Starship Insurgent (The Galactic Wars Book 6)

by Tripp Ellis

  Dr. Holly Noble was heading up the project. She was considered by many to be the greatest mind of her generation, on par with the likes of Einstein. She was the total package of brains and beauty. Though she wasn’t infallible. Her last project had less than stellar results.

  “Take a deep breath and try to relax,” Dr. Noble said. “As we discussed previously, you will be receiving a high influx of sensory input. Multiple areas of the brain will be stimulated simultaneously. I know each and every one of you is accustomed to challenging situations, so I believe you will all be able to handle this physically. However, you may find the transfer process overwhelming. Try to stay calm, and absorb the information. We’ll be closely monitoring your vitals, but if at any time you feel uncomfortable, please let the technicians know. You may feel flush, experience high heart rate, increased respiration, mild perspiration—”

  “Kind of like sex,” Alvarez shouted.

  Dr. Noble rolled her eyes. “It will have the sensation of mild physical activity. But should you become dizzy, or short of breath, then we have a problem.” She gave a final check on the recruits.

  There was a technician manning each station, and they all gave the thumbs up.

  “We’ll start out with a very low signal at first, and gradually ramp up.”

  The technicians activated the devices, and the neural stimulation began. This session lasted for 30 minutes, with no adverse events. There weren’t enough devices to accommodate the entire class at once, so the class was divided into three groups. Space buddies were kept together. The groups resembled boat crews from First Phase.

  Dr. Noble was still optimizing the process, but it seemed like the best absorption rate resulted from no more than four sessions per day. The brain needed adequate recovery time. Otherwise it was like pouring water into an overflowing cup.

  Three days into the protocol, they had their first complication.

  46

  Emma

  "So, an old army buddy of mine calls me up with an opportunity,” Vynx said. ”It's a good gig, he says. Easy. Pays well. Just my kind of thing. But don't ask too many questions, he tells me. Okay, fine. I know it's probably not 100% legit. But the money is green. I don't know, don't want to know. All we have to do is run security on a cargo ship. Keep it from getting raided in open space. Make sure nobody jacks us in port. And keep our mouths shut about it. Not a whole lot different from special ops. So I take the gig."

  Vynx was doing his best to whisper through the vent. Emma had climbed on top of the bunk and put her ear to the louvers.

  "The first couple of runs were no big deal. I figured they were just testing us out, making sure we were trustworthy. Then things start to get a little shady. I figure we’re probably guarding shipments of drugs, or something like that. But I keep my nose out of it. Plausible deniability. Then we make a run to Epsilon Reticula 5. One of the crew drops a crate as they're loading it into the cargo bay and it cracks open. I catch a glimpse of the UPDF markings. They’re Perseus II nuclear warheads.”

  Vynx’s words hung in the air like smoke.

  "A few assault rifles would be one thing, but a fucking nuclear warhead?” Vynx said. "So I started asking questions. And these people don't like questions. I was told to keep my mouth shut and mind my own business. And when I said I didn't want to work for them anymore, they told me I didn't have a choice. Keep working, and keep quiet, or they're going to find my family and kill them. I thought they were bluffing until they kidnapped my sister."

  "Who were you working for?"

  "A guy named Aknar Suspa.”

  Emma grimaced. She didn't say anything for a long time.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Suspa is dead. He was my path to Ragza.”

  "How do you know he's dead?"

  "Because I saw it with my own eyes.”

  "Are you sure?"

  "We set up a meeting with an informant. We were going to tail him, and keep tabs on him until he led us to Ragza.”

  "No. That doesn't sound right. Suspa doesn't meet with low level operatives. He rarely leaves his home. He's got a double that handles all of his public transactions. My guess is he's still alive. And I can lead you to him. That is, if we can get out of here. I know where he lives.”

