Chiral Justice: A Hard Science Fiction Technothriller (The Biogenesis War Book 3)

by L. L. Richman

  Micah hid a smile.

  Don’t tell the chief warrant, Jonathan warned. It’ll go to her head.

  Nah, Alvarez’ll keep her ego knocked down to proper size.

  Jonathan laughed. He brought her into the program, she’s his responsibility. Isn’t that what Thad said? Like a foundling under Gabe’s care.

  Dare you to tell her that to her face.

  Jonathan sent him a look of mock terror. Not sure about you, brother, but I value my life.

  Then it’s a good thing we’re not this new breed of chiral man. You bite it, I might feel your pain, but I won’t end up joining you.

  Asshole.

  Back at you.

  His attention was brought back by the mechanic’s description of the display as he wrapped up his tour of the cockpit.

  Micah reached for the yoke, but the mechanic knocked it away.

  “Don’t touch,” the man reiterated. “Not anything. Those are the rules, and I intend to abide by them.”

  Micah lifted his hands in wordless acknowledgment and then backed out of the ship.

  He glanced around as he jumped down from the hatch, nodding in satisfaction. “Looks like the prime minister’s in good hands. You have a sim set up somewhere that I can use for initial training?”

  The man pointed toward the back of the tent, where two consoles were set up side by side. “Standard setup. One’s slaved to the other so you can monitor Garza’s input. You’ll be able to make small corrections, or provide instructions so he can do it on his own.”

  Micah spared him a brief glance. “Mind if I go check it out?” His voice turned dry. “I assume you won’t have any problem if I place my hands on those.”

  The mechanic lifted a brow. “I forgot for a hot minute what wiseasses all you pilots are.” Grabbing the rag out of his back pocket he waved it vaguely toward the consoles. “Be my guest. I gotta get back to work.”

  With that, the man pivoted and marched back toward the piece of equipment he’d abandoned in the mechanics’ pit.

  Micah’s eyes flickered briefly over to Katie. She looked up as the mechanic approached, her gaze shifting to meet his before settling on the man once more.

  Micah was relieved to see her treat him just like any other Navy pilot, with a courteous nod and nothing more.

  He spent the next two hours running a simulation of the course that Garza would race in the exhibition, and then cycled over to run each of the three legs of the Founder’s Cup regatta. It served to both dust the cobwebs off his skills, and offer a brief window of fun during this assignment.

  Besides, he was curious about what changes had been made to the course since he’d run it back in ‘36.

  Not much, Jonathan murmured.

  No, he agreed.

  Micah looked up when he heard footsteps approaching. Katie held a bottled water in each hand.

  “Excuse me, sir.” She awkwardly juggled the water bottles as she attempted a salute. “Captain, sir. Sorry.”

  Micah returned the salute, an amused gleam in his eyes as he replied, “At ease.”

  He had to hand it to Katie; her acting abilities were on par.

  He accepted the water she offered, and then nodded to the console. “Ever flown one of these?”

  Katie tilted her head, eyeing the console critically. “No, sir, haven’t had that pleasure.”

  Micah sat back with an expansive wave of his hand. “Well, Chief, I’m supposed to be teaching the prime minister how to fly one of these things. You think the Navy—or your bosses over there in the pit crew—would mind if I borrowed you for a brief run to test my teaching abilities?”

  Understanding dawned in Katie’s eyes, and then it was gone as she affected a concerned look. “Don’t know, sir, but I’ll go ask. Be right back.”

  Smart move, observed Jonathan. You still feel you got the short end of the stick with this assignment?

  You saw the onslaught when I got here, Micah retorted. What do you think? I’ll face the same thing when I leave, and then a repeat performance every day until the end of the regatta. Not to mention the fact that Cutter basically painted a big ol’ target on my back that says, ‘Hey, Akkadians, come get me.’

  Jonathan sent him a mental eyeroll. That’s a heck of a lot more excitement than I’ve got going on. I’m just the bus driver. And now that we’re at Leavitt Station, I’m not even that. I’m cargo.

