Disintegration: Malfunction Trilogy, #2

By J.H. Moore

What comes after surrender?

When Bas willingly returned to the Compound, Menrva swore his sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. As Bunker hurtles toward an uncertain future, she determines to do whatever it takes to give humanity their best chance.

All Cowl can think about is rescuing Bas. He incites riots among the citizens in hopes of breaking down the doors, not knowing that Menrva's abusive husband is staging a violent coup. Civil war breaks out in the Compound and Bas and Menrva are caught in the middle of it.

But something far more dangerous  stalks the corridors of the Hub. Something that is already taking control of Bas' mind.

The second book in the Malfunction trilogy ramps up the tension and action as Cowl, Menrva, and Bas must find the will to fight a battle that seems to have been lost from the beginning.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.H. Moore
• Release date: Jan 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781386029649

Book preview

Chapter One: What’s a Man to Do

Cowl brushed the sweaty palms of his hands on his hips before realizing the gloves on his space-suit made it a rather worthless venture. Beams of light shot into the darkness from either side of his helmet, catching the specks of dirt floating around him like black rain. They drifted through the squares of grating, making their way toward the bottom of the Hub. Whatever counted as the bottom. Technically up and down was what you made of it now, unless the rules were different in a wormhole than in the rest of space. That could very well be. Nothing made sense in a wormhole. But that was quantum physics for you. A whole lot of random garbage, like things jumping in and out of existence, matter occupying the same space, and time breaking and bending. Complete shit, not unlike his current situation.

Cowl studied the contents of the locker. There weren’t enough bullets for every guard in the Hub. That was a damn shame because he would have enjoyed the challenge.

He pulled out a refurbished semi-auto handgun and checked the magazine before frowning at the sticky trigger. Junk. Probably something rusted or loose inside.

Why did they have to take his shotgun? He didn’t have another sawed-off and none of these guns were worth anything.

All the good firearms he’d kept in the Pit, where he and Bas used to live, or had taken with him when they first ran from the City. Those guns were all confiscated when the City had caught him and Menrva. His sawed-off was probably sitting in lockup right now.

Cowl pulled another handgun out of the locker he and Starke had claimed for their stash so many years ago. In fact, this gun had been one of Starke’s favorites. It was a good enough choice. Not much of a match for his own sidearm, but... well. You didn’t want to be blasting holes through the walls of a three-hundred-year-old spacecraft on its maiden voyage across the universe, while traveling through a wormhole at speeds otherwise unheard of to mankind.

Of course, Starke’s gun would be worthless without ammo and there was nothing here that would work. Only a few full-metal jacket rounds that were just a bit too high caliber to slot into place. He’d have to bum some Taser rounds off Dennis.

Taser rounds. Damn. Worthless crap.

With a heavy sigh that briefly misted the shield of his helmet, Cowl slipped the gun into the bag he’d grabbed out of the locker and took one last, longing glance at the airlock before turning around. Somewhere in the back of his mind, despite everything that had happened, he imagined he could just stroll through the doors and be back in the Pit. Bas would be waiting for him in the cave just like it had been for so many years. Things could just go back to normal.

The thought of Bas was enough to make him want to jump out the airlock for a whole new reason, but now wasn’t the time. Bas needed him, and there wasn’t anyone else man enough to save him.

The walkway clinked and clattered as Cowl walked down the length of it. Between the speed and spin of the donut-shaped Hub, gravity wasn’t too much different than it would have been back on Earth. A bit heavier on the outer edges. The air in the work space between the dual outer-walls of the Hub was perfectly breathable as well. The airlocks had been checked and double checked. The suit he now wore held off the chill of space and the potential radiation. Not that anything was actually getting through, but better safe than sorry. Redundancy was a common theme when it came to anything radioactive.

Light shot through the cracks around the sealed door as Cowl yanked it open and stepped back into the enclosed universe of the ship.

The guns clattered loudly on the floor and he winced, tugging off the helmet. Hopefully none of the Guards were in the area. They had gotten strict lately. No death sentences since they lifted off, but they weren’t gentle when meting out punishment. There was nothing Cowl could do for Bas from a jail cell.

He hung the helmet on its hook and peeled off the tight-fitting outer layer. Getting in these things for maintenance every day must suck.

Well, what reason could you possibly have for climbing around in the walls?

Cowl jumped and reached for his empty sidearm before reason sunk in. He knew that voice. I was supposed to find you, not the other way around. He turned to glare at Dennis.

