Robo Raptors and the Gutsy Rebels

By Ben Patterson

When 2000 lives are at stake, the Defiant Few, an elite rebel team, has no choice but to intervene.
But in this dark conspiracy, who can they trust?

Word about a plot to attack a civilian cruise liner gets to Jones, Dark Horse rebel mastermind. His elite team, the Defiant Few, mobilize. They assume the enemy’s scheme is more than what it seems. But what? Is it a trap set by M.A.S.K. or the Confederacy, or both, to acquire a Dark Horse ship rigged with Rory West’s super-advanced technology?
Without evidence, they can’t know which of their enemies is willing to kill innocents for tech treasure. They need intel while they plan for countermeasures. So they ready a trap of their own; one where fourteen-year-old Rory’s androids and robo-raptors could make all the difference. Will the Dark Horse rebels outsmart their enemies one more time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329689633

Book preview

Robo Raptors and the Gutsy Rebels

Robo-Raptors and the Gutsy Rebels

Ben Patterson

Editors: Elizabeth Jane McCay

and Daniel McCay

Proofread by Marc Secchia

Cover: Ben Patterson

Second edition published November 2015

Third edition published June 2016

Copyright ©2013 Ben Patterson

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-329-68963-3

Betting on the Dark Horse

When 2000 lives are at stake, the Defiant Few, an elite rebel team, has no choice but to intervene.

But in this dark conspiracy, who can they trust?

Word about a plot to attack a civilian cruise liner gets to Jones, Dark Horse rebel mastermind. His elite team, the Defiant Few, mobilize. They assume the enemy’s scheme is more than what it seems. But what? Is it a trap set by M.A.S.K. or the Confederacy, or both, to acquire a Dark Horse ship rigged with Rory West’s super-advanced technology?

Without evidence, they can’t know which of their enemies is willing to kill innocents for tech treasure. They need intel while they plan for countermeasures. So they ready a trap of their own; one where fourteen-year-old Rory’s androids and robo-raptors could make all the difference. Will the Dark Horse rebels outsmart their enemies one more time?

Chapter One

Fourteen-year-old Rory West rolled up his sleeves and speared fingers through his black locks. As always, one persistent coil fell to his forehead just between his eyes. With remotely controlled anti-grave forceps, he carefully lifted the small device and slid it into the mechanical control arm. There, I think that’ll do. He hit the switch. With machine precision, the arm spun, bent at an elbow, and maneuvered the device under the Proteus microscope lens before releasing it and retracted back out of the way.

He glanced at his mother who, with her arms folded, leaned one hip against the countertop.

Okay, Mom, let’s see what we have here. He slid his fingertips over the touch control pad to maneuver the torque-set near the troubling micro-stem-bolt.

As the rebels’ lead scientist, everything that wasn’t human fell under Sadie West’s purview. In the field of physics, her abilities were leagues ahead of everyone else’s except those of her son. When six months back Rory’s skills measurably exceeded hers, she took it well, saying, She wanted him to do better than she did. If breakthroughs were to come, they’d have to come from fresh minds.

At present, the rebels were asking for things beyond her capabilities, and she realized that the Cordron barrier was more real than theory. She was, after all, a physicist, not a magician.

Rory scoffed at the theoretical barrier that he had yet to reach. His mom had said that not only did she reach it, but that she had collided with it like hitting a brick wall. To her, the Cordron barrier was very real. Named after the scientist who first hypothesized that there existed a dividing point between what man was capable of understanding and what he was able to create. Simply put, abilities have limits, imagination does not.

His mother patted his shoulder reassuringly. You’ll get it, son. Just be patient.

Don’t jostle me, please, Rory said calmly.

Oh, right. She took a step back.

He twisted his lips to blow that annoying tussle of hair from his face. It didn’t stay put. All the girls his age thought that his tussle was cute. He found it an argument for shaving his head, though he never would.

The scope’s micro-camera displayed the magnified thrust regulator on a large, elevated screen. She watched it, while he used the scope, glancing up now and again only to ensure he stayed on target.

