The Sons of Jupiter: Starship Fairfax Book 5 - The Kuiper Chronicles Page 6

  “Stand down, Hive. This is the Lawmaker. I repeat: stand down! Do not attack this ship!”

  Caspar rolled her eyes. She was tired of hearing that man’s voice, but she wouldn’t heckle him now that he was doing his job.

  “Moses,” she said, “want to take any of the auxiliary weapons?”

  Dolridge glanced over his shoulder.

  “Just the auxiliaries,” she said.

  Beep. “I would be happy to. But you should know it is likely that my code broadcasting attempts will fail if I do so.”

  “So the option is to either have you run a couple of guns for us but have no control over any of them, or let us keep our guns and you keep half the drones at bay?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Forget that. Keep doing what you’re doing.” She looked at Dolridge. “You’ve been reprieved, Sir.”

  “I knew they’d never find a machine to replace me,” he grunted, punching a few more holes in space with the heavies.

  “Incoming livefeed,” Moses announced.

  “Audio only,” Caspar said. She needed to keep tactical onscreen right now.

  “Fairfax, this is Darren. We require your assistance.”

  “Ha!” Caspar snapped her head to the screen. “Moses, onscreen!”

  Darren’s face appeared. Mulligan was beside him. Another—the woman who traveled with Ada—stood behind them, her arms crossed over his chest.

  “You need us? That’s rich, Darren. After you absconded with our head-of-security and stole Ada’s ship.”

  “Ah, excuse me,” the woman in the back said, raising a hand. “Technically, it’s my ship too. Sort of a co-ownership right now, we’re still working out the details. But that’s not important. The rest of what you said, the abscondment and whatever, yeah, that’s probably true. And they kidnapped me, technically, so, you know. Bad guy here.” She pointed at Darren. If he reacted at all, Caspar didn’t see it.

  “We’re going to make a run for him,” he said. “We need you to distract the drones. He’s unapproachable while he’s surrounded.”

  “Um…” Caspar frowned. “Who?”

  “Pay attention, lady,” the woman in the back said. “The evil wizard dude in control of the drones. The guy in the middle.”

  Caspar scoffed, then asked for Moses to put the front cam onscreen. Sure enough, in the middle of the swarm—though she could only catch glimpses of him in between the raging torrent chrome—she saw the figure of a man floating in space. She squinted. “You space someone, Darren?”

  “No. That man is there of his own accord, I assure you.”

  “Wait—is he alive?”

  “Very much so.”

  Caspar considered a moment. “Moses, is it possible the reason you haven’t been able to convince all the drones at once is that another mind is persuading them away from you?”

  After a pause, there was a beep. “It is possible, though it seems unlikely without another elite, high-functioning AI in the vicinity.”

  “He’s not an AI,” Darren said. “He’s a man. But he’s augmented his cognitive abilities to the point that he can broadcast his mind into the minds of others. Among other things.”

  “Who is he?” Caspar asked.

  Darren took a breath and sighed through his nose. His reticence to answer the question quite possibly constituted the most emotion she had ever seen him display. “He’s a Son of Jupiter.”

  “No way,” Caspar breathed. Dolridge seemed to snap to attention. Kepple fell silent for a moment.

  “And I gather you’ll recognize him, though not for that. He was a guest on your ship not to long ago. A certain Martian Ambassador.”

  Caspar’s eyebrows shot up. Taurius, the man they had come for in the first place? Here, and like this? She gritted her teeth, letting the realization wash over her. The man the Empire had sent to make peace with the Colonies was a True Son, a member of that secret, elite brotherhood of assassin-spies who had taken their trade to an almost sacred level, and who were so elusive, half the system refused to believe they had ever existed. He would bring peace to no one. Only death, wherever he went.

  “Blow him out of the sky,” she growled. Dolridge glanced at Kepple, who nodded. Caspar frowned. Why was he checking with the councilman?

  “Roger that,” Dolridge said, taking aim for the center of the swarm.

