Warden 3 Read online

  WARDEN 3

  CHRONICLES OF A CYBORG BOOK 3

  Isaac Hooke

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

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  For a limited time, Isaac Hooke is giving away Salvage, the prequel novella, here:

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  1

  Rhea resided in the cramped cargo hold of the spacefaring merchant vessel. Crates lined the metal bulkheads and covered most of the deck. There was no gravity aboard and as such, the cases were strapped down. Using some of the spare cords, she had secured her sleeping bag to the deck between two of the crates and was tucked inside it at that very moment.

  Will and Horatio had taken up residence in the same cargo hold and had secured their sleeping bags between other crates not far from her own. Will floated free at the moment, drifting in the space between crates, while Horatio occupied his sleeping bag just as she did—though his was attached to the overhead.

  “Can’t believe we’re going to spend two weeks in here.” Will drifted into a crate and gently shoved off. His beard was progressing well, and his dreadlocks floated out from all around his head like the tentacles of some octopus. He wore the usual black and gray uniform. His pistol was locked away in storage, just like all of their weapons, including Rhea’s X2-59, which they’d transferred from the shuttle upon boarding. Gizmo, Will’s drone scout, was also in storage.

  “Going to feel like forever, I tell you,” Will continued. “I thought this dude considered you a guest of honor. Why doesn’t he give us better quarters then?”

  “Considering what we’re paying, I’m happy we have quarters at all,” Rhea said. “It’s not a very big ship, in case you hadn’t noticed. There are no guest rooms, and little else available in terms of amenities. And Targon did offer to give up his own stateroom.”

  “Yeah well, you should’ve taken him up on his offer,” Will said.

  “I couldn’t do that,” Rhea said. “This is his ship. It would feel wrong.”

  “If you were worried about how it would make you feel, you could have accepted and then given the stateroom to me,” Will said flatly.

  “Or we could’ve simply purchased passage aboard something bigger,” Horatio interjected. “A proper transport vessel.”

  Rhea glanced at the faceless robot. Its gray and yellow body was all polycarbonate cylinders and servomotors, while its face was an oval with a grey visor and a grill in place of where a human’s eyes and mouth would reside. On the robot’s head, two insect-like antennae pointed in opposite directions.

  “We have no money,” Rhea told the robot.

  Horatio shrugged. “You could have issued a call for donations. Even if you posted to SubverseTube, you have more than enough followers to rebroadcast your message. It would have spread like wildfire, even to the sites you’re banned from. You would have received more than enough to cover the trip.”

  “Why waste perfectly good credits when we had someone offer for free?” Rhea told him. “Especially considering I’m going to Ganymede mostly on a whim.”

  Will shook his head and gently kicked off from another crate. “We won’t be able to get through to her on this Horatio.”

  “Can you stop floating around like that?” Rhea told the salvager. “It’s distracting.”

  Will glanced at her and chuckled. He purposely shoved off from several more crates, zigzagging back and forth above, which only further irked her. She looked away.

  “Happy now?” Will asked from above.

  She glanced up. Will had pulled himself into the sleeping bag he’d secured to the overhead.

  She nodded curtly, then couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t be cross, at least for long. Not now.

  “What’s so amusing?” Will asked.

  “That you’re sleeping bag is attached to the roof, maybe?” Rhea replied.

  Will shrugged. “That’s what happens when you hitch a ride aboard a spaceship, especially one with less room than a tuna can.”

  Her smile deepened. “A spaceship. Can’t believe I’m actually here. Going to Ganymede.”

  “You make it sound like it’s been a lifelong dream,” Will said. “When you only learned you were from there a short while ago. Like you said, this was a whim.”

  “Yes,” she said. “It was. But I’m from there. It’s my home.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see what you think when we actually get there,” Will said. “You’ve seen the videos, right?”

  “I know what to expect, yes,” she said guardedly.

  “Okay, just checking,” he told her.

  “I wonder what the Europans will think,” Horatio said.

  “What do you mean?” Rhea asked.

  “You’re the last Ganymedean left alive,” Horatio clarified. “They haven’t met one in thirty years.”

  “I’m sure there are others,” Rhea said. “Hidden away on Europa itself, or other moons. They just haven’t made themselves known yet.”

  “I already told you when we first met…” Will began. “The Ganymedeans are extinct. Half the population of Earth died in the disaster Ganymede caused: the Great Calming. The survivors wanted vengeance, yes, but they also wanted to ensure nothing like the Calming ever happened again. Everyone lost someone they knew when the Calming hit. Friends, relatives, entire branches of families. The people of Earth heartily supported the military slaughter. Sure, there were some who protested the war, but they were few and far between. You might be surprised at how thorough a military can be when it’s fully supported by its people and government. Though much of the technology of Ganymede was superior to our own, we still won in the end because of our sheer determination and our rage over what they had done.”

  Rhea was quiet for a moment. “If I survived, there have to be others,” she finally insisted.

  “You were an exception,” Will said. “Don’t you understand that?”

