by J N Chaney
Walking with a purpose, which he’d learned when he was still fully human, was how you got people to leave you alone. He started glancing into the hatchways of rooms he passed, looking for the tool he needed to kickstart his mutiny. When he reached a machine room, he peered in through the open hatch. It was clean, organized, and all the panels were closed. Nothing was being repaired, so the small toolbox he was looking for was back in its cubby.
A quick search of the box’s contents didn’t reveal anything he could use.
He stepped out of the room a few seconds later and continued down the passageway. There were sounds coming from another room, and something about it got his attention. Recorded voices. When Warren looked in, he found Cooper and a cyborg tech sitting on separate couches watching a movie on a large screen. It was an entertainment room and was only large enough for a dozen people.
Cooper was fiddling with something, and when Warren stepped into the room to get a closer look, he recognized what it was.
“Hey,” Cooper said, looking up. He had his dagger in his hand and was using it to pick his nails absently.
“What are you watching?” Warren asked, taking a seat next to him as he eyeballed the blade. It was a little wide, but it was long enough to get the job done. Warren ran some systems checks to see what else might be injured if he used it on the cyborg.
“Some chick flick,” Cooper said. “I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel, man. It’s the only movie on this boat I haven’t watched a hundred times.” He looked thoughtful for a second and became still. “Then again, how would I know? Do you think the techs could just erase the movies from my memory? You know, the ones I liked? I’d rather all the shitty ones stayed there so I know not to waste my time.”
“Maybe,” Warren said, turning to the tech sitting behind them. “What do you think?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” the man said testily. “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to watch this.”
Cooper laughed. “He’s hoping to get in touch with his feminine side.”
The sailor scoffed.
“Listen, I need to talk with my friend here,” Warren said. “If you don’t mind, could we get some privacy?”
The man looked like he wanted to protest but sighed and got to his feet. “Fucking cyborgs,” he sneered as he left.
When he was gone, Warren got up and closed the hatch behind him before turning around. “I need your knife.”
Cooper glanced at his blade. “Don’t you have one?”
Warren thought for a moment and recalled where his blade was, pleased that another memory had returned. “They issued one to me, but I never found a use for it, so it’s three decks below in storage.”
“What do you need it for?” Cooper asked.
“Listen,” Warren said, pausing as he tried to collect his thoughts. “How do you feel about killing unarmed enemies who are hoping to surrender?”
A dark shadow crossed the other Cyborg’s face. “It sucks.”
Warren nodded in understanding. “If there was a choice, would you do it?”
“Of course not,” Cooper said. “Who would? Maybe the Commonwealth, but not me. But it’s not like we have a choice, right?”
“What if I told you we did?”
Cooper stared at him for several seconds. “What, you gonna try and take the captain hostage? Maybe mount his head on the ship’s nose? Trust me, I’ve thought about it. Many times. But remember this?” He tapped the side of his head, the motion somehow world weary. “The compulsion chips make that impossible. Even if they didn’t, the Republic would stop us.”
“You’re prior service, right?” Warren asked, trying a different approach.
“Yeah. I served with the 101st Airborne. Why?”
“We both know what kind of shit we have to do in war, right?”
Cooper nodded.
“You ever been ordered to murder every single enemy you encountered?”
“No, of course not,” Cooper said. “Back in the day, we didn’t do shit like that. What does all this have to do with my knife?”
“I’m here to offer you a choice,” Warren whispered. “Besides me and Lukov, you’ll actually get to make one.”
“How?” Cooper asked. “What do you mean?”
“I can free you from your compulsion chip.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess being dead would be different, but it’s not much of a choice, is it?”
“This isn’t a joke. You want in, or not?”
Cooper was quiet for several seconds. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Completely,” Warren said. “I need you to decide what you’re going to do, though. If you’re in, I need your knife. If not, I need you to go lock yourself away somewhere before the fighting starts. Slow yourself down as much as possible. Maybe you won’t be forced to kill me.”
The soldier chewed on his bottom lip, still staring at Warren. “You’ve always been straight with me—never done me wrong. This is really possible?”
“Yes. But, whether you’re with me or not, the Republic will kill you to be safe. Sorry, old friend.”
“I guess when it’s your time, it’s your time, or something.” Cooper flipped the dagger over in his hand, offering the handle to Warren.
When he took it, Cooper asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“Just lift your chin, and for fuck’s sake don’t move. It’s gonna hurt like hell.”
Cooper did what he was told. Warren carefully aligned the blade and shoved a precise distance into Cooper’s head before yanking it free.
The cyborg uttered a muffled cry. “Hot damn, you weren’t kidding. How do you know if it worked?”
“Your compulsion chip icon will be nothing but a gray outline.”
“Then it worked,” Cooper said, sounding breathless. “Holy shit, I’m really free? I don’t have to do what my HUD says anymore?”
“Not unless you choose to,” Warren confirmed as he returned the blade. “Take this. Go free more cyborgs and try not to get caught. Get them to do the same. Make sure they understand how precise they need to be. One or two degrees off, and it’s all over for some unlucky bastard. Got it?”
