The Last Hercules
* * *
The Last Hercules
A military cyborg, his kidnapped daughter, and a race for lost secrets.
As one of the last weaponized cyborgs developed for deployment in space, Major Baylen Lee is a link to the overthrown government and all of its stockpiled resources. But here on the edge of the Feral Lands, Baylen is just a lonely relic with a history, the last of his kind.
When a sabotaged LEO shuttle locks onto his encrypted beacon and crash lands near his position, Baylen is confronted by the reality that he isn’t the only survivor of the Hercules project. The knowledge comes at a price when his daughter is kidnapped by the mercenaries tracking the shuttle. Now he has a narrowing window of time to rescue his daughter from men willing to do anything for information.
AlphaTek can’t afford to let their enemies learn what he knows, but can Baylen trust the mega-corp and its shadowy agendas to help him get his daughter back? Does he have a choice?
For AlphaTek, the stakes are rising. If the mercenaries get their hands on the intel, PharmaComp and its remaining subsidiaries will be in a position to overthrow more than just the Corporate Council.
AlphaTek isn’t willing to take any chances….
And with his daughter in harm’s way … neither is Baylen.
Who counts the cost when loyalty is priceless?
* * *
The New White Sands City series
SNITCH
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk prequel novella)
***Mailing List EXCLUSIVE – sign-up to receive this book for free.
SHADOW’S FALL
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 1)
STREETS of FIRE
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 2)
The LAST HERCULES
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 3)
The FERAL LANDS
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 4)
GARDEN of MIRRORS
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 5)
RAVEN’S FLIGHT
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 6)
FALLEN HEROES
(New White Sands City Cyberpunk Book 7)
More titles coming soon…
* * *
Contents
Cover
Book Description
Other Books in the Series
Title Page
Author Note
Prologue
Chapter One - Visitation
Chapter Two - Situation Report
Chapter Three - Alpha-Wolf Actual
Chapter Four - Vanessa Hildebrandt
Chapter Five - Hercules landing
Chapter Six - Captain Audience
Chapter Seven - Ivory Tower
Chapter Eight - Power and Control
Chapter Nine - Mission Go
Chapter Ten - Drop Zone
Chapter Eleven - Exfiltration
Chapter Twelve - Gone
Chapter Thirteen - New Priority
Chapter Fourteen - Broken
Chapter Fifteen - The Hercules Project
Chapter Sixteen - Unforgiving
Chapter Seventeen - Common Ground
Chapter Eighteen - Liberty Transfer
Chapter Nineteen - Family Ties
Chapter Twenty - Quickening
Chapter Twenty-One - Decompression
Chapter Twenty-Two - The Setup
Chapter Twenty-Three - Forged by Fire
Chapter Twenty-Four - The Takedown
Chapter Twenty-Five - The Storm
Chapter Twenty-Six - Oversight
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Remains
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Division
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Concerns
Chapter Thirty - Not Exactly a Fishing Trip
Chapter Thirty-One - End of the Line
Chapter Thirty-Two - Planned Obsolescence
Chapter Thirty-Three - Beyond Repair
Epilogue
The FERAL LANDS Preview
Sample Chapters
Also Available
About the Author
NEW WHITE SANDS CITY CYBERPUNK
Book 3
R O N B E N D E R
AlphaTek Global Publications
Calgary
© 2020 by Ron Bender All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9952643-2-8
Copyright © 2020 Ron Bender
ISBN: 978-0-9952643-2-8 (e-book)
First Edition
Written by Ron Bender
Editorial and interior design by Ella Beaumont
Cover image elements by ostil, Tithi Luadthong, and woodoo007
Cover Design by Ella Beaumont
AlphaTek Global Publications
Canada
www.thecyberdeck.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The material in this book is intended for mature audiences and contains violence and coarse language.
From the Author
**IMPORTANT** If you are reading this note, it means that world-altering, post-apocalyptic like scenarios have conspired against us and you are holding a partially completed file. Email me at ronbender@thecyberdeck.com or set your kindle or Kindle app to automatically receive book updates. Here’s how.
R O N B E N D E R
Prologue
The tarmac of the LEO pad shimmers under the floodlights of the lift facility. I’d watched the weather on a screen and knew exactly what I was arriving in. Knowing didn’t make it easier.
A late evening rain had followed a relentless summer day. Combined with the residual heat off the engines and drive systems, the humidity makes my clothing stick. I lift my hair into a short ponytail, trying to get some kind of relief.
It didn’t matter that the sun had been down for eight hours; the thick air across the facility makes breathing almost unbearable. If I weren’t expecting an emergency cargo drop, I’d just keep the hatch buttoned up. But I am expecting a drop and the hatch is down.
Maybe it isn’t so bad…. I watch in fascination as goat trucks and robotic shunters in the distance are pulled upward into distorted specters of themselves. This isn’t a view you get in space. I’m glad I get earth-side as often as I do.
