Archangel Project 2: Noa's Ark Read online

  Noa’s Ark

  Archangel Project. Book 2

  C. Gockel

  C. Gockel

  Contents

  Noa’s Ark

  Copyright

  Also by C. Gockel

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  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

  Contact Information

  Also by C. Gockel

  Noa’s Ark

  Archangel Project. Book Two

  By C. Gockel

  Copyright (c) 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  First contact didn’t go as planned …

  Time Gate 8, one of humanity’s portals between the stars, has been overrun by a mysterious alien intelligence, and the planet Luddeccea is now cut off.

  Haunted by those she left behind, Commander Noa Sato is on a desperate mission to save her homeworld. Navigating the ancient Ark, she seeks a hidden gate that will transport her ship to Earth and the Galactic Fleet. But the Luddeccean system harbors dangers, and so does her crew.

  The only crew member she completely trusts is James Sinclair, but James doesn’t trust himself. He isn’t the man he once was. He has a hunger that is never sated, kills without regrets, and is fitted with extraordinary augments he doesn’t remember getting. Can James control his augments, or will they control him?

  In a future where almost all humans are augmented, James’s answer and Noa’s mission will determine the fate of the human race … and the enemy is already within the gates.

  Copyright © 2016 C. Gockel

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, subject “Attention: Permissions,” at the email address below:

  [email protected]

  Created with Vellum

  Also by C. Gockel

  The Archangel Project

  Carl Sagan's Hunt for Intelligent Life in the Universe: A Short Story (free)

  Archangel Down

  Noa's Ark

  Heretic

  I Bring the Fire - an Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi Series featuring Loki, Norse God of Mischief and Chaos

  Wolves: I Bring the Fire Part I (free ebook)

  Monsters: I Bring the Fire Part II

  Chaos: I Bring the Fire Part III

  In the Balance: I Bring the Fire Part 3.5

  Fates: I Bring the Fire Part IV

  The Slip: A Short Story (mostly) from Sleipnir’s Point of Smell

  Warriors: I Bring the Fire Part V

  Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI

  The Fire Bringers: An I Bring the Fire Short Story

  Atomic: a Short Story that is part of Nightshade, a multi-author anthology

  Magic After Midnight: A Short Story

  Other Works

  Murphy’s Star: a Short Story of First Contact

  Acknowledgments

  This story wouldn't have been written without the enthusiasm and support of my fans. Among them, I need to give a special shoutout for the early readers, the ones who read the first draft and told me what they loved and hated. Thank you so much Kay, Sarah, Melissa, Mathias, Alex, and Yvonne. I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks also to my husband Eric. If he hadn't nagged me to quit writing fanfiction, this never would have happened.

  To my dad, Jim Evans. Thanks for getting me hooked on sci-fi, fantasy, and comic books. I miss you.

  Chapter One

  Kenji sat with his elbows on the conference table, head bowed over the “pho-toes” and “print-outs.” A Luddeccean Guard Intelligence agent rolled on his heels beside him. “Will that be all, sir?” It took a moment for Kenji to string the man’s words together. The darkened room smelled like old air and new carpeting, and it was filled with the din of the air recycler, arguing counselors, and other agents.

  “Sir?” said the LGI agent.

  Remembering the question, Kenji said, “Oh, yes, yes, I’m …” The word fine almost slipped from his lips but then his gaze fell on a picture of a civilian with a broken neck.

  “… This is what I need,” Kenji amended, turning the head of the small reading lamp beside him to focus on the picture. As the LGI agent withdrew, Kenji studied the print-out of the archangel’s victim, a train operator who had been killed by a blow to the neck. The victim had high levels of root in his system, obviously an addict. He couldn’t have been a threat. Why kill him?

  How could Noa align herself with a person who would do that?

  Shuffling through the papers, he found a picture of Dan Chow, who was now, according to intelligence, going by the name of “Ghost.” In the security camera pho-toe, “Ghost” was on a main street. His eyes were wide, he was visibly panting with exertion, and there was sweat on his brow. “Ghost” had built planet Luddeccea’s new ether-less supercomputer. At first Kenji had thought it was an amazing piece of engineering, smaller and more efficient than Kenji would have believed possible … but it had produced a malfunction in the defense grid at the most inopportune time. Ghost had to have programmed the shutdown of the grid before he’d been declared a fugitive. There was no way Dan could have accessed Luddeccea’s new mainframe after he went on the run … was there?

  Kenji’s hand shook so violently that the picture of Dan slipped from his fingers. He rifled through the other pho-toes and paused at a picture of Noa. She looked emaciated … why had she left the re-education center, where she could be fed, clothed, and safe?

  He flipped through a few more and came to a picture of the archangel. It was going by the alias of “Professor James Hiro Sinclair,” a wealthy Earther whose family owned a vacation cottage on Luddeccea. Sinclair had been in a serious accident a few years back. By all rights, he should be dead. Kenji shook his head. Noa wouldn’t know that, but “James” was too obviously augmented, his face too square and symmetrical—he looked like a sick, twisted parody of Timothy, Noa’s dead husband.

