Gunboat (A LitRPG Adventure), page 2
Three men were spotted on the smugglers’ ship, one ducking down at the helm and two others in the aft passenger area. Watkins could see the two in the passenger area poking their heads up for a look, only to be blinded by the spotlight. A chopper was on the way to support them, but there was no way Captain Watkins was going to wait another twenty minutes for it to arrive before he acted.
Odds were that the crew would scuttle the ship before they allowed it to be captured. Intel from the DEA had indicated that the ship was smuggling another massive load of fentanyl for the cartel. If those drugs reached shore and were distributed, a fresh wave of overdose deaths and misery would flood the streets up and down the California coast. Watkins’ ship, the USCGC Barracuda, would normally have trouble keeping up with their target, but one of the engines on the smugglers’ ship seemed to have some kind of mechanical trouble, slowing them considerably.
“No response to our hails on the radio, sir,” Seaman Mays, who was manning the comms, announced just before Watkins could ask.
His crew was a solid one. Their previous commander had done a great job with training, such a good job that he had been promoted to command one of the Coast Guard’s larger ships. His promotion allowed Watkins a chance to take over a month ago. For an aging Coast Guard officer, this was probably his last chance at command before retirement.
“We’re taking fire!” Petty Officer Carter announced.
Watkins could see flashes of automatic weapons fire coming from the smugglers’ vessel as they sprayed his ship. One of the two gunners manning their pair of M2 .50-caliber machine guns on pintle mounts at the bow went down. Calls for a corpsman were shouted out. Before Watkins could even order it, the other gunner, a sailor named Hopkins, opened fire on the smugglers.
The heavy rounds hammered out by the venerable M2 easily shattered the fiberglass body of the smugglers’ ship as the gunner walked his fire toward their attackers. One of the smugglers stood and aimed what looked like an RPG launcher at their ship, but a burst of .50-caliber rounds nearly tore the man in half. More rounds peppered the area the shooter had appeared from, just in case another crewman was down there trying to recover the launcher.
An impossibly bright light filled Captain Watkins’ vision, and a wave of force crashed into him. Darkness encroached, and just before his mind went blank, he realized that the rounds fired by Hopkins had hit something other than bundles of drugs on the smugglers’ ship. It must have also been carrying more firepower than just a few rifles and an RPG. Whatever ordnance the smugglers were trying to bring ashore, it was enough to blow both their ship, and the Barracuda, to bits.
Watkins drifted in the darkness, wondering what would happen next. He figured he was dead or maybe horribly injured and unconscious. But if he was just knocked out from the blast, he wouldn’t be able to think so clearly, would he? He couldn’t feel anything, and at least there was no pain. All he could do was wait, though his impatience was growing by the second.
Potential viable candidate for experimental core integration has been located and secured. Stand by as this life-form is tested.
The words appeared in front of Watkins as he also heard them in his mind. He finally felt something other than just numbness. Memories flashed through his vision as something sifted through his mind. His flow of memories stopped at certain times, as if someone was slowing their search and taking a greater interest in them. The stopping points were mostly during important events in his military career, but also during his college days, when he acquired a master’s degree in military history.
The subject known as Jesse Watkins possesses a compatible knowledge base for core integration. Approximately 47.4% of his mind could be considered extraneous. Deletion of unwanted data and reformatting for core integration will now begin.
His memories? Whoever this was wanted to take almost half his memories. Terror squeezed Watkins’ mind. To lose his memories was to lose who he was.
No, you can’t take my memories! Watkins screamed in his mind at whoever was doing this to him. It shocked him that he had no voice, but just thinking the words seemed to have the same effect.
The subject has lodged an objection to the complete deletion of extraneous memory data. Prior experiments indicate a 58.5% chance of integration failure if the subject is actively resisting integration. This failure chance is unacceptable. Please wait as adjudication is requested.
Processing . . .
A compromise will be offered to the subject. Extraneous deleted information will be stored off-site. When your core grows in power and can reabsorb the data without affecting your performance, the stored data will be unlocked and made available for you to download.
That sounds better than deleting my memories, but where am I and why am I here? Watkins thought toward the strange computer-like being that seemed to be in control of his afterlife.
A provisional acceptance of the terms offered has been noted. Subject requests additional information regarding his current situation. Request for additional instruction and background information has been sent for adjudication.
Request denied. The window for successful core integration is closing.
As a partial compromise, a limited amount of additional information on his prior existence will be integrated into the Limited Adjunct Network Interface.
Prepare for core integration.
With that final statement, Watkins’ existence exploded in pain. His mind was ripped apart, and as promised, memories were torn out and sent elsewhere as new data was integrated into his very being. Pain and emotion were replaced by an innate knowledge of the core that he was becoming.
Watkins’ mind still felt fear over what was happening to him, but he also found that this fear was greatly diminished from what it should have been. His mind felt more stable than it had ever felt before, but Watkins also felt somewhat less than human. Before he could contemplate what he had become, more information appeared.