He was a man that could only be described as fatherly and Cowl still hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or not. His dark eyes peered out under thick brows. Gray streaks collected over his ears and in his beard, and wrinkles played through the reddish undertones of his face.

I think… Dennis tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. I felt like maybe you were making trouble. So I came looking.

Cowl dropped the suit into place on the rack and reached for his sweatpants. So you came looking for trouble?

Dennis sighed and edged toward the bag on the ground. Is that how I need to think of you now? I thought we had an understanding.

Cowl huffed out a curt laugh before pulling his black tank top in place. Oh yeah, I understand all right. You want my help to play your little political game. I told you I’d talk, but I’m not waiting around for you lazy asses to decide that you are ready to stop being cowards. He’d managed to avoid too many questions from the revolutionary before this point, but it was inevitable that Dennis would figure out Cowl wasn’t playing by the rules. But nothing else had worked yet. He’d tried to sneak into the Compound on multiple instances, but he just couldn’t get past the cameras and locks. Things that were nothing more than a nuisance before the City had figured out how to shut down his AI.

Dennis nodded along with Cowl’s rant like a man trying to comfort a screaming toddler. This was not the time to be calm and collected and all... whatever that was.

So you went looking for firearms, Dennis clarified.

Couldn’t get into the armory. They’ve caught onto my AI and I haven’t found a way past their new and improved firewall yet. They keep patching up my back doors. Cowl jammed an arm through the strap of the pack and shrugged it into place. So I had to resort to my old junk pieces.

Dennis crossed his arms. So what’s your plan? Kill the Guards, bust out Bas, shoot your way out of the Compound and jump into space? Or were you just going to go ahead and kill everyone?

I could start with you.

For a moment, tense silence rippled through the maintenance room. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t have a plan. Time was passed for plans. At the very least, Bas had asked Cowl to kill him before he went back. Maybe that’s all Cowl could do. A bit late, though, and the idea made him sick. And none of that could even happen until he found a way to get in and find Bas. What about you? What’s your plan? Broker a deal? Make peace talks? Sign a treaty?

No one ever suggested diplomacy, just a bit of wisdom.

Hey, my IQ is higher than this freaking spaceship. Cowl patted the wall pointedly. You think I don’t know this shit? I’m just not willing to sit on my ass while they tear my friend limb from limb.

Bas is okay, Dennis said. And I’m doing everything I can from the inside. But you need to be patient.

Cowl shoved past Dennis and hefted the bag of guns into a hole he’d made earlier by tearing a panel off the wall. He had already filled out a fake maintenance request and sabotaged the wiring in the computers. Now all he had to do was to make sure he was the one who picked up this call so he could swap the gun-stash for a bag of tools. He’d walk out with the guns right under everyone’s noses. For now he’d just bring one sidearm and a few easily-hidden bullets.

Unless Dennis did something to ruin this. He could turn Cowl in, or just dump the guns. How had Dennis even found him? The AI was supposed to be covering Cowl’s tracks. Maybe it was failing even that simple task.

No time to worry about it. Let the Guards come. He had guns now. No bullets, but hell, he could improvise. Maybe he’d just chuck the hunks of metal and plastic at their heads.

Cowl shoved his way out of the maintenance lockers and strode down the hall, keeping his head down. A few citizens hurried back and forth, but the whole atmosphere was tense. Disquieting. There were no secrets anymore and the City didn’t need to worry about morale. There had been a few uprisings, sure, but when the City pulled out a few Borgs that was the end of it. No one had seen anything like them in real life.

The overhead screens were dead, probably the strangest change since the launch. The social climate always shifted. People came and went. Guards were nothing new. But for as far back as Cowl could remember, the fake sky always drifted overhead. Sunrise, sunset, clouds, and rain, but it was present no matter what. Now the screens were just black.

The facade was gone. Good riddance. Who needed the City’s lies? It was never comforting, and now it would have been just plain insulting.

Cowl ducked under the scanner at the door of the Pod he and Menrva had been assigned and waited for the light to turn green.

At least they were together.

Cowl. Dennis reached him just as he swung the door open and wedged his body into the frame. If it was just you I had to worry about, I would just let you do your thing. But unfortunately for me I have a lot of other things to be concerned about.

Well, come on in, Cowl filled his words with sarcasm as he shoved into the apartment. It was the same one where he’d sat with Menrva just a few months earlier, begging for help. Funny, that they were back here, after everything.

What are you trying to do, Cowl? Dennis closed the door behind him.