  A light flickered and the conversation around Kenji grew hushed. He looked up. A two-dimensional picture of Time Gate 8 was projected on a screen. Noa had always described the gates as looking like the bracelets made of jagged coral and shiny round beads that were so popular at Luddeccean beach towns. The jagged pieces were the ships docked along the outer rim of the station, and the beads set at regular intervals were the glowing nuclear fission-fueled generators that powered the gates. Many of the vessels parked along the rim had left, but the description still fit.

  Kenji took a shaky breath and had a sensation of vertigo. The improvised bomb he’d placed on the time gate had succeeded in cutting Luddeccea off from the wider galaxy ... just in time.

  The ethernet was made up of radio frequencies, microwaves, and lightbeams that conformed to the laws of Newtonian physics, except where there were time gates. Theoretically, there were other ways to transmit data that defied Newtonian physics completely. For centuries, researchers had been exploring quantum entanglement to avoid time paradoxes and other physical limitations to regular transmissions. Entangled particle
s were essentially “twins” that spun the same way no matter where in the universe they were. If messages could be encoded into the spin of these particles, radio frequencies, lightbeams, and even time gates would become unnecessary for data transmission. Matter—like interstellar dust, a planet, or even a sun—would be no obstacle. When quantum-based communication crossed from theory to practical application, the destruction of a time gate wouldn’t keep the intelligence aboard the gates from spreading mind-to-mind, host-to-host, in an instant. It was probably happening already in other systems. Kenji wiped his face and exhaled. Thanks to his sabotage, and the Luddeccean crackdown on the ethernet, Luddeccea was safe …

  Someone cleared his throat. Kenji looked up and noticed Premier Leetier and Admiral Salin standing in front of the display, their bodies projecting long shadows on the screen. The person in charge of the display zoomed into the reactors with a few clicks and Kenji’s heart stopped. Drones, blurry with motion, were buzzing around the part of the time gate Noa had dubbed beads.

  “Gentlemen,” the premier said. “It is as the encrypted data Mr. Kenji Sato deciphered predicted: Time Gate 8 is converting its nuclear reactors to weapons.”

  Whispered prayers to Allah and Yahweh rose around Kenji. In the shadows of the room several people made the sign of the cross. Kenji had known what Time Gate 8 had planned to weaponize, but hearing it confirmed was a shock. His heart beat faster, his skin grew cold and clammy.

  “Mister Sato, you were the one who first noticed the excess energy expenditure aboard Time Gate 8, and discovered and deciphered the communication between these ... entities. How long has the time gate been ... inhabited?” The question came from Counselor Karpel, the man who had suggested that the intelligence within the gate might have a sense of humor.

  In the slow, calm voice Kenji so admired, Premier Leetier replied, “As I’ve said before, our intelligence is uncertain, we—”

  “We need to know how long the gate has been inhabited,” Karpel interrupted. “If we’re going to deal with the threat appropriately. Do you at least have an estimate?”

  There were a few quick intakes of breath. Kenji glanced around and saw the counselor and military advisor shooting glances at one another. The man next to Karpel put his hand on the counselor’s shoulder and whispered, “Ivan, you’re out of line—”

  Ignoring his companion, Karpel turned in his seat so he was facing Kenji, and, voice rising, he dropped his fist on the table. “Mr. Sato, how long has the gate been possessed?”

  Kenji glanced at the premier. His face was as unreadable as a blank wall. Beneath the table Kenji balled his hands into damp fists. Should he answer or not? He’d hated his augments in so many ways. But now he wished he had them.

  * * *

  Kenji sat cross-legged on the floor of his parents’ home, focused on schematics displayed in his visual cortex by his newly activated neural interface. Stretched out around him were the parts for a model hovercraft from Earth he and his older sister Noa had ordered. The model had been inspected by Luddeccean Customs so thoroughly that all 1,435 pieces were hopelessly mixed and damaged. Noa would be home in 3.5 minutes. She'd see the package and would try to put the hover together by looking at the pictures, not bothering to sort the pieces first. Kenji felt sweat prickle his brow.

  In his hands was a miniature cylindrical charge disperser wrapped in translucent plastic with a tiny circular read-out panel. It was smaller than his pinky finger and only half as wide. The metal for the time bands was not very conducive. A steady charge delivered along the circumference of the band by many dispersers was essential. He checked the read-out’s displayed symbol with the example in the schematic. This one was undamaged. He gently put it in a bin to separate it from the rest ... and then he had the oddest sensation, like a bug had landed inside his brain. It took him a moment to identify the annoying sensation: someone was calling him in the ether.

  He could ignore it. He should ignore it. He picked up another disperser.

  The caller’s ID flashed in his visual cortex: Charles Ko, another candidate from his province for the advanced mathematics seminar for secondary students in Prime.