  Emma was standing on her tiptoes atop the bunk, listening through the vent. She slid down the wall and took a seat, deflated. She felt the odds were slim of ever seeing the outside of her cell. She curled up on the hard plank and tried to get some rest. But it was impossible to sleep with all the noise going on in the section. Her mind was racing, going over the events of the day, and trying to solve the puzzle of how to move forward. She examined everything she had seen since she entered the prison, hoping to find a flaw or weakness in the security.

  Without windows or a clock in the cell, she lost all track of time. It was hard to tell whether it was day or night. The only clue was the schedule of the guard rotation. It was a little heavier during the day. And a single meal was served during the day. It wasn't much to speak of, just some type of indiscernible slop shoveled onto a tray. It had a chalky taste and dried out her mouth. It was hard to swallow, like paste. After meals, she would hover over the sink, slurping from the tap to wash it down.

  The days blurred into one another, and Emma wasn't sure how long she had been locked up. A week? A month? Maybe more? She was partially delirious and thought she was dreaming when the guards deactivated the force shield. She stared at them blankly for a moment.

  "If you really like it here, you can stay. Otherwise, you've been sprung.”

  "What?" It still wasn't registering with her.

  "You can go."

  She stood up on the bunk and shouted into the vent. "Hey Vynx, I'm out.”

  "That's fantastic. Good luck out there."

  "I'm going to see what I can do for you."

  "Today," the guard yelled.

  Emma hopped down from the bunk and exited the cell. The guard let her out of lock up to the exit processing area. She collected her personal belongings, minus her weapons, and stepped out into the exhaust-filled dusty air of Mosaav. She took a deep breath and filled her lungs. It was better than the musty smell of solitary confinement, which was ripe with the smell of body odor and other unpleasant aromas.

  Pinford was waiting for her at the curb. He didn't look happy.

  "Boy am I glad to see you,” Emma said.

  Pinford glared at her. "You have no idea the trouble you’ve caused. You almost started an intergalactic incident. I had to pull a lot of strings for you. Get in the car."

  Emma hopped into the passenger seat of Pinford’s car that was parked at the curb. Pinford slipped behind the wheel and issued a voice command. "Take us to the Mosaav Intergalactic Spaceport.”

  Emmas eyes widened as the car pulled away from the curb and entered traffic. "Why are we going to the spaceport?"

  "Because, as a condition of your release, you must leave Aldebaran immediately. And you are no longer an employee of the UIA.”

  "No. You can't do that. I know where Suspa is.”

  "The order comes directly from Graham and the Aldebaranian government. If it were up to me, I would have let you rot in that prison forever. And in case you haven't heard, Suspa is dead.”

  No he’s not. It was a double. I know where he is. We can find Ragza.”

  "That's not your job anymore. You should count your blessings.”

  "What about Anderson?"

  "He was released earlier this morning. I personally saw him leave on a transport."

  Emma slumped, defeated. "What about my stuff?"

  "I'll have it shipped to you." A snide grin curled up on Pinford’s lips. "Good luck finding a job after being fired from the UIA.”

  Emma clinched her teeth. It was like getting a dishonorable discharge from the military. It was a negative mark on your record forever. But that didn't bother her near as much as the fact that Ragza was going to slip through her fingers, and the terrorist attacks were g
oing to continue .

  47

  Walker

  Ryan’s vitals elevated and he began to convulse. He was dripping with sweat. Monitors beeped and buzzed. White lab coats fluttered as the technicians rushed to him. They discontinued the neural transfer and gave him another dose of Xanafex. After a moment, he stopped twitching.

  Dr. Noble examined Ryan. He lay motionless on the table. His eyes were fixed and dilated. It was indicative of serious brain trauma. She injected him with Platrivox™, an anti-platelet that would help minimize blood clotting. She wasn’t sure if he had a stroke or not. With her PDU, she did a quick brain scan. The device analyzed the results, and within seconds, concluded no physical trauma had occurred. But Ryan was still non-responsive.

  Dr. Noble’s face was bathed in worry. Not only was she concerned for Ryan’s well-being, this could be the end of the project.

