The Lightbreakers of Orpheus [23]
A serialised Sci-fi novelette
Previously [22]
[23]
“Everything is going well. He’s in. We’re getting info from him. Implanting our own stuff along with the Lightbreaker tech was the right choice,” said Doc Benton, coming up to Derek.
“It’s not a choice. It’s a death sentence. Mark is marching to his death. I should’ve gone instead of him. Anouk is my daughter.” Derek pressed his palm onto the glass wall of the operation room. Sophie laid in there. Lifeless, plugged into life-support systems keeping her breathing.
“And what? You’re not a Lightbreaker. You’d be dead meat before even reaching the outpost.” Doc shook his bald head. “Besides, you’re not her father. Luckily the Peacekeepers intercepted some of the Rebel communication. Her real daddy is still busy recovering after harvesting her for inner organs. Sheesh, what a scum!” Doc paused. “But at least it gives us more time.”
Derek gritted his teeth.
“Mark has to find her,” he grunted.
“If she’s still where our spies sniffed out, he will find her.” Doc Benton put his hand on Derek’s shoulder.
***
Extend arm for the feed, the Voice commanded.
Mark knew, if the feed was given to the Lightbreakers when still in the outpost, not in the battle ship, it meant they’re not going into battle, but training.
Mark extended his left arm. A robot plugged the feeding tube into the mechanical part of his arm, where real, live blood vessels pulsed only a month ago. Liquid rage flowed into his system. Chemicals making Lightbreakers fit to be ruthless battle machines. Mark held back a gasp, he had forgotten what it meant to be high on anger, and thirst for destruction.
Half-mechanical super soldiers pumped with testosterone, and adrenaline, marched away from the feed into the training course. Each was led into a battle simulation, a labyrinth of artificial enemies to shoot.
Mark knew what he had to do. He ignored the Voice’s orders, and marched in the opposite direction.
Soldiers, enter the simulator. Soldiers, enter the simulator, the Voice kept repeating because it could detect Mark walking away. The Voice wasn’t almighty. The Rebel technologies weren’t impeccable.
The Rebels were not losers. They saw themselves as winners, and losing wasn’t an option. Imperfections didn’t exist in their world. Mistakes never occurred. It had been so for years. Therefore, they were not ready for a real living mistake to simply disobey, and walk out the system.