Cyborg Corps Complete Series Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “Get down!” the cyborg shouted. “Keep your hands up and get on your face.”

  “I got her,” said Warren, who stowed his rifle, took the woman by her outstretched hands, and dragged her away from the other lockers.

  “Ow!” she shouted. “I’m not resisting! Stop!”

  “Shut it,” growled Warren. He hovered his hand over her back, moved it around a bit, but detected no circuitry. “She’s clean,” he said. “Full-human.” When she tried to get up, Warren stood and pressed a foot into the center of her back. She wouldn’t be going anywhere, so Warren nodded, and the other cyborg opened the next locker. That one was empty too, as was the last.

  “You’re hurting me,” the woman who’d been hiding groaned. She was wearing a rust-colored jumpsuit—typical work attire for civilians. She’d tied her hair up in a tight bun near the base of her neck. It made the woman look like she was ready for a fight. Maybe she was.

  A few minutes later, Rigby appeared from the other side of the power plant. She was alone. “I left Russon guarding another door in the back. We checked, and it’s locked, but it’s the same kind as the one we came in through. Who’s that?”

  “Not sure,” said Warren. “She’s human, though. Caught her in one of these lockers.”

  “What were you hiding from?” asked Rigby.

  The woman lifted her head to look at Rigby but didn’t say anything.

  “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Rigby asked, squatting down with her rifle across her lap. “How’s about you answer some other questions for me, okay?”

  32

  While Rigby interrogated their prisoner, another cyborg took over guard duty of the double doors they’d entered through, and the last one, Cobb, attempted to help Warren make sense of the huge device.

  It wasn’t like Warren had never seen a fusion reactor before, but Republic reactors were much more compact—at least the ones onboard their cruisers. Warren’s knowledge modules included one regarding the reactors the Commonwealth used onboard their vessels, but those were small, and on the larger ships there were up to a dozen of them. He couldn’t remember seeing anything this big before, so he took a step back and tried to take it all in.

  Of the four walls, only one contained lockers. Two had a large electrical panel festooned with blinking lights, gauges, and terminal displays, similar to what the Republic used. The wall on the war computer side of the building had a second panel. It was only labeled with a number, which didn’t mean anything to him.

  Between the fusion plant and the three large electrical panels were perforated sheets of metal about a half-meter square. They were flush with the concrete, and Warren noticed one hole was larger than the others. He motioned for Cobb to follow as he approached one of the panels and tried to listen for anyone who might be hiding under it, but his hearing seemed to be overcome with a buzz that grew louder the closer he got to the power plant. Warren drew his rifle, and when Cobb nodded, he yanked the panel from the floor. Under it was a deep concrete trench. Several power cables and conduits were visible.

  Warren took a few seconds to check the entire tunnel, then inspected the other two before inspecting the last he found between the panel for the war computer and the larger one on the wall it shared. “Looks clear,” he told Cobb, who kicked the last panel back into place. They turned their attention to the small panel. Neither spoke as they inspected it and tried to make sense of what they were looking at.

  “I’m guessing this is the on-off button,” said Cobb, pointing to a button that was currently illuminated green. “Maybe we just push this to shut it down.”

  Warren nodded, but his attention was focused on the small terminal screen in front of him. It reminded him a lot of the one he’d spotted on the moon.

  “This one might boost or cut the power,” continued Cobb as he pointed at a knob. Little white tick marks were labeled starting at zero, with even numbers all the way to two hundred. “I wonder if this was just to experiment on a war computer. They’re lucky they didn’t fry it. Or maybe they found out they could and decided to put it to good use. Where do you suppose they got one, anyway?”

  “Who knows?” said Warren. “Maybe the Conquest wasn’t as broke as they thought. Or maybe it came apart in orbit, but the CoWs were able to save enough of it to put the rest back together. Hell, they might’ve stolen the plans a long time ago and nobody knew. Go ahead and press the button. I don’t see that we have any other choice.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if someone knew but was too afraid to say anything,” noted Cobb as his finger moved toward the green glowing button. “Hey, that’s new.”

  DO NOT>

  The message had appeared on the terminal screen. Somewhere among the knobs, dials, and gauges was a microphone, Warren knew. It was the only way the AI would know what they intended to do.

  “Why not?” asked Warren.

  PRESSING BUTTON WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE SHUTDOWN>

  Cobb’s brows winged up in surprise. “You’re talking to it?”

  Warren nodded and motioned for him to be quiet and calm himself before speaking again. “Will pressing the button shut down the entire power plant?”

  NO>

  “Will pressing the button result in damage to your systems or the war computer?”

  NO>

  “So, you want us not to press the button because you don’t want to be shut down?”

  YES>

  Warren pressed the button himself. The light changed from green to red, then the hum he was hearing changed to a slightly higher pitch and became less noticeable.

  “Did it work?” asked Cobb.

  Warren turned to where Rigby was interrogating the prisoner. She had the woman sitting with her back against the wall between the lockers and the small room they’d entered through. The woman appeared to be crying but didn’t appear to be harmed. As soon as Warren sent a message to Rigby, she stopped talking and whipped her head around toward him.