“Fuck yeah!” Cooper hissed. “How do we know when we’ve freed enough cyborgs?”
“I’m not sure we have any way to tell,” Warren admitted as he stepped toward the hatch.
“Then when do we take the ship?”
“In two hours, unless we get caught before then. If we do, I’m sure it’ll be easy enough to figure out.”
11
The question had been tickling the back of Warren’s mind even before Cooper even asked it. How will I know when we have enough cyborgs? Truth was, he wanted them all, but that wouldn’t be possible.
He did some calculations and found the minimum number of cyborgs needed for a successful mission, then called Lukov over a private channel.
“I am currently occupied,” the Russian responded.
“I know... just listen. We have 98 cyborgs on board. I need to know when we have 80 of them freed. I think it’ll be enough to take the ship without suffering too many casualties. Contact Cooper. He’s free. Get him to report how many he’s freed in about an hour.”
“Roger,” Lukov replied.
“When we have enough, I’ll get the party started.”
“Very good,” Lukov said. “Already I have freed six. I am surprised to see so many are happy to do this. It would warm my heart, if I had one.”
A few seconds later, Cooper reported in. “I freed four. This shit is fucking nerve-wracking, you know? I feel like a kid again—afraid my mom is gonna come home and catch me making out with Mary Melano on the couch.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Warren. “It’ll all be over soon. Then we’ll get to taste freedom at last. Permanently, this time.”
Warren followed two cyborgs into the mess hall. They were headed straight for the mess.
“You’d think they could come up with some other
kind of flavor, right?” the first one said.
“Yeah or randomize our experience or something,” the second added. “Hell, all they’d have to do is put a barcode on it or something. Then we could look at the lines and load in some kind of taste software. I’m sure they could figure it out if they really wanted to. These motherfuckers don’t have any clue how to keep their troops happy.”
“They don’t give a shit if we’re happy,” Warren said, joining them at their table. “We’re furniture. They sit on us when they remember we’re there, right?”
“Right,” both grumbled in unison.
“I’d rather be furniture,” the one his HUD identified as Kyle Patrick added. “At least furniture is only expected to be furniture. It isn’t sent into the middle of a firefight with no chance of survival. I doubt furniture has any worries about whether or not it’s going to die, or whether or not it’s going to be reset if it does. I didn’t sign up for this bullshit.”
“Me neither,” the first said.
Warren checked the HUD again and saw that his name was Michael Turnow. Both cyborgs stared at their protein bars in disgust. It looked like the conversation had stripped them of their appetite.
Warren wasn’t sure how he could handle two cyborgs at once. The way they were staring at him made him wonder if he’d pushed their buttons a little too hard. Maybe they’d want to fight instead of being freed.
“So, what if there was a way—hypothetically speaking—to stick it to them?” Warren asked. “What if I knew a way we could tell the entire Republic to kiss our cybernetic asses? How would you feel about that?”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked, squinting in suspicion.
“I mean, if there’s a way to disable our compulsion chips, would you be interested?”
“No,” Kyle said. “The second you try, they wipe your memory and load you from a backup. It’s disturbing, you know what I mean? Not remembering what I did the day or month before. No, I don’t want to do that again.”
Michael stared at his buddy. “What, you already tried to disable yours?”
“Probably,” he said with a small laugh. “I don’t remember, though. But yeah, it sounds like something I would do.”
They watched each other laugh, but their mirth faded when they saw Warren’s face.
“What?” Michael leaned in close. “You telling us you’ve got a way?”
“I do,” Warren said. “And it’s undetectable by the war computer. Wait here.”
Warren opened the hatch to the kitchen, poked through the drawers for a bit, and returned holding a long thermometer. The end was sharp enough to get the job done, and pointy enough to make it quick. “I won’t lie, it hurts, but it’s quick. The computer won’t know you’ve escaped its clutches. Neither will any of the crew unless you tell them. You’ll just be free.”
Kyle dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’re talking mutiny. That’s the only way this works. We’d need to take the ship, kick the crew off—or kill them—and go somewhere we can mount a defense.”
“Shut up!” Michael hissed before turning to Warren. “So, you’ve done it? You’re free?”
“Yes,” Warren replied, showing them the tiny hole under his chin. “And, I’m not alone. Others are being recruited as we speak. More cyborgs are free, and they’re freeing others. With any luck, we’ll all be free in just a few minutes. I’m not a slave any longer, and I don’t want either of you to be slaves, either.”
“What happens when we’re free?” Kyle asked. “I’m guessing you’re in charge?”
“Honestly, you’re free to do as you please,” Warren said with a shrug. “I do have a plan though.”
Michael crossed his arms. “And that’s what exactly?”
“I’m hoping enough cyborgs join us that we won’t have to fight any. That’s first. Then we’ll take the ship back to Reotis and figure it out from there. Anyone who comes with me will also be joining the separatists.”
The two men exchanged wary glances.