  “Continue to monitor him. I’ve got to notify Captain Walker,” Holly said to one of the technicians.

  “What about the others?”

  “Let’s discontinue the sessions until we know how to proceed.”

  One by one the technicians began ramping down the transfers on each of the recruits.

  By the time Walker arrived in the testing center, Ryan was alert and responsive. He was sitting up on the table. “I’m fine. Put me back in, coach.”

  “We need to run some more tests and see what exactly happened,” Dr. Noble said.

  “It was just more information than I could process. It was like a brain freeze. That’s all. I’m fine. Really.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with Dr. Noble,” Walker said. “Let’s halt the program, keep him monitored, and re-evaluate in a few days.”

  Ryan deflated. “Look, I want to get out there and start contributing as soon as possible. I assume the rest of the class feels the same.”

  “Hooyah,” the rest of the group replied.

  “Jenkins is going to need to be informed of this,” Duke said.

  Walker nodded, but cringed slightly.

  “I’m pulling the plug on this,” Jenkins said. “I will not allow anything to compromise the viability of our recruits.” His face flickered on Walker’s PDU.

  Walker was regretting not taking this meeting in person. A video call was much easier for the admiral to dismiss. “I understand, Admiral. But so far, the recruit in question is exhibiting no ill effects. It seems to have been a transient sensory overload that put him into a catatonic state.”

  “We don’t know what the long-term effects of this is going to be. You could be scrambling these recruits’ brains. And what happens if they freeze up on the battlefield?”

  “I spoke with Dr. Noble. She suggested reducing the amount of transferred data per session. How about we continue to monitor Mr. Hunter, and put him through some performance evaluations with cognitive tests to see what skills, if any, he’s acquired thus far during the protocol?”

  Jenkins paused for a long moment. He let out a long sigh. “All right. I’ll allow it. But proceed with caution. One more of these incidents, and I’m terminating the program.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Ryan was put through a range of cognitive testing. The results were compared to his pre-protocol tests. There was no significant deviation in cognitive ability, memory recall, or motor skills. Brain scans continued to be normal.

  All of the recruits were then tested for absorption—how much had they actually learned from the neural transfer process?

  After BSCT, officers attend the Junior Officer Training Course where they learn to be effective leaders. After which, they are sent to jump school. Enlisted members attend Army Airborne training directly after completing Biscuit. Jump school is a regimented three-week program where they will learn both static line and free-fall training. Trainees will progress to night HALO ( high-altitude, low opening) jumps in excess of 10,000 feet. They learn to do these jobs with both the Advanced Ultralight Armor as well as the heavier T-6000s.

  Once completed, both officers and enlisted must go through Reaper Qualifying Training (RQT). A grueling 26 week course that instills the advanced core tactical knowledge it takes to join a Reaper team. They learn things like advanced weapons training, close quarters combat, small units tactics, and advance space combat tactics. They also learn to evade and resist capture, as well as torture endurance strategies. Additionally, they are trained in explosive ordnance disposal, and advanced battlefield medical procedures. It is a long, classroom intensive process, and only upon completion are the students awarded their Reaper pin—the Skull & Scythe.

  The prospect of shortening that training cycle was certainly enticing.

  The results of their absorption testing proved encouraging. The recruits had only undergone a few days of the neural protocol, so their knowledge at this point was limited to the rest of Third Phase and the first week of Airborne training, or JOTC if the trainee was an officer.

  Duke ordered group 1 of the recruits to engage in a Third Phase evolution with the T-6000s that required a high degree of technical proficiency.

  “There’s a Navy cruiser on the far side of Eupona. The USS Bunker Hill. You’re mission is to infiltrate the vessel undetected and deploy a dummy charge in the reactor room, then exfiltrate back to the Revenant. You have 4 hours to complete the mission, starting now.”

  Eupona was one of several small moons orbiting New Earth. The Bunker Hill was running drills of its own, practicing Marine infantry landings on the surface of Eupona.

