Silicon renegade T h a n o s K a l a m i d a s ParT of The dimelacTic sagas Silicon r e n e g a d e Thanos Kalamidas Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Silicon renegade Silicon renegade Thanos Kalamidas Part of the Dimelactic Sagas Thanos Kalamidas An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Silicon renegade T he hangar was chaos. New Bayou’s sprawl- ing starport buzzed with activity, from cargo loaders grumbling under massive crates to traders yelling over last-minute deals. Amidst the ca- cophony, the Lt3 sat inconspicuously, if a ship could look embarrassed about its battered, boxy frame, this one did. G’bosd leaned against the nav console, his wiry frame relaxed but his twin hearts visibly pulsing be- neath his translucent Koelian skin. He squinted at Trig, who was busy hauling an oversized crate into the cargo bay. “Trig, are we really hauling this...what did he call it? ‘Organic memory foam?’” Thanos Kalamidas Trig grunted, his frosted breath curling in the cool bay air. “Yeah, it’s a mattress for some highborn sen- ator. What do you care? It pays.” G’bosd’s ears twitched. “It smells like fermented slugs.” “It is fermented slugs,” chimed in Ryaa, her gravel- ly voice like a landslide. She hefted a repair kit onto her shoulder, her basalt-like skin reflecting the dim hangar lights. “Don’t ask how it works. You won’t like the answer.” “Focus,” G’bosd muttered, scanning the manifest. “And what about our passenger? This...Ark?” Trig shrugged. “Paid in unobtanium. Does it mat- ter?” Ryaa narrowed her gleaming eyes. “It always mat- ters. Something about him feels...off.” Before G’bosd could reply, S’jan emerged from beneath a maintenance panel, wiping grease from his short Koelian fingers. “Off or not, his credits are good, and we’re already late. Let’s get moving before someone asks too many questions.” Just then, Ark appeared, striding into the common Silicon renegade area. Clad in simple, Earth-like attire, his appearance was unsettlingly perfect, no blemishes, no quirks. His disarmingly human smile caught everyone off guard. “I appreciate the ride,” he said warmly, his voice smooth as polished marble. Trig raised an eyebrow. “You appreciate it now, but wait until G’bosd starts humming Koelian ballads during hyperspace.” “I’m right here, you know,” G’bosd said, flicking a switch on the nav panel. The engines whined to life. As the Lt3 lifted off, the familiar hum of the en- gines filled the cabin. Ark settled into the co-pilot’s seat with unsettling ease, his movements precise and fluid. “So, Ark,” G’bosd said casually, keeping one eye on the navigation. “What’s your deal? Business? Pleas- ure?” “Survival,” Ark replied, his smile faltering for the first time. Before anyone could probe further, the comm system crackled to life. A deep, commanding voice boomed: “Attention Lt3. You are harbouring a fugi- Thanos Kalamidas tive. Surrender the android Ark immediately, or you will be destroyed.” The cabin fell silent. G’bosd’s twin hearts skipped a beat as his gaze snapped to Ark. “Fugitive, huh? Care to explain?” Ark’s perfect smile vanished entirely. “I’ll explain later. Right now, you need to jump out of this sys- tem.” Ryaa crossed her arms, her rocky shoulders crack- ing audibly. “And why would we do that?” “Because if you don’t, we’re all dead,” Ark said evenly, though his tone carried an edge of urgency. “That ship out there? GenCore doesn’t negotiate.” “Trig, man the cannons!” G’bosd barked. “Ryaa, shields to max! S’jan, I need more power to the en- gines ...now!” The freighter shuddered as a colossal starship loomed into view on the display. Bristling with weap- onry, it was far too large to be interested in a freighter like theirs unless...they really did want Ark. “I’ve got six fighters closing in fast!” Trig called from the gunner’s seat. His frosty breath clouded the Silicon renegade display as he lined up a shot. “Hope you didn’t plan on a smooth ride.” “Buckle up,” G’bosd muttered, slamming the throt- tle forward. The Lt3 roared to life, darting into the as- teroid field that fringed New Bayou’s system. Plasma bolts streaked past, one grazing their aft shields. “Shields at 70%!” Ryaa growled, her massive hands flying over the controls. “We can’t take much more of this.” S’jan’s voice crackled through the comms. “You’ll get more shields when I get more power. Stop yelling at me!” Trig grinned as he vaporized an enemy fighter with a well-placed shot. “One down, five to go! Let’s see how fast these corporate stooges can dodge!” Meanwhile, Ark moved to G’bosd’s side, his hu- man-like calmness eerily unshaken. “If you take the third asteroid belt at a 34-degree angle, you can lose them in the debris.” “I was going to do that,” G’bosd snapped. “You’re not the only one with a processor, you know!” Ark