Quantum combat thunderbi.., p.1
Quantum Combat: Thunderbird Series Book 3, page 1
QUANTUM COMBAT
THUNDERBIRD
BOOK 3
TOBY NEIGHBORS
Quantum Combat: Thunderbird Book 3
Copyright © 2023 by Toby Neighbors
ISBN: 978-1-952260-63-6
Mythic Adventure Publishing, LLC
Idaho, USA
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Chapter1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Toby Neighbors
CHAPTER1
It took Pace a moment to get his bearings. He was waking up and had to search his mind for where he was and what was happening. There was light but it was obscured by something … smoke! That’s what it was, he realized, as a sense of fear broke through the fog in his mind. He needed to get up and get moving. Finding safety was his top priority.
But the world seemed out of sorts to him. He was laying at an angle on the hard floor of something. His head hurt. Reaching up, he felt the sharp bite of pain as his fingers touched the side of his head just above the temple. They came back red and wet … blood! He was hurt, he realized. Suddenly his head was throbbing with pain, and still the need to get up, get moving, and find safety was echoing in his mind like the alarm on an interstellar ship, the kind that reverberated through every bulkhead and compartment.
The smoke was getting worse. Pace coughed, setting off a series of intense pains in his head, neck, and back. He was still laying on a slope, head down. He couldn’t just roll to his stomach and get up, not at this angle. But he could shift his body sideways, rotating around until he was level again, more or less. Nothing in his immediate vicinity was level, but the pounding throb in his head eased a little when his body straightened.
After a few more moments of rest, he tried rolling over. That’s when he discovered he was in what used to be a corner, but had become a jagged, uneven mass that included broken glass. He needed to be careful, and at the same time his survival instinct was urging him to move, move, move!
His head hurt. In fact, his entire body was sore, but not from the crash. He remembered how weak and tired he had felt fighting Boyd. Water had been scarce in the sewers below Mansfield. And he had found some in the ship before Boyd’s corpse had come back to life. But he needed more. Getting to his hands and knees with his head oriented upward was a chore. Behind him there was darkness, and above him light, but the interior of the ship was choked with smoke. He crawled forward on his hands and knees. The floor of the ship he was in had buckled during the crash, creating tiny mountain ranges in the ornate floor tiles. He used them to keep from sliding back down.
The row of cabinets that had been neatly camouflaged during the flight were no longer hidden, except by the smoke. Pace reached the cabinets and wrenched the refrigerated door open. He could tell the power was down, but there was still a waft of cold air. Pace opened a bottle of water and drank half its contents immediately. He had no pockets in the native crafted tunic he wore. He removed the garment, leaving on his compression underwear, and used the tunic like a sack. He got all the water from the mini-fridge, then slid back down the sloping floor. But not all the way. He angled toward a gap in the shattered, wraparound windows. It wasn’t much, but the cradle the ship had meant to settle into was a series of fabricated docking arms. Between them was open space. Pace moved toward one of the arms, careful around the shattered glass. He had no desire to hurt anything else. Blood was already running down around his ear and onto his neck from the head wound. He would have to attend to that at some point, but first he was determined to get off the ship before any of NERO’s mechanical thugs found him.
The space below the cradle was dark. He could smell the usual odors of a hangar -- old lubricants, liquid fuel, the overwhelming stench of thick rubber used to contain the dangerous electrical supply lines. Pace finished his bottle of water and dropped it at his feet. Somewhere he could hear the burst of electrical power, the stuttering pop, followed by the sizzle of sparks hitting the ground.
Instinctively, Pace wanted to move up and out from under the wrecked ship. He needed sunlight and fresh air, not the dark, dank oppression of the underground. But there was too much danger on the surface. Pace didn’t even have a weapon, just a makeshift satchel full of water bottles. It crossed his mind that the water might be laced with some type of poison. He wouldn’t put it past the egotistical AI that controlled the planet to spike the water it didn’t need, but knew Pace couldn’t live without. But there was no way to counteract a toxin by that point. And no way to know about it until it took effect. Pace discarded the fear. It wouldn’t help him, and anything he didn’t absolutely have to have he left behind.
It was several minutes before he found what he was looking for. Most garages had drains built into the flooring. The huge cradle for NERO’s ship was no different. The opening was a meter square and covered with a heavy steel grate. Unlike most things on Rastamus III, it wasn’t rusted, and showed no signs of wear. In fact, it looked almost like it had been polished recently. Lifting it took all of Pace’s strength. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest when he finished, but he slid the grate to one side just far enough to allow himself to slip through. He loathed going back down into the darkness, but it was the only option.
