Cyborg Corps Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

“What’s the situation like on Reotis?” Warren asked. “How many Commonwealth troops are we going to need to blast?”

  “Zero, so far as we know,” Hendrose said. “You kicked their asses so hard last time, they didn’t have enough to hold the planet. That’s what the Republic probes are reporting, anyway. We’ll know more once we get closer. I’m sure the CoWs will be back, but not for a while. I know how they keep the cyborgs in the dark, but from what I’ve gathered, the entire border between Republic and Commonwealth space is engaged in hostilities.

  “The CoWs are spreading all across the galaxy as fast as they can. It’s like their asses are on fire and their hair’s catching. From what I’ve learned, they’ve spread themselves too thin so when they get beat down too hard, they’ve got to consolidate elsewhere before they can try again.”

  “How many times have they tried to take Reotis?” Warren asked.

  Hendrose thought about it for a moment. “Five, I think. The Republic pushed them out every time.”

  “We’ve got a problem,” one of the sailors interrupted. “I’m detecting a transponder signal.”

  That wasn’t good. Even though the signal wouldn’t work while they were travelling at this speed, once they hit open space again it would tell the Republic right where they were headed. The rest of the crew shifted uncomfortably at the news.

  “We need to find and disable it in the next two hours,” Hendrose said calmly. He turned to Warren. “Any chance you could spare a few cyborgs to hunt for it?”

  “Of course. What are they looking for?”

  “We’ll need them to locate the source of the signal. It’ll be a small device, probably no bigger than your fist. There’s a good chance it’ll be tied into a power conduit—some place out of sight. They should be able to locate it easily enough. When they do, they need to destroy it.”

  “Got it,” Warren said and passed the order on to Lukov, who assigned twenty of the 96 available cyborgs to hunt for it. “Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment,” Hendrose replied, looking relieved.

  It took a while to find the transponder, which ended up being hidden behind crates of food. The cyborgs managed to disable the device only minutes before they returned to real space.

  Staring out the viewport, Warren studied the system. Eight planets, officially, with a huge asteroid belt at the far reaches. It’s star was nearing its end of life, having recently started expanding into a red giant. It would still be hundreds of lifetimes before anyone living in the system started having any trouble, though.

  Zooming in, Warren saw the planet Reotis from space for the first time. It was red with darker streaks running mostly across its equator. They would leave Ruthless in upper orbit and take a few shuttles down to the surface.

  “Home, sweet home,” Hendrose said wistfully. “If we can keep it, that is.”

  “We’ll keep it,” Warren said. “What do I need to know about the culture? I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

  Hendrose shrugged. “They’re regular people. They’ve been through a lot; despite that, they still love, laugh, play, and work hard. We take care of each other. We still have spats, but nothing serious. Kind of like most siblings, I’m guessing.”

  “How will the cyborgs be treated?”

  Hendrose shrugged again. “That remains to be seen, but I think most will be happy to see you. After all, they’ve been wanting to break free from the war for a long time. They understand it won’t be easy—that there will be still more fighting to do. Having a goal will keep them motivated. Sooner or later, one way or another, this war will all be over.”

  As the ship began to descend, Hendrose spoke. “Have you heard the reports of unknown underground bases on the planet?”

  Warren thought for a moment and realized he did. “Yes, though not until just now. It’s been that way since I woke up. Like data is getting restored a little at a time.”

  “It will keep doing that until you have it all back,” Hendrose told him. “Did you hear how the Republic was worried how so much dirt got taken off-planet?”

  “Yes. The Republic thought they took it all away or hid it somehow.”

  “We did. The hangar is built into the mountain,” Hendrose finished. “Look.”

  The cargo-sized ship approached an unremarkable mountain far from any of the dome cities. As they got closer, Warren spotted a dark line forming across the tops of the peaks.

  “How do I—is there a way for me to zoom in?” Warren asked.

  “Yes, this control here,” Hendrose said, showing Warren how to work the small digital display on his armrest.

  Warren zoomed-in the image on the main screen. The line on the mountain became more distinct. He cocked his head to one side as he tried to guess what it meant, and suddenly he realized what it was. It wasn’t a line at all. It was a gap. The face of the mountain was opening, leaving enough room for a vessel double the size of the cargo ship.

  “Sensors are clear,” one of the sailors reported. “The hangar says everything’s out of the way and they’re ready for us to land.”

  “Thank you,” replied Warren. “How many Reotians are in the colony now?”

  “A few thousand, last census,” Hendrose replied. “There used to be a lot more.”

  “You’ve vetted everyone still onboard the ship, but what about the ones on the surface? Any chance the Republic or Commonwealth left people behind?”

  “What, like spies?”

  Warren nodded. “Exactly like spies. What’s to prevent them from telling either side what we’re doing?”

  “We do what we can,” Hendrose said, looking uncomfortable. “But we haven’t really had a leader for a while. Neither side likes it when they ask who’s in charge and we have someone we can point to. Anyone we elect, or anyone who just takes charge—they don’t tend to live very long.”

  “So there could be spies,” Warren said. “Not a big fan of that, but nothing we can do about it now, I suppose. We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open.”