  Yeah, but at the other end? You’ll actually get to shoot at things.

  Not if things go as planned, countered Jonathan.

  When have things ever gone as planned?

  Okay, fine. We call it a draw, then.

  Micah sat up when he saw Katie approach. Looks like those Douglass mechanics have approved her as my guinea pig.

  Ought to be fun. Katie’s going to take to that like a duck to water.

  She will, agreed Micah.

  He signed off with Jonathan as Katie came to a stop in front of him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “All yours, sir, at least until shift’s end.”

  “Great.” He patted the seat beside him. “Web in, and let’s get going.”

  He held the webbing out so that Katie would be forced to take it from his hand. When she did, a direct peer-to-peer connection snapped into place between them. It allowed them to bypass the firewalled network, hiding their conversation from the protection detail.

  Micah kept up a stream of general information, which Katie interspersed with nods and uh-huhs as they went along. The chatter was simplistic enough to allow them both to focus on the real exchange happening over their wires.

  {Got anything to report?} she asked.

  {Not much.}

  Katie made a mental face, turning her head to look at the starglider. {We’re going to have to sneak in after the mechanics have left, if I’m to plant a tracker on that ship. They won’t let me near the thing.}

  Micah grimaced slightly as he reached into the console and activated it. {Yeah, I didn’t dare try anything while your boss gave me the tour.}

  {Did you see them sweep the ship after you exited?} she asked.

  {No, but that just proves my point. You can’t fault them for doing their jobs.}

  Katie blew out an annoyed breath. {Except that some of them are playing for the other team. Wish we knew who.}

  Once she was webbed in, Micah reached for the helmet and a pair of gauntlets that sat in the space between the two consoles.

  Katie eyed them with some suspicion. “Wraparound visor? Why not just use our HUDs?”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way.”

  She took the helmet from him, flipping it upside down and peering inside. “You’re kidding, right? This tech looks like it’s at least a hundred years old, maybe more.”

  Micah lifted a brow. “Well, the starglider’s a piece of anachronistic tech, made to behave as if it came from pre-Diaspora times.” He extended the gauntlets to her. “These have haptic responses built into them, so you’ll be able to experience the feel of the starglider’s controls, even in the sim.”

  Katie huffed as she took them. “They look like relics from the first mech suit ever invented.”

  Micah said nothing; he merely donned his own helmet.

  Slipping his hands into his set of gauntlets, he took a position behind her, arms crossed.

  Katie eyed him doubtfully. “You know, you look a bit… intimidating, standing there behind me like that.”

  Micah inclined his helmeted head, but remained silent otherwise.

  Katie’s eyes widened slightly as she hastily amended, “Sir.”

  Micah gestured with one gauntleted hand. “Put it on.”

  His voice sounded muffled and a bit hollow even to his own ears; he could imagine what he sounded like to the chief.

  Katie made a face at the equipment in her hands, but then gave a little shrug and placed it on her head.

  Micah could tell the moment her helmet activated by her swiftly indrawn breath.

 
“Oh, this is funky.”

  She jerked her head from side to side, craning her head back and around in an attempt to get used to the odd sensation.

  “I feel like I’m inside a tin can,” she complained.

  Her actions pulled an involuntary chuckle from Micah.

  “You remind me of a cat who stuck his head inside a bag of spiced nuts, only to find he can’t get out of it.”

  Katie sputtered a laugh. “I feel like a cat stuck inside a bag of spiced nuts. Or a ferret.”

  Her helmet stilled suddenly.

  {Hold that thought.} Her words resonated through his head as she turned to face him. {What if… What if we get Snotface or Sneaky Pete to plant the tracking device on the ship? No one would suspect an animal, would they?}

  One of her gauntleted hands gestured vaguely as she continued. {I mean, the fairgrounds are pretty much butted up right against the Bezier Foothills. There are bound to be field animals out here, and I can’t imagine the protection detail is that well-versed on the various critters native to this part of the world.}

  Micah tilted his head. {Huh. That… actually isn’t a bad idea. We’ll talk it over with Gabe once we’re out of here for the day. For now….} He motioned for her to turn around.

