The Chiral Conspiracy – A Military Science Fiction Thriller: A Biogenesis War Prequel (The Biogenesis War Book 0)

by L. L. Richman

  Before answering Sullivan, she pulled up a map of the Procyon system and sent the admiralty’s SI a request. She knew the distances in general terms; deGrasse was currently at a secured site in the Atlieka Belt, between the system’s two stars, Merki and Myr.

  The Belt was a debris disk formed by the remains of Myr’s outer core when the star became a white dwarf. The belt had eventually settled into an orbit almost 3 AU from Merki, Myr’s F-class sister star.

  That put deGrasse a bit more than thirty AUs from the system’s heliopause.

  {We’re a little over an AU from the Hawking habitat right now, and an eighteen-day trek to the gate,} she replied, after scanning through the data the Synthetic Intelligence had sent to her HUD.

  She paused the feed when she saw the SI’s readiness estimates.

  {Looks like we can’t push the torus to more than a single gravity, due to some of the more sensitive equipment we have on board right now,} she told him. {It’s going to take some time to lock things down and reconfigure for transport, too, so it’ll be closer to twenty-one days before we can get there.}

  There was silence on the other end as Sullivan digested everything she told him.

  {Understood,} he sent with a mental nod. {Do what you need to do but make the best time you can. We’re sending the portable gate through to the other end, so be prepared for a rough ride.}

  Toland winced at that, although she’d known this was coming.

  Portable gate transits could get bumpy. Permanent gate installations had regular sweeper ships that cleared the exit points of micrometeorites and other debris.

  They had sensors to monitor both ends of every transit point. They enacted temporary blackout periods when shifts in the stellar wind or its interaction with the interstellar medium created local weather events.

  The Geminate Navy’s utility-class gate enjoyed none of these niceties, and there would be nothing at Luyten’s heliopause to cushion their arrival.

  Toland’s people were used to it, though. The civilian contractors working on deGrasse would just have to suck it up and deal.

  {I assume you and Director Cutter reviewed the data files we attached. Do you have any questions for us?} she asked.

  {Not at the moment, no,} he responded. {As you’ve undoubtedly guessed, the probe has all of us concerned.}

  She sent him a crisp nod. {We’ll follow up on its findings and get this nailed down as quickly as we can, sir.}

  {I know you will, Admiral.}

  Sullivan cut the connection as Amara approached her office. The doors slid open and her assistant stood, nodding respectfully.

  “Ma’am,” he said. “I thought you were headed to the mess for lunch.”

  Amara grimaced. “That can wait. Please gather the section heads for an emergency meeting in—” she looked at her HUD’s chrono, “—an hour. I’ll be briefing them on a new assignment at that time.”

  Her assistant nodded. “You got it, Admiral. Anything else?”

  Amara shot a glance in the general direction of the mess hall. “Could you ask chef to drum up something and have a steward deliver it to my office?”

  She paused, thinking. “Make that for two. Contact Colonel Fraley and ask him to join me. Looks like we’ll be working through lunch today.”

  An hour later, she and Fraley stood at the head of a conference table in a room just outside the torus’s Command and Control center. The dozen faces looking back at her held a mixture of surprise, consternation, and anticipation at the announcement she’d just made.

  “My lead biochemist is off site at the moment,” Lee Stinton protested in a disgruntled voice. Bushy brows beetled together as the large man scowled. “Peres is scheduled to deliver the keynote at a conference on Hawking in two days.”

  Toland shook her head. “We need to be underway by then. I know we’re only a day’s transit away from the habitat, but that’s cutting things a bit too close to our departure window for my comfort. Please extend my apologies to your man for upsetting his schedule in such a precipitous manner, but I need you to send him a priority recall notice.”

  She turned, including the rest of the room, as she added, “We need everyone else back on deGrasse as soon as possible. Consider all liberties revoked, and personnel recalled.”

  There were murmurs of acknowledgement all around the table. Toland was relieved to hear Stinton’s voice among them.