Core data compression successful. Installation into existing core housing will now commence.
Existing links have been located in the core power matrix. You have unlocked and received the control codes for an experimental Universal Fabricator.
Fabricators? Core housing? What’s going on? Watkins asked himself and whatever entity was projecting these words into his head.
Inquiries from the newly designated core are no longer being accepted. Please reserve all questions for when you unlock and activate your Limited Adjunct Network Interface.
With that message, Watkins felt himself hurled into the void. This odd feeling of movement continued for some time, and Watkins wished he had some way to track or mark time. After what could have been seconds or years, he felt the sense of movement slow, then stop.
His mind was compressed as it began to install itself into a physical object. Cold metallic alloys and clear, armored plastic came into view around him. He was being sealed into some device. Whether this device would become a home—or a prison—remained to be seen.
He felt uncomfortable, like he didn’t quite fit into the space he was being forced into. Also, Watkins sensed that his new home wasn’t exactly as secure as it seemed. After a few minutes of discomfort, everything seemed to click into place and a flurry of messages appeared.
Core integration complete.
External viewing is activating.
Starting initialization process.
Error. Network connection failed. Unable to interface with vessel. Adjunct is offline.
No connection to station Alpha 712 is detected.
No connection to the station at Jump Point 1 is detected.
No connection to the station at Jump Point 2 is detected.
Examining hardline connections . . .
Master controls are disconnected.
All ship subsystem controls are disconnected.
Checking for any viable hardline connections . . .
Connection to Universal Fabricator, level 0, detected.
Connection to reprocessor, level 0, detected.
No further connections detected.
Priority task: Utilize active connections in order to effect repairs and complete integration with your vessel.
A vision of the world outside Watkins’ cage appeared, and the view wasn’t exactly a pretty one. He was placed in the corner of a square metal room. A single sealed hatchway on the far wall led from the room to who knew where. Watkins had no way to measure how large the room was, and he couldn’t turn his head to see anything to the sides or behind him.
For a few seconds, panic began to grip him. One moment, he had been aboard his ship, the Barracuda. The next, he had been blasted into oblivion. Somehow, whoever controlled the strange computer-like text had recruited him for some mission he had no idea about. Now he found himself bound to some unknown device and his human body was completely gone.
Almost as suddenly as the panic hit, it dissipated. Watkins’ mind shifted, refusing to allow emotion to cloud it. The feeling was unnatural, and he knew in his very being that to eliminate all emotion was to eliminate who he truly was. A war inside Watkins began to take place. The strange data that had usurped so many of his memories struggled against what remained of the man he once was.
Neither of the two sides, his humanity and the new parts of his mind, could gain an advantage. He struggled against himself. In one moment, he was fighting to remember and keep who he had been, and in the next, he felt an overwhelming need to suppress emotion and accept his integration into this new existence.
A sharp, low pain lanced across Watkins, and both sides of his mind decided to make a truce as a new threat emerged.
Your core is under attack.
Core housing durability is at 99%.
Chapter 3
Get It Off Me
“What’s that?” Watkins shouted as he shifted his view toward the damaged section of his core. There, gnawing and scratching at the core, was a nasty creature he had never seen before. It looked like an oversized rat had somehow combined with a bug. It stood on all fours and had a hard, chitinous outer shell that was broken up by patches of mangy fur.
He was distracted from the nasty-looking creature by the realization that he had just spoken. Watkins’ voice sounded like his own but had a robotic tone, like someone had run it through a poorly programmed audio filter and pumped it through a cheap speaker.
Fresh spikes of pain brought his attention back to the creature. He was shocked to see that the rat thing’s little claws and sharp teeth were somehow managing to shave small bits of metal from his core housing.
Mutated Bilge Rat, Threat Level 0
Bilge rats are common on most spacefaring vessels and must be regularly eradicated to prevent damage to delicate systems and contamination of foodstuffs. These vermin are attracted to power conduits and seek out reactors and other power sources to feed upon. This example has been mutated by an unknown method and has taken on aspects of another common shipboard pest, the Yendax beetle.
“Who keeps popping those words into my head?” Watkins asked.
System messages are integrated into your core. They exist to guide you and inform you of the various aspects of your new existence.
“Okay, so how do I stop that rat-bug thing?” Watkins asked. “It’s really starting to hurt.”
Examining existing connections.
No Mobile Offensive Battle Systems (MOBS) are connected to this network.
No repair drone support units are connected to the network.
A link to the Universal Fabricator has been detected.
Suggested course of action: Utilize the fabricator to create a repair drone.
“How do I do that?” Watkins asked. If this repair drone could fix the damage the rat-bug was doing, he was more than happy to build one.
To access the Universal Fabricator, seek out the production menu.
As soon as Watkins thought about asking what a production menu was, he felt it. It was like a thin tendril of his will had connected to the fabricator device. As he examined the connection, some options appeared in front of him.
