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

What Nemo did was reconnect the Mesh’s power supply. He had made sure the Mesh was wiped of all artificial control. He integrated with it, read all the data in your mind, and then stored the essence and memories of you before wiping it clean. The implants remained; the monster was gone.

“Are you not now different? Do you wish to run back to the Science Guild and report? This is a guild facility, after all. The bits and pieces Nemo put back in would lead you here. All you have to do is yell to the Peacekeeper.”

Sato thought. Yes, it was all there. His mind had all manner of command codes and details of the guild’s operations. He could activate the Peacekeeper with a word, free himself from the paralysis, and kill Dakkar. Report on his long-abandoned mission.

No. Why would he do that? The Wrogul had offered him nothing but compassion, all the way back to Nemo sparing a spy who had unknown, though obviously nefarious, intentions. He would never do that. Not now, anyway.

“I see what you mean,” Sato said. He felt the disturbing sensation of Dakkar’s tentacles withdrawing from his brain. He had complete control of his body back. He turned his head to look at the Wrogul floating just behind his head. “You maintained the connection while I worked through it all, at the end.”

“Yes, I did. We trust you, but we’re not fools. Nemo could have been wrong; we wouldn’t know until now.”

Sato smiled. “You Wrogul are amazingly Japanese in your manners.” Dakkar pulsed dispassionately, the equivalent of a Human shrug. He felt his memories roaming back over his father and how the man would listen to his son talk about some newly discovered alien technology while quietly smoking a pipe and nodding. My father smoked, he thought. He hadn’t seen anyone smoking in a very long time.

“What now?”

“That is up to you,” Dakkar said. “My mission is done.”

“Mission?” Sato asked.

“Following you here, letting you run down the mystery.”

“Wait, you said all my memories were stored by Nemo, and now you.”

“They were,” Dakkar said. “But I can’t read them. They are not my memories. Can you watch a story stored on a datachip?”

“By putting it in a reader, yes.”

“You are the reader. Your memories are yours, and only you can decode them. Brains are unique in every species, which is why pinplants are complex. I can see your memories as you remember them, but not without your brain to interpret. The Mesh in your brain is even more complex. You cannot possibly use a tenth of its capacity.”

“Without an AI,” Sato said. Dakkar flashed a Wrogul nod. “What are you doing next?”

“I need to return to Azure and tell them about the Science Guild’s interest. Something disturbing is going on. Perhaps Todd or Dr. Wells can make sense out of this. I/We have been gone too long to know. And you? Have you decided?”

“Yes,” Sato said. He looked at quiet robot. “Peacekeeper, accept command!”

“Authorization?”

“Proctor—Alpha, Omicron, Zeta, two, two, four.”

“Basic Command Functions Only.”

“I can’t make it go away,” he said. “I know my personal code won’t work anymore, but I can do this. Peacekeeper, enter standby.”

“Standing By.”

“It won’t let me leave, but I can do whatever I want until I violate containment. You can go, Dakkar. If you got in here, you’ll be able to leave.” He pointed at the chamber door. “Take Vestoon and go. Maybe Rick survived; take him with you. Tell him thank you.”

“As you wish. Good luck, friend.”

Sato looked at him. “You definitely aren’t Nemo.”

“I have…learned more. Watching you relive your life has made me realize there is much to understand about Humans. I look forward to returning to Azure.”

“Safe journey,” Sato said.

“And you.” With a Phffft! of expelled air, Dakkar flew out the door. He was still a Wrogul. He had no thought or concern for Sato, likely realizing his friend had no intention of leaving. Which he didn’t. This was where it all ended. He floated off the table to his confiscated gear. Time to get to work.

* * * * *

Chapter Eleven

Terminal velocity of a Human falling through Earth’s lower atmosphere is around 90 meters per second, or 320 kph. A skydiver in a controlled fall maintained a velocity of around 54 meters per second, or 195 kph, by assuming a position with the most drag possible. Either speed was largely considered fatal on impact, hence the ‘terminal’ part.

The Æsir armor, for lack of a better term, was a beast. With a good deal of the Human component’s organs removed or modified, the true weak link was the brain. Rick didn’t know it, but that, too, had been modified. The brain could take impressive G forces without permanent damage. Injury most often resulted from sudden jolts causing the brain to smash against the side of the skull. In extreme cases, even when the skull wasn’t broken, these impacts could tear the brain tissue, which was never a good thing.

In order to further improve the Æsir’s survival, the cerebrospinal fluid had been modified. Both the ependymal cells and the arachnoid granulations were altered to facilitate this change. The result was cerebrospinal fluid with vastly improved shock absorbing capabilities, while only sacrificing some disease resistance, which was supplemented with onboard nanites.

Rick crashed into an old section of hull plating, partly deformed by micrometeor impacts and ancient weapons fire. It gave with the impact, yielding exactly 12 centimeters, and the armor automatically arced with the impact, giving some help. The result was 1,650 Gs of deceleration.

He blacked out from the impact. His brain was damaged; a massive bruise began to form. The Æsir damage nanites responded immediately. Within seconds, the hemorrhage causing the bruising was closed, blood vessels were repaired, and the swelling stopped. The