by J N Chaney
“You mean the civilians on the planet Reotis, right?” Warren asked.
Hendrose nodded. “I have family there. Last I heard, anyway. About a month ago. My mother and two sisters. My father was killed almost a year ago during a battle. The GRoUS said he’d sided with the enemy. He wasn’t involved—just wrong place, wrong time.”
“I’m sorry,” Warren said quietly. “You know, Lukov’s injury wouldn’t have happened if our HUD showed us where our forces were. Instead, I had to fumble around the CoW ship while he was getting jammed up. With all the tech around here, why can’t we do that?”
“You could, but that kind of stuff is restricted. The Senate doesn’t want you to be able to do too much—to have too much power. They also don’t want you to know too much. You guys might start thinking for yourselves.”
“What would it take to free the planet and make it neutral from both the Commonwealth and the Grand Republic?” Warren asked.
Hendrose stopped what he was doing and slowly lifted his eyes to meet Warren’s. His hands had begun to shake. “It would take at least a full corps of cyborgs—but probably two. If they had their own cruiser, it would help. Maybe a few technicians to keep the cyborgs online for the long term.”
“A Grand Republic cruiser? Like the one we’re in right now?”
“Like the one we’re in right now,” Hendrose said. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“Why would those be the requirements, hypothetically speaking?” Warren asked, noting the tech’s rapid breathing.
“It’s all about the cyborgs, really,” Hendrose said, speaking rapidly. “It doesn’t matter how many bombs they drop on a planet, the only way to secure it is to put boots on the ground. It’s always taken ground troops to secure any battlefield. Without doing that, the best they can expect is to control the area around the planet. But they’ll never really capture it.”
Warren went over the big picture as he understood it, trying to consider what Hendrose had said. The ship they were on held 100 cyborgs when it was at full force.
“Our last fight on Reotis didn’t go so well,” Warren mused as Hendrose pulled out a small square piece that looked like it had been struck by an enemy slug.
“That’s because you didn’t have the support of the citizens,” he said as he picked a fresh circuit from a pile on the table and inserted it into an open socket.
“What would one need to do in order to gain the support of the civilians on Reotis?”
Hendrose froze. “One would have to fight for neither the Grand Republic nor the Commonwealth. Such a person, or people, would need to fight for Reotis alone.”
“Could a cyborg live without their compulsion chip?”
The tech’s raised his eyebrows. “No, but if someone could disable the chip and leave it in place...” He trailed off and shrugged, pulling another component from Lukov’s body.
It was now or never.
“I want you to disable my compulsion chip,” Warren said.
Hendrose looked up from his work. “What makes you think I can?”
Warren took the man by his shoulders and turned him around, so they were facing one another. He stared at the tech in the eyes for a few seconds before speaking.
“I’m done playing games, doc. I’m done doing the Republic’s dirty work. I don’t want to end up like Craig—hating myself and looking forward to my inevitable deletion. I want to live, to remember, to do some good for someone else. I think you want the same.”
“If I could—and if I did—what would you do afterward?”
“If you can do it, then I should be able to do it to others. I know I’m not alone in how I feel. It’s not just Craig. There are others who are tired of the bullshit, Hendrose. Probably more than I even realize.”
The tech didn’t respond, but he seemed to be considering Warren’s words.
“If I can free the other cyborgs, I will. Right now, we’re nothing more than slaves. If there are enough of us who are like-minded, I’ll lead them in a mutiny against the officers aboard this ship. Then, we’ll evacuate the survivors and take the Ruthless to Reotis. The civilians who want to get to Reotis—the ones not loyal to the Republic—can take escape pods down.”
Hendrose scoffed. “And then what? Everyone lives happily ever after?”
Warren lifted a shoulder. “From there, I’ll have to figure it out as I go. The Republic will have a tough time taking the planet from an entrenched and motivated squad of cyborgs. The question is, can you do it or not?”
