Taggart: Heroes of the League, #2

By Frank Carey

They took part of his soul. Will he be able to stop them from starting a war?

John Taggart, the Earth’s foremost expert on soul transference and telepresence, leads a rescue mission to save a Martok ship from a group of renegade Tralaskans. Can he stop the Tralaskans before war breaks out?

 If you like tech-heavy sci-fi, relatable characters, and stories of interesting species caught up in unbelievable circumstances, you’ll enjoy this second book in Frank Carey’s Heroes of the League series. 140 pages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Carey
• Release date: Apr 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386426233

Frank Carey

Frank Carey has been formally writing and publishing works of science fiction since late 2013. Over the years prior, he had dabbled in various forms of writing including haiku poetry, but that all changed when he and his wife, Jo, decided to try their hand at writing and self-publishing. Since then, he has written and published a collection of flash fiction and short stories, two anthologies, a pentalogy, and a trilogy. All his work, to date, has been in the science fiction genre. Most of his stories take place about two centuries in the future when Earth joins the League of Planetary Systems. Many of his protagonists are strong females. He is an inveterate pantser who believes the story will go where the story wants to go. Frank’s background includes degrees in physics and extensive work as a scientific programmer and technologist.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Fifteen years earlier in a secret lab on Earth, somewhere in the Mojave Desert...

The meeting room was sealed off and only the highest rated, most senior members of the Biocybernetics staff were in attendance. John was sitting at the back of the room next to one of Gloria's storage spheres, which were scattered throughout the facility. Around him sat the biggest big shots at Lab Omega Six, and none of them looked happy.

The door opened to admit the Director of the Lab Omega Six followed by someone unknown to John. The new person was a tall, thin Tralaskan male with the air of the Aristocracy that John so disliked. John had no problem working with anyone of any species, but he drew the line with bigots. The concept of inherent superiority made John want to retch.

Quiet! the director said to the room in his typically tactless manner.

Silence filled the room.

"Let me introduce the new Head of the Biocybernetics Division, Dr. Narnn Falta from the Tralaskan Center for Biocybernetic Studies.

The room filled with applause as Dr. Falta's reputation proceeded him.

John looked at Falta, having read several dozen of his papers over the course of his career. Though John thought many of the papers to be a rehashing of published work, he had to admit that many of them were based on very important principles.

John, can you work with this guy as your boss? Gloria whispered from her sphere.

I hope so. If not, would you come with me if I left?

No, but I'd miss you a lot. she replied. I've got a good thing going here, and I'd hate to give it up to live in an aquarium hooked up to a commlink.

Your love knows no bounds, he said. I'm touched. I think you're telling me to get over myself and play nice with others.

You are a genius. Damn. I feel bad I doubted you.

He let out a laugh.

Is there something you'd like to share with us, Dr. Taggart?

Sorry. Gloria just advised me to get along with Dr. Falta.

I always knew Gloria was the smart one. Thank you, Gloria. Now, if there's no further levity, we need to get down to business. We have two projects that are going to the front burner as of this morning: Project Anima and Project Hell Spawn. Both projects will be under the auspice of the Biocybernetics Division. John, you'll head up Anima while Falta will run Hell Spawn. People, Space Command and the League Marine Corps are both extremely interested in this, so act accordingly.

The Director spoke at length before dismissing everyone, except John. John, I would like you to give Dr. Falta a tour of your lab and introduce him to Gloria when I finish with him in, say, an hour.

Yes, Director.

Good, then I'll let you get back to work, he said as he led Dr. Falta out of the room.

John looked at the parting duo unable to shake the sense of unease he had from the moment Narnn Falta stepped into the room. Something was off with Falta and John couldn't put his finger on it.

John, you okay? Gloria asked as her plasma fields went pink, a sign that she was worried about him.

Yeah, fine. How about we go see what miracles we can perform before Dr. Falta shows up?

How about instilling humility in you?

I said miracles, not impossibilities, he said with a chortle. He walked out as the plasma streamers dissipated, leaving an empty glass sphere.

CHAPTER TWO

Several months after the meeting...

John leaned against the table and read the data analysis from the last run. He went from frown to surprise and back to frown as the graphs formed in the air above the datapad. Even though this was a new setup he expected more coherent results. None of the data made any sense and that made John cranky.

Taggart, where are we with the setup? Dr. Falta demanded as he strode into the lab.

Preliminary tests on an empty chair are showing results consistent with a sentient standing nearby, but the room was empty. I'll need to recalibrate and rerun the test series.

