Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) by Mark Wandrey (great books for teens TXT) 📕

idea. There were dozens on Azure when I was there. Might be hundreds of thousands now. They bud at a certain rate, but I can’t remember how long that is. Plus, nobody knows where they came from. One of the Azure researchers thought they might exist in 2nd Level Hyperspace. Back then we hadn’t even confirmed it existed. Just a theory. After my trip there, I’ve been doing math that suggests there might be many more levels, each only accessible from the one above it. Like layers in a cake.”

“They’re dangerous,” Rick said and pointed at the support module. “Deadly, untrustworthy. By any definition, psychotic!”

“Only our definition,” Sato said, holding up a hand.

“We’re the ones trying to live with one of them,” Rick snapped. “I wish I knew why Nemo sent his kid with us.”

“Well, Dakkar did help.”

Rick rounded on him. “Help? Jesus, Sato, help? Don’t you have a problem with that?” He jabbed a knife-hand at the still gratefully dead head.

“I admit it was uncomfortable to watch—”

“Uncomfortable?” Rick roared, unknowingly activating the loudspeaker function. Sato took a wide-eyed step back. “He offered to torture the…the…” he struggled for a good word. “What am I talking about, the whole fucking thing was torture.”

“Dakkar doesn’t understand,” Sato said quietly.

“You keep saying that, but I wonder if you believe it yourself.”

Rick walked over to the room’s only recliner and sat in it. The chair made an ominous creaking sound as he settled in, which he ignored. He fished the power cord from the leg mount and plugged into the room’s outlet. “I’m shutting down. Wake me when you have a plan, or when we need to go, or don’t. Whatever.” Then he shut down all external input.

Sato could tap on his helmet or shake him, and he’d know it. However, no matter how loud he yelled, or anything the cursed Wrogul flashed, he would have no clue, and that was fine with him.

In his solitude, he wondered if he should simply kill the Wrogul while Sato was asleep. What could the scientist do about it after the fact? No amount of absentminded ninja skills could even bruise the Æsir. Then what? Maybe he’d return to the Winged Hussars. Of course, from what he was seeing on the Aethernet, there might not be a Winged Hussars anymore. Regardless, there could be plenty of work for someone like him.

Briefly he considered killing the Wrogul, then Sato, and finish off by doing himself. With the helmet open, he could just suck on one of his remaining grenades. Leave a right good mess for the Japanese to sort out afterward. He wasn’t afraid of dying; he had no memory of it. By all accounts, he was already dead anyway.

The armor said he’d be fully charged again within six hours. He set a timer and reduced control of the armor to automatic. With options and scenarios playing through his head, he knew he couldn’t sleep. So he triggered a small dose of a mild soporific and programmed the medical system to counteract it at any danger flags. In seconds, he drifted off.

* * * * *

Part III

For God knows that in the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

Chapter One

Sato watched the robot handlers moving Dakkar’s module onto a cart for them. Rick stood aside and observed. He hadn’t said more than a dozen words since they’d awoken and he’d told the former merc they were going off world.

“You coming?” he’d asked.

“Yes,” was the simple answer.

Rick didn’t ask where, so Sato didn’t prod. Whatever thoughts the man had had since their argument the previous night, he was keeping them to himself.

Dakkar was as indifferent about their plans as he was their destination. He ate the last of the crabs and seaweed they’d bought for him, Sato made sure the module had sufficient power and nutrients—running the filter into the sink for an hour to empty wastes—and packed him up for the trip to the starport.

“You sure we won’t have issues going into the starport?” Rick asked as the carrier bot automatically moved the module along next to them.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Sato said, glancing at the man/armor walking along next to him.

They reached the security checkpoint for leaving the starport, but the entrance was simply an automatic swinging gate. Sato knew the Japanese were more concerned about those coming into Japan than leaving. They might have felt differently if they’d known Rick and he were the ones involved in the fracas at the museum the previous day. When they reached the startown gate, first he and then Rick slid their Yacks into the entry kiosk and were quickly granted access.

“Easier than I expected,” Rick said.

“If you’re trouble, they’d rather you leave Japan. It would be a lot harder to get in.”

Rick gave a noncommittal grunt, and they walked on into the startown.

Japan’s societal calmness transferred to the Tokyo Startown, at least to some small degree. The crime that was all but endemic at Houston Startown was more of a flavoring in Tokyo. Many Japanese who lived on the wild side used the startown as a sort of cathartic exercise in pressure relief. This most often manifested in petty crime or ballroom brawls. The startown managed these small outbursts largely with Lumar and Oogar security. When a seven-foot-tall, four-armed humanoid or an 8-foot-tall purple bear came in, the fighting stopped.

Beyond the small troubles, the startown mainly handled cargo in and out of Japan, or other points in Asia without access to orbital services. Tokyo Starport possessed three launch lasers, same as Houston, and was only outdone by Sao Paulo with four. However, Tokyo lofted more freight. Sao Paulo’s primary traffic was passengers and bureaucrats. As such, Tokyo was a