Cowl dropped his gun and the collected bullets onto the couch and leaned into the room to check on Menrva. She’d been sleeping later and later. Every night since Bas went back, she woke up crying. Sometimes over and over again. I’m taking care of my own. That’s what we all do. That’s why we are in this shit storm.

Well, then maybe it’s time we widen our definition. Look, I’m giving you a chance to help me save all of us. Borgs, citizens, and any Guards that are willing. And I know it’s hard for you, knowing what he’s going through -

Sure. Yeah, you know. Cowl turned to face Dennis. Because you’ve been so concerned about all the Borgs. You care so much that you just stood by. Or no, sorry, you didn’t just stand by. You freaking tortured them just like everyone else. His pulse pounded in his ears, almost drowning out his own rising voice. I might be impatient, but as least I’m not abusing the people I claim to love and making excuses for it. No, I don’t think I’m going to try your way.

One year.

A year? Are you nuts? How did he get the idea that Cowl was willing to wait even one more second?

With hands raised, Dennis took a few steps toward the door. Just hear me out. A year, and we will be at Timur and much more stable. A year, and we will have collected whatever resources and information we need to take over from the City. A year, and we can kill Pope and his entourage, get our settlement underway, and have a real chance at survival. For all of us.

A year and Bas might not even be alive, much less in one piece and sane. Cowl fought the urge to vomit. If he let himself dwell too long on what was happening to Bas and the kind of torture he might be enduring, he could barely think.

I understand. But if you do this, there is no chance he will survive. Or anyone else. Think about Menrva. She’s your family too. You told me that when we first met.

She was, but she would stand with him on this. They were torturing Bas. If there was ever a moment when the word urgent applied, it was this one. But Dennis was right. There was nowhere to run. If Cowl went now, he was going to have to put a bullet in Bas’ head because that was the only way out.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to do that. Why was he in a rush to kill his best friend? Because of some stupid promise that he’d already broken.

Three months.

Dennis blinked. Three? No way, we won’t even be close to ready.

Cowl shrugged. The computers run the systems. When I override the computers we don’t need the City anymore.

It’s not that easy. You know that.

I don’t give a shit what it is. I won’t wait more than three months. He wasn’t waiting another minute. But if he just came out and said that, Dennis would try to stop him, maybe even turn him in. And if he gave in without a fight, it might be too obvious.

With a heavy sigh, Dennis studied the floor, his mouth pulled down so it almost disappeared into his beard. Why did he want to wait so long? Maybe he wanted the City to get what it wanted from Bas, tear him apart and pull out his lungs or whatever it was they wanted. Lungs. DNA. Didn’t matter. Bas wasn’t a gold mine, he was a human being, a fragile one, and the only one that mattered. Other than Menrva, of course. If I could get myself in a position to really help Bas, would you consider waiting six months? Dennis finally said.

Help? How? Was there anything he could actually do? If so, what the hell was he waiting for?

Like what? Cowl glanced at the bag.

Bas’ former handler got a promotion a while back. They will probably be looking for someone new. I’ve only got one Biobot in my charge, but I have a good record and I’ve never given them any reason to suspect me. I might be able to get the position.

Maybe if Dennis was Bas’ handler it could make things better. At least until Cowl could get in there and make everything right which wouldn’t be long anyway.

I can’t stop the tests, but I can control his schedule, make sure he gets lot of exercise and time outside of the Pod. Give him all the time he needs to heal up. Maybe I can even sneak you in there a few times, or get messages in and out. He shrugged. I may not know this guy, but I know a bit of support goes a long way in the Compound. And it gives us at least enough time to get everything in order.

Maybe it was time to look at a different approach. Over the past three months Cowl had tried hacking in, crawling through the walls, breaking the locks. But nothing had even gotten him into the Compound, much less anywhere near Bas. It might take a while still. So while having Dennis on the inside wasn’t the answer, every little bit helped.

Taking in a deep breath, Cowl nodded. Okay. If you get that position I’ll wait six months. But if you are in the way at the end of those six months, I won’t see anything but a gray uniform.

Chapter Two: What’s to Come

Capricorn’s fingers ticked along the edge of the table, the sound echoing in Menrva’s head like Chinese water torture. She gritted her teeth and bent further over the tablet she was using to sort through their latest research. It had been nearly two months of this already, dealing with all of his irritating habits and self-righteous shit. More than she ever wanted in her lifetime. Not that she wished him dead, but it was frustrating that he was here, when so many more deserving people didn’t make it.

It would be easier if she could have gone back to Cowl and complained, but he didn’t know she was working for the City in this capacity. He still thought she was doing the same work she’d done before, if any. The truth was, he probably thought she was still curled up in the room crying. And it needed to stay that way.