  Rhea crossed her arms. “The mayor said he heard rumors Khrusos kept Ganymedean prisoners for personal entertainment.”

  “If he did, I doubt they survived as long as you did,” Will said. “Considering, when we found you, you weren’t in the most pristine of conditions.”

  “No,” Rhea admitted. Her eyes defocused. “I wonder what happened to me…”

  Her eyes drifted to the painting that hung from one wall. It was one of two virtual decorations she had applied to the cargo hold, for her eyes only. Created by a fan, it showed her perched atop a stack of dead Hydras, amid the flattened lean-tos and crushed cargo containers of Rust Town in the aftermath of the bioweapon attack. Her painted representation pointed the sparking blade of the X2-59 toward the walls of Aradne in defiance.

  It reminded her of what she was capable of when she really put her mind to it. She had rallied an entire city to defend against the bioweapons sent to kill them all. She’d become their “Warden” in the process.

  The second augmentation was a window. Beyond it resided a beach lit by a perpetual sunset. Originally mottled clouds had streaked the horizon, but she’d replaced the sky entirely, substituting the stars just as they would appear from the surface of Ganymede. Jupiter’s ball floated in the sky, the great storm of its red spot seeming so calm when viewed from afar. The sun’s rays still cast the water and
sand in lovely shades: the waves were probably too small, considering the tidal forces Jupiter would evoke, but she liked the scene as it was. Near the horizon, she could see the outline of the geodesic dome that enveloped everything, and beyond it, the icy crust of Ganymede’s surface.

  Of course, when she arrived, she would find nothing like this. The Ganymede that once was, the Ganymede from the historical videos, was no more.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if she could rebuild it and restore Ganymede to its former glory. There had to be others like her, scattered throughout the solar system, former citizens of Ganymede who had escaped the persecution. Will was wrong.

  She also wondered if her people could have a home once more. If she put her mind to it…

  “Why do you keep looking at that wall?” Will said, snapping her out of her trance. “Care to share your augmented reality overlays with us?”

  Rhea shook her head and looked down.

  After a moment, Will added: “You know, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t tell any of your Wardenites the real reason you were going to Ganymede. If they knew their precious Warden was a member of the hated people who destroyed half of Earth….”

  She cringed at those words. She hated that notion. Hated it to the core.

  “You’re assuming Miles and Brinks held their tongues,” Horatio said.

  “They wouldn’t tell anyone,” Rhea said.

  Will glanced at her. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because they were loyal,” Rhea stated.

  Will tapped his chin. “Even if they did spill the news, it probably wouldn’t change anything. The Wardenites are devoted to you with a capital D.”

  “Not all of them,” Rhea said. “News would leak, and once it got out onto the Net, it’d spread like wildfire: the much-vaunted Warden is a murderous Ganymedean, one of those responsible for killing half of Earth.”

  “Except you weren’t responsible, and you know it,” Will said.

  She was about to agree, and a part of her wanted to, but another part buried its head in shame.

  “How do you know?” Rhea finally said. “In my memories, the few I have, I’m some kind of elite, crack warrior. Maybe I was one of those sent to Earth to set in motion the Great Calming. Maybe I even planted some of the hidden warheads responsible for destroying entire cities.”

  “I doubt it,” Will said.

  Rhea gazed at her cyborg hands. She wasn’t so sure.

  These fingers could have been responsible for the deaths of billions.

  She looked at the heroic virtual painting once more and, overcome by a surge of self-disgust, she deactivated the overlay.

  “I bet Khrusos knows,” she said finally. “I’m going to have to see him, one day.”

  “If you think your visit with the mayor was eventful,” Horatio said. “You can imagine how much more… lively… your social call with the President of the United Settlements will be.”

  “He’ll see me without issue,” Rhea said. “He knows me. I sat at his table.”

  Will laughed. “Sometimes, Dude, you’re so naive. He’ll arrest you on sight. He has to. Peace was never declared with Ganymede. As far as he’s concerned, we’re still at war and you’re an enemy. He’ll definitely make you a prisoner. You avoided being chipped once, you really think you’ll avoid it again? That’s what probably happened to you, you know. You weren’t a guest at the president’s table, like the mayor told you. You were his slave.”

  “If that’s true, then he will pay,” Rhea said. “And he won’t succeed in chipping me again.”

  Will chuckled. “Okay. Keep believing that. Sure, you have some skills, but also, you’ve been lucky a lot of the time. You have to admit that.”

  She frowned at him. “You were the one encouraging me to visit Khrusos before we left…”

  “I didn’t say that in as many words…” Will said.

  Her voice became stern. “Yes, but you implied it.”

  “Yeah, that was a mistake,” Will said. “I realize that now. Should have kept my big mouth shut. I only brought up Khrusos at the time because I wanted to stop you from coming to Ganymede. But it’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?”

