Chaos Cipher Read Online Free

they
can’t know. They cannot possibly know! ’
    ‘ Nobody knows
about the Elixir, Rynal ,’ old Osmond
reassured. ‘ If they knew...they wouldn’t
have been planning this sort of assault that’s for sure. The fools
will doom life as we know it .’
     
    A salient and
malachite flash emanated at last from the Kyklos axel sphere, shattering the
resin-nano-tube structure like a frozen spindle and lighting up the
cotton clouds and barren mountains of the planet Amora below.
Arrowheads dove into the silent explosion with rapturous zeal. The
fires set their photovoltaic alloy aglow as they wheeled and bathed
like cosmic vampires in the blood of their latest kill.
     
    Rynal felt
the explosive light through the neurosphere. The super-structure
had finally fallen apart. An historic Earther arc station destroyed
in a matter of minutes. He needed to reach the Galileo Coterie;
people had to know what happened here.
     
    *
     
    For John
Ripley it was simple; this was a heat, beat and treat mission.
Unlike the other strike-ships in the starmada, his was a
Solitaire-Class, The
Deathwind . A remarkably reliable
interplanetary craft suited for duel pilot capacity and armed with
the most sophisticated weaponry courtesy of Ampotech Industries.
The needle canopy of The Deathwind arrowed sleekly from the Jackal’s launch tunnels,
propelled on a body of magnetic propulsion, it raced into the void.
Once the launch was complete, the engines fired and The Deathwind soared
ahead into the endlessly vast distances. Ghostly images imprinted
into his neurosphere as The
Deathwind’s TCAS mapped out the flight
vectors of his co-pilots’ transponders.
     
    They cut
through the debris field like shark fins. Sleek, arrow shaped
photovoltaic fuselages, slipping into fire and litter, yawing
through gaps in the drifting debris. The on-board computer mapped
out potential collisions and Ripley cruised and curved between
ruinous particles, blinding pulses of jets bursting silently from
above and below the canopy, twisting the craft through the
vacuum.
    ‘ Downlink
complete,’ said the mission commander through the communications
network. ‘Start your mission CDRs.’ She further instructed, ‘I need
you to be my eyes here.’
    ‘ CDRs
online,’ John Ripley reported.
    ‘ CDRs are a
go, quantics calibrated’ said another voice. ‘Mission is now
recording.’
    ‘ Maintain
optical solar reflectors,’ she re-joined, ‘the Suntau is a spicy
meatball and she kicks up some fierce solar gusts. Nothing you
wanna get caught up in.’
    ‘ Confirmed
commander,’ said one of the masked assailants.
    ‘ Target any
life boats and destroy, apprehend any potential
escapees...’
    ‘ Commander,’
one of the Arrowhead pilots reported. ‘Racer class starnavis
leaving orbit, The
Cereno , increasing velocity at a steady
percentile.’
    ‘ All pilots,
target that ship,’ she ordered, ‘we mustn’t let anyone escape from
this area to report it. They must be heading to a nearby
saltus-carrousel. Find any of those distortion-toroids in the area
and destroy them! Scout every Lagrange point. That starnavis
mustn’t velox out of here. Cut...her...DOWN!’
     
    The
Deathwind dipped into the southern part of
the debris field leftover by the destroyed ring habitat. Ripley
channelled his thoughts through a neuro-ligature marked by a series
of tattoos on the nape of his spine, a micro-channel for neural
information, allowing his psychological reach to manoeuvre and
change the behaviour of his strike-ship. He saw the combat
sequencers in his visual cortex, a series of codes and
abbreviations. He joined other strike ships as they targeted their
victims. Powerful beams of concentrated maser light diced up
helpless escape capsules. Flashes of radiation stabbed into the
burning habitat’s debris field as the other co-pilots asserted
their joint belligerence. In their assault their neuromissions
merged, they shared information to form a single consciousness
known as the