Universal Fabricator Production Menu
1. Simple repair drone, level 0: This drone will perform repairs and maintenance on your vessel automatically or can be directed by the core to a specific task or priority. Fabrication of this drone requires 5 units of salvage.
Current salvage reserves: 7
Watkins had barely enough to make a drone. He ordered a drone to be constructed and waited for something to happen. The current salvage reserve total began to tick down, but when Watkins tried to watch the drone being constructed, he found his vision was blocked. He could sense the fabricator was nearby, and he maintained a connection to it, but his field of vision was limited to his core and the immediate area around it.
Somehow, he knew that he should have vision over the entire ship, but something was blocking him from doing so. Wait, that was where he was, wasn’t it? He was on a ship. No, he wasn’t on a ship—he was the ship. That was the purpose of his core: to control and power the ship around him.
Despite his revelation, Watkins found that he could do little with the knowledge. Something was wrong with the vessel he was on, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t detect the rocking of the sea around him. Hopefully, the damage to his vessel wasn’t so bad that he’d start to take on water.
No, that wasn’t right, either. He wasn’t at sea like he had been as a human sailor. He was in space. It was bizarre to have these little bits of knowledge suddenly unlocked inside his mind, but it was also frustrating; each bit of data that he possessed about his new life meant one more bit of himself had been replaced to put it there. At least the strange system that seemed to govern his new life had mentioned that he could unlock his old memories again, but they were being stored somewhere else.
Thoughts of his old life stopped when a fresh wave of pain lanced into his body.
Core housing durability is at 98%.
The nasty rat-bug wasn’t stopping and didn’t seem to get tired of tearing into Watkins. He needed that drone in here, pronto, if he wanted to get himself repaired. A quick check showed that his salvage reserves were down to three and his drone was eighty percent complete. Another minute passed, and he received a notification that the drone was built and ready to work.
You have constructed a simple repair drone. Acceptable command limit levels detected. Available salvage is at 1. Production of this unit was completed below maximum efficiency and required additional salvage.
Watkins immediately ordered his drone to begin repairs on his core. A moment later, a small, square section on the bottom of the far wall retracted, and the drone walked into the compartment. His drone was about the size of a small dog, slightly larger than the creepy rat that was attacking him.
The drone had a rectangular metal-and-plastic body with six spider-like legs. Two arms made from thin, hinged metal rods were attached along the back of the drone, each arm ending in a three-fingered hand capable of using the various tools that were housed inside the drone’s body. It made whirring noises, and the metallic legs occasionally clacked against the floor as it moved.
As the drone moved in to effect repairs, the rat noticed it. With a hiss, the rat tried to warn off the drone. It didn’t want to share its prize with anyone—or anything—else.
The drone halted its approach, and a communication line opened between Watkins and the drone.
Hostile life-form has been detected. As the sole surviving drone on this vessel, additional permissions are needed due to the potential risk of this situation. Conflict is likely if this unit attempts repairs. Please inform this unit of the optimal course of action.
“Kill that rat!” Watkins shouted. His odd-sounding voice carried a hint of desperation that seemed to overcome the drone’s hesitancy.
Please be advised that this unit is suboptimal for combat duties. It is recommended that any further combat be completed with an appropriate Mobile Offensive Battle System, not a unit designated for maintenance and repair.
“Sorry, repair drone. You’re all I have to fight with,” Watkins said to his minion.
Authorization received. Engaging hostile entity.
With that, the drone began to clatter its way forward. The drone’s two arms hesitated for a moment before selecting the tools it would use as makeshift weapons. One arm held what looked like a slightly bent screwdriver, and the other held a metal mallet that looked far too heavy for its thin metal arms to manage.
Seeing the threat, the rat-bug slashed Watkins’ core housing one last time before spitting out an even louder hiss and launching itself at the drone. The drone responded without fear, stabbing the screwdriver deep into the side of the rat-bug’s body. The strike made the rat squeal even louder and latch its jaws onto the arm holding the screwdriver.
The drone hadn’t been lying when it said it wasn’t built for combat. Teeth that had barely shaved a sliver of metal off Watkins’ core housing crunched completely through the drone’s metal arm, which was apparently hollow and not as robust as Watkins had hoped. Incapable of feeling pain, the drone kept up the assault, using the hammer in its other hand to smash the rat’s skull.
With a sickening crunch, the hammer cracked through the skull of the rat-bug. Lumpy, gray mush stuck to the hammer as the drone repeated the strike two more times. Finally, after the last blow, new words appeared in front of Watkins.
Mutated bilge rat, threat level 0, has been eliminated. Do you wish to salvage the remains? Y/N.
Watkins was about to ask how he would salvage the remains when he remembered that he was connected to something called a reprocessor. Its function seemed to be turning debris or, it appeared, even the corpses of living creatures into salvage for his vessel to use. Ordering the drone to salvage the remains, Watkins watched as it first began to repair its severed arm. It took a few minutes of work using a welding tool built into one of its legs before the drone was whole again.
