Starship Insurgent (The Galactic Wars Book 6)

by Tripp Ellis

  Vynx dropped to the ground with a thud, stunned. Blood trickled from his nose and lips, splattering on the dirty concrete floor. This holding tank had been host to countless brawls in the past. Vynx’s blood was just another stain on the well-traveled surface.

  The assassin raised the shank high overhead. His face tightened, and he snarled as he stabbed down with both hands. The blade sliced through the air, heading straight towards Vynx’s back. A precise hit could sever the spinal cord, rendering Vynx immobile. At the least, it would puncture a lung.

  Emma wasn't sure why she did it. Instinct took over. She bolted across the cell and put a shoulder into the assassin. He tumbled to the ground. The shank missed the target and clattered to the floor. As the assassin staggered to his feet, Emma dislocated his jaw with a round house kick. Bones cracked, and blood spewed across the cell. The opaque crimson fluid glimmered in the stark overhead light. It ended up splattering one of the shoplifters in the face. She squealed as her face twisted up in disgust.

  But Emma’s kick didn't stop the assassin. He charged her. But a flying front snap kick gave him something to think about. The impact jolted his head backwards. His nose shattered, spraying a fine mist of blood that hung in the air like a cloud. His body crashed to the ground, along with his two front teeth that clattered against the concrete. He wasn't getting back up after that one.

  By this time, Vynx had regained his composure and grabbed the shank. Rage boiled on his face. He bared his teeth like a rabid dog as he charged for the dazed assassin still loitering on the floor. Vynx held the blade high overhead, ready to stab down.

  Emma stepped in his path and held him back. "Think about this. You'll never see the outside of a prison cell if you do this."

  Vynx looked at her like she was crazy. This tiny girl had dropped this assassin like it was nothing. And now she was standing in his way, holding him back. His face was dripping with sweat, and blood was still drooling from his lips and nose. He was still filled with rage, but you could tell he was impressed by Emma. He lowered the weapon and backed away. He tossed it in the opposite corner as eight Special Emergency Response Team officers flooded into the holding tank.

  “Up against the wall! All of you! NOW!” the SERT leader shouted. They were dressed in black tactical gear with helmets and face masks. They carried nonlethal energy wands that would fill a person with enough volts to knock them on their ass.

  Most of the inmates knew the drill and took a position with their hands against the wall and their legs spread. Emma followed suit.

  "What the hell is going on in here?" the team leader asked.

  Nobody said a word.

  Emma felt an officer grab her wrist and ratchet her arm behind her back. He slapped a pair of cuffs on her wrist and dragged her to the center of the room and shoved her to the ground. He jammed the tip of the wand in her back, between her shoulder blades. He grinned. "Give me a reason to light you up."

  The team leader scowled at Emma. "I don't like it when inmates beat the shit out of other inmates. Sort of makes it look like we're not doing our job."

  "This individual was assaulting another inmate, Officer,” Emma said.

  “Then you call for a guard to remedy the situation."

  “You’d have a homicide on your hands if I waited for a guard to intervene."

  The team leader hovered over her. "I don't like smart asses either."

  One of the officers found the shank in the corner and showed it to the team leader.

  "Now what do we have here?” The team leader had a devious glimmer in his eyes as he took the primitive knife and held it up, surveying it from all angles. "This type of contraband will get you 30 days in lockdown, and another year added onto your sentence."

  “That’s not mine.”

  "You remember what I said about smart asses?"

  One of the officers attended to the assassin. He was still wallowing on the ground, incoherent.

  "Get him down to medical ASAP," the team leader said.

  Two guards hefted him from the ground and dragged him out of the holding cell.

  "Review the surveillance footage,” Emma said. "You'll see everything that happened here. He came in with a knife. He was trying to kill inmate Vynx.”

  "I don't like it when people try to tell me how to do my job either."

  "You don't like much, do you?"

  The team leader’s face tensed, and his eyes narrowed. "Take her down to the dungeon. That will break that attitude of yours right quick."

  Two of the guards pulled Emma from the ground and escorted her out of the cell.

  Vynx craned his neck over his shoulder and watched them take Emma away. His face tensed and he looked conflicted. It was common knowledge to keep your mouth shut in situations like these. Don't stick your neck out for anyone. Don't rat on anyone. Just shut up and mind your own business. But Emma had saved his life. "She didn't have nothing to do with this, man. This was my fight. He came after me."

  The team leader glared at him. "I don't remember asking you a goddamn thing." He strolled toward Vynx, and an almost imperceptible smirk curled on his lips. He was enjoying his power trip. "You just earned yourself a trip to the dungeon with her."

  43

  Ryan

  After two weeks of proficiency drills, written exams, and qualifications, the recruits moved into the final section of Third Phase. In less than 4 weeks, they would graduate BSCT.

  “Listen up,” Duke shouted. “This is the real deal. From here on out, all of your training will take place in space. There are no safety nets. There is no margin for error. If you make mistakes, you will die. Worse, you could cause a teammate to die. Any screwup, or safety violation, and you will be dropped from the program. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Instructor Duke,” the class responded in unison. They were standing in formation on the Pulverizer. It was 0500 hrs. A Vantage was prepped and ready for takeoff on the landing pad nearby.