  He could ignore it. He should ignore it. He squinted at the disperser's read-out panel.

  The fly that was Charles’s call felt like it was dancing in place.

  Closing his eyes, Kenji focused on the bug. “Answer,” he said aloud. He was still new to the neural interface and had to speak aloud to focus his commands and thoughts. The bug dancing in place began to buzz around his brain.

  “Kenji?” Charles’s voice sounded as though it were coming from right next to his ear. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. It sounded like Kenji was standing next to a door that was slightly ajar and Charles’s voice was echoing from that other room.

  “What do you want?” Kenji asked, frustrated by the interruption and the vagueness of the sensations produced by the neural connection. Bugs. Other rooms. He shook his head.

  “Where will you be parking when you go to Prime for the entrance exam?”

  Kenji dropped the disperser to his lap. “I will not be driving. I am twelve. Like you. Why are you asking me this question?”

  “My mother doesn’t have your mother’s channel.”

  Staring at the schematic before him, Kenji’s nostrils flared and he felt a burning sensation in his chest.

  Charles’s thoughts intruded again. “Kenji?”

  “You need my mother’s channel?”

  “Yes.”

  Kenji took a deep breath. “Channels,” like so much of the colloquial ethernet terminology, was a misnomer. His mother did not receive an ether call over a “channel.” She received a call over several frequencies. With nearly 100 billion inhabitants in the galaxy, the frequencies were not unique to her. However, the way that data was encoded over those frequencies was unique to his mother. Each machine and human in the ether had an eighteen-digit identifier—their “channel.” His mother’s channel was like a box sitting open in his mind that Kenji could reach into at any time without calling up the identifier. With only a thought he should be able to take that box and share it with Charles. He tried to push it across the ether …

  “Kenji?” said Charles.

  With a grunt of frustration, Kenji realized he would have to read the six-digit number that denoted his mother’s frequencies, and the twelve-digit string of numbers and symbols that was her unique identifier to Charles aloud. Shutting off the digital schematic, he did so from memory.

  A different string of numbers played across his visual cortex. “That is my mom’s number,” Charles said. “Oh, and here’s my dad’s. I don’t know who’s driving me.” Another string of numbers appeared, and Kenji blinked. Charles was obviously better at utilizing his neural interface than Kenji was. Kenji memorized both of Charles’s parents' channel identifiers, not wanting to bother with a clumsy memorization app.

  “Are you excited?” Charles asked.

  “About what?” Kenji asked.

  “The exam? The chance to study with professors from Sol system?” Charles said. “Nebulas, I’m so keyed, and so nervous, I can’t sleep at night.”

  Kenji wasn’t excited. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want the opportunity; but his scores were so high, he was assured of passing the exam. Testing into the advanced mathematics seminar was a logical progression, like reaching the top of a flight of stairs. He had a feeling that was not the answer he was expected to give.

  “Yes,” he said finally, hating himself for the dishonesty. “I have to go now. I’m working.”

  “Right—”

  Kenji shut off the transmission. He breathed out a long sigh of relief, summoned up the schematics, and lifted the charge disperser. The symbol on the read-out panel was different. He put a finger beneath the symbol key on the schematics … and his finger passed right through what was only an illusion in his visual cortex, like a floater in his eye after staring at the sun. He almost threw the disperser across the room. But then
he heard footsteps, too quick to be his mother or younger sister, and too light to be his older brother or father. Noa was home. He pulled the disperser closer to his stomach, as though protecting it would somehow prevent the chaos that would erupt as soon as she entered the room.

  She burst through the door a moment later. “It came!” she cried, smiling very wide, her teeth white against her ebony skin. The emotion reading apps recently implanted in his brain went into high gear, triggering a response. He felt happy when she smiled … which was ridiculous. She was about to make the mess made by Customs a thousand times worse.

  Her smile vanished, and Kenji’s app-generated moment of happy empathy did, too. It felt like the sun had gone behind a cloud.

  “Did the Customs agents do this?” she said, dropping to her knees across from him and putting a hand to her mouth.

  An app in his mind told him that she was feeling the same way he had when he’d seen what Customs had done. He should be telling her not to touch anything; instead, he found himself smiling in response. He looked down hastily, to get away from the distraction of her emotions. “Yes,” he said.

  Noa snorted, something the ladies at church called “unladylike.”

  “You’d think they thought we’d ordered a sex ‘bot.”

  Kenji nearly choked and he felt his face flush.

  “Well, we better organize the pieces,” Noa said, putting her hands on her thighs, drawing Kenji’s attention to her fingers. They were like the rest of her, long, slender, and graceful. Her hands were steadier than his, her eyes very sure. He tended to drop things, and his hands tended to shake.

  “What?” said Kenji in shock, her words catching up to him.

  “We better organize the pieces,” Noa said, nodding. “Isn’t that something you would say?”