“I can,” Hendrose said. He was sweating and his eyes were wide.
“Will Lukov keep long enough, or do you need to work on him first?”
“He’ll keep,” Hendrose said.
“Good. Then do it now.”
10
Hendrose pulled his hands from Lukov’s body and pointed to the table closest to Warren. “Take off your helmet and lie on that table.”
Warren removed his helmet and did as he was told, while Hendrose ran off to a cabinet and returned with the longest, thinnest screwdriver Warren had ever seen.
“This is just a tool,” Hendrose said. “It’s not sterile, but it doesn’t need to be. Your cyborg body makes you immune to most germs. You won’t even get a cold. You don’t remember it, but you’ve done this before. I didn’t come up with this myself. There’s no time to explain, but this will work.”
Warren wanted to ask what the tech meant, but kept his mouth shut. This was no time for what was sure to be a long discussion. If they survived, they could always talk about it later. “I’m ready.”
“Once I do this, if you’re caught, you’ll be deleted. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Warren replied without hesitation. He had never been more sure of anything.
“And they might delete the entire 1st Corps, just to be sure.”
Warren hesitated, not wanting to admit he didn’t know what the hell the 1st Corps were. “Why would they do that?”
Hendrose shrugged. “They could say you spread your ideas already. A little knowledge makes a man unfit to be a slave. You might have poisoned the others with thoughts of freedom. Something like that.”
Warren lay quietly for several seconds as he considered the man’s words. “It’s better to die on our feet than live on our knees. Do it.”
“I can’t shut down any of your pain systems,” Hendrose said as he carefully positioned the tip of the screwdriver under Warren’s chin. “I need the voltage to fry the chip. Otherwise, the war computer will know.”
“Once you destroy the chip, can you remove it permanently?” Warren asked.
“Not unless we redesign how some of your systems work. It’s all part of a bigger system. Plus, your chip won’t actually be destroyed. It’ll just be disabled. The war computer will try to control you but the procedure will stop that. No more zapping. No more mind control. It’ll be a passenger along for the ride.”
“Will the Republic be able to tell where I am?” Warren asked.
“No, but they’ll know what system you’re in if they bring another war computer close enough. Beyond that, they don’t have any kind of targeting system to find out where you are.” Hendrose smiled. “No cyborg has ever done this before.”
“Have you done this before?” asked Warren.
“Yes,” Hendrose confirmed. “We had to reset you. You volunteered. There’s no time to explain. Plus, I wasn’t there, so I don’t have all the details. Did you find the old memories you asked me to store for you?”
“I think so,” Warren replied. “I wasn’t sure how to access them. They’ve just sort of been bleeding out. Confusing me.”
“ Let’s worry about that later,” Hendrose said. “Hold still. Full humans aren’t as precise or accurate as cyborgs, so I’ll have to be careful.”
The tech’s hands were still trembling. Warren was about to offer him some words of encouragement when the technician shoved the screwdriver hard through the synthetic skin under his chin.
Pa
in. It was searing and white-hot, as if the technician had held the screwdriver to a fire for several minutes before applying it to him. The dull tip of the tool ripped his soul from his body and shoved it back inside him bit by bit. He gritted his teeth and tried to dive under the currents, letting the pain wash over him. Warren had to struggle to hold himself still. He thought he heard himself groan but couldn’t be sure.
“Hang in there,” Hendrose whispered. “You’ve done this before. You can do it again.”
The tech pushed again, and Warren felt something snap—a device he didn’t even know he had. A message tagged with a red X indicated some minor system had gone offline.
“That was the tertiary motor controls for your mouth,” Hendrose said. “You don’t need it, and even if your other two controllers go bad, you can still chew without it, but when you speak, your lips won’t move.”
Another shove caused Warren to flinch.
“Be still, especially from here on out. We’re really too close to your brain.”
Warren gripped the edge of the table and heard the metal groan in his grip.