We don't have time. I've got a subject out in the corridor and the military breathing down my neck. I also have three Hell Spawn craft, but no pilots. I need a pilot.

Are you mad? Without a calibration setting we would kill the subject while losing the anima. We would kill the prisoner and gain nothing.

What are his chances?

Right now, less than ten percent. You might as well shoot him with a blaster for all the good it will do the project, John said.

John hated working with live subjects, even if they were the most heinous criminals in the League. Yes, he needed to test on a live subject, but he would prefer to give the poor fool at least a chance. Falta, on the other hand, was a complete sociopath. The only person Falta considered sapient was Falta himself, the rest of the League be damned.

At this point, I don't care. Where's Gloria? he said as he looked at the empty glass sphere at the end of the room.

Out at the Cube running tests on the Hell Spawn flight frames. She's playing test pilot.

Good, Narnn said as he reached down and slammed the power control to full.

Stop, John said as he lunged for the controls.

The two of them wrestled for control. Neither noticed that something was forming in the receiver chamber even though there was no one in the subject chair.

Why? What the hell is so urgent that you want to risk everything? John yelled as he grabbed for the controls. Narnn overpowered John with his more powerful Tralaskan muscles. John could only stare in horror as something coalesced on the half-meter diameter armorglass sphere. It was angry, evil; it screamed death, filling the sphere with streamers of purple and green plasma.

Narnn, let me go, dammit. That isn't an anima, John yelled as she struggled to free himself. We have to send it back to whatever hell it came from. With a herculean effort, he broke free, but tripped on a cable. He fell, landing briefly in the field surrounding the subject chair as the device tried to draw the anima from his body and place it in the receiver with the demon, but momentum carried him out of the chair and onto the floor next to it, unconscious, unmoving, bleeding from his ears, eyes, and nostrils.

Seeing what he had done, Narnn hit the emergency stop button. Before he could reach John, sparks and flame poured out of the machine as warning sirens sounded. Panicking, Narnn wrenched the glass sphere from its platform and ran out the door just as the device exploded, blowing the room's doors off their hinges and the windows out of their frames. Moments later, the fire squad arrived and put the fires out before the lab was completely consumed. They found John under a pile of smoking debris as they searched for missed hotspots. He was barely alive.

CHAPTER THREE

Gloria paced outside the hospital room as she was fast running out of synthetic fingernails to chew. She was at a meeting when they were informed about the accident.

Gloria? She turned around and saw the attending physician walking up carrying a chart.

How is he?

By some miracle, he is out of the coma, and there doesn't seem to be any lasting physical damage.

Physical? What about mental? she asked, fearing the worst.

You know him well, right? Is he an artist?

Yes, with robots, she answered, confused. What's going on?

He came-to about an hour ago and requested pencils and blank paper. He drew these, the Doctor said as he handed her three sheets of paper. On one of them was a black and white photo of a woman, on the second was one of a young girl, and on the third was one of the most terrifying demons she had ever seen.

He drew these? Doc, a few days ago he tried to draw an apple. It wasn't pretty. Who are these people?

These two are his wife and daughter, and he has no idea what this picture is of, he said showing her the picture of the demon.

She nearly dropped the pictures as shock radiated through her mechanical systems. Doc, John Taggart has no wife or children. He was sterilized in a lab accident while at University. How did he put it? He shoots blanks.

We confirmed that. Did you know that John has an eidetic memory? It's found only in Earth humans and only one in ten million retain it into adulthood. There is evidence of trauma to the part of his brain which retains memory which gave him partial short-term amnesia. Now this is pure conjecture, but we think his mind somehow filled in the blanks with these three individuals.

Great. What happens when they don't visit?

He hesitated.

What?

These two are dead, he said, pointing to the two females.

Excuse me?

They died years ago in a plane crash. We checked and it's a real plane crash. No names were ever released due to security concerns.

Gloria was stunned silent, unable to process what she was hearing. Things like this were the stuff of science fiction, and she hated science fiction.

How is he otherwise?

Preoccupied almost to the point of being forgetful. Jumpy. Afraid of noises, shadows. There are some changes to his personality which cannot be explained by the blow to the head he experienced. Then there's this, he said, holding up the picture of the demon. When he finished it, he asked that I destroy it. He said that he couldn't look at it.

This is what it feels like to be powerless, isn't it, Doc?

"He's healing. Give him time. I think getting back to work will be