  “Randall, take us in. Straight through, pile drive. I want a clear shot from all the guns. The more of them that get in the way, the more we’ll just shoot down.”

  “Aye, Sir.” Randall sounded nervous. Up till now she’d been instructing him to fly defensively, dancing around the swarm as much as possible, though it had been tricky in a larger and much less maneuverable ship than the drones. Now the Fairfax straightened, aimed dead-on, and began lumbering forward toward the man in the middle.

  Toward Taurius.

  “Fire at will,” Caspar said.

  “Aye, Sir.” Dolridge began a barrage on the nucleus of the swarm, trading out heavies for mediums and back to keep fire going without pause. Drone after drone winked out—ten, then twenty, then Caspar lost count—but there were always more to close the gap. The swarm began shrinking as it tightened around him, protecting him from the guns.

  “I can’t get a clear shot!” Dolridge growled.

  “Keep shooting,” Caspar said. “Either they’ll run out of drones to protect him and you’ll put a bullet in his head, or we’ll wipe out half the swarm trying. Either is a win in my book.”

  The Fairfax kept pushing forward. Now they were nearing the swarm itself, not only within gunning range but almost close enough to touch. But the drones had ceased mounting attacks on the ship. They were all now concerned with protecting Taurius.

  “Almost there,” Caspar muttered. Dolridge kept up the attack, giving the enemy no room to breathe. The swarm shrank and shrank.

  “Cease this attack,” the voice said. Caspar frowned, looking up. It hadn’t sounded in her head this time, but over the bridge comm.

  “Moses?”

  Beep. “I am not Moses. You will cease this attack on me at once, or I will have your ship.”

  “Is he…” Van looked at the command comm. “…is he in the computer?”

  “Blast if I ever set foot on another ship with computers,” Dolridge said, grunting as she continued to shoot.

  “I will have your weapons,” the voice said over the comm. That same instant, the guns dried up.

  “Hey!” Dolridge spun, hands in the air. “Who pulled the plug on the guns? I’m not finished, here!”

  “Moses?” Caspar swiped at her console, trying to find a manual way to contact the AI. “Come on, buddy, we could really use a hand, here! Are you still there?”

  Beep. “I have decided to take possession of the Fairfax,” Taurius said. “Your ship’s AI will no longer be necessary.”

  The bridge went black. Caspar unlocked her clasps to stand up, and floated across the room. Gravity was out, too.

  In a pinched, frightened voice, Councilman Kepple cursed.

  Chapter 12

  The Fairfax had shown up in the nick of time, and had kept the drones so busy they hadn’t had time to address Rylea or her companions in their shuttle. Unfortunately they were also surrounding Taurius, and occupying his full attention, so there was little they could do but watch the battle unfold. Lucas gripped the sides of the pilot chair, his knuckles white. The shuttle had no guns.

  I should be there, he thought, though he didn’t say it aloud.

  “It’s alright,” she told him. “I know how you feel. But I’m glad you came with me.” She laid a hand on his arm, meaning it.

  Come with me, Rylea, Taurius said in her mind. Come now and we will leave this all behind. Let these poor creatures sort this out on their own. They need not die by my hand.

  Let them sort what out? You mean let them face these superweapons alone, or let them figure out how to get anywhere with a ship that’s nearly been destroyed?

  Your c
ompassion would be admirable, were it not so misplaced. I have compassion for you. I have delayed taking you by force many times now, but my patience is wearing thin. If you do not come, I will take you.

  There has to be a better way, she thought. There has to be a way for us to talk. Reason with me, Taurius.

  She sensed a wave of impatience roll off him. Then he returned to his concentration.

  Lucas peered at the viewscreen. The Fairfax had begun an all-out assault on Taurius’ position, and the drones were now swarming around his body, shielding him with their own. “Why are they doing that?” he asked. “Is he controlling them?”

  “I think so,” Rylea said. “He’s certainly working hard at something. He keeps getting distracted in the middle of our conversation.”

  Lucas frowned. “Rylea, have you tried doing the same thing?”