  Though technically a civilian, the Chief Scientist’s contract with the Navy required that he, and all other civilian personnel reporting up to him, adhere to Navy regulations regarding such things.

  “Very well, then. Please pass any questions or concerns along to Colonel Fraley, and if you run into any issues, know that they’ll be dealt with on a priority basis.” Toland’s gaze swept the room and she stood.

  The room stood with her, those with military ranks saluting. She saluted a dismissal, and then left the room.

  TWO

  Pirate Station

  Straits of Sargon,

  Akkadia

  (Alpha Centauri A)

  The pirate station smelled like old socks.

  Correction, NCIC Special Agent Elodie Cyr thought. Old socks, worn throughout Hell Walk at the end of Recon.

  Fortunately, her nose had long since become inured to such smells, first as a Marine and then later with the Alliance’s elite special forces.

  Though she’d left the Special Reconnaissance Unit four years ago to pursue a career with the Navy’s Criminal Investigation Command, some things just stuck with you.

  Even when you’d rather they not, Ell thought, stifling a sigh.

  Her previous life was also responsible for her current situation. She’d been taken hostage with three others, and was now trapped inside a creaky old space station with an enviro system that should have been red-tagged before she was born.

  The cuffs that secured her hands behind her back looked like they’d been forged in a prior century, but they did the job. The Ziptie nanopackage they’d slapped on her neck before shoving her inside the dank holding area rendered her both blind and deaf.

  The app blocked the wire in her brain, cutting off all comm and network access. It killed her optical implants, limiting eyesight to visible spectrum only.

  On the plus side, she could still walk and talk.

  The Zipties they’d used back in the Unit unpacked with a more robust set of restraints. Besides cutting off all wireless access, they also infiltrated body mods, rendering them inoperable.

  In addition, they seized control of the SmartCarbyne lattice that reinforced most spacers’ bodies, imposing paralysis.

  The pirates should have gone for the more comprehensive version, but they hadn’t wanted to lug their prisoners’ inert bodies around. That laziness was going to cost them.

  The way they’d cuffed her kept Ell from reaching the stash of breach nanobots she kept tucked behind a faraday shield in the shaft of her left boot. That same shield had kept it from being picked up on scan.

  Unfortunately, she had no simple way of reaching it. Her first attempt had earned her a sharp word and a threatening jab from the service end of a combat rifle by the pirate guarding them.

  Their guard seemed impossibly young, with a face that looked as if it had never seen stubble. The hard look in his eyes told her he was well aware of the impression he made, and was determined to overcome what he saw as the stigma of youth.

  In the Unit, we would have taught him how to cultivate that misconception and use it to his advantage.

  She shook the thought off, continuing her slow perusal of the room. There wasn’t much here that could be used to subdue the guard, but that didn’t stop her from studying its confines.

  Her focus shifted abruptly when she felt a faint nudge against her shoulder. She kept her eyes trained on the baby-faced guard while she let herself lean against her fellow prisoner.

  Fingers brushed against her wrist, followed by the sharp scrape of metal wire as it tapped against her palm. H
er expression remained unchanged, but she felt a flush of satisfaction as she wrapped her fingers around it.

  Well done, Quinn, she thought.

  Charles Quinn was still junior enough to be called ‘probie,’ though Ell didn’t. The NCIC office on Hawking was understaffed at the moment, so it was just the two of them, and he didn’t need the hazing.

  Besides, she’d take one Quinn over three average workers any day. The man was resourceful, and had impressive recall.

  This tiny scrap of wire was the perfect example. She’d mentioned her skill with ancient mechanical locks once in passing, but he’d obviously remembered it. Better yet, he looked for a way to take advantage of it.

  As Ell bent the wire into two opposing ninety-degree angles, Quinn worked to distract the guard.

  Nodding to the fourth person they’d taken prisoner, he asked, “Don’t you think you should check on her? A hostage is no good to you if she’s dead.”

  Ell’s fingers traced the upper portion of the lock, gently easing the wire in and applying upward pressure. She felt the ratchet lift.