  It took several minutes for the nervous sailors to align the ship properly with the opening. A few minutes later, there was a loud rumble Warren both heard and felt.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Hendrose said to everyone on the bridge. “That was the ship settling on the docking struts. No problem. Everything’s fine.”

  “Problem!” a sailor yelled from one of the stations. “The hangar entrance won’t close!”

  “Why not?” Hendrose asked, hurrying to a nearby station.

  “Something’s in the way,” another said. “The safety system is reporting a fault. Checking systems now. Looks like it was a system fault. Clear now.”

  Hendrose sighed. “Crisis averted.”

  A minute later, the ship was safely docked and powered down within the hangar.

  “Let’s go see our new home,” Hendrose said.

  13

  Warren heard a dull thud as he stood. It came from somewhere below and echoed throughout the shuttle.

  “That’s one of the portable lifts attaching to a lower port-side access hatch,” Hendrose said, waving a hand. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  A second boom, not quite as low as the first, changed his mind.

  “That was another portable lift. Whoever just crashed them into the side of the ship is going to pay dearly. Everyone down here is trained how to use them. They aren’t that difficult. I don’t know what happened, but I’ll find out. Let’s get down there and see what’s going on.”

  Warren removed his helmet and followed the tech out of the bridge and down the ladder well. There was a line of people waiting to leave the ship, long enough that they had to queue up a deck above the exit. Several other cyborgs standing nearby turned and thanked him as they waited. Their expressions ranged from pride to fear. Warren shook each of their hands and thanked them in return.

  “Hell of a job, sir,” said a cyborg named Thompson. “I never would’ve thought about doing this. I mean,
I’ve thought about it before, but never seriously. I was always afraid I’d remember thinking about it after a reset. You know, like maybe the war computer would be able to pick that thought out of my memories and use it as a reason to delete me. Or maybe the backup. I was worried I might have to go back years. Anyway, what’s next? I’m with you all the way.”

  “I’ve got to see what assets we have first,” Warren said. “Then we’ll need to worry about defenses, organizing the civilians, and finding out the best way for our fellow cyborgs to be deployed.”

  “I think you mean your cyborgs, sir. It’s pretty clear, especially from everyone I’ve already spoken with, that we’re following your lead whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m flattered,” said Warren. He meant it, but something about the situation made him uncomfortable. “I don’t have all the answers, so I’m going to rely on my fellow men, the civilians—everyone. If you see me doing something stupid, I want to make sure you know you can tell me about it. I’m not above anyone else. It’ll take all of us taking a lot of steps from here on out to keep the freedom we’ve earned. And don’t call me sir. I’m no officer.”

  “I was an officer,” said Thompson with a small smile. “At least, I think I was. I’ve got some vague memories about it—nothing concrete, though. Even so, you’re the leader. So let me rephrase my last statement. Thank you… Warren.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied.

  As they waited, a few people he didn’t recognize slipped past them coming the opposite direction. They weren’t dressed in the ship’s uniform.

  “Who are they?” Warren asked.

  “Reotis technicians,” replied Hendrose. “Scientists, mostly. Some engineers, apprentices, and laborers. They’re here to research the Republic tech, starting with the computer subsystems. They know to steer clear of the war computer. It’s too delicate for any of them to work on.”

  Warren watched them go and wondered again if he was doing the right thing. So much had changed in the last day that he couldn’t be sure. He supposed there was no going back now though.

  “I don’t think they’ll be here for more than a few hours,” Hendrose was saying. “They’ve all been vetted—not only for their knowledge, but their long-time loyalty to Reotis. I only know some of them, but others took over the vetting process when I left. Once they’re done, they’ll bring what they’ve learned and collected to the people who can best use it. Unfortunately, it’s the only part of the plan we have right now. Once you freed the cyborgs and we secured the ship in the hangar, we ran out of things to check off the list. We’re winging it for now.”

  “No defensive or offensive plans at all?” asked Warren, a little surprised.

  Hendrose shrugged. “We’re not soldiers. I think we used to have people here who knew what to do, but everything had to be compartmentalized in case there were spies or the Republic or Commonwealth found out. If someone was tortured and talked, they’d only be able to give up so much information instead of everything.”

  “Okay, I can see that,” Warren conceded. “If the number of people who know about the plan is limited, how are the civilians going to act? Won’t they think we’re invading?”

  “Some might, but we’ve been coaching them for a long time. Little by little in conversations here and there, we’ve been planting the seed of possibility into their minds. Some will be shocked—mostly because they’ll have trouble believing it’s actually happened. Others will be confused or afraid, but it’s amazing what can be accomplished when you’ve got a bunch of people in close proximity. Inserting little bits of info into everyday conversation can go a long way. It’s kind of a dirty trick, but it’s not like we could come out and say it.”

  Warren studied the tech for a long moment. He had changed in the last day too, becoming something of a leader himself, even if he didn’t yet realize it. And this was just the beginning.

  “Right,” said Warren. “Any word on CoW troops? Are there any left on the planet?”