He took a deep breath and placed his face against the machine’s rubber gasket once more. A few minor adjustments and the palm-sized thrust regulator came into focus. Another adjustment and his target, a micron jet, enlarged as the Proteus zoomed in. The stem-bolt sat right next to it. If they touched, he’d have to start all over. He carefully moved the micro-torque-set over the bolt’s slot and dropped it into place. He was dealing with nano-tech now. Meer atoms separated the stem-bolt from the things around it.

Easy does it, his mother said from behind him.

One last little turn and . . . he said, his hands light on the controls.

He barely moved it when . . .

Swftz!

A puff of smoke plumed up from the thrust regulator, coiled out and around the scope and dissipated in the air above them.

Ah, shoot, his mother said sympathetically. His every move projected on a screen above him, gave her nearly the view he had.

Gritting his teeth, Rory snatched the regulator from its mounts and fought the urge to throw the thing across the room.

Whoa! Hold your temper, son, his mother said, seeing his ire. She stepped forward and began to massage his shoulders. Getting angry isn’t the way we’ll start this day. A good scientist expects failure.

Rory set the tiny device down, rolled his head, as his mother moved closer to massage his stiffening neck. Expecting failure makes it no easier to swallow, he said softly.

Wow, E said from the doorway. That was interesting, boss, but can you duplicate it?

Rory turned in time to see Sadie shoot a sharp look at the sarcastic android.

With its arms folded, the E droid casually leaned against the door jam. This shiny metal-skinned bot, was Rory’s fifth and last prototype. He had a plan, but this idea was proving to be impossible to execute. His android models "A thru D" had brought him all the way to this roadblock. Unless he got past making smaller what was already microscopic, his efforts all the work up to this point meant nothing.

"Frying that was not my plan, E," he said calmly.

Cordron giving you trouble, boss?

He swiveled in his chair to see her better. This’ll go into you, by the way, Rory said to the droid, if I can ever get it to work.

No thanks, E said. I don’t care to smoke.

A slight laugh found its way past his nose, though he tried to hold it back.

Very funny, his mother said irritably. You know, with that sense of humor, I bet Rory could make a mint selling you to Planet-Disney.

Rory straightened in his chair. Now there’s an idea. Am I right? Sure I am. The boy genius had built his machines in five stages over the last year, and each concept was a leap over the last. Though E had the D-version android’s A.I. memories and temperament, Rory had only given this one a composite skin of metal and plastic. Where its eyes should have been, a mirror-smooth shield curved from temple to temple and hid two cameras beneath. Small raised mounds represented the android’s ears. Though female in shape, there was nothing flesh-like about this build. He had other plans for this one, plans that didn’t warrant people growing too attached to it.

Its slender arms and legs were his greatest problems. He had reserved as much space in them as he could but, as it turned out, that wasn’t much. The components slated to fill those holes had to be incredibly small.

Sadie, his mother, a genius in her own right, didn’t have his apparent abilities in this tech realm. No one did. Sure, others had made A.I.s, but he had proven they were still predictable machines. The Confederacy had used them in battle and that had proven disastrous for them when they came up again rebel soldiers. Though the machines outnumbered their human opponents five to one, the human rebels still manage to pull off a win. The same was true in every space battle as well. Rory had read the signs and saw the patterns of Confed A.I. thinking.

Presently, his mother peeked into the scope’s eyepiece. I think the problem is in the materials you’re trying to use, son.

I see that, Mom. But what else is there?

Maybe we should just step back and take a breath. It’ll come to you when you least expect it.

He shrugged. Sure. That curl of hair fell. He blew back into place. It fell again.

Chapter Two

Lieutenant Earlie Weathersby strapped in and closed the Sparrow Hawk VII’s cockpit. Gripping the controls, she ran through the checklist. A quick glance to her right and left said her posse was with her and ready. Team Delta is ready, Control.

Go! Go! Go! came the reply.

Thrusters to full, the locks were released, they were catapulted through the tunnel and out into the morning sky. Yanking her yoke back, she zoomed skyward with her two wingmen following close. Nineteen similar squads joined hers in the air. The clouds flashed by them, then blue, and an instant later the starry black filled her windscreen. Confident in Sadie West’s stealth tech, Earlie turned to her assigned target, a Confederate battlecruiser. Her two wingmen stayed with her as the others turned away in their three-man squads. Twenty enemy ships coming in. Twenty teams of three flying up to meet them. The Battle Cruiser, like the half dozen before it, wouldn’t see her team coming. The rising Arrow VIIs were Sadie West’s latest constructs: sleek, fast, maneuverable, invisible, deadly. And the people piloting them were special; teens with nerves stouter than Boridian Meglamite. During testing, hundreds of applicants had washed out. Only these few had made the grade. And replacements were hard to come by.