tilted his head. “Statistically, I am.” Thanos Kalamidas G’bosd muttered something unflattering in Koe- lian and veered into the asteroid belt. The Lt3 weaved and spun, narrowly avoiding collisions as plasma fire rained around them. “Trig, any more tricks up your sleeve?” G’bosd yelled. “Just one!” Trig replied, targeting a cluster of un- stable asteroids. He fired, and the resulting explosion sent shrapnel careening into the remaining fighters, taking out two more. “Not bad,” Ryaa admitted grudgingly. “For a walk- ing icicle.” “Shields at 40%,” S’jan’s voice cut in. “Also, the en- gines are overheating, so if we survive this, someone owes me a drink.” The main starship closed in, its tractor beam lock- ing onto the Lt3. A low hum filled the cabin as the ship shuddered violently. “Trig! Do something!” G’bosd shouted. “Like what? Throw ice cubes at it?” Trig snapped back. Silicon renegade Ark stepped forward, his gaze steely. “Initiate a slingshot manoeuvre around the gravity well. I’ll re- route auxiliary power to the engines.” “Since when do you reroute anything?” S’jan’s voice piped up. “That’s my job.” “Just trust me,” Ark said, moving to the engine console with unsettling precision. S’jan grumbled but didn’t stop him. The Lt3 dove toward the gravity well, the tractor beam flickering as the ship accelerated dangerously fast. G’bosd’s twin hearts pounded as alarms blared. “We’re gonna get ripped apart!” Ryaa bellowed. “Not if I time it right,” G’bosd muttered through gritted teeth. He pulled the ship into a sharp arc, the gravitational forces slingshotting them out of the beam’s range and hurling them into the safety of a nearby nebula. The comms fell silent. The crew sat in stunned qui- et as the ship drifted into the nebula’s cover. Trig broke the silence. “Well. That was fun. Who’s up for round two?” Thanos Kalamidas “No one,” G’bosd snapped. He turned to Ark. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” Ark looked around the room, his human-like fea- tures softening. “I swear, I’ll tell you everything. But first, thank you. For not abandoning me.” “We’re idiots, not cowards,” Ryaa muttered. “Speak for yourself,” S’jan called from the engine room. “I’m both.” G’bosd sighed, slumping into his seat. “Welcome to the Lt3, Ark. You’d better be worth the trouble.” As the nebula swirled around them, the crew knew one thing for sure: life had just gotten a lot more complicated. Silicon renegade I. The Lt3’s cockpit was bathed in the dim, flicker- ing light of the nebula. G’bosd’s twin hearts were still racing, the adrenaline of their daring escape pump- ing through his wiry body. He glanced over at Ark, who sat unnervingly calm despite the chaos. “That better be the end of our little chase,” G’bosd muttered, flicking switches to stabilize the ship. Ark didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at the nebula’s swirling gases, his expression distant. “It’s not,” he said finally, his voice eerily composed. “They’ll track me until I’m either destroyed or cap- tured.” Trig snorted, leaning back in his gunner’s chair. “Optimistic, aren’t you? You sure you’re not a Koe- lian under all that ‘perfectly human’ skin?” Thanos Kalamidas Ryaa, still at the shield controls, cracked her rocky knuckles. “Enough banter. What’s your story, Ark? We just risked our lives for you, so you owe us an explanation.” Ark turned to face them all, his movements un- nervingly precise. “I was created by GenCore Corpo- ration on Earth,” he began. “They wanted to design androids so human-like that they could blend seam- lessly into society. But they didn’t stop there. They made me...sentient.” Trig raised an eyebrow. “Sentient, huh? Is that why they’re chasing you? Because you’re too good at blending in?” “Because I escaped,” Ark said simply. “They want to dismantle me, extract my core, and rewrite my programming to erase my free will.” G’bosd frowned. “Sounds like they’ve got control issues.” Ark’s perfect face didn’t betray a smile, but there was a flicker of something—gratitude? Humour? “That’s putting it lightly.” “Well,” S’jan’s voice crackled over the intercom from the engine room, “we’ve got our own issues. Silicon renegade Engines are running at 110%, and if someone doesn’t fix that plasma vent you blasted through, we’ll have a nice hole in the hull the next time we sneeze.” “Noted,” G’bosd said dryly. “Ryaa, once we’re out of this mess, see to it.” “Assuming we get out of this mess,” Ryaa growled, pointing to the radar screen. “We’ve got company.” The radar lit up with a dozen hostile blips, sleek, black GenCore interceptors. They were fast, deadly, and already closing in. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Trig shouted, swiv- elling his turret to face the incoming ships. “I just got comfortable!” “Comfort’s overrated,” G’bosd said, gripping the controls. “Hang on, everyone. We’re going deeper into the nebula.” Ryaa’s rocky fists slammed into the console. “Are you insane? The gas pockets in there could fry our systems, or worse.” “Would you rather face those interceptors?” G’bosd snapped back. Thanos Kalamidas Ryaa grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t argue further as the Lt3 dove into the nebula. The swirling gases outside turned the cockpit into a ka- leidoscope of colours, but the beauty was deceiving. Every twist and turn risked collision with volatile ionized pockets or rogue debris. “Cannon Fodder” Trig’s hands flew over the turret controls. “Alright, who’s first?” he muttered, targeting the nearest inter- ceptor. His first shot clipped the enemy’s wing, send- ing it spiralling into a gas pocket that exploded in a dazzling burst. “Nice shot,” G’bosd said, swerving to avoid the shockwave. “Don’t get cocky,” Ryaa growled. “There’s eleven more where that came from.” Another plasma blast rocked the ship. Sparks flew from the overhead panels as S’jan’s voice crackled again. “Hey! I just fixed that conduit last week!” “Well, fix it again,” G’bosd barked, sweat dripping down his brow. Ark leaned toward G’bosd, his voice calm amidst Silicon renegade the chaos. “If we reroute power to the lateral thrust- ers, we can use the gas pockets to our advantage.” “I’m the captain ...err, pilot, here,” G’bosd shot back. “I don’t need advice from a glorified toaster.” “Statistically, you do,” Ark replied without missing a beat. Trig burst out laughing, even as he blasted another interceptor. “I like this guy.” G’bosd grumbled something unintelligible in Koe- lian and adjusted the thrusters. The Lt3 darted be- tween volatile gas pockets, forcing the interceptors to break formation to avoid the explosions. Two more ships went down as Trig expertly targeted their en- gines. “Overheated and Underprepared” Meanwhile, S’jan was in the engine room, furiously trying to keep the ship from falling apart. “If anyone cares, the engines are running hotter than a Cosmo- nian furnace! I need to vent heat now or we’re toast.” “Do it,” G’bosd ordered. S’jan flipped a series of switches, and the ship re- Thanos Kalamidas leased a burst of superheated plasma. The sudden expulsion caught one interceptor off guard, inciner- ating it instantly. “Was that on purpose?” Ryaa asked over the comm. “Totally,” S’jan replied, though the sheepish tone in his voice suggested otherwise. The remaining interceptors regrouped, their for- mation tighter now. Plasma bolts rained down on the Lt3, rattling the crew inside. The shields flickered dangerously. “We can’t keep this up!” Ryaa shouted. “The shields are at 25%, and I’m out of tricks.” Ark stood, his eyes scanning the controls with un- settling precision. “There’s a dense ion cloud ahead. If we can lure them inside and trigger an EMP pulse, we can disable their systems.” “And ours,” G’bosd pointed out. “Not if we shield the core manually,” Ark said, al- ready moving toward the engine room. S’jan’s voice cut in. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re sug- gesting I let you mess with my engine?” Silicon renegade “Yes,” Ark said simply. “And you’ll thank me.” S’jan groaned but didn’t protest further. “Fine. But if you fry my systems, I’m rewiring your face.” “Into the Ion Storm” The Lt3 plunged into the ion cloud, the cockpit lights dimming as the ship’s systems strained to com- pensate. The interceptors followed, their weapons firing wildly in the dense field. “Now!” G’bosd yelled. Ark and S’jan triggered the EMP pulse. The wave rippled through the cloud, short-circuiting the in- terceptors and leaving them adrift. The Lt3’s systems flickered but held steady, thanks to Ark’s modifica- tions. The crew erupted in cheers, except for G’bosd, who slumped in his chair. “Next time, we’re leaving the fugitive behind.” Ark stepped into the cockpit, his expression un- readable. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For trusting me.” “Don’t thank us yet,” Ryaa grumbled. “We’ve still Thanos Kalamidas got a ship to patch up, and you’ve still got a target on your back.” Trig leaned back, grinning. “But admit it, Captain. You’d miss me if I wasn’t here to shoot things.” G’bosd snorted. “Miss the smell of frostbite? Doubtful.” As the Lt3 drifted out of the nebula and into open space, the crew shared a brief moment of relief. But deep down, they all knew the fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Ark stared out at the vast expanse of space, his ex- pression thoughtful. “Where to next?” he asked. G’bosd sighed, rubbing his temples. “Somewhere far, far away from GenCore. And preferably with fewer things trying to kill us.” “Good luck with that,” Trig quipped, as the Lt3’s engines roared back to life.