I run a hand over the interior of the metal fuselage. I like flying this old bird, it holds memories for me. I met my husband in this cargo hold, not more than three feet from where I’m standing now. I catch myself wondering if my daughter will join the service when she’s old enough. Maybe then Sophia could come with me, back to earth, to finally see what I’ve been trying to describe to her since she was little.
An unmarked van curves tightly past my LEO’s low-slung tail fins and reverses up to the cargo ramp, the rear doors opening before the vehicle brake lights come on.
My free hand drops from the fuselage to land on my sidearm, and I press myself instinctively into cover behind part of the airframe. After recognizing the three men who exit the vehicle, I relax.
The men wrangle a long shipping can out of the van and hustle it up the loading ramp.
I let them pass and then duck down, looking under the twin fins on either side of my craft, checking the tarmac for any sign of pursuit.
“I get that we’re in a hurry, Corporal,” I say as I straighten and turn to watch the men securing the sealed module to the floor brackets of my cargo area. “But the mission briefing I received was a little light on specifics. It was of the ‘Go here, get this box’ variety….”
“If command didn’t see fit to inform you of specifics,” a deep voice gravels from inside
the van, “then you were excluded for a reason.”
Following the voice into the dark interior, I find its owner and promptly draw myself up, restraining the urge to salute. “Sorry, sir.”
The lieutenant colonel climbs out and moves past me, joining the shipping canister. “Once she’s properly stowed and we’re airborne, I’ll be checking the contents. This craft has an advanced medical system? I spec’d one for this mission.” He doesn’t bother to hide his expression of mild disdain.
“Yes, sir. A new protocol was issued a few months ago. We’re now required to conceal all gear that may be above the civilian level of technology. This LEO might be an older model, sir, but I can assure you it has what you need.”
He grunts his response, “Good enough.”
I watch two of the men deplane. The van leaves as quickly as it arrived. Something about it all sends a chill down my spine.
The last man, the corporal, lingers uneasily near the center bulkhead. “All secured, sir,” he says.
“Captain, button us up,” the lieutenant colonel says, his eyes flicking across the distant buildings. “Get us into the air.”
I punch the button to close the cargo ramp. “Sir, are we expecting trouble?” The idea of some kind of pursuit from an intercept vehicle makes me nervous. I love this LEO, but I know it isn’t nimble, armed, or well armored.
“If we delay, there might be.” The lieutenant colonel continues, “We’ve captured a foreign operative inside our perimeter. She’s currently in suspension at a level two setting.”
I stiffen and look at the cargo can. There’s a woman in there, drugged and troded into insensibility.
At my moment of hesitation, he says, “She’s a valuable asset. We have orders to bring her back for an in-depth interrogation. We are also running with full containment. If anything happens to compromise our return to the platform, we are to close the loop.”
This is definitely not the normal transport run that I volunteered for.
“That order comes from the top, Captain.” He meets my eyes, studying me for disapproval. “Let’s be careful, let’s be quick, and let’s be professional.”
That’s as close to ‘shut the hell up, and do your job’ as I’ve heard in a long time. I make my way forward along the narrow cargo hold.
“The medical gear?” he queries.
I point to the hidden floor compartment he’ll need. “Right there, sir.”
Moving into the cockpit, I visually check some of the pre-lift settings.
As I’m strapping into the command seat, the corporal joins me and quietly closes and dogs the bulkhead door. He drops into a second-row seat and straps in.
The young man looks gray, and his hands shake as he fumbles with the buckle.
“You going to be all right, Corporal?”
“Yeah. This is my first closed loop.” He looks nervously around at the control area covered in switches and controls. “Do you think we’re going to be okay?”
“I don’t see why not. This lift pad is as tight for security as any. As long as the cargo is clean, scanned for possible tracers, and no one’s physically after us…” I leave out the idea of the woman’s sponsors being invested enough to have a satellite watching her movements.
Lights blink, demanding my attention. They draw me back to my immediate task.
I’m glad I’m in this bird. As older LEOs go, this one is great. I’ve been its primary pilot for the better part of a decade. I remember flying it before it was retrofitted with an automated copilot. It’s been in some hard knocks with me at the controls, but together we’ve always pulled through.
The ACP runs its scans, does the calculations, forwards them for my approval, and waits for me to approve communications with the tower. The transmission is a quick signal burst, and the reply is a fraction of a second later.
“Colonel, please ensure you, your gear and the cargo are secured.” I speak clearly into the pickup. “We are taxiing now.”
“Understood.”
The corporal blows out a breath as the scenery outside the thick windows begins to pan by. “It’s so quiet. Not like a regular transport.”
“Electric drive motors in the nose wheel,” I say, keeping myself on oversight, watching, just in case the system fails and needs immediate human control. “Once we maghook for take-off and launch, the SABRE drives will run as basic jet engines until we climb high enough to switch to scramjet. When we get closer to our lift window, we’ll reconfigure the drives again for a full rocket burn to get us into orbit.”