  The guard scowled at Quinn. “She’s fine. Now shut up.”

  Holding the wire in place, Ell flexed her hand, pressing against the cuff. She felt the teeth begin to slowly slide through the opening.

  “I don’t see her breathing,” Quinn’s voice sounded doubtful. “Couldn’t you at least scan her?”

  The wire slipped. Ell relaxed her hand on an inhale, wiggling her fingers on the exhale. She tried again. Three more teeth slid through the ratchet and Ell palmed the wire while working her wrist free of the shackles.

  “I said,” the guard stepped closer, aiming his pulse rifle at Quinn’s forehead. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

  “He’ll be quiet,” Ell told the guard hastily, then leaned into Quinn, using the movement to reach her hand behind his back. “Stand down.”

  He nodded and slumped slightly forward, the action a cover to give her better access to his bound wrists.

  By the time she had Quinn freed, her shoulders ached, but she sucked in a slow, deep breath and readied herself to do it all again—this time, to free the man on her right. Ell worked to relieve the tension from her shoulders as she began slowly moving into position.

  Quinn, miming still-bound hands, did what he could to draw attention from her. He cleared his throat. The pirate shot him a narrow-eyed look.

  “Our people are coming. When they get here, shit’s going down,” Quinn said, his tone calm and level. “There’s no way you’re going to win this.”

  Before he could continue, the guard scoffed. “What, you think you’re someone important? You’re just a glorified cop, man.”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “NCIC still goes through basic and advanced, just like everyone else, kid. And then the real training begins.”

  That’s it. Keep distracting him, Ell silently encouraged, as her shoulder made contact with the major seated to her right.

  She and Rafe went way back. While she’d been with the Unit, Rafe Zander had flown Shadow Recon. He’d been responsible for hauling Ell’s ass out of many a hot zone, back in the day.

  Like her, he’d moved on. Unlike her, he’d stayed in the same Navy track. He’d risen to the rank of major, and now commanded an entire squadron.

  To her left, Quinn tried a more persuasive tone.

  “You know the Navy’s looking for us. You have four naval personnel here.” He shook his head. “If you let us go now, it’ll go easier on you when they get here.”

  Using her fingers against his forearm, Ell quickly tapped out a code she knew Rafe would understand, one all Unit operators and Shadow Recon pilots knew. Within seconds, she felt his bound hands brush against hers, and she went to work.

  The guard glowered at Quinn, waggling his pulse rifle threateningly. “Who’s got the gun and who’s trussed up tighter ‘n cargo in a net, huh, asshole?”

  Quinn walked a tightrope with the guard, alternately persuading and goading.

  At times, Ell thought she should mentally rename Baby Face to Red Face. Just when she began to worry Quinn had provoked the guard too far, he backed off, only to begin again a few seconds later.

  The technique was the perfect distraction.

  Right up to the moment Rafe’s shackles hit the ground with a soft clang.

  What the—?

  Ell’s stomach plummeted, dismay stabbing through her at Rafe’s unexpected clumsiness.

  The guard broke off, shooting a suspicious look their way. Motioning to Ell and the major, he ordered, “Move away from each other. Slowly, now.”

  Ell moved toward Quinn, while Rafe shuffled in the opposite direction. He managed to make more noise with his cuffs, and Ell realized he was doing it to give her an opening.

  Ell took it.

  Using the man’s momentary distraction, she launched her attack. With the flick of a wrist, her handcuffs went slicing through the air, a crude form of nunchaku.

  Military-grade picosensors woven throughout her body kicked in as she exploded to her feet, boosting reflexes far beyond the human norm. Quinn and Rafe were right behind her.

  Quinn dove for the weapon Ell’s handcuffs had sent flying when they wrapped around the guard’s wrist. Rafe raced for the downed specialist in the corner.

  Ell drove her right shoulder into the guard’s abdomen, hand crossing to wrap behind his opposing knee, jerking him off his feet. Instinctively, the guard tried to roll out from under her. She allowed him a half turn before grabbing his arm and forcing it forward.