  “Move out!”

  The class hustled to the Vantage in full battle rattle, with RK 909s. They looked like Reapers ready to deploy into the field. It was like they were never coming back to the barracks.

  They loaded up the back ramp and took their seats. Duke brought up the rear and strapped in alongside them. The ramp whirred shut. The pilot flicked switches and did preflight checks. A moment later, the Vantage lifted from the ground. The pilot banked around and throttled up, ascending to the upper atmosphere. Within moments, they were gliding above New Earth. For many recruits, this was the first time they had left the planet.

  The Vantage coasted toward the USS Revenant. They were cleared for landing, and soon the skids were touching down on the flight deck. In less than 15 minutes, they had arrived on what would be their new home for the next 4 weeks, if not more.

  Instructor Duke, and the rest of the class, descended the ramp and were greeted on the quarterdeck by Captain Walker and Ensign Carr.

  Duke snapped a sharp salute. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

  “Permission granted,” Walker replied.

  “Captain, you may remember some of these fine trainees from Class 276.”

  “Indeed. Welcome aboard. Congratulations on making it this far. It’s exciting to witness the creation of the next generation of Reapers. Ensign Carr will escort you to your quarters and give you a basic orientation to the ship. If you need anything while you’re on board, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  The recruits followed Ensign Carr with wide eyes, taking in the sights and sounds of an active destroyer.

  Walker pulled Duke aside. “How are they coming along?”

  “They are a strong class. I think they’ll all make fine Reapers.”

  “We may need to bump up their timeline.”

  “They still have another few weeks until graduation. Then there is Reaper Qualifying Training.”

  “I need new Reapers now. Not in another six months.”

  “You know as well as I do, Captain, Reapers are like a fin
e wine—it just takes time.”

  “The UIA is experimenting with an accelerated learning protocol. These recruits have proven themselves physically. What if they could learn all of their advanced training skills within a week?”

  “I’d say that would be an impressive task.”

  “I’d like to run this group through as a test case.”

  “You’ll have to get approval from Rear Admiral Jenkins. You may run JPOC, but Naval Special Warfare Command, and BSCT is under his control.”

  44

  Emma

  It wasn’t the worst solitary confinement in the galaxy, but it was far from a day spa. It was where they put the troublemakers. As such, it was almost never quiet. Somebody was always hollering and screaming. Inmates often took to banging their heads against the wall, trying to commit suicide, or harm themselves in some way. And the guards didn’t really seem to care. The inmates would stop up the toilets and try to flood the section. Anything for attention or entertainment. 40% of the population had some type of mental disorder. And most inmates were pushing double digit IQs. There weren’t many with their doctorate degrees.

  The cells were 4 feet wide by 8 feet long. There was a slim rack to sleep on with no padding and no pillow, and the standard toilet/sink in the corner. This was where an inmate would spend 24 hours a day. They were supposed to get an hour break outside the cell to stretch their legs and exercise, but such luxuries were rarely afforded to inmates in a prison like this. It didn’t take long for most people to go mad. Hardened criminals would break down in tears within a few days, sobbing like little girls.

  Emma was placed in cell number 16. There were still bloodstains on the wall from the previous occupant. Emma could only imagine what had transpired.

  Emma heard Vynx’s voice boom through the air vent that was located near the ceiling. He was in the cell next-door. “Hey…”

  “Hey,” Emma replied.

  “I owe you one. You saved my ass back there.”

  “Well, it’s a rough place. If you need protection. Just come to me. I’m sure we can work out some kind of arrangement.”

  Emma could hear Vynx’s thunderous chuckle rumble through the vent.

  “I’ll say it again… you don’t seem like you belong in a place like this. How the hell did you wind up in here?”

  “I work for the Federation government. I had a little disagreement with the MPD about the extent of my jurisdiction here.”

  “So you’re a cop?”

  “No. Special Agent.”

  “You remind me of that actress… what’s her name… does all the spy movies… damn, it's on the tip of my tongue… Harper Logan."

  "I'll take that as a compliment.”

  "Except you're better looking."

  "You're a real charmer, aren't you Vynx?”

  "You know it, sweet thing."

  Emma shook her head and grinned. "What about you? What's your story?"

  "Not much to tell."

  "That's not what I hear?"

  "And what do you hear?”

  "All kinds of things."

  "Lies and exaggerations. I am absolutely, 100 percent not guilty."

  "I've heard that before."

  "You want the truth? I pissed off the wrong people. I was set up, now I'm here.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “I’m serious.”

  "So, you didn't kill anyone?” Emma said, skeptical.

  "Is this a confidential conversation? Because I don't need my reputation getting tarnished."

  "I pinky swear, I'm not going to tell anyone your dirty little secret."

  "No, I didn't kill anyone. I mean, not here. I killed in the military, but that was different. I'm an ex pat from the Federation.”