  She thought a moment. “I’ve tried to listen to their minds, but it’s confusing, like it’s all in a different kind of language altogether. I don’t understand the structure.”

  Lucas nodded. “That makes sense. Back on the Fairfax we were working on a way to talk with them. We think their native programming is something like medical programming. But I don’t suppose you have any experience with that.”

  She sat up a little straighter, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth. “Actually, Mom and Dad were doctors. I mean, medical research. I’m not fluent, but maybe…” She closed her eyes and tried to remember any of the prescription and diagnostic structures she’d seen in the house as a child. All that came back were bits and fragments, nothing cogent. Her smile fell. She decided to try anyway, singling out a drone and reaching out with a bit of procedural writing she remembered. The drone slowed, turning toward them, and paused for a moment, then moved on. She shook her head in frustration.

  “I don’t remember enough of it to be of any use.”

  “What about from the experiments?” Lucas said. Erick crossed his arms, clearly broadcasting discomfort at the idea of using Rylea’s bad experience to their advantage. “You had to have been kept in some sort of facility, right? You overhear anything from the workers?”

  She shut her eyes again, reaching back and trying to recall anything more than three or four words strung together, but it was no use. “I really don’t have anything,” she said. She cradled her head in her hands. To have come that close to being able to do something useful and then have it taken away from her like that, her hope frustrated, was more than she was equipped to deal with right now. A tear rolled down her cheek. Erick looked away, ashamed. Not with her; with himself, because he always blamed himself whenever she was in pain. But it hurt all the same.

  “Wally was always the one for memory,” she said. “You know, when he brought me onboard the Spacegull, he took care of me himself, even though he didn’t have an ounce of medical knowledge. Every morning and every night he’d go through the same routine with me, till he had every step memorized. I remember, because he narrated the whole process.” She laughed through the tears. “It was like a little monologue he performed for me, trying to cheer me up. ‘Remember that the patient is scared. Try to make them comfortable by providing a warm, comforting atmosphere. The lumens of the room should be set to—‘”

  She stopped, realizing. “Hang on,” she said, closing her eyes. She picked a drone, one of the ones in the now tight sphere surrounding and swarming around Taurius, and reached out to it. Then she began to mentally relay Wally’s monologue.

  The drone froze in place.

  Two behind it slammed into it, and all three tumbled out of formation in a fiery explosion.

  “Yes!” Lucas clapped her on the back. “Keep it up, Rylea!”

  She laughed again, and picked another drone. More monologue, another drone froze in place, and another three fell out of the sphere, damaged beyond use.

  The comm crackled to life. “Rylea, stop it,” Taurius said. All three of them looked at the speaker, confused.

  “Why are you on the comm, Taurius?” Lucas said.

  “Rylea, stop. The drones are useful. You will destroy them all.”

  “Fine by me,” she said.

  “I won’t let you.”

  As one, the drones zipped away, the sphere collapsing and disappearing. From within, the body of Taurius now hung limp in space. Lucas squinted at the screen.

  “Are we sure he’s alive?”

  “I have evolved beyond my body, and taken another,” Taurius said.

  “That doesn’t sound good.” Erick shifted his weight.

  “Stand down,” Taurius said. “You will come back now and dock with the Fairfax. Or I will destroy you.”

  “Oh, no,” Rylea whispered. “The ship.”

  Lucas zoomed the cam view out. They saw that the Fairfax had changed position so that all her guns were now trained on their little shuttle. One shot from the heavy artillery, and they were all dead.

  Taurius’ presence felt different. Mostly bigger—much bigger. Rylea felt him, enormous, bigger than any man, and knew what his new body was.

  Lucas slumped in his seat, defeated. “But that’s my ship.”

  To be continued…

  2018

  This concludes The Sons of Jupiter. Starship Fairfax, crew, friends, and foes will return for the ongoing adventure in 2018!

  Author's Notes

  Hi Again Reader,

  Thanks so much for hanging out with me and the Fairfax crew! I had a blast writing this book, and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.