  She obediently placed her hands on the console.

  {We really should see if I can teach you to fly one of these things.}

  {I’m a Navy pilot, Micah. I think I can handle it,} she replied tartly.

  {Well, pretend not to be. I’ve never officially taught anyone how to fly before, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to get a bit of practice in before Garza shows up.}

  {Now you tell me….}

  FERRETS

  Bezier Foothills

  outside Founder’s Cup Fairgrounds

  Ceriba

  After completing three rounds of the simulated race with Katie, Micah released the chief warrant back to the mechanics’ pit and exited the tent. The gauntlet of journalists was slightly smaller than the one that had pounced on him when he’d first arrived, and he let out a relieved breath when he made it to the edge of the fairgrounds without incident.

  Gabriel Alvarez was leaning against a low fence, a basket of waffle fries in one hand. He popped one into his mouth and straightened when he caught sight of Micah. Snagging a napkin from the pile underneath the boat-shaped, paper container, he handed the snack over to Micah, who accepted with a smile of thanks.

  “You done for the day?” Gabe asked.

  “Looks like,” Micah said. He glanced over his shoulder at the sea of tents he’d just left. “You get a chance to wander through and see the sights, or were you stationed outside the perimeter?”

  Alvarez chuckled and nodded at the fries in Micah’s hand. “Where do you think those came from?”

  “Point.” Micah saluted him with one of the aforementioned pieces of fried potato before popping it into his mouth.

  He fell into step beside Gabe as the other man began an easy stroll along the fence line that marked the event’s outer perimeter.

  “See anything worth mentioning today?”

  Gabe shook his head. “Nope. Not a thing.” He shaded one hand against the stadium lighting that had turned on now that the sun had set, and pointed at a graceful, curved spindle nestled against a stand of trees. “Boone’s on overwatch up there.”

  Micah followed his line of sight. The fairgrounds’ tallest permanent structure rose twenty meters into the air. It would serve as the regatta’s traffic control tower.

  Gabe then swung his head back toward the tents. “Asha’s been strolling around as well.”

  He reached over and helped himself to another fry, and then rested his forearms on the railing as one of the stargliders flew past, ending its evening test run. His eyes didn’t leave the ship as it taxied to a stop and then turned toward its team’s tent.

  {Sam has the DNA sampling software ready to go,} he continued, brushing salt from his hands. {You or Hyer able to get the tracker planted?}

  Micah settled against the railing beside the other man. {Not a chance. That ship’s locked down so tight, they’re eating coal and crapping diamonds.}

  Gabe slid him a sidelong glance. {I see you’ve been spending too much time with a certain chief warrant.}

  Micah barked a laugh. “You might be right.”

  {Diamonds or not, we still need to plant a tracking device on that ship.}

  Micah nodded, popping another fry into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, he watched Gabe’s face. {Hyer had an idea about that, actually. It’s a bit unorthodox, but I think it has merit.}

  He shared Katie’s idea about using the ferrets to plant the tracker. He wasn’t sure what he expected out of Alvarez, but the other man’s eyes narrowed as he nodded.

  {That worked for us on Hawking, at the Merki Institute. Don’t see why it wouldn’t work here. Should be easier, in fact. I’d imagine it’s a bit more believable to see an animal at a fairground like this, than it was in the middle of downtown Midland.}

  Micah cracked a smile at the memory that conjured. The security detail at the Institute had begun as skeptics, but turned into believers the moment Snotface found the first viral bomb tucked into the ceiling of one of the institute’s lifts.

  {Yeah, getting one of them to the tent won’t be a problem. It’s inside that we might hit a snag,} he admitted. {I wouldn’t be surprised if security didn’t have a stealthed surveillance swarm surrounding the ship. They had all sorts of shit active inside that tent.}

  He licked the salt off of his fingers, folded the paper basket, and shoved it and the remaining napkins into a nearby recycling bin.

