was bruised. The wound deepened as she rose higher and his resentment grew accordingly.
One day Kendra had had enough and left.
Bach lied to himself again, pretending he barely noticed the love of his life was gone. He managed this by holding onto the insane belief she’d return if he had enough success to allow himself to be with her without resenting her.
A smile crossed his face as he fantasized about them working on the BattleSwarm project together. Regaining their symbiotic teamwork abilities and maybe, just maybe, that would reignite her feelings for him
His terminal chimed, causing his heart to skip a beat. He checked the time again, only twenty-five minutes had passed. What did that mean? Was she so impressed that she fired off a quick note of praise, or had it gone the other way?
He
held his finger over the play icon. The finger trembled with excitement and terror. Closing his eyes, he pressed it.
“Xavier, I am so disappointed.” His guts hit the floor. “I’ve spent my entire career sticking up for you and while I know you’ll never show an ounce of appreciation for that, I never thought you’d do anything that could put me in danger.”
“What are you talking about?” he yelled at the screen.
She continued, “Not only did you falsify authorizations in my name, but now you’ve gone and committed the ultimate sin for a man of science, you falsified your research results.”
Oh God, no! How could she think that about him? After all their history? Or perhaps that was exactly why she believed him capable of such a crime. Had he not been obsessed? Desperate enough to lie?
Yes, of course, but how could she believe he’d faked the results? Why would anyone do that? The truth always found an a way to come out. There was only one explanation: the truth was too good.
Ninety-nine percent combat efficiency! He mentally kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. He couldn’t see beyond his own excitement. How could she accept a perennial failure like him could achieve such a feat? She needed proof, reassurance that’s all.
“...I’m recalling you back to Liberty, Xavier.” Kendra sighed. “You’ve left me no choice. I’m...”
Bach paused it, catching her image as she raised her amber eyes from the floor. He’d caused her pain once more, and that put an ache in his chest. He hadn’t expected that. “If proof is what you need, my dear, then proof is what you’ll get.”
He closed the recording and opened another file entitled, ‘BattleMaster Simulation Schedule.’ “We’re gonna rock their world.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Stanner clenched his fists, trying to control the tremor rolling up and down his body. His palms were clammy and he worried his armpits could stain at any second. He took in a deep breath and held it. Get it together. Exhaling, he felt his blood pressure recede.
He read the sign on the door again, ‘BattleMaster Corps. Operations Center. Authorized Personnel Only.’ A trio of black-clad women strolled past him and Bach. They glared with disapproving eyes at the men lining the wall. Guards at the door took turns watching them.
BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1) Page 23