  If you want to learn more of Darren’s story, you can get a FREE prequel short-story, “The Trials of Io,” by signing up for my mailing list! You’ll learn about future releases and other great deals, too. And if you haven’t already nabbed your free copy of my other short story, “Totaled,” check it out! You’ll get a glimpse of Caspar’s first tour of duty.

  Lastly, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate ratings and reviews, whether you leave them on Amazon, Goodreads, or a blog or social media. I’m a new author, and any feedback I can get will help me with future work.

  There’s much more to come, so be sure to check out my Amazon Author Page or my blog for links to more fun reads, or to join my mailing list. And feel free to say hello in an email or on Twitter—I love my readers!

  Happy reading.

  Best,

  Benjamin Douglas

  Email: benjamindouglasbooks@gmail.com

  Blog: http://benjamindouglasbooks.wordpress.com

  Podcast: http://thebookspeakspodcast.wordpress.com

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/cantankerousben

  Turn the page for a FREE PREVIEW of my mailing-list exclusive story, “The Trials of Io!”

  The Trials of Io: Preview

  Darren Jet secured his helmet and checked his vital readings one more time to make sure the suit was working. He was sure something would come loose, or his power pack would fail, or his spatial comp would shut down and he would wander blindly into the path of a rogue meteor. Years of experience with his own luck had taught him to anticipate as much. The last thing he actually expected was to survive the trials whole, unscathed, and victorious. But he had to try. It was the only way to pass into the Arms of the Sons, the most elite training program in the solar system. And the only route to his ultimate destination: to join the Sons of Jupiter.

  “Ready, kid?” The pilot’s voice over the com was high and choked with fat. He seemed entirely too jolly to be ferrying people around in the radiation zone. Darren glanced at his readings one last time to make sure his own levels were safe. He looked up at the pilot through the window to the cockpit, aware he hadn’t answered. Numbly, he nodded.

  “Could’a fooled me,” the fat man mumbled. “Drop is in thirty, that’s three-zero seconds. Kite secured?”

  A moment of panic. Was it? He turned in a half-circle like a dog after its own tail. Ah, yes. It was secured. He nodded again.

  “Best of luck.” The man’s face soured. “Oh,” he turned. “Almost forgot. Last se
t of instructions.” He pointed through the window and Darren heard a beep, followed by a snap as a tiny compartment in the wall popped open. Darren ducked down to peer inside and spotted a drive, then snatched it out and plugged it into the data slot on the forearm of his suit. Instructions now? He was about to go into free-fall over one of the most hostile surfaces in the system, and they were amending the mission?

  “My luck,” he grumbled.

  The fat man smiled without it reaching his eyes. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” His hand hovered over the controls. Darren turned his back on him and closed his eyes, focusing on slowing his breath.

  “Two, one. Happy trails, sucker!” The pilot laughed, a vile, throaty sound, and the hatch hissed open. A breeze swept into the cargo hold, just enough to ruffle the pants of Darren’s suit. He opened his eyes and watched the craggy surface flying past tens of meters below.

  No point dragging it out, he thought. He stepped off the edge and dropped into the thin atmosphere of Io.

  There wasn’t much resistance for the kite to sail on, but that was alright. There wasn’t enough gravity to kill him from the fall, either. Just enough to break a leg or two if he landed funny, he reminded himself. He pulled the string. It was soundless, but he felt the gentle tug at his back as the kite expanded and locked into place, an enormous pair of silica-fabric wings hovering over him. His fall slowed and he swooped forward, sucking his teeth as he watched the surface grow closer.

  He was happy not to see any of the brilliant red molten rock anywhere near him. Io suffered from that fascinating planetary malady, volcanism—one of the reasons the Arms of the Sons had chosen it as their proving grounds for recruits. The constant tug of Jupiter kept the moon’s core hot, and eruptions were volatile and unpredictable.

  This led to the second reason for Io to serve as home of the Trials. The surface was covered with razor-sharp crags and edifices, a veritable obstacle course of death. Darren grimaced at the thought. Unfortunately, he could see plenty of that below him now.