  The Reaper recruits prepped their mission, donned the T-6000s, and launched from the 2nd Deck airlock.

  The continuation of the neural protocol was going to depend upon their performance.

  48

  Emma

  "He's pulling your chain," Graham said. There was a lot of digital distortion on the transmission. His image broke up occasionally on the screen of Emma's PDU.

  "I think he's telling the truth.” Emma sat in a deportation area in the spaceport. Guards were posted at the entrance. From where she was sitting, she could see the tarmac.

  "I'm sorry, but an inmate in solitary confinement is not a credible source that I can go on. Especially after your recent fiasco. Diplomatic relationships with Aldebaran are at an all time low.”

  "At least check him out. His name is Vynx Malar. Former special forces. I’m completely locked out of the system and can't access the database."

  "My hands are tied here. I'm sorry.”

  "Just look into it.”

  Graham reluctantly agreed. “Now get on that shuttle when it arrives. I need to debrief you on your return.” He ended the transmission.

  Pinford paced around the room. "It's going to take years to undo the damage you've done." Emma's departure couldn't come soon enough.

  "At least now you might actually have to work for a living.”

  He scowled at her.

  The two sat in silence for the next hour until a Vantage descended on the tarmac. The air rippled and distorted below its massive thrusters. The landing pylons compressed under its massive weight as it touched down.

  "Looks like your ride is here." Pinford escorted her across the tarmac and saw that she boarded the vehicle.

  Chloe waited for her at the top of the loading ramp with her ever pleasant smile. “Mission accomplished?"

  "Far from it."

  Chloe's smile faded. “I'm sorry. They don't give me any details. They just said to come pick you up.”

  Emma looked back at Pinford and gave him a smile and a wave that said fuck you.

  Chloe pressed the button on the bulkhead and the back ramp whirred shut. She slipped into the pilot seat and powered the Vantage up. The preflight checks all came back green. The control tower gave her clearance to take off, and she throttled the engines up. The Vantage lifted from the tarmac and ascended into the upper atmosphere. They were escorted by a squadron of fighters to the edge of Aldebaranian space.

  "I take it you're not welcome back?" Chloe asked.
<
br />   "They didn't seem to find my personality very charming.”

  Emma didn't want to waste any time. As far as she was concerned, her mission was still to find Ragza, even if she wasn't officially employed by the UIA. “What kind of surveillance capabilities do you have on board?"

  "My instructions are to return you to New Earth as soon as possible, without deviation."

  "It was just an innocent question.”

  "The Vantage is equipped with high-resolution optics, but from this distance they won't prove very useful."

  Emma lost herself in thought for a moment. Then her eyes brightened. "I've still got a set of mosquito drones in Mosaav. Standard protocol is to go into hibernation mode when they can't return to their point of origin. If I can establish communication, I might be able to reactivate them."

  "Please don't put me in an uncomfortable situation. I have my orders.”

  Emma pleaded with her. "Just give me five minutes to try to establish a connection. We can deploy a relay buoy to extend the range. This could be the deciding factor in stopping the terrorist attacks.”

  Chloe bit her lip. “Okay. Five minutes. I’m going to take this time to plot jump coordinates. What you do during that time is your own business." She smiled.

  "Thank you." Emma pulled out her PDU and tabbed through the applications until she found the drone controller. She launched the program and selected the squadron of mosquito drones that she had deployed to surveil Suspa. The screen displayed the message attempting to connect. The status bar spun for several minutes. It didn't look like it was going to work. Probably too far out of range, she thought.

  A moment later, the screen read: device found, connection established. The screen was split into four distinct views from the drones, with flight controls and commands displayed below. The drones were still in the restaurant, perched in hibernation. She entered the coordinates of Suspa’s home that Vynx gave her. The drones took flight and buzzed through the city. It was going to take a considerable amount of time for them to travel to the location. They weren’t the fastest things in the galaxy.