Cyborg Corps Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “It might be our problem,” Rigby said and took a step toward the man. “We need all the cyborgs we can get, and as few Commonwealth strongholds as we can produce. There are probably still cyborgs out there who haven’t been freed. The Republic did a good job keeping us in the dark, but if word gets to them of what happened, they need to know they can do it too. They need to know the other cyborgs will back them up.”

  “To what end?” asked Rooster taking a step toward her. He looked angry enough to fight—not that he could do a lot with his bare hands against the cyborg.

  “Ask yourself that,” Warren said softly. “Why are you fighting? Why do you work so hard helping to repair nearly everything at this colony?”

  “Because I live here!” he snapped.

  “But you don’t have to. You could always find some like-minded people and leave. I’m sure both the Republic and Commonwealth would take you in. So, why stick around? Why put yourself through this if you don’t have to?”

  He looked confused for a second before his features tightened. “Because these are my people,” he said after some hesitation. “They’re the closest thing I have to a family. They do everything for me, so I do what I can for them. What a stupid question.”

  “Why do they work so hard?” asked Warren, hoping to guide him to his own answer.

  “Because the Repub and CoWs want us…”

  Warren allowed the silence to fill the space between them for a few seconds before speaking. “That’s right. Because there are two threats outside our planet. Both want you dead, just because you told them ‘no.’ If either of them retakes this planet, you—and probably everyone else—will be killed. Everything you’ve worked for and gained will be gone forever.”

  “So, what good will fighting to rescue Second Corps do us?” asked Rooster, though most of the ire had left his voice.

  “Not only will it give them a chance to secure another planet against our enemies, but it’ll also reduce the Republic’s strength.” Warren took a moment to make sure he had everyone’s attention.

  “The only thing we’re doing is defending ourselves. We aren’t out there trying to conquer the Grand Republic. We aren’t the aggressors. We’re sitting here on this rock, minding our own business.”

  Rooster spoke up again. “Once the Commonwealth gets wind of what’s happening—“

  “The Republic’s going to have to focus on them, not us,” interjected Hendrose. “Meanwhile, we’ll have two corps of cyborgs on two different planets working against them. They’ll be so busy fighting off the CoWs—“

  “They won’t have time to come for us,” finished Rooster. His angry expression had been replaced with a mischievous one. “So what’s the end-goal? What’s this look like when we’re done?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Warren. He’d been taking this a day at a time. No, that wasn’t right. More like a moment at a time. All his focus had been on securing Reotis. Now that he was headed to another planet, there was a bigger picture to consider.

  “Once we come back, I’m thinking we’re going to form an alliance with the other cyborgs and their people,” Warren continued. “That should be our goal, anyway.”

  “If you survive,” a woman named Darcy Hudson, one of the two doctors on the planet, said. “We won’t even know, will we?”

  The others stared at her for a few seconds before turning to Warren.

  “That’s correct,” he admitted. “We don’t have any way to contact you. Communications are still limited.”

  “But travel isn’t,” said Rooster. “We’ve figured out how to travel faster than light using star drives. Why not comms?” The way he asked the question made it seem like he was asking himself.

  “Until someone thinks of a way to do it, there’s no use talking about it,” said Hendrose. “So, we’re all supposed to grab a gun, and what?”

  “Learn to use it, if you don’t already know how,” replied Curet.

  The Reotians all began talking at once. Warren listened to their conversations while studying Craig, who looked attentive and calm. From what Warren could tell, he was getting better, which was a relief. Some of the civilians were in favor of being armed. Others wanted the cyborgs to stay. Still more said they’d take a gun if there was no other choice, but they wouldn’t like it.

  “How long will you be gone?” Dr. Fordell asked.

  Warren referenced the coordinates he’d received from King before responding. “Two weeks, at least. One week there, a week back, and however long it takes to secure the planet.”