Okay, Deltas, close order, she called out. Let’s see what their shields are made of. Maneuvering in, she and her boys ran their wingtips along the force-field’s surface. Just that quick, her onboard computer analyzed and modified her ship’s force fields. She and her two wingmen slipped through the protective bubble.

Jesse, you’re on shield generators and the com dishes. Dace, engines. I’ve got the tower. Drop your stickies and let’s go home.

The three small ships separated, each to his own task. As she circled the control tower, Earlie rolled her ship to keep its top aimed toward it. When she squeezed the trigger, a string of jelly-like glowing globules, called Bright-ice, streamed out from a port just behind her cockpit. When they hit the conning tower, they stuck. Holding fast, the explosives waited for Earlie’s command.

Done! called out Jesse. Dace did the same, and they closed ranks with Earlie’s Sparrow Hawk.

We’re outta here! she answered, and gunned for some distance.

Once they were away and clear of the little bombs, Earlie triggered them. Like a zipper opening, the bombs exploded in a line, one after the other, to circle the conning tower. Quickly, it detached from the ship’s main body, and the big ship’s bridge, now separated from its anchor, began to tumble away. Then, in a ball of flame, the engines blew. That was followed by Jesse’s targets, the communications dishes and shield generators.

Earlie looked around. The other squads had done the same thing to their attacking warcraft, and the Confederate fleet fell into disarray.

Los Dabaron takes no guff! Jesse called out.

Earlie just smiled. No, she thought, we don’t.

Chapter Three

Just then Rory’s half-brother, eight-year-old Clay, rudely squeezed past E into the small lab.

Clayton!

Yeah, Mom?

You don’t just push past someone, their mother said.

The little blond kid looked more like his dad than anyone. "Aw, E don’t mind. Anyway, she’s not a real person. She can’t mind."

Right behind him, Rory’s stepdad, Tony, peeked in but stayed behind the android. Clay, you aren’t scoring any points here, boy. Now apologize.

Rory’s head dropped and he shook it in disgust. He knew that Tony believed the android had an apology coming to it. The fact was, it didn’t. A far back as Rory could remember, there weren’t but a handful of times when his stepdad could even be questioned. This time, however, Tony was just plain wrong.

Sorry, Mom, Clay moaned, and Rory grinned at the younger kid’s wit.

I’m not the one you were rude to, son.

I suppose, Rory said in defense of his younger brother, if I gave the refrigerator a voice, he’d have to apologize to it every time he passes by, too? He mocked a British accent. Pardon me, Mr. Refrigerator. Might I access you for a spot of milk? Lovely. Quite.

Exasperated, Sadie sighed.

Tony shook his head in annoyance. Rory, I‍—‍

Right! Rory spun around to face his stepdad. Clay’s your son. I get that. But that thing, he pointed to E, "is my toaster. THAT is my machine, and I say Clay is right to think of it as nothing more. He owes E as much an apology as he does any other appliance in the house. Am I right? Sure I am."

Son, I only meant‍—‍

I’m not your son, Rory said, cutting Tony short.

Rory! Sadie said, incensed.

Good, Rory though inwardly. He had managed to move their attention and anger from Clay to himself. And in a duel of wits with adults, he could handle himself. Eight-year-old Clay could not.

E, off! Rory commanded. The android powered down, its head drooped. That is a toaster, Rory reiterated. Clay doesn’t need to treat it any other way than that. Am I right? Sure I am. That was Rory’s way of dismissing any argument to the contrary.

Uncertain, Tony and Sadie exchanged a look, but among them found no argument against Rory’s logic.

Rory shot an encouraging look at Clay, an unsaid ‘I got your back, brother.’

Taking his cue and putting on his best ‘I’m a very good boy’ face, Clay turned to his mother. Mom, a baby Velociraptor followed me home. Can I keep him?

Sadie’s focus flicked from her husband to the boy and back again. Really?! Then she noticed the plastic carry-all box in Tony’s arms. A tiny