Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) Mark Wandrey (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

eyes full of pride and excitement. The scientist took the key out of his pocket and looked at it.

“You should know, museum security has been following me.” Sato turned his head and looked at him. “I suspect my robotic body’s nature has them concerned.”

“You are a war machine. While you’re no real danger to them, they don’t know that.”

“Can they detect my weaponry?”

“I don’t think so,” Sato said. “I’ve built in a lot of shielding to allow you to move around. They shouldn’t have been able to realize you were anything other than someone with cybernetic replacement parts. But this is Japan, so maybe.” He looked at the Sakura Maru and replayed the memory again. He was standing next to the landing leg, touching it. To the side of the entrance was a Tri-V of the ship, slowly turning. Everything matched. “I need to go inside,” he said.

“I assumed,” Rick said. “I’m going to go cause a distraction.”

“Don’t break anything?” Sato asked.

“Trust me,” Rick said, his glowing blue eyes seemingly twinkling in amusement before he turned and walked past the Sakura Maru display and onward into the museum.

Sato did his best to appear interested in the information display outside Sakura Maru for several minutes. Eventually a pair of smartly-dressed security guards scuttled by in pursuit. He dearly hoped they didn’t try to detain Rick. Not because he was afraid they’d succeed, but because he was afraid Rick would level the building stopping them.

Once the security guards were safely past, he walked up the ramp and into Sakura Maru. A chill breeze seemed to blow down his neck until he realized it was an air curtain, and the interior of the ship was being kept in a low temp/low humidity state to preserve it.

Nothing seemed familiar, yet somehow his feet knew where to walk and the angles of the deck. The museum had done a good job of orientation on the display. Sakura Maru had been designed to spend most of its time in space. Even so, the deck tilted precariously in places. In these locations, the museum had installed glowing warning signs and handholds. Sato didn’t need them. Even though his mind was telling him this was new, his feet knew every inch of the ship. It was a surreal experience.

Then he reached a section where a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign was hung. Clearly the tour was going to the bridge, and away from the rear section of the ship. Another sign warned of a radiation hazard. Sato glanced around with his eyes, keeping his head movements to a minimum. Three cameras and one movement sensor, he thought. He’d brought his electronics kit with him, a small case the size of a pack of cigarettes. He opened it in his pocket by feel and touched a control.

The cameras would be scrambled for about a minute. No longer under observation, he removed the toolkit from his pocket, selected the appropriate tools, and disabled the motion tracker. The ‘Do Not Enter’ sign was held across the corridor by a simple carabiner, which he detached, moved through, and then replaced. At the last instant, he spotted a simple low-tech electric eye.

Smart, he thought. Many B&E specialists often overlooked the simplistic, now that they had access to galactic tech. After making sure there was only one, he stepped over it and proceeded into the forbidden area.

Again his feet knew where to go. He walked a short distance down the corridor until he reached a hatchway. ‘Avionics & Computer’ was written in Japanese. Sato nodded and tried the door. Not only was it locked, but someone had also tack welded the door handle in place. No problem. His toolkit included a tiny laser cutter. He selected the device and one of the four powerful hybrid capacitor batteries. A couple seconds later, the welds were defeated.

The handle turned with a bone jarring screeech! He cringed and turned it as fast as he could, knowing the sound was probably audible all the way to the starport. The door clicked, and he quickly pulled it open and slipped inside before pulling it closed behind him.

The compartment was completely dark. Not just dark, it was like the depths of space. Sato was uncomfortably reminded of his time on the Keesius doomsday machine inside his CASPer, recently disabled by an EMP weapon. He swallowed against a growing panic.

* * *

“Get control of yourself!”

“I’m trying, Saisho!” he cried as he flailed about for something to grab.

“Fear is your worst enemy, Human. Master it!”

“I-I can’t,” he sobbed. Inconceivable, lashed his brain. An eternity later, he felt tiny clawed hands moving him, and the cool steel of a stanchion pressed into his hand. Tiny glowing eyes regarded him. “Thank…you,” he gasped.

“You can do this, Human,” the Jōshi said.

He nodded. “I am ready to try again, Saisho!”

“Very well.” He was thrown into the spinning dark abyss once more.

* * *

“Fuck,” Sato hissed as he came back to himself. His knees were in agony, and he felt for them in the dark, his hand coming away wet. With shaking hands, he found the little utility light he kept in a pocket and clicked it on. The compartment exploded into stark, x-ray-like relief. He bent forward, concentrating on breathing and the agony of his knees. Once he could breathe without shuddering, he looked at his knees. The uniform material was tough and hadn’t torn, but his skin hadn’t been as lucky.

He dug out a couple quick-clot adhesive bandages, pulling up his old Hussars suit legs and dealing with his wounds. “I hate blood,” he mumbled as he worked. His stomach roiled slightly. When he was done, he stood and looked around, running over the brief memory as he examined the compartment. The feelings of déjà vu thus created made his brain itch.

“I’ve been here,” he said as his