There was a four meter drop to the bottom of the drainage corridor. Pace fell to his hands and knees, gritting his teeth against the pain that shot up through his knees, hips, and shoulders. The bottles of water tumbled from the makeshift satchel. He could barely see them, but felt around in the rank tunnel until he found them all. Total darkness awaited in either of the two directions available to him. Pace could feel a very gentle slope to his left, and chose to proceed in that direction. He was a roach running from the light, skittering back down into the nasty sewers where his enemy wouldn’t pursue. Despite all he had done since crashing on Rastamus III, Pace was forced to accept that NERO, the rogue AI system that controlled the planet, didn’t fear him. That thought, more than any other, infuriated Pace. Normally, he welcomed being underestimated, but at what point did Pace actually cause the AI system enough damage that it warranted an all-out assault to find and kill him? He had destroyed so much, including the AI’s precious flagship. And still NERO didn’t send drones into the darkness after him.
Not that Pace wanted to die. And if NERO had pursued him into the darkness he would have died, there was no question about that. He was weak, tired, hurt, and unarmed. To top it off, he had no idea where he was going, or even what city he was in. Part of him wished he had died in the crash. At least then he wouldn’t have to keep struggling. Still, as long as he was alive, Pace would never give up. Victory might be impossible, but he was resolved to keep fighting until his last breath. But first he needed to find a place to rest and rehydrate. He had water, but the dark tunnel seemed to run on forever. Fear, pain, and weakness dogged his every step. Twice he fell, the rough concrete scraping his knees and hands. Pace wondered if decades old filth still held the capability of infection. It was yet another concern that he was forced to discard. There was no way to know, and no way to keep containments out of the wounds. Unlike in other sewers, which seemed clean and new by comparison, the tunnel Pace found himself in was thick with clumps of filth. Some was dried and crumbling, but along the center of the tunnel floor, there was a soggy trail. Rainwater still flowed through the city’s drainage system, during the periodic storms, keeping the disgusting filth of the tunnel moist and slimy.
Perhaps it was the shock of the crash, or perhaps his extreme fatigue, that led to Pace being in a state of complete disorientation. He kept one hand on the tunnel wall, one out in front of him. But he couldn’t see anything in the overwhelming darkness. And the only sound was the constant gurgle of water trickling through the center of the tunnel. Pace lost all sense of time and awareness of his surroundings. His mind shifted into neutral, his body moving forward on autopilot, until it was too late.
One minute he was practically sleepwalking through the tunnel, and the next minute the floor fell out from under him. Later he would discover that he had fallen into a crevice that bisected the tunnel. Perhaps it had been there for years, or possibly it was caused by NERO flagship crashing. The ship had fallen like an elevator car whose cable was cut. Pace had no idea how far the huge aircraft had fallen. Somehow, he had lived through the crash, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t caused significant damage to the bedrock the city was built on.
Pace came back to himself as he fell. Fear like he had never known squeezed his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe. It was impossible to tell how far he fell, but the sudden, uncontrollable descent seemed to last a significant time. Certainly, it was long enough fo
And then the cool water surrounded him. He hadn’t even felt the impact as his body dropped into the water, nor did his feet thrashing below him feel the bottom of the pool he had fallen into. Lungs burning, mind whirling, he managed to swim back to the surface. His head broke through and he drew a fast breath before bobbing back down again. He kicked and got his head up once more, staying above the water. Pace turned, looking for something, anything that might give him an idea of where he was and which way to go. Walking in complete darkness was frightening, but swimming blind was even worse.
At first, he didn’t see the light. But after turning and turning in the dark water, desperate for some way out, he caught sight of a distant glow. He couldn’t see the light, but he saw it shining from a hidden cavern. It didn’t cast light on the subterranean lake, and he couldn’t assess the distance from where he was treading water to the glow, but it was a point to aim for. His old marksman instructor in boot camp always talked about the importance of aiming for a specific target. The man-shaped outline that they were shooting at wasn’t enough. He wanted them to find a specific point on that outline, the smaller the better. You won’t know if you’re improving if you don’t set a target, he would say.
Pace swam. His body was energized by the cool water and the flood of adrenaline. His hands shook, his legs felt like rubber, but he managed to coordinate them into a motion that moved his body through the water and kept his head from going under. His eyes stayed fixed on where he had seen the light. At times the rippling waves that his awkward motion sent ahead of him obscured the glow, and at others he dropped so low in the water that his eyes were barely above the surface. There were dark objects between him and the glow. Pace didn’t know if they were rocks sticking out of the water, or part of the shore. When his feet brushed the bottom of the lake, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He kept swimming until he could stand up in the dark pool. It was still chest deep, but he was moving into shallower and shallower water. He walked from that point, each step a tentative prodding with his sandaled foot. He was grateful that he hadn’t fallen with his battle armor on. It wouldn’t have sunk him immediately, but it would have made the swim much more difficult. Even just his boots would have been enough to make staying above water exponentially harder.