“The proper angle is eighteen degrees off center from the midline of the jaw,” Hendrose said. “Remember eighteen degrees. You’re going to have to free most of the cyborgs yourself. Not all of them, just the ones you trust. I wasn’t expecting to put your plan into play today, so I’m a little nervous.”
My plan? thought Warren. What does he mean by—
Another shove and Warren tasted blood when something snapped. Warren fought hard not to arch his back or kick his feet. An anvil was pounding inside his head, threatening to split him in two.
“Okay,” Hendrose murmured. “I’ve reached the protective casing over your chip. You’ll hear a crunch. It might be loud, but it’s only the casing. The crunch is a good thing.”
A half-second later, the loud crack he’d been warned about startled Warren. It didn’t hurt, but it was a lot louder than he’d been expecting.
Hendrose continued to narrate his way through the procedure. “The case is broken. Now it’s time to short out the chip. This part’s really going to hurt, but we’re almost done.”
Now it’s really going to hurt?
Warren felt the tip of the tech’s tool brush against something deep within his head. It made an arcing noise, sending a jolt of electricity shooting through his body. It was the same kind of feeling the chip gave him when he disobeyed, but a thousand times more painful.
“Don’t move!” Hendrose snapped when his body jerked.
Warren gripped the table hard. The metal whined in protest as it twisted and buckled in his fists. He half-hoped he would faint but had a feeling it wouldn’t happen. The universe wasn’t that kind to folks like him. Hendrose brushed against the tiny spot and pain ripped through his body.
“Had to get the angle just so and find the edges,” Hendrose explained, an apologetic tone to his voice. “One last bit of pain and it’s all over. You’re doing great. This was the only way to do it. There isn’t a shorter path or anything less painful.”
There was a five-second reprieve from the torture before Warren’s universe burst into flames. It was over in less than a tenth of a second, but it felt like it had been hours. Before Warren could fully recover, Hendrose carefully pulled the screwdriver out.
Warren opened his eyes. The pain was gone and the icon of the compulsion chip in his HUD was now an empty, gray outline.
Hendrose took a step back. He was sweating profusely, his face twitching from the uncoiling tension. Both hands were shaking so badly, he dropped his tool, which sang as it struck the floor.
“It worked,” Warren said, twisting his head to look at the man. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. That hurt like hell.”
“Now what?” Hendrose asked. He looked like he was trying to back as far away from Warren as possible.
“What’s the matter, Doc?” Warren asked as he stepped from the table.
“You’re free,” he whispered. “It means you could kill me if you wanted to. Your compulsion chip won’t stop you.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Hendrose,” Warren assured him, sitting up.
The words seemed to relieve the man because he stopped moving.
“All right. What’s the next step?”
“Now, we get Lukov patched up. I’m going to need him.”
Hendrose glanced over at the supine cyborg. “You think he’ll go along with your plan?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Warren picked up the tool, positioned it under his friend’s chin, and closed his eyes. In his mind, he replayed what he’d experienced as he adjusted his wrist and measured the exact amount of force he’d need to apply to complete the task. The angle hadn’t been 18 degrees, Hendrose had been imprecise. He had to get a perfect 18.3 degrees or he’d fry the cyborg’s brain. That critical 0.3 made a difference. It had traveled into his head exactly eighteen centimeters. He could do this. Repeating the procedure would be simple for a cyborg. A quick stab and it was all over.
“What the hell?” Lukov exclaimed when the tool came out. “What is this, you walrus penis? What did you do?”
Warren took a step back and surveyed the man.
“Check your HUD,” Warren said. “What does your compulsion chip icon look like?”
Lukov blinked several times, probed the new puncture under his chin and sat silently for several seconds. “It is a gray outline. What did you do?”
“I’ve disabled it,” Warren said. “Don’t worry, the war computer doesn’t know.”