  {I can tell you that there was some active jamming going on the minute I entered,} he continued as he returned to the fence. {Even my wire’s optics ended up being slaved to Protective Services’ firewall. I’m certain it’s because they didn’t want anyone to see what was really going on in there.}

  Gabe turned to face the parking area. {Okay, why don’t we set one of the ferrets loose at the edge of the fairgrounds, and direct them to the Douglass-Washburn tent?}

  Micah nodded and straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets. {That’ll work. Once he’s inside, it’s best if he wanders randomly through the tent a bit, too. Sniff around, climb all over shit, plant the tracker while doing it. That way, his actions will look natural.}

  {We’ll have to run it by Cutter, but I think we have ourselves a plan.}

  {I had an idea about the DNA, too. I might be able to get it while training Garza, and then we won’t have to risk Sam at the dinner.}

  Micah felt Gabe’s eyes land on him.

  {How so? You just said they have surveillance everywhere.}

  Micah’s mouth kicked up in a smile. {The way the training simulators are set up, both teacher and student are required to wear a helmet and a pair of gauntleted gloves. Get me that DNA sampler inside a Faraday sheath, and I’ll coat the gloves with it. When we’re done with our first session, I’ll extract it from the gloves after he’s worn them.}

  {If you’re caught smuggling that DNA tech, you’re going to have some explaining to do,} warned the other man.

  Gabe pushed away from the fence and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s head back.” {We’ll set up Operation Ferret as soon as we get to the base. Let’s plan to head down, with ferrets, at oh-three-hundred.}

  * * *

  The Bezier Foothills were shrouded in the nocturnal silence of the wilderness. It made arrival by shuttlecraft problematic; sound carried far in the crisp night air over the plains.

  The vessel Micah flew had the same EM-suppression package that Wraith and Mirage boasted, but it had also been outfitted with a stealth cloud. The swarm of microdrones that enveloped the ship in a spherical screen veiled its presence by dampening the sound waves made by the shuttle’s emissions.

  They also functioned as a series of baffles, dissipating the air currents it stirred while cutting through the air. This made the craft slightly more
detectable than the ships Shadow Recon flew—but not by much.

  As he came in on approach, Micah could see that the fairgrounds’ lights had been reduced from event levels to the soft glow by which the area’s SI and human guards monitored the empty space.

  He’d been told that Teams One and Four had rotated fireteams and that, even now, drakeskin-clad operatives remained deployed within the fairgrounds. They formed a corridor of sorts, spread out from the shuttle’s targeted landing zone to their objective, the tent housing Garza’s starglider.

  Also on duty tonight were Harper and Sam. The women had their hands busy, keeping the ferrets out of trouble. And stretched out in the shuttle’s aisle was Joule’s chiral counterpart, Pascal. Black as the night itself, the large, panther-sized feline would be on standby to offer a distraction within the fairgrounds if the selected ferret, Snotface, encountered any problems after insertion.

  The plan was to use Snotface’s mirror twin, Sneaky Pete, to communicate with the other ferret once he inserted into the fairgrounds. Like Micah and Jonathan, the animals shared a mental quantum connection with their chiral counterpart. This was how they’d direct Snotface into position once he breached the tent.

  Micah could only hope this would work; If Snotface were caught with the tracker, he didn’t think they’d get a second shot at the ship.

  The fallback was to rely on the starglider’s own transponder, but if they could track the ship in such a public way, then so could the Akkadians within Garza’s detail. With a tracker installed, they could use the override Douglass-Washburn had built into the craft and shut down the transponder, effectively ‘disappearing’ it—and the prime minister.

  While Micah flew, Harper held Snotface, letting Sam work on the cloaking device they would attach to his collar. It could be remotely activated, shrouding the ferret from view if he needed a quick escape.

  Micah glanced over at the cabin’s internal feed as the Bezier range neared. He saw Snotface’s chiral twin, Sneaky Pete, on the seat beside Harper, inquisitive nose twitching as he avidly watched Sam work.