Cyborg Corps Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “Am sorry again for making of interruptions,” transmitted Lukov.

  “You’re not interrupting,” replied Warren. “What’s up?”

  “Is not much of terrible, but another human is sick with drug. He has been made to transport to doctor in hangar.”

  “Thanks,” said Warren, grateful his cybernetic body didn’t suffer from headaches. If it did, he was sure he would have one.

  Drugs had become a problem recently. They had always caused issues in large cities but could run rampant in small colonies too. A place like Reotis could be especially vulnerable because it was hard to keep track of so many different people—there were bound to be some bad seeds, even if they weren’t spies.

  In a secluded colony, unfortunately, drugs had a huge impact. Every member of the colony was expected to contribute something—even if it was nothing more than babysitting children so someone else could do another job. Whether the adults were young and capable, or old and feeble, Warren and Rigby had found something for each member to do.

  The problem, most likely, had come from a newly arrived refugee. Even though the cyborgs had searched all the domes, they hadn’t found any drug labs. Short of violating the privacy of the Reotians by kicking in doors in the middle of the night, Warren wasn’t sure they’d ever find who was responsible.

  “Will you go to see the man?” asked Lukov.

  “Yeah, but I’ll be leaving the colony soon,” replied Warren as he turned toward the infirmary. He couldn’t see it from where he was standing as there were too many storage boxes stacked in front of the door.

  “Leave?”

  “Yes,” replied Warren. “Rigby and I will be leaving for a short time to check out that signal you heard. We’re taking one of the smaller shuttles. We’ll take a look to figure out what to do next—if anything.”

  “Is no problem,” the Russian replied. “I will keep colony safe while you are making galavant with woman friend.”

  Though he wasn’t sure what the cyborg had meant by that, Warren decided to let it go. He had arrived at the entrance to the infirmary, and someone was groaning loudly inside.

  3

  “Hold him down!” Dr. Edith Fordell ordered her two assistants.

  Warren didn’t approach right away, not wanting to get in the way. The man the two orderlies were attempting to strap to the gurney didn’t appear to be complying.

  “I’m trying!” one of them growled. He had a hold of the man’s sweaty arm, sort of, but it kept slipping from the orderly’s grasp. When one thrash caused the patient’s elbow to smash against the orderly’s face, Warren decided he’d seen enough.

  “Stand aside,” the cyborg ordered as he approached. The others obeyed immediately, each taking several steps back.

  “Get off me!” the man on the gurney shrieked. Warren recognized him as one of the new arrivals. He’d only been on Reotis for a day, yet here he was, already causing problems.

  In one fluid motion, Warren trapped the supine man’s arms at his sides. While the others rushed in to secure the straps that would hold him in place, the man thrashed and kicked, and his knees hit Warren in the side of his head several times.

  The cyborg wasn’t worried about it. Not only was his artificial skin extremely tough, but the steel skeleton underneath was sturdy. Something as small as a kick from a non-cyborg wouldn’t be enough to cause any real damage.

  “I’ve got this one,” the man on the right arm announced.

  “Can you hold his legs?” the one on the left said once his charge’s arms were restrained.

  “Sure.” Warren moved down the man’s body.

  It took him a few seconds to finish because he was trying not to hurt the guy. Whoever was manufacturing the drugs had to know how much trouble he or she was causing in the colony. The person was selfish and had no regard for others. Unless they got the source under control and stopped, the drug use would spread. Eventually, there’d be burglaries and other crimes. The Reotians would stop trusting each other, and especially the refugees who were streaming in nearly every day. Without trust, the progress they’d made—and still needed to make—could come to a screeching halt.

  “I have him,” the doctor said as she wiped a fresh sheen of sweat from her brow. “Thank you for your assistance, Warren.”

  “You’re welcome, doc,” the cyborg replied. “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, taking a step back when one of the straps holding the man’s legs in place groaned against his effort. “I’m assuming it’s Laser, but until he calms down, I can’t perform a proper examination.”