  The door to the cargo bay slid open, and a man with a generous girth jetted inside. It was Targon, the trader. He originally hailed from Mars but called interplanetary space his home. He dressed in long, flowing silk robes; a brown belt tightly clasped his waist, and some of his ample girth tumbled over it, partially concealing the gold buckle. He wore a jetpack, which constantly vented stabilizing propellant to keep him from drifting into any of the crates. That jetpack probably contributed to his size, because it meant the man scarcely did any exercise. Then again, living in the weightlessness of space wasn’t all that conducive to exercise in the first place.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Targon smiled down at her.

  Rhea sat up and gave the merchant a forced smile. “Oh, hey.”

  “How is the Ol’ Molly Dook treating ye?” Targon pressed. That was the name of his ship.

  “She’s treating us well,” Rhea said.

  Targon beamed. “Still can’t believe I’m carrying the famous Warden of Rust Town in me hold! It’s like the pixie dust of the faeries has been sprinkled into ma eyes, every time I look at ye!”

  Rhea gave Will an uncomfortable glance. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

  “Don’t ye be worryin’ lass, it’s a compliment for sure,” Targon said. “So how is me favorite passenger doing today then? The quarters too tight for ye? Want to swap with me stateroom?”

  “Keeping in mind that what he calls a stateroom is about half the size of this bay,” Horatio said.

  “Certainly, but there are no crates me boy!” Targon shot back at the robot.

  “It’s okay,” Rhea said. “I don’t want to bother you. I’m happy—”

  “No, no, no,” Targon said. “It’s no bother at all. Come on then, lassy, to the stateroom with ye.”

  He jetted forward and reached down to grab her arm, but Rhea slid to the side. “Please, I insist. I like it here. With my friends.”

  Targon sighed. “Friends. All about the friends, is it? And I’m not a friend? The man who’s giving you a free lugging to Ganymede? All right. But let it not be said that Targon did not offer the Warden his stateroom!”

  “It won’t be said,” Rhea assured him. “I mean, it will be said.” She paused in confusion. “Never mind.”

  “So then, ye know we still got about two weeks to go, right?” Targon asked. “I figured to best pass the time, we shall play virtual cards!”

  “I’ll pass,” Will said. “I hate cards.”

  “Cards are not to my liking,” Horatio agreed.

  Targon glanced hopefully at Rhea.

  “Sorry, big guy,” she said.

  Targon slumped. “Very well. It’s been so long since I’ve had me some passengers. I mean real passengers, not the virtual, simulated kind. I sometimes conjure them to entertain me-self, you see. So I’m not quite certain how to entertain the real deal.”

  “You don’t have to,” Rhea said.

  “I definitely agree,” Will said. “Feel free to hang out on the bridge, or your stateroom, or wherever it is you ordinarily pass the time between planets.”

  “That would be in virtual reality,” Targon said. “It’s the best way to kill a few days when the ship’s journeying between planets. Come on, ye all might as well join me. We don’t have to play cards, that was just something I thought ye Rust Towners would like. Speaking of Rust Town, might I suggest a virtual recreation of the Battle of Rust Town? Someone uploaded a new Battle Engine mod the other day, based on the footage of our famous Warden fighting the Hydras. I downloaded it before I left Earth. It’s even more realistic than ever before!”

  “I’d rather not relive that event, thank you,” Rhea said.

  “Nor I,” Horatio said.

  “Fine, fine, we can play Robot Wars if ye insist then,” Targon said. “I know it�
��s what ye really want, seeing as I was once a world champion player. Ye want to learn from me, which is understandable. I’m happy to teach ye, and once ye get good, Bob’s your uncle.”

  “No games,” Rhea said. “Seriously.”

  “All right, all right,” Targon said. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “By the way Trader, I got a question,” Will said. “How close are we going to pass to Jupiter? I’ve heard the radiation isn’t… well, very nice.”

  Targon snorted. “Oh no, it isn’t very nice indeed. We’re going to give Jupiter a wide berth—the radiation is one concern, me friend, but the bigger concern is the gravity. It can be hard on me engines, but lucky for us, Ganymede will be on the far side when we arrive.”

  “You can use the gravity as a slingshot,” Horatio said.

  “Oh, me fine-feathered robot, I intend to!” Targon told Horatio. “But, sadly, we will be needing a lot of delta-v to escape this handy slingshot, so once we’re past Jupiter it’s going to take another few days to reach Ganymede. We’ll be exposed to quite a bit of radiation during that time, as one of ye mentioned, I can’t remember who… oh yes, the dirty-haired one.”

  “Who’s the ‘dirty-haired’ one?” Will asked.

  “That’s you,” Rhea said.

  “Hey, I wash my dreadlocks every day…” Will said. “Sort of.”

  “Of course ye do,” Targon said. “Especially when there’s a water ration aboard! Wastin’ it, are ye?”

  Will glared at the man.

  “Where was I?” Targon asked. “Oh yes. The radiation. The armored hull will absorb most of it.”

  Targon had explained a little bit about how that armor worked. It was augmented by their trash, which was processed into plastic-filled tiles that would be removed when they reached spaceport. The water required for the crew was also stored strategically about the hull, creating an extra layer of radiation protection beneath the armor. That water was recycled and replaced as they used it.