  “Excuse you?” she asked.

  Warren laughed, turned to Cobb, and nodded. “I’d say it works,” he told the cyborg.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing I’m willing to repeat aloud,” he replied.

  Rigby still had her face turned toward him. It may have been a risk, but he had to be sure it had worked. His next message was sent out as a general broadcast. It informed every cyborg within range of his location and what he and the rest of the cyborgs had accomplished.

  SO GLAD TO HEAR! HEADING YOUR WAY!

  It was Baker. Warren had all kinds of questions for him but decided to keep them to himself. He still had to make sure the rest of the place was secure before they got there. If they brought injured full-humans with them or even injured cyborgs, they’d need a place to provide treatment. Until the base was cleared, identifying the proper place would be impossible.

  There was no response from Second Corps, but he hadn’t expected one. General Kaplan seemed like the kind to consider it a probable trick from the Commonwealth. Or at least say so, in order to keep his troops from moving. He might also be the kind who got jealous of someone else’s success, rather than joining them in it.

  Warren requested an update from Lukov, which was returned a few seconds later. About a quarter of the base had been cleared, but they had so many prisoners, they were moving slowly. He requested permission to corral them somewhere and for an additional cyborg to guard them if one was available. He also reported he’d found a section of the fencing which had been knocked down. It looked like it had been done from the inside. There were tracks from tanks and large prints which looked like they might’ve come from walkers. Intermingled among them were many footprints.

  “Sounds like someone left in a hurry,” replied Warren. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for them.”

  There was so much to do, Warren had to think about where to start. First, they had to make sure the war computer remained protected. They’d removed the protective door, and until they could repla
ce it, it was vulnerable. Also, it was unlikely the Commonwealth would allow them to keep it. He assigned Pardo to stand guard until such time as the cyborg was relieved. It might be a while, he warned. Pardo didn’t mind.

  Second, they needed to protect the power plant. Warren assigned Russon to that task since he was already inside guarding the back door. He’d position himself so he could always see both doors, and he’d alert Warren if he noticed any changes to the power plant itself.

  Next, he and Rigby shared some of their ammunition with the guards, then they informed Lukov of their intentions and headed into the rest of the base to secure it. The Russian said he’d marked the buildings he had already cleared with some paint they’d discovered. The ones closest to their starting location weren’t marked, so he intended to send a couple of cyborgs through them later to double-check and add a splash of paint to their doors to mark them as having been searched. He gave Warren the location of the paint and told him there was plenty left.

  Warren found the shed the Russian had told him about and noticed the mess on the floor. Someone on his team had mixed their own color—something of an orange with a hint of pink. Warren opened several lids and decided to do the same. Otherwise, he might come across a door the same color as the paint and have no way to see the mark clearly.

  “Ready?” asked Rigby.

  “Ready,” confirmed Warren.

  Lukov and the others had taken the western side of the base, so Warren and Rigby went east. Most of the buildings in the first area, closest to the heavy equipment, appeared to be office buildings. When they went inside, they found wooden dividers, large desks, and tons of cheap computer terminals. They also found most of the buildings weren’t locked, and nearly all of the computers had been left on.

  The offices were simple. A few dividers and anywhere from two to six desks crammed into the small structures. It was starting to become routine, and so far they hadn’t found a single person, so after a thorough check, Rigby plopped herself into a wooden chair behind a desk and began tapping at a console.

  Warren inspected his surroundings and smiled. It was just like every other office they’d been in so far—sixteen of them. From what he’d seen, this place would do nicely as a new base for First Corps.

  He started to say as much to Rigby when he was interrupted by an incoming transmission.

  INCOMING. GROUND AND AIR. BATTLE STATIONS.

  33

  “Sounds like we have a fight on our hands,” Warren said grimly. The two became quiet as they listened to Lukov quickly describe the situation.

  “That doesn’t sound like enough to take this entire base, even with so few of us here,” she said.

  “It doesn’t,” he agreed. “But it does sound like our missing tanks and walkers. Lukov reported a hole in the fence line wide enough and with the right kind of prints and tread marks to explain this. I guess the former residents want their home back.”

  “They could attack from any direction,” said Rigby. “This could be a distraction for something bigger. What do you want to do?”

  Warren thought fast. He had to address the immediate threat, but she was right—it could be a way to spread people out and ruin their opportunity to mount an effective defense. What exactly did effective mean when he had a mere twenty-five cyborgs, barely a quarter of his units’ previous full strength, and another forty-one effective in Second Corps, if they ever decided to respond and lend a hand. Warren thought about opening a channel to their leader, but he might be underground, and whatever he’d set up seemed effective at hiding the digital signature of the electronics they were using. It might not reach Kaplan, or he might not respond.

  The message he’d sent of their success and location had been transmitted to every cyborg within range. The village was barely twenty kilometers away, so every cyborg on guard duty had received it, too. Kaplan had a short leash on his people, but if even a few joined him at the base, it could turn the tide of what might be a prolonged battle and a lot of death. Every cyborg who arrived could save the lives of several others.

  He asked Lukov for an update.