  “Have received message from security personnel,” transmitted Lukov. “They have found second drug lab. It was made hidden. They have made disassemble. Was maybe produce most of drugs in colony. However, did keep many of the record. Everything, to include supply, recipe, yield, and such. Personnel is say it looks like to be designed to create only one drug, maybe.”

  “Which one?” asked Warren. There were three main drugs the cyborgs were aware of in the colony.

  “Appears is lab for Pixel,” replied Lukov.

  Shit. Of all the ones in the colony, that one was the worst. Those addicted to the drug usually ate it, most often mixed into sweets because apparently it tasted pretty bad—somewhere between ear wax and burned rubber.

  “Is there any threat of contamination?” asked Warren.

  A moment later, Lukov replied by shrugging.

  “Secure the area and store everything in the armory until it can all be destroyed at once. Then set up a guard detail. Someone will need to sit on this until we get back. The temptation to steal the supplies and start making more drugs is going to be high.”

  “Pardon interruption,” said Lukov. “A report of murder. Adding Officer Nick Marner to channel.”

  “Here, sir,” said a young male voice.

  “Warren is in channel,” replied Lukov. “Tell him what told me.”

  “Y-yes sir,” the officer replied before quickly clearing his throat. “A dead civilian, sir. And another drug lab—at least we think it used to be one. It looks like someone stole all the equipment, sir. We found the brackets where things used to be hung up on the inside wall of a home in Dome-2, but it’s empty.”

  “Then how do you know it was a drug lab?” asked Warren.

  “Fumes, sir. It’s bad in here. And a lot of handmade containers. Someone was making Bone Dust, sir. Looks like whoever was doing it found some loose pipes lying around. They had a lot of sniffers ready. We found a few that were sealed, too. Officer Ansell opened one and got a good dose of the stuff. He’s tripping pretty hard now, sir. I sent him with three other officers to see the doctor.”

  Bone Dust was another drug they had some trouble with. At worst, it could make its user do something crazy, like jump from the top of a building as they hallucinated about being a bird. But that had also been before most of the people would be armed. If someone high on Bone Dust also had access to a gun, who knew what could happen?

  “What’s going on?” asked Rigby. Everyone was watching Warren, and they all looked concerned.

  Warren filled her in on the details.

  “Maybe right now isn’t the best time to go,” she said. “How can we be expected to focus on our mission when this is happening? Maybe we should stay here, squash this drug problem, and then go help Second Corps.”

  “Maybe that’s the plan,” said Warren. “I don’t believe in coincidences, and the timing of this couldn’t be worse.”

  15

  From his position on the roof, Warren could clearly see the building where the final battle against Glen Hoffman had occurred. The spy had dug a tunnel from the wastewater plant to his home that had been sealed off after the fight. It had only taken a few days to pack the hole with fresh concrete all the way to the surface. Someone could dig next to the patch but filling it this way eliminated the chance of a cave-in and helped to plug the peoples’ gap in their confidence as well.

  Warren hopped down from the top of the building to walk a circui
t around it. It was his third this hour. He’d look for any changes—new footprints in the red Reotian dirt, broken windows, open doors, or anything else that might be different. If he found nothing, he’d resume his position on the roof and wait to be relieved.

  A second later, the poing poing of a rubber ball drew his attention to a nearby alley. He kept his pistol holstered but watched as the colorful toy came rolling and bounding up to him, then he picked it up and examined it. There was nothing special—it was just a toy. Two seconds later, its owner hurried from the alley, then stopped and stared up at the tall cyborg.

  The little girl couldn’t have been much older than four or five. Her name didn’t pop up in Warren’s HUD, which meant she was new to the colony. Hendrose and Dr. Fordell were behind in adding everyone’s information into the network of data pads they used to keep track of such things. The info was also shared with the war computer so the cyborgs didn’t have to carry pads with them.

  The look in her eyes was one of wonder, not fear. Warren took a knee and offered the ball to her. “Is this yours?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Here,” he said. “Do you want me to throw it to you?”