  “Allow me,” said Warren. He used one hand to hold the man’s head down and shoved two fingers into his mouth between his top and bottom teeth. The guy could thrash and bite as much as he wanted, but it wouldn’t be enough to break through Warren’s artificial skin.

  “Thank you,” said Dr. Fordell, who cautiously approached. When the man thrashed again, Warren spread his fingers a little apart, preventing the patient from being able to open or close his jaw at all.

  The doctor ignored the man’s drug-induced screams of rage and folded his top lip up a little, searching for signs of which drug the man was on. If it was Laser, his gums would be receded, and there would be sores present. Warren peeked and saw no sign of either.

  “Laser,” she confirmed with a sigh.

  “You sure, doc?” asked Warren. “I didn’t see receded gums or sores.”

  “That is because he has not been using it long,” she replied.

  Warren nodded. “Got it.”

  “Good,” she said. “I will confirm it with a chemical analysis of his blood, but I am certain of my findings. The sooner you deal with the problem, the better.”

  “You’re right,” said Warren. “But unless I start kicking down doors in the middle of the night, I don’t expect it to be fast. Drugs are tricky and I’m a soldier, not a narcotics detective.”

  “If that is what you must do, then do it,” she said. “Better to have a door kicked down than to have this every other day.”

  “That often?” asked Warren, turning his eyes back to the patient who was still groaning and thrashing. He removed his fingers from the man’s mouth and let go of his head.

  “Yes, that often,” she said, crossing her arms. “Now, excuse me. I have to draw his blood.”

  Warren took a couple steps away. “Lukov is aware this man is here. I’ll speak with him to see if he has any other ideas—something short of kicking down doors. Most of these people have been through enough trauma from cyborgs. The last thing I want to do is become a dictator.”

  “Become a dictator,” she insisted. “What do you think will happen if this goes unchecked?” She motioned to the thrashing patient.

  “Nothing good.”

  “Nothing good, indeed,” replied Dr. Fordell. “Understatement of the millennium. Please, be gone unless you have business here. I have a patient to take care of, and you have—whatever you do.”

  “See ya, doc,” Warren said as he turned to leave. “I appreciate everything you do.”

  “Of course you do,” she said.

  Rigby was waiting for him outside. “That sounded like it went well,” she said with a wink.

  Warren groaned. “Yeah, just like every time. I’m still convinced I can get her to like me.”

  “Think so?” asked Rigby with a laugh. “I don’t think she likes anyone. She likes her job, but that’s it. So you ready to go?”

  “Almost,” replied Warren. “I need to make sure Curet doesn’t shoot us down and that key personnel understand where we’re headed.”

  “And you need to get your armor on,” she said. “I’ll go get mine on and meet you on the ship.”

  “Right behind you,” replied Warren.

  Warren was about to head to the armory when a civilian contacted him.

  “Uh, Mr. Warren?” the man transmitted.

  “Warren here. What’s wrong?”

  “Si
r, this is Niles. I’m part of the salvage team—the one outside recovering pieces of the Commonwealth ship wreckage. We, uh, found something. I think you need to come check it out.”

  “Where?” asked Warren.

  “It’s outside Dome-1,” replied Niles. “We didn’t want to bring it in until someone had a look at it. Some of us think it might be a weapon. Maybe a bomb.”

  “Get away from it,” Warren replied as he started running. Dome-1 was a long way if he ran through each of the others to get to it. The shortcut was to head out the Dome-6 airlock and cut across the Reotian surface. He had plenty of reserve oxygen in his cybernetic body to survive the trip.

  “We’re inside—all of us,” the man replied. “We’re guarding the airlock to make sure nobody else goes out there and blows it up or something.”

  “Good, keep doing that.” Warren sent a quick message to Rigby and Lukov, asking them to join him. He stepped into the airlock, cycled it, and hurried across the dusty red dirt toward Dome-1.