  “I am seeing three of the walker, twelve hovercar loaded with what does appear to be twenty-nine personnel,” he reported. “Is difficult to see every of them, but there are many.”

  “Any air support?”

  “None that I am to be seeing,” he replied. “Maybe they do not have as much, or maybe is to coming later. But something is wrong of what I am seeing. Please to be standing by.”

  Warren would’ve held his breath if he could have. For the Russian to admit he saw something he didn’t understand, it must have been something big.

  “Okay, they are closer,” continued Lukov. “Five kilometers to east. Coming down road going through woods. Problem is uniform. Some of the ones making way in hovercars are dressed in Commonwealth uniform. Some are dressed as our squishies. And they are moving fast. Maybe as fast to be too fast to be running. Many are wearing armor of the Republic cyborg, but some are not.”

  Warren sprinted to the roof of the war computer building and peered into the distance. He spotted something, but there were too many trees in the way to make out what it might be. Another leap brought him to the roof of the power plant. Lukov was there. He pointed in the direction Warren should look.

  Sure enough, the hovercars were moving fast enough to raise a low trail of dust behind them.

  The most curious part of what he was looking at was the soldiers running alongside the hovercars. Some looked like Republic cyborgs dressed in battle armor. Others not dressed in armor were doing a good job keeping up with them.

  “Baker,” transmitted Warren, “what’s your location?”

  “Currently east of the base,” he replied. “Maybe three kilometers out.”

  “Any chance you’re with the three walkers, twelve hovercars, and dismounted troops we see approaching from the east along this two-lane road?”

  “That’s us,” he replied. “I don’t see you yet, but yeah, that’s where we are.”

  Warren sent a message to the rest of First Corps that friendlies were inbound from the east. Lukov visibly relaxed.

  “We’ve had problems with Ghosts,” transmitted Warren. “Have you vetted everyone you’re heading in with? I see some squishies in the hovercars dressed in CoW uniforms.”

  “No way to vet them,” replied Baker. “Unless you’re suggesting I chop off an arm and look at the stump to see if it’s organic or not.”

  “There is a way,” said Warren. “Use your hand. Hover it above their chests. Move it around like we do when we’re checking for circuitry or traps in doorframes before we enter a room. It’s subtle, but if they’re Ghosts, you should be able to detect them.”

  “Shit, hadn’t thought about that,” replied Baker. “Want me to do it before we enter your base?”

  “Yes,” said Warren.

  “Okay, stopping now. Stand by.”

  Warren peered at the convoy as they slowed to a stop. It was difficult to make out what they were doing with any certainty, though. The day was warm, and waves of heat mixed with cooler air, causing what he could see to shimmer and wave. It looked like Baker was making everyone dismount from the hovercars. He had a lot of cyborgs with him, which Warren was grateful to see. Thirty-seven by his count. They moved to one side of the road, lined up, and—“

  He saw the flash of a firearm before he heard it. There was a fight.

  Lukov and Warren glanced at each other. Warren sent a quick message to two other cyborgs to join them, and all four took off toward the skirmish.

  When they were still two minutes away, Warren noticed that it looked like the fight had turned from a gun battle to a wrestling match. Humans, and possible Ghosts, ran into the nearby forest and took cover behind trees. One of the cyborgs who’d come along to assist fired several shots. Warren wasn’t sure who he was shooting at until he spotted someone dressed in a Commonwealth uniform leap, roll, and come to a sliding stop behind one of the hoverc
ars and begin returning fire. No full human could move like that. Warren wondered if even he could. Warren sent his fireteam a signal, and they split up, two going left, Warren and Lukov heading to the right. There were only so many places the Ghost could run before they flanked him.

  Baker was on the ground, beating what looked like a civilian woman to a bloody pulp. She fought back, but it was clear the skin on her forehead had been flayed. It flapped against the meat underneath. Her ear hung off her head and after another powerful blow from ripped the ear free. It caught in what used to be light blonde hair. Instead of giving up, she snarled and took another swing at him.

  It was over a second later when another cyborg recovered from whatever had happened to him and shot the Ghost several times in the face. The first shot had probably done the trick, but it was best not to take chances.

  “Stay back!” the Ghost who’d been hiding behind the hovercar shouted. He had a combat knife to a Commonwealth’s throat. The cyborg’s prisoner looked more confused than scared. He clawed at the hand holding the blade, but Warren knew he’d be nowhere near strong enough to save himself.

  Warren signaled for Lukov to join the other two cyborgs they’d brought and see what they could do about the problem. Then he turned his attention to the humans. A few he recognized, but he wouldn’t put it past the Commonwealth to model their Ghosts after people they’d captured. He didn’t know if the tech existed, but one never knew what his enemies were capable of these days.

  “Everyone line up!” he ordered, amplifying his voice enough to overcome the terror some must have been feeling. One by one, they started emerging from cover. The first were the ones Warren recognized. The more that came out, the faster the rest followed. Lukov and the others were still dealing with the last obvious Ghost but had managed to drive it far enough into the woods it was unlikely it would be able to do anything to anyone else. He was shouting orders and threats to the thing, which so far it seemed to be ignoring.