  She shook her head and cautiously approached, arms outstretched to receive it. Her parents could come around the corner any second looking for their little one who’d run off. But it was an opportunity to connect with a civilian—one Warren desperately wanted. These were the people he was fighting for, and this one wasn’t afraid of him.

  The little girl took it from his hand, but her eyes never left his. He smiled.

  “My name is Warren,” he told her, touching a finger to his chest. “What’s yours?”

  She frowned. “You’re a stranger. Can’t talk to strangers,” she whispered and hurried away. She glanced once over her shoulder before disappearing back into the ally from which she’d emerged.

  Warren couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t left because he was a big, scary cyborg. She’d left because he was a stranger—someone she didn’t know. In a way, it was better than any other response he could’ve hoped for. He was just a stranger.

  After completing the rest of his circuit, Warren jumped from the ground back to the roof of the building and landed lightly on the balls of his feet. Three streets away, another cyborg stood on the roof of a building. Although the cyborg had a rifle, it was connected to the magnetic clamp on the back of his armor.

  A moment later, he noticed Warren watching him and offered a salute, which the cyborg returned, and soon after that, another cyborg arrived in full armor and relieved Warren. After a short chat where Warren explained the only interaction he’d had was with the little girl and her ball, he jumped down from the roof. It was time to supervise the loading of the Ruthless and get the ball rolling.

  “Lukov, how are things looking?” asked Warren.

  “All is well. I did find some security personnel who are good shots with rifle. They have decided to become the training for the Reotian. One printer has been made to begin printing rifle part to make more, though I do not believe they will be needing it. Maybe if combat lasts long and pieces begin to be breaking. But I do not believe this is a thing to worry about.

  “Ammunition is being printed but is slow. Only one hundred rounds per hour. Have sent two cyborg to armory to retrieve the smaller printer taken from drug lab. Maybe they can use to increase production. Maybe create more printer.”

  “We could use one of those onboard the Ruthless,” said Warren. “If you would, temporarily stop production and turn all the printers to making a new one of their own. They can do that, right?”

  “Yes, they can be made to create new printer. I will do this. We are to be taking it for Ruthless?”

  “We might need it,” Warren said. “We won’t have much in raw supplies to feed the thing, but we will once we get to Turano.”

  “It will be done.”

  After receiving reports from all the department heads, Warren knew it was time. “Attention First Corps,” he transmitted. “Load up the cargo ships with the supplies Rigby set aside. I’ll need a few cyborgs to remain onboard the Ruthless to organize the stuff as it’s dropped off. I’ll also need Wraith Squadron to begin loading the Stingers. We’re taking them with us, as there’s nobody here who can fly them anyway. And someone find Hendrose for me.”

  “I have him here with me in the hangar,” Baker replied. “Do you need him to come to you?”

  “No, it’s fine,” replied Warren. “I’ll come to him. Ask him not to go anywhere.”

  Hendrose met him at the entrance, a worried look in his eyes.

  Warren chalked it up to the stress of so many moving parts, all trying to rearrange themselves so they could all be pointing the same direction. He gestured for the Reotian to follow him and stepped away from the entrance so they could have some semblance of privacy in the hectic place. They had to wait a few seconds as the first of the small cargo ships loaded with supplies made its way toward the small hatch on the ceiling. Once it left and the sound of its thrusters vanished, the two were free to talk without shouting.

  “Thanks for sticking around,” said Warren. “I need to talk to you about the Reotian leadership. So far, the people have depended on us to guide them. I want you to have a role in the future of this place. I’d like to nominate you to the people as chairman of the council if you’re up to it.”

  “That’s gonna be really hard when I’m hundreds of trillions of kilometers away, isn’t it?” he asked. “You can’t go at it alone. Not even with all the knowledge modules you downloaded from the war computer. You know how to operate the Ruthless, but it’s a big ship and 199 cyborgs can’t handle it all. Plus, you’ve got to go to the surface and fight. No use leaving the ship in orbit with nothing more than a skeleton crew.