  ATTENTION: OXYGEN SUPPLY 99%

  The message popped up as green text at the bottom of Warren’s HUD but caused him no concern. He’d been expecting it, and even if he didn’t return to one of the domes right away, his supply would last for a couple of hours.

  Lukov was already there, squatting next to a pile of stuff the salvage team had unloaded. He glanced at Warren as he approached and then returned his eyes to the pile of twisted metal and scraps. “It is not bomb,” the Russian transmitted.

  The device in question was a half-meter long, pill-shaped, and covered with polished panels and screws.

  “Has anyone tried scanning it?” asked Warren.

  “No. Is not for scan. Maybe is bomb, but I am thinking no. If I am wrong, is to be scanned, maybe explode. Sometime bomb is made to do that. Still, do not think is bomb.”

  Squatting to get a better look, Warren zoomed in with his cybernetic vision. He studied every screw head, every seam, and every visible millimeter he could see without touching the device.

  “This looks like some kind of electrical coupler here,” Warren said, pointing to one of the ends.

  “Is same on this side,” the Russian replied.

  “Definitely not a bomb,” transmitted Rigby. “Definitely not Commonwealth, either. Where’d the salvage team find it?”

  “According to team, in Commonwealth wreck,” said Lukov. “Fore section. Maybe ten meters from bow and ahead of missile magazine. Is from Commonwealth ship.”

  “Can’t be,” said Rigby as she squatted and took a closer look. “They don’t make stuff like this.”

  “Yet, we are here, and we are looking at the impossible CoW tech, yes?”

  The cyborgs locked eyes for a second before turning to Warren.

  “Don’t look at me,” their leader said. “I’m just as boggled as everyone else, but it’s not like there was any chance this thing was sitting on the ground and the ship landed on it. The impact should’ve crushed it.”

  “Agreed,” said Lukov. “Maybe is artwork? Something for CoW museum, for to looking at?”

  Rigby shook her head before speaking. “Not a chance. I’ve seen their artwork. Everything they make is about how glorious the Commonwealth of Worlds is. About how fortunate their citizens are and how mighty their leadership is. It’s all propaganda, and I don’t see any writing or pictures on this thing at all.”

  “Remember how that ship reacted during the battle?” asked Warren. “It came out of nowhere, but it also acted like there was a pilot. Did they ever find a bridge? Bodies?”

  “No,” said Lukov. “No bridge. No bodies. Was autonomous.”

  “You think this was the pilot?” asked Rigby. “You want to hook it up to the war computer and have it take a peek?”

  “No,” said Warren. “I think we need to get someone more experienced at this kind of thing to take a look for us. Go see if there’s something inside the Camel we can use to cover this up. I’m not sure I want to make direct contact with it.”

  Rigby hurried up the Camel’s boarding ramp and returned a minute later with a folded piece of crimson cloth in one hand. “I found just the thing,” she said as she handed it to Warren.

  The cyborg took it and stood as he unfolded a flag—a white, five-pointed star on a field of red. It was a Commonwealth flag.

  Warren finished wrapping the device up, doing his best to conceal the white star, which would have given away what it was to anybody who’d seen its like before.

  “Let’s see what Sparky makes of this,” he said as he stepped over a collection of conduit pieces in front of him on his way to the Dome-1 airlock.

  “There are other scientists, you know,” said Rigby. “Why do you always give him the cool stuff. You’re gonna make the other squints jealous if you keep it up.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Warren had been using the scientist for a lot of projects lately, but that was because he was the one with the most experience.

  “I might,” admitted Warren. “But Sparky has been here longer than most. He’s proven his loyalty and his ability to keep a secret. Also, he’s brilliant. Maybe the others are, too, but Sparky has proven it.”

  “I get it,” said Rigby as the three cyborgs entered the airlock. “But you’re the leader. It means you’re also a politician. You’ve got to worry about a lot more than the average person does, especially in this situation. Things like safety, security, food, water, air—they’re all important, but so are feelings.”