In many ways, Cowl was having a harder time making this transition than she was, and he wouldn’t understand her willingness to help the City. But she had promised Bas that she would do whatever it took to save people, and she was going to follow through. Who knew? Maybe she could make things easier for him. If she even got to see him.

Capricorn picked up a loose stylus and continued the tapping. Menrva could yell at him to stop, but they had only just ended an argument over who was supposed to make the brownish water that they had the nerve to call coffee. She didn’t want to listen to his voice anymore.

The Borg assigned to protect her cocked an eyebrow, his round, childish face twisting as he fought a laugh. All she knew about him was that his number was SP113, SP meaning Special Project. Capricorn had explained to her that if they were testing a new DNA formula or trying to produce a Borg with a very specific trait, they would often create just a single Borg. Those Biobots were classified as Special Projects, instead of with their Generation and serial number. Whatever this Borg’s genetic modifications were, they seemed to merit keeping him alive, despite his deafness.

The User of this particular Borg was a man named Dennis, and he seemed like a genuinely good-natured guy. Even if it was a bit hard to reconcile the fact that he was controlling another person’s body at the moment. At least he could turn off the Borg’s cochlear implants so he didn’t have to hear Cap’s irritating noises.

Menrva sighed heavily, trying to convey her exasperation wordlessly. Capricorn’s stylus beat faster. Jerk.

Another moment of irritating little noises passed and the Borg started whistling. He didn’t seem to like the quiet or the tension. It was a bit of an odd tick coming through the Borg, since he spent most of his time in silence.

A month into this ordeal, and Menrva could say that she knew Dennis well, even if she’d never actually seen him. Out of the three of them, he was probably the only one who qualified as an extrovert. Capricorn landed more on the angry hermit side of things. And who was she to judge? She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Cowl hardly passed as civilized company.

A harsh tone from the com system interrupted them. Menrva dropped the vial in her hand, swearing as the container of congealed blood rolled across the counter. It settled unbroken against the centrifuge, thankfully.

SP111 is coming in, a female voice intoned. Were those voices actual people, or did they have a computer program filling in?

Menrva snatched up the vial and carefully deposited it with others of its kind. She rolled her eyes. This was going to be fun. They brought Borgs into the lab now and then. Even Bas had come a few times, but not when she was working.

A room, portioned off by a wall of unbreakable glass, served to hold them during the various tests. It was disturbing to say the least.

The Borg that was going to be there today was a bit infamous. Rumors of SP111 ran laps around the lab. Apparently she was a valuable asset, the closest viable specimen to a perfect hybrid between human and Wrecker DNA. Which wasn’t saying much. Changes in the DNA of the average Borg were miniscule, even if the results seemed pretty significant.

Menrva didn’t like to admit it to herself, but she was looking forward to working on SP111. Her DNA was exciting. Still, what kind of person got excited about experimenting on another human being?

There was a balance in this profession, especially the field she was in, that could so easily tip in the wrong direction. Knowledge was infinitely valuable, and there was no greater pursuit for a scientist. Of course, there were times that philosophy had to step in and remind them personhood was of greater value, or at least it should be. But what about the times when a single person had to be sacrificed so more could benefit? And what about the times when the subject of the experiments fell outside of the traditional view of personhood?

It was a horrible question to even ask herself. After all, Bas fell outside of those lines and there was nothing in the world that could convince Menrva he was anything other than human. However, 111, was even more deviated. If they were going to judge purely by ratio of human to alien DNA, 111 rode the line.

Those were just excuses; rationalizations to address the guilt quickly overpowering her curiosity. It didn’t matter in the end. Whether she agreed with what the City was doing or not, they were going to play god with 111. If Menrva wasn’t the one to do it there was a whole line of willing scientists who probably wouldn’t think twice about 111’s humanity. Capricorn, of course, was on the short list.

You’re sure this isn’t going to kill her? Menrva plucked the solution off its holder.

You’re the one who made it. Shouldn’t you know? Capricorn scoffed.

Menrva scowled and carefully put it back in place. Genetics were tricky, and CRISPR, no matter how long they had been perfecting it, always worked best in the embryonic stage. Just shooting 111 up with Bas’ modified DNA, gene driver or no, was hit or miss. The preliminary tests had been positive, but their intentions of growing a whole new chamber in a living pair of lungs was entirely different than adopting a mutation in a single DNA strand. Hopefully 111’s astronomical stem-cell count would help.