  “Not anymore,” Hendrose said with a small smile. There was a sadness in his eyes that said the situation had been bittersweet. “First Corps kicked enough ass that they fled soon after you did. There weren’t enough to hold the colony, especially after you took out that machine gun. We lost four citizens, but we killed more than a dozen. The rest got picked up and left. It happens sometimes. They’ll be back, but we’re free—for now.”

  Warren and Hendrose stood in silence for several minutes while people milled around completing various tasks. The news felt like it needed to be answered by a short period of mourning. More lives lost. Reotian lives. The survivors were counting on him.

  “By the way,” Hendrose said. “Any remaining personal memory files will be accessible once the Reotian techs are done working, if you’re so inclined.”

  “I am so inclined,” Warren said. “But there’s a lot to do before I can indulge myself.”

  “Indeed,” Hendrose agreed as the line started moving.

  Warren was amazed what he saw when the lift reached the floor of the hangar and opened. The facility was vast—a massive open area that seemed to go on forever. He hadn’t realized how large his ship was until he stepped out and turned around.

  The ground level was wider, extending out a hundred meters all the way around and sectioned off into smaller workspaces. Most were filled with machine parts and equipment. Others held huge cutting tools, welders, and diagnostic devices. Although the techs inside the ship were busy, most of those outside of the Ruthless were sitting on their butts.

  “What are our assets?” Warren asked.

  “Well,” Hendrose said, dragging out the pause as he thought. “We have a warship now. That’s a big plus for us, even if it is a little beat up. And like I said, we’ve also been collecting a lot of usable equipment both sides left behind, including food supplies. It’s funny—by hiding the stuff, each side accused the other of stealing. After the second or third time, we started telling them that’s what happened.”

  The tech led Warren to a small door set in a much larger one. The bigger of the two looked like it split in the middle and slid to both sides to allow huge pieces of equipment an easy way to enter and exit. If the doors slid all the way into the walls, the opening would be 30 meters wide and almost as tall.

  Hendrose placed his palm against the wall next to the regular-sized door until something behind his hand beeped. Once it did, he pulled the door open and ushered Warren into a dark room. A moment later, lights began to flicker on one at a time with soft pinging sounds.

  “Holy hell,” Warren whispered as he tried to look at everything at once. “You weren’t kidding.”

  The warehouse he’d walked into was the size of a small town. He couldn’t see the far wall because of all the shelves, boxes, and stacks of miscellaneous stuff. Blocking the way were stacks, shelves, and individual pieces of equipment. All of it was precisely organized.

  “These are GR-299 cannons,” Hendrose said, pointing to something that looked like a four-barreled artillery piece. “They’re Commonwealth Portable Particle Cannons, or just PPCs for short. We call them Slicers because it’s what they do. They’re especially useful, because Reotis doesn’t have much of an atmosphere to speak of. Therefore, no atmospheric blooming. Full power, all the way to their maximum range.”

  As you can see, we’ve got more than fifty here,” Hendrose replied.

  “Sixty-seven,” Warren corrected. “Do we have the parts to get the rest up and running?”

  “We do. We haven’t done it, though, because we had no idea how long it would be until... well... you.”

  “This needs to be a priority,” Warren said firmly.

  “That’s what I was thinking. Do you want me to get some techs on it?”

  “As many as you can spare. What about that row of racks over there?”

  “Yes,” Hendrose said with a frown. “But it’s CoW technology, which means it’s been cobbled together from junk. Someone on-high in the CoW
leadership seems to be putting all their brain power into their ships and manufacturing facilities. They can make a ton of stuff, but most of it’s shit.”

  “And those?” Warren asked, pointing to a dozen neatly stacked pallets.

  “Those are old guidance systems, archaic relics from the Republic’s past. They aren’t useful for anything except old-style missiles. We keep them only because we don’t like to throw anything away. Maybe we can find a use for them later. Probably not. The rest of the stuff in this area is mostly spare parts for everything else. Like I said, every time one side defeats the other, we end up with their leftovers. Each side thinks the other side took it. It’s worked out really well, but we know this stuff won’t last forever. We also grow our own food in very limited quantities. We’re set up to expand that, but not until we’ve got some kind of planetary defense in place.”

  “I understand,” Warren said. “I wouldn’t mind a change from the meal bars.”

  “You guys can eat anything, so long as it has some minimal nutritional value,” Hendrose said. “Nobody likes the Commonwealth rations, so we’d like to offer you those. They’ve got to be better than those protein logs you guys eat.”

  Warren doubted that, but let it pass. “Excellent. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” Hendrose said. “Follow me.”

  He and Warren walked to the other end of the warehouse. The boxes and crates in this area were stacked almost to the ceiling. Hendrose led him on a long, meandering path through them and out the other side.

  When Warren saw what the boxes were hiding, he gawked.

  FIGHTER, CWS-14

  COMMONWEALTH

  There were 60 bus-sized crafts on the other side of the supply wall. Their swept-back wings made it clear they were capable of maneuvering both in and out of atmosphere. Each was equipped with a single missile on its ventral between three narrow, articulating landing struts. Two ports on their wings hinted at energy weapons within.

  “Nice,” Warren commented. “These should come in handy.”