  “I, like the rest of the people I’ve chosen to bring along, have a stake in this mission’s success. It’s the only way we can ensure our planet will remain free. We’ve got to do this for the sake of everyone here.”

  “How many are coming?” asked Warren.

  “The original crew, of course. We’ll be department and section heads, and we’ll provide the training the others will need. It’ll only be a couple of weeks’ worth, but it’s better than nothing. A few have served on smaller vessels before so they know the basics. Others have served on Commonwealth destroyers. They’ll be useful as well, and they won’t require so much training. Mostly updates on procedure and some practice using the better equipment. Plus, another 350. It’ll be plenty for the Ruthless, even if most of them have no or little experience.”

  “It might be a suicide mission,” Warren admitted. “Do they know that?”

  “Everyone suspects it,” said Hendrose with a shrug. “But nobody expects it. We’re traveling with First Corps—the first free cyborgs. The Corps who beat the Republic and Commonwealth both in a single day. We’re pretty sure it’s never happened before. You’re heroes. I had to turn a couple hundred away—mostly because they were new and would take too long to train. If you want me to stay behind, you’re going to have to lock me in the brig and assign a cyborg to guard me. Otherwise, I’m going, and I’m bringing everyone with me.”

  Hendrose crossed his arms and thrust his chin forward—a clear indication he was waiting for Warren to challenge him. Brave for someone who couldn’t be backed up. But not that brave. Hendrose knew Warren wouldn’t fight him over it.

  “Very well,” said Warren, resting a hand on the other’s shoulder. “That’s good thinking. It’ll also allow me to get some other stuff done. It’ll only take us about a week to get there, so there won’t be a lot of time for training. Make sure your section heads get some rest, because after we arrive there likely won’t be a lot of time for it.

  “According to King, the planet has a few orbital platforms. He’s not sure what kind of weapons they have, but they’re a threat nonetheless. It means a prolonged battle even before we get the opportunity to launch the dropships and start bringin
g supplies to the surface.”

  Warren took a moment to form his next words carefully.

  “Then there’s the question of mortality. Each of the cyborgs has lived several lifetimes, and so long as the war computer survives, we can live several more, at least. We don’t like it to happen, but we can be brought back and can keep fighting, and we can eventually wear the enemy down. I’m not trying to scare anyone, I just want to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “I’ve always been mortal,” replied Hendrose. “This is something I’ve lived with my entire life, so it’s nothing new to me. This place, what we’re doing, is worth living for. It’s also worth dying for.”

  Warren nodded. “That it is.”

  16

  Warren studied the displays from the captain’s seat of the Ruthless. The reports the bridge crew were giving became background noise to the data he was reading. Everything they were telling him was readily visible for anyone who could read as quickly as a cyborg. Still, he let them say what they needed to say. If nothing else, it would benefit the others on the bridge.

  The main viewscreen was filled with information—charts, diagrams, and a scrolling list indicating the basic status of each of the ship’s systems, both essential and non-essential. There was enough water to keep the crew alive for six months—longer if they rationed.

  There was enough capacity in the oxygen scrubbers for four times as many crew members for a nearly indefinite period. Warren hoped they’d never have to test that capacity, but anything was possible. If they ended up having to evacuate Turano’s residents, they wouldn’t be able to do it in a single trip anyway. There was no way Reotis would be ready for that many refugees all at once.

  “The Ruthless is ready for launch, sir,” said the navigator. “The coordinates for Turano are locked in, and we’re ready to go. Ready for faster than light travel.”

  “Engage the stardrive,” said Warren.

  Warren tuned out the rest of the words the others repeated. According to what he was reading on the main display, temperatures, power outputs, and tertiary systems were still reporting normal. Everything was going as planned.