  "And you expect me to believe you?"

  "Believe whatever you want to believe. It doesn't really matter to me.”

  "What branch did you serve in?"

  "United Federation Marine Corps. Ooh rah!”

  "So what brought you to Mosaav?”

  "It's a lot cheaper to live here than it is in the Federation." Then he said sheepishly, “And I may have gotten in a little bit of trouble back on New Earth."

  "Shocking."

  "It's not my fault. I just keep making poor life decisions. It's something I need to work on. I'm seeing a therapist about it now."

  Emma chuckled. Without looking at his face she wasn't able to tell if he was pulling her leg. But it sounded plausible. Anybody who ended up in here was making poor life decisions, and Emma felt like she was no exception.

  "In all seriousness, if there's ever anything I can do to repay the favor, let me know."

  "Can you get me out of here and help me find Ragza Vin Zelcor?” Emma said it in jest, not expecting an answer.

  Vynx’s deep voice boomed back through the air vent. "I might know a way to find him.”

  Emma's eyes widened. “You're kidding, right?"

  "Do I sound like I'm kidding?”

  "What's your connection?"

  45

  Walker

  “Absolutely not. There’s a reason we make Reapers the way we do, we don’t change things without good reason,” Jenkins said.

  “I understand, Admiral,” Walker replied. He stood at attention in the admiral’s office back at the Naval Special Warfare Command Center on New Earth. “But we have a pressing need for more trained Reapers.”

  “The keyword here is trained.”

  “The Teams are down to a handful of men. Sir, if we can make better warriors, faster, I think it’s worth trying.”

  The admiral looked constipated. He didn’t like the idea one bit.

  “I don’t want to compromise the integrity of the organization. I don’t think the standards should be altered for anyone. But continual refinement and improvement of processes and procedures is one of the things that allows the Reapers to excel.” Jenkins pondered this. “I’m well aware of your special relationship with the President. I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

  “To the contrary. The Reaper organization is bigger than you, me, or even the President. Every decision should be made with the best interest of the Navy and ultimately the Federation.”

  Jenkins was silent for a long moment. “You’re right. We either adapt or die. I’m going to authorize this new training method for class 276. But I want every metric tracked and performance evaluations every step of the way, as well as a long-term study.”

  Walker agreed.

  “Now, how exactly is this going to work?”

  Walker paused for a moment. “Going forward, there are a few things you should know.”

  The Admiral tensed, expecting something unpleasant.

  “Everything about this project is classified.”

  “It goes without saying, Captain”

  “Don’t get upset, but—”

  “Out with it.”

  “A recruit, during Class 274, was implanted with a neural recorder.”

  The admiral’s eyes widened, and his face turned beet red. The veins in his neck protruded.

  “The device captured every aspect of this training. The recruit, who will remain anonymous, has gone on to demonstrate exemplary performance in the teams. His experience in RQT will be implanted into the trainees of 276.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” The admiral tried to remain calm.

  “I had no prior knowledge of this, sir. The project was only recently brought to my attention.”

  “Who authorized it?”

  “I can only assume the authorization came from the head of the UIA, John Graham.”

  “I don’t like spooks meddling in my organization.” Jenkins had a love/hate relationship with the UIA. They kept the Reapers busy with covert operations. They’d say jump, and the Reapers would ask how high? Most of the time the Reapers would be glad for the opportunity. A chance to do what they trained to do. But Jenkins was starting to feel like he wasn’t getting his due respect.

  “I u
nderstand, sir. I’ve had brief interactions with Graham. From what I can tell, he’s a good man.”

  “I don’t care. Naval Special Warfare is my responsibility. Nothing happens without my approval.”

  “I’ll relay the message.”

  “No need. I’ll speak with Mr. Graham directly.”

  Walker could tell Jenkins was going to give him an earful.

  There was a strong chance this was all going to go wrong. But if it worked, there would be no arguing with the results. If it failed, it was going to be a black eye on the stellar reputation of the Reapers.

  The recruits took positions in the neural programming stations. They looked like elaborate surgical tables that were fully adjustable and padded. The trainees were hooked up to IVs to maintain proper hydration, as well as administer any necessary medication. Xanafex™ Was used during the procedure to keep the subjects calm, and keep vital functions from exceeding a certain threshold. Neural transfers could be dangerous due to the high amount of stimulation. The body would sometimes overcompensate and pump out an immense amount of adrenaline. Cardiac arrest and stroke weren’t unusual complications during neural transfers. Xanafex was a new drug developed specifically for this purpose. In test subjects it had done an excellent job of regulating stress response.

  Vital signs for each recruit were displayed on a nearby monitor. Peaks and valleys blipped on the screen—heart rate, oxygen saturation, blood pressure.

  Technicians in white lab coats placed the neural rings around each of the recruits. There were multiple contact points on the rings, terminating at the temples. Each of the recruits were warned of potential complications, and release forms were signed. They’d already signed their life away when they joined the Navy—the release forms were just an added protection in case a family member attempted to sue the Navy or UIA for wrongful death.