  Snaking one hand under his armpit and the other around his neck, she levered him into a bow and arrow choke hold.

  His face already red from exertion, his eyes went wide when he realized his air supply had been cut off. He began to struggle, but then Quinn was there, the guard’s rifle aimed unerringly at the man’s face.

  “Freeze,” the investigator barked, and then shrugged with an evil grin. “Or don’t. Your call.”

  Wisely, the young guard froze.

  She released her hold about his neck and reached for the Ziptie hidden in the shaft of her boot, while Rafe used their discarded cuffs to bind the guard. She waved the nanopackage at the major before slapping it against the back of their prisoner’s neck.

  “He had plenty of opportunity to call for reinforcements before I ziptied him,” she warned Rafe.

  He shook his head. “He didn’t.” The major jerked his chin at the guard. “Look at his face. It never even occurred to him to call for help.”

  Ell glanced down at the guard and realized Rafe was right. The guard’s face had reddened once more, only this time in embarrassment at the major’s words.

  The look in his eyes—about the only expressive thing allowed him under the influence of Ell’s more comprehensive Ziptie—clearly telegraphed his dismay.

  Shaking her head, she gave Baby Face a pat on the cheek, and then rocked back on her heels. Careful not to cross Quinn’s line of fire, she rolled to her feet.

  Rafe shot her an unreadable look. “You ready to get out of here, Sarge?”

  Ell couldn’t quite hide her flinch at his use of her old rank, but she covered it by motioning to the fourth prisoner. “Okay, fine. I’ll get the door. You grab her.”

  Rafe lifted a brow. “You forgotten the way we do things in the Navy? Last I recall, majors give sergeants orders, not the other way around.”

  Ell scowled at him. “I’m not a sergeant any longer,” she reminded him. “You’re combat; I’m NCIC.”

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” he said, amusement coloring his tone as he stepped toward their prone companion.

  Narrowing her eyes, she stood there a moment, studying him. Rafe’s actions weren’t adding up. She wondered what side game he had going on that he wasn’t telling her.

  He shot her a knowing look, which told her exactly nothing other than he knew his actions had her mystified.

  Ell shook her head, dismissing Rafe and turning to Quinn. She motioned for the door. “Y
ou know there is a good chance they have at least one more standing outside. They hear the door opening and they’ll have weapons drawn before you can get a bead on them.”

  Quinn nodded, brows drawing together. “The thought had occurred to me,” he admitted. “Got any suggestions?”

  “Yeah,” she drew the word out thoughtfully, playing out the scene in her mind.

  Placing her hand over the door’s control mechanism, she deposited a round of breaching nano into it. It synched with the software in her wire, showing her a lock that was easily a decade or more out of use.

  “Okay,” she murmured. “That’ll be easy enough to pick.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Quinn and then Rafe, who had the fourth hostage hoisted over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

  “Stay clear of the door,” she instructed Rafe, waving him over toward Quinn. “Quinn, open the door on my mark. Be prepared to back me up like you did when we took out Baby Face. Got it?”

  Quinn nodded and both men stepped back against the bulkhead. Ell moved to the opposite side of the door, crouching low to the deck. “On three. One…two…”

  Quinn triggered the door and Ell propelled herself up and into the guard who had turned at the sound. An oof sounded from the pirate as he landed on his back, his weapon clattering to the deck.

  Peripheral vision told her Quinn had engaged another guard just as the man beneath her rolled. Ell barely escaped the fist that came crashing down toward her face, jerking her head to the left at the last moment.

  She thrust her fist upward in what looked like a cross jab. The man’s chin jerked back instinctively, but she wasn’t going for the chin. Instead, she hooked her fingers around the bony scapula ridge that ran just behind the top of the man’s shoulder and pulled. That action levered Ell up while propelling the man toward the deck.

  The pirate was now face down with Ell on top. She reached for the pistol strapped to the man’s right thigh, but the pirate tried to buck her off. Ell fought to put the man in a grappling hold but found herself suddenly airborne.