The door in the other room swung open, interrupting her thoughts. A Borg tumbled backward into the lab, barely keeping his hands on the writhing woman in front of him. Another rushed in, pinning her to the door frame as the first struggled to keep his footing. The female Borg, who was probably 111, didn’t look capable of that kind of power. She was not nearly as imposing as some of the others, even with the increased allowance of Wrecker DNA. Her pale skin looked like it would rip under the fingers of her captors. Black and blue veins pressed against it. She was easily taller than Menrva but would have been dwarfed beside Bas. Despite that, she flung the others around with relative ease.

It’s on the sun! she screamed as the Borgs tossed her onto the hospital bed in the center of the room. It’s on the sun and you can’t reach us. The blood is so hot, it will burn your tongues!

Gotta love the crazy ones. Capricorn crossed his arms over his chest.

113 leaned over Menrva’s shoulder. I’m not so sure about this, Dennis muttered.

The Borgs held 111 to the table and tightened the straps across her arms and chest until she contracted inward like a bent piece of wire. She flopped against the restraints for a moment before freezing, her huge blue eyes flashing as she studied her surroundings.

"Is this the room with all the holes? This is where she has been. Where is she?"

Menrva shuddered. Was 111 so erratic because of the tinkering done with her DNA, or was it their treatment of her? There was probably no way to tell for sure, but hopefully it was the former. If not, she was looking into Bas’ future. Or maybe this was already reality for him. There was no way she could know how bad he’d gotten in three months.

The silent one is listening. 111 leaned backward until her head looked like it had been broken right off her neck. The silent one listens when Daddy’s home because Daddy doesn’t like to be ignored. Daddy. Daddy. Where did you go, Daddy? Are you scared of the monsters under the bed?

Menrva’s eyes snapped to 113. Was 111 referring to him as silent because he was deaf? They only put the speech processor onto his implant when he was Connected, according to Dennis. Did those ramblings mean something?

She grasped the vial of solution with shaking fingers and smoothed her hand over her hair. The sooner they got this over with the better.

Where are the nurses? Dennis stepped awkwardly in front of Menrva. He frowned, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge a bug.

111 is considered extremely dangerous. They don’t want any personnel near her unless they absolutely have to be, Capricorn said. Lucky for us, we are just a step above expendable.

Drip or injection? Menrva studied the syringe in her hand, wishing she could ignore what Capricorn said. I guess it’s going to have to be drip if we want to get the best distribution.

Menrva scowled. It would take much longer to slowly drip the solution into 111’s veins. But this was one Borg Menrva had no interest in ever seeing again, so better to do it right the first time.

As soon as Menrva stepped into the other room 111 froze. Her peeling, blood-rimmed lips worked slowly, as if she were carrying on her rants inside her head. Her body was rigid as iron.

Menrva stepped aside as Capricorn wheeled out the IV bag and pushed it over to 111. The Biobot’s gaze didn’t waver as Capricorn pressed the hooked needle into one of her easily-located veins and taped it in place.

It’s her. 111’s gaze drilled into her as Menrva stepped to the bedside. The awed tone with which she spoke the words made Menrva’s skin crawl. The syringe in her fingers wavered as she glanced back to make sure 113 was close.

She makes him happy. She isn’t so strong that she should eat him all up. Is she hungry, I wonder? Is she hungry like me? Her lips curled, revealing sharp teeth. Are you?

Trying to brush away the dread that hung over her at the words, Menrva slid the needle into the port in the IV line and pushed the plunger down. Would it hurt?

Is that his soul? Are you feeding me?

A sensation similar to insecurity passed over Menrva. It was as if she was standing naked for the world to see, caught in an intimate moment. 111 wasn’t just throwing out words. They meant something. But what?

The leather squeaked as 111 leaned forward. The straps dug into her flesh. Surely her bones should have snapped in two at the pressure, but 111 didn’t seem to notice any pain as she pushed herself upward.

You can’t have him, she whispered. You’ve devoured the whole world, but I will take him.

Menrva sucked in a heavy breath, fear climbing her stomach. Him? She opened her mouth to answer but was pulled backward. The hand on her arm didn’t wait for her protests as she was dragged toward the door.

Dennis-- The demand died on her lips as she passed 113, bent over with his hands on his head. On the far side of the room one of the Borgs collapsed, groaning as his skull slammed into the floor.

Get in there! Capricorn shoved her through the lab door and followed, snapping the locks into place behind them.

What is happening? Menrva ran across the room to get a view through the glass. 113 fell on his knees, one hand in a steadily growing puddle of blood dripping from his