“Why did you do that?” Lukov asked as he tried to sit up. He looked at his opened belly and lay back down.
“Because we’re going to commit mutiny as soon as the Doc here gets you patched up.”
Lukov turned his head toward Warren in disbelief. “You are pulling my foot.”
“No. We’re free.” He hooked a thumb in Hendrose’s direction. “And now we’re going to free a bunch of cyborgs—hopefully all of them. Then we’ll eject as many of the surviving crew as we can fit into the escape pods. After that, we’re taking the Ruthless back to Reotis. We’ll hide it somewhere and fortify our position.”
“What if they send in the 2nd Corps to take us out?” Lukov asked.
“I’m not working alone,” Hendrose said, taking a small step forward. “There are more of us, though I can’t be sure how many. We keep that kind of information compartmentalized. We want the war to end. We’ve got operatives on nearly every ship. As soon as the cyborgs capture this ship, I’ll send a coded message to everyone else. If they get it, they’ll free the rest of the cyborgs. The Republic will have no choice but to back off. Without the corps, they’re going to have to worry more about defending themselves from the Commonwealth.”
“All six Corps?” Lukov asked.
Hendrose nodded, “All seven, actually.”
“There are six,” Lukov corrected.
“A seventh is in mothballs somewhere. Probably sitting in a warehouse. The government uses them as test subjects for newer, better versions of themselves. Better tech, improved reflexes, more human looking, that sort of thing. We know they exist, but we don’t know where. We’ve lost some good people looking for the 7th Corps.”
Warren wondered exactly who we referred to. Obviously a rebellion, but made up of who? Why would humans care about freeing cyborgs from the Republic? He decided to deal with that later and directed his attention to Lukov.
“So, are you in or out? All I’ve done so far is give you an opportunity. Unlike the Republic, I’m giving you a choice. Stick with me and help me free the others or stick with the Republic and go back to the way things have been. If you want to go back, I can stick you in an escape pod once the mutiny is over, but I hope—“
“I am in,” Lukov said. “All I need is for technician to finish fix me. I cannot fight with my guts hanging from body.”
Hendrose hurried back and continued replacing parts. “How long before you start the uprising?”
Warren grinned, making sure his teeth showed. “I’m starting it now.” He placed the tool in Lukov’s hand. “Just remember, it’s not 18 degrees. It’s 18.3. Measure how far I stuck this thing in your head and where I went in. Once Hendrose is done with you, release as many other cyborgs as you can. The more you free, the fewer we have to fight. Once the computer or one of the crew figures out what we’re doing, they’ll turn the rest on us. It’ll be brutal unless we hold the majority and catch the rest by surprise.”
“What about Craig?” Lukov asked. “Are we to free him?”
“Make your best call,” Warren replied. “I saw a spark of his old humanity when the war computer went offline and he was listening to me. I’m hoping that means he’s not a total loss for our side. I’ll keep in touch via private channel. They may be able to monitor us, so I’ll speak in code until the sparks start to fly. You should know when I’ve started the party. There will be a lot of sailors running around like crazy. I’m sure they haven’t trained for anything like what we’re about to do.”
“Fact,” Hendrose said through the several small components he was holding between his lips.
“Good luck,” said Lukov.
“ See you on the other side.” Warren stood in the doorway until the hatch closed a few seconds later.
The passageway was empty. Based on the lack of alarms, running feet, or shouted orders, it appeared nobody was the wiser—yet. Closing his eyes, Warren listened carefully, amplifying his hearing until he thought he might be able to hear the footsteps of an ant.
Cooks were preparing a meal in a kitchen about a hundred meters to his right. The bulkhead in front of him vibrated slightly—probably due to battle damage. Something on the exterior hull was threatening to come loose, but it sounded like it would hold for a while.
The passage to the left was quieter. Warren decided to go that way to avoid people as long as possible. It was time to grow his new army. All he needed to do was find another long, sharp instrument to perform the surgery.