Just before reaching the shore, the glow of light allowed him to make out a few things around him. He was in a natural cavern, not one made by man. There were stalactites hanging from the roof of the cave, and stalagmites sticking up like rotten teeth. Several were between him and what appeared to be a curving corridor. The floor of the cavern was solid rock, but with a smattering of loose stones. There was scum at the edges of the cave lake, enough that Pace decided the opening to the sewers above had been there for a long time.
Coming out of the water, he realized that he had lost his makeshift satchel of water bottles. Fear made gooseflesh across his body. The water he had just swam through wasn’t clean, and without the bottles of water he would probably die in the cave. But he couldn’t just flail around in the darkness hoping he found the bottles. They were certainly floating, but he needed some light to find them. In fact, his entire being was drawn to the light. He was starting to loathe the darkness. So, he left the lake behind and followed the glow, around the rock formations and into the gently curving tunnel.
The light grew brighter, although Pace could tell it wasn’t a large light. Still, he could make out more and more of his surroundings with each step he took. Finally, the source came into view, and it was like nothing he had ever seen before.
CHAPTER 1
The chamber opened up into a large, oblong grotto. To his left, a clearly marked footpath wound between monolithic monuments before being lost in the darkness. Twelve massive stones had been brought into the cave. Each one was a thick slab carved with intricate, geometric designs that looked like animals. On top of each slab was a capstone, not as thick, but much wider. The stones formed a T-shape and they were spread out in the cavern. At the foot of each monolith was a small altar. Some had carved statues on them, others had bowls. Pace had seen ancient ruins many times in his life on a variety of worlds, although none that were as well preserved as what he had stumbled into. But it was the gigantic stones that he marveled at, and the various carvings. What was truly stupefying was the source of the light. In the center of the chamber was a dome of pure light. It was like a lamp shade, only there was no material that Pace could see. Just a dome, like a huge upside-down bowl, of soft yellow light. It was peaceful to look at, and amidst the huge carved stones Pace felt a sense of reverence in the chamber.
Everything was big. The stone monoliths were huge and obviously came from outside the cave. They were polished stone and in places reflected the golden light. The dome itself was massive. It nearly touched the roof of the chamber, which Pace guessed was easily twenty meters high. He walked slowly around the dome of light, studying it. There was no change in it. The done was perfectly round, the light evenly diffused. He went around again, studying the chamber by the light from the dome. The monoliths were set up around it, that much was certain. There were marks gouged into the stone floor, evidence that the people who set up the monoliths had moved them into place around the dome. But they weren’t evenly spaced. Some were close together, others farther away. Some lined the path that led out of the chamber. Pace spent a good amount of time looking at the path. It was lined with fist-sized stones, with steps cut into the rock as it ascended out of the chamber.
It was obvious that people had spent a lot of time in the cave, and Pace understood that. The dome of light was unlike anything he had ever seen, or even heard of before. And it drew his attention too. Whereas before he was anxious to get out of the underground and back onto the surface of the planet, after finding the dome of light he was no longer in any hurry to leave.
In places the floor was worn smooth. There were even spots where decaying bits of foliage had been brought in and spread out in certain areas. It was mostly just dust, but some of the leaves were intact. Pace guessed that people had slept there on beds of grass or the soft leaves of trees which they carried in. There were trinkets, but no tools. Nothing of value seemed to have been left behind by whoever had been there. Everything on Rastamus III seemed old to Pace, especially the Kinu Ruins where they had hidden from NERO’s drones. But that place was not the same. It was carved from stone, yes, but it was like a palace, long forgotten. There was no sense of wonder there, just empty rooms and winding stairs. The cave felt more like a temple, a place of reverence and respect.
After walking around the chamber several times, Pace sat down. He was tired and weak. The floor beneath him was hard and unforgiving, and it felt good to get off his feet. He removed the rough sandals and used them as a pillow while he slept. In combat, sleep comes in dark snatches, just a dreamless void brought on by total physical and mental exhaustion. It is always short. To Pace it always feels like he just closed his eyes and a split second later someone was shaking him awake. But in the cavern, he slept deeply and soundly. He dreamed of being with Dr. Madison Kelter, the two of them surrounded by people they knew. It was a friendly dream, one that left Pace with a good feeling when he woke up sometime later. The rest was good, but his body still ached from sleeping on the ground. His back was stiff, his shoulders and hips ached. Thirst and hunger nagged at him. His responsibilities were like the weight of a heavy pack that was strapped to his back. It was impossible to keep his mind from making lists of things he needed to do. Some were immediate priorities, like getting water, and finding some type of clothing. Others seemed impossible, like finding Madison, her son Ollie, and the other passengers from The Philadelphia. He needed to protect them, and the only way to do that was to get them off the planet, which seemed even more impossible than finding them did.