  Warren winced dramatically at her words and clutched his chest like someone had stabbed him. “Politician? Wow, you really know how to knock a guy off his horse, don’t you?”

  “Suck it up, buttercup,” she quipped with a wide smile.

  “What is the buttercup?” asked Lukov. “Is dessert? Like biscuit?”

  Rigby laughed and stepped through the other side of the airlock before turning toward the hangar.

  “It’s a flower, I think,” said Warren. “She calls me that because she knows it irritates me.”

  The Russian nodded solemnly. “Yes, flower is delicate and pretty. Is not manly to be called flower. When you are ready, I will teach Russian way of taunt. It is much scathing. You will win.”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for that,” said Warren. That day, he knew, would be never.

  The salvage team, all still wearing their environmental, or EV, suits, backed away a few steps when they saw what was in Warren’s hands. Though they couldn’t see the object under the crimson cloth, they knew what it was.

  “We don’t think it’s a bomb,” said Warren. “However, I don’t want anyone talking about this outside of the Camel. Not even with your spouses or significant others. Keep it to yourself until we know for sure. I’ll tell you when that is.”

  “Can we talk about it in private?” a woman asked.

  She was wearing a CoW EV suit. The visor was so scratched he could barely see her face, but what he could see made it obvious that she was worried.

  “Of course,” he said. “Get it out of your system out there—just don’t bring it back. For now, everyone needs to get back to work. Be sure to tell the next shift about what you found and remind them not to tell anyone either. If any of you find anything else out there like this, be sure to let a cyborg know. They’ll let Lukov know, and he’ll take care of it.”

  The six said they would and hurried out the airlock. Each gave the wrapped device in Warren’s hands a nervous glance as they passed.

  “They’re going to blab to everyone they know as soon as they end their shift,” grumbled Rigby.

  “No they won’t,” said Warren, shaking his head as he began walking toward the hangar and Sparky’s workshop.

  “She is correct,” interjected Lukov. “They will tell many. But maybe is already transmitting to everyone. Is secret but is not long for being secret.”

  Both other cyborgs laughed when Warren shook his head in frustration.

  4

  Mercifully, they spent the rest of the
trip in silence. The three stopped when they reached the entrance to the hangar as Warren scanned the faces, searching for the scientist known as Sparky. He found the man on the other end of the hangar speaking with several technicians. It looked like he was describing the intricacies of one of the printers.

  Kenneth “Sparky” Starkey was a gray-haired technician and one of the founders of the colony on Reotis. He’d retired early from a technical job he refused to talk about. Warren suspected it had been government employment, maybe as a stardrive mechanic, but couldn’t get the guy to talk about it and didn’t want to push too hard. In the end, it didn’t matter. He was Reotian now, and his past was his business.

  Being a short man who only came up to Warren’s shoulder, he didn’t notice Warren and the others until they were almost to him. When he did, he tried standing on his tiptoes, then leaned to one side to see past the others standing in front of him. Warren signaled he needed to speak privately with the man.

  “That’s all for today,” Sparky told the other technicians. “See you in the morning, and I’m very excited to see the ideas you come up with.” Warren stopped outside the man’s office, a room a hundred meters away built into the outer exterior of the hangar, and waited for him. It used to be for storage, but now was his own private domain.

  “Hello,” Sparky said as he approached. He squinted at the wrapped object in the cyborg’s hand as if doing so would give him X-ray vision.

  “I’ve brought you something to take a look at,” said Warren. “But I’d rather not unwrap it until we’re in your office.”

  The man’s bushy eyebrows went way up on his forehead. “Of course,” he whispered, looking around conspiratorially. “Of course, right this way.”

  After covering the keypad next to the door with one hand, he punched in his passcode, and the door unlocked. Once everyone was inside, Sparky hurried to his desk set in the middle of the shallow but wide room and shoved the stack of papers and what appeared to be spare parts onto the floor. After hurrying back around to Warren’s side, he patted the top of the desk. “Place it here. What is it?”