“Our loyalty will be to each other and the Reotians,” Warren continued. “They’re the ones who got this ball rolling. No more Republic influence. No Commonwealth influence either. We’ll be independent. It’ll be a big middle finger for both sides of this war.”
“What if we choose not to be free, as you say?” Kyle asked.
“Fair question. Likely, you’ll be ordered to kill us. We’ll defend ourselves, of course. Maybe you’ll win—maybe you won’t. Either way, you’ll still be a slave. Also, I think it’s likely they’ll reset you. Maybe even delete you—just in case. Wouldn’t want to take any chances of you remembering any of this, right?”
“Damn,” Michael muttered. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then nodded. “Sounds like you got this all figured out, including the blackmail. Join you or probably die permanently. Well then, do me first.”
Warren thought he was being sarcastic, but the man tipped his head back and waited. Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, Warren held the man by the back of his head, instructed him to stay still, and quickly plunged the thermometer in at the proper angle to the proper depth before quickly yanking it free.
“Fuck!” the man hissed. “You weren’t kidding—that sucked. That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Warren confirmed. “You’re lucky I’m the one who did it. The tech who did mine took forever. He had to be careful. Full humans aren’t as fast or precise as us. It took a lot longer. What color is your compulsion chip icon?”
“It’s just gray. An outline of gray.”
“That’s it,” Warren said. “That means it worked.”
A few seconds later, Kyle Patrick was free.
“According to the reports I just received, we’ve got seventy of the cyborgs freed,” Warren told them. “When the time comes, we’re not going to kill any of the crew if we can help it. We’re kicking them off the ship. They’ll be loaded into the escape pods—we’re not spacing them.”
“I’m free,” Michael said, staring down at his hands in wonderment. He acted like it was the first time he’d seen them. “I can choose to do whatever I want... or nothing at all. It doesn’t feel any different, though. I guess I expected sparks, fireworks, naked chicks with wings flying around my head—something.”
Kyle nodded in tacit agreement. “I haven’t felt human in a long time. I fought the system so many times, they threatened to delete me. I don’t even know what it’s like to do what I want anymore. This is weird. Kind of scary.”
“Stay with him,” Warren told Michael. “You don’t have to get involved any further until we have the ship if you choose not to. But, if they fight back, or some of the cyborgs don’t come to our side, we might need you. Stay on the general cyborg channel in your comms and wait for my signal.”
“I’m in this one way or another,” he replied darkly. “No matter which way this goes. I’ve got some payback to dish out.”
“No!” Warren snapped. “It’s not about that. This is about freeing ourselves and escaping our bonds. This is about proving we’re more human than those who enslaved us. We’re ejecting the crew out the escape pods. If you’re confronted with someone who’s armed, do what you have to do but I don’t want indiscriminate killing. We’re not puppets of the Republic anymore. Killing isn’t our primary mission.”
Warren stood and walked away before either could respond. He wasn’t sure if the others were running into similar issues, or if they were simply sneaking up on their fellow cyborgs and telling them what happened after the deed was done.
The count was up to 80. Then 82. The time to take the ship was now, but Warren hesitated a moment longer. He wanted to see if more could be freed. He didn’t want to lose any of his people if he didn’t have to. They’d need every single one of them for the upcoming war to hold Reotis.
Once it hit 90, he decided it was enough and sent a message over the cyborg-wide comms. “Let’s take the ship. Keep casualties to a minimum. Hustle the crew into escape pods a
s quickly as possible. Go!”
When Warren stepped out of the room, he ended up face to face with the ship’s captain and a half-dozen officers trailing behind him.
“There you are,” Captain Bligh said. “Warren, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Warren replied. Before he could say any more, the officer continued.
“I have received and reviewed the report of how you and the rest of First Corps did on that frigate. Outstanding job, soldier. We lost no personnel and the damage to the vessel was minimal. We’ve loaded a prize crew and it’s being towed back to Grand Republic space as we speak. I’m sure our techs will be able to find all kinds of new information the Commonwealth were trying to hide from us, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, sir, I would, but—“
“I only wish the rules were different concerning cyborgs,” Bligh added, his voice quieting in what sounded like dismay. “You know, the whole not being able to provide you with some kind of recognition for your hard work. I’d promote you right here and now if I could, but my hands are tied.” He held them out in front of his body as if someone had lashed them together. “I really wish there was something I could do.”
“Actually, there is something you can do,” Warren said.
The captain’s eyes lit up. “There is? What is it?”
“You can raise your hands above your head,” Warren said.
“Beg your pardon?”
“Put your hands above your head, sir,” Warren repeated as he curled his own into tight fists. “All of you.”
A second later, the lights in the hallway flashed from bright white, to a crimson red. Klaxons began to sound and people started running toward their battle stations. None of the sailors were doing anything that would actually save the ship from the mutiny. They didn’t know it, but the chaos would only help the cyborgs complete their mission.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Captain Bligh bit out. “Stand down. I order you to stand down!”
“Thank you for your kind words earlier, sir, but now I order you to get the fuck off my boat.”