I flip the take-off sequence ‘on’ when the launch window light turns green.
The ACP announces, “Craft is aligned and steering locked. Runway magnetic hook: locked.”
A buzzer sounds through the cabin. “Launch.”
The LEO is thrown powerfully down the runway and into the air, climbing at a steep incline. Then comes the initial surge as the SABREs cut in.
A minute later, a second buzzer sounds. “Accelerating to hypersonic speeds. Active bypass: normal. Climbing to operational altitude.”
The endless expanse above, the crescent of white clouds, and the piercing shades of blue below, the view outside never gets old.
After a moment, the voice of the automated copilot sounds again, “Final altitude approaching. Lift altitude achieved. Holding steady. Boost window opening, trajectory confirmed via satnav. Final window to orbit calculated. Confirmed… Locked… Ready to initiate orbital insertion.”
I look at the numbers scrolling past on a side screen. I confirm the drive efficiencies for the ACP. Automated actuators close the air intakes. The ACP indicates that the turbo-compressors are shut down. The fuel source switches over in preparation for the final push into orbit.
Opening a mic channel, I say, “Colonel, we’re in position for final boost to insertion.”
A quiet chime sounds, and the LEO vibrates as the ACP ignites the burners. Thrust pushes me into my seat. Two and a half Gs make my limbs leaden.
I pull up a dual cam display. One shows the twin aerospikes on the tailfins, the other shows a projection of the targeted lift window, its distance ahead of us, and our current speed.
Lights pulse and flicker: all normal. The countdown clock to my lift window starts to scroll down.
A thud against the cabin door is the first indication of trouble.
“What the hell was that?” the corporal asks, panic filling his voice.
It happens twice more. I don’t have a lot of time to react; the rocket thrust from the engines is hitting full burn.
I flip on a rear cabin cam and pan it around. I speak into the open channel, “Colonel?”
The cargo pod is open, empty. Medical gear is strewn across the deck. The lieutenant colonel is slammed against the closed ramp. A fist-sized hole ripped through his clothes, bloody entrails have been wrenched out and span the length of the cargo hold. He feebly claws at them, trying to push them back into his belly. Only a shocked and vague understanding fills his expression. Blood is everywhere.
The corporal watching over my shoulder whispers, “Holy fuck.”
A naked woman snarls at the cam. Reaching up, she wrenches it from the wall. If the extra gravity isn’t slowing her down…
“Dropping the security bars.” I toggle a remote. The bars hammer into place electronically.
The corporal unbuckles and lurches through the weight of Gs to the barred and dogged hatch as the handle starts to spin. He raises his heavy pistol.
The woman on the other side yanks on the door, but it stays sealed.
“What can she access from back there?” he asks.
“If she’s smart…” I turn to look at him. His face is filled with worry that I can’t abate with my reply. “Enough to be a problem.”
I think about my daughter. Sophia would be coming out of class right now, joking with her friends.
I have to make it home; I’d booked time in the big VR chamber for tonight. Sophia was so excited to be going to a VR be
ach.
… anything happens to compromise our return…. The lieutenant colonel’s words roll around my mind.
I turn to the corporal. “Who the fuck is she? What do you know about her?”
The countdown to lift is past zero. I only have a fifteen-second emergency abort opportunity.
“Some kind of cybered-up crazy super soldier. She’s supposedly killed a bunch of our operatives all over the world, gutted them by hand. The lieutenant colonel was tracking her for a few months, and we followed her to Manila. She sucked up a lot of resources just finding her, more to bring her in. They want her in suspension so they can brain hack her.”
I slam my palm into the pilot override. The rockets disengage.
“I’m canceling the lift window until we get a handle on this. I have to descend, shed some speed. Then I can open vents into the hold.”
“Why descend? Can’t we just open the pod to vacuum when we’re up there?”
“There’d be nothing left to brain hack if she’s freeze-dried.” I shake her head. “We have to chill her but not kill her.”
“The medical tube will have air. Won’t that be enough to keep her mobile?” His tone is unsure.
“Yeah, it does. On a high-end recycler, too. But do you have any idea how cold it’ll be back there inside a few minutes?”
“And then what?” He fidgets.
The not knowing what the woman is doing in the hold is eating at both of us.
“We freeze her to slow her down, and then you shoot her.” I’m checking fuel levels for a second run and burn. There’s enough but only just.
“What about our orders?” he asks. “We have a set arrival time.”
“Are you suddenly in a hurry to close the loop, Corporal?” I bark at him. “Even if we don’t have to? We freeze her out, and you kill her. Empty whatever you’re packing into her guts. Even if she’s dead, we shove her into the medical pod. It’ll hold her like that the rest of the way. Medics on the platform will sort her out for a brain hack.” I start fielding automated information requests about the sudden shift in flight plan and trajectory. I mutter, “We’ll be doing everyone on the platform a favor.”