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

by L. L. Richman

  “What is it?” she asked, brow furrowing in concern.

  “You remember the biochemist Stinton said was on Hawking?”

  “Yes,” she responded. “What about him?”

  “He’s missing.”

  “Missing,” she repeated.

  Fraley nodded, expression grim.

  “Well, the habitat should have plenty of resources available to find him. Check with Nimitz Base.”

  “Already did. They’ve enlisted NCIC and local law enforcement to help track the guy down.” He shook his head. “Nothing, so far. He’s disappeared, seemingly into thin air.”

  “Hawking’s a big place,” Amara observed. “Ten million people. It’s easy enough for someone to disappear, if they really want to.”

  “I know,” Fraley agreed. “The special agent working the case says Peres’s profile doesn’t fit any of the usual reasons someone would have for going off the grid, though. She said—”

  Amara nodded at him to continue when Fraley abruptly cut off.

  “Well,” the colonel said with a shrug, “she suggested there might be foul play involved. She also said an investigation like this could take weeks, possibly months to resolve.”

  Amara straightened, her expression hardening. “We don’t have that kind of time. We need to be underway in two days.”

  Fraley nodded. “I know. Which is why I’ve gone ahead and approached Stinton about this. He insists he needs a biochemist of Peres’s stature to accomplish what we’re being sent to Luyten’s Star to do. Says we’ll have to replace him if we can’t find him, but in no way can we leave without someone in place.”

  Amara huffed out a breath. “Lousy timing for one of our people to fall victim to a crime.”

  Fraley nodded. “That possibility hasn’t escaped us.”

  She jerked her head up at that, sending him a sharp look. “Us? Exactly what did you say to make someone think the timing might be suspect?”

  Fraley held up a placating hand. “It was just Zander and Agent Cyr. He was Shadow Recon; she’s former SRU,” he remarked with a pointed look. “All I said was Peres is a high-value asset. That’s it.”

  Tension flowed from her shoulders at his response, and she nodded a silent apology.

  “Well,” she sighed, “Do what you can to round up Peres. In the meantime, ask Stinton about other options to backfill, in case they can’t find the man in time.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Fraley said and, with a nod, disappeared from her office entrance.

  * * *

  Fraley was not looking forward to delivering the bad news to Stinton. The man had the habit of treating everyone in the military as if they had no educational background.

  That grated on Fraley’s nerves. The Geminate Navy owned some of the most complex pieces of equipment anywhere in the Alliance.

  Exactly who does he think operates and maintains all those highly sophisticated Naval ships, anyway? was his aggrieved thought.

  The Navy Sciences program was one of the toughest around.

  Shaking his head to banish his irritation, Fraley pulled to a stop outside the Advanced Isolation Laboratory. He paused briefly to confirm Stinton was inside, and then used his security token to enter.

  If Stinton didn’t like the intrusion, he could take it up with Toland.

  He followed the sound of voices, stopping in surprise when he realized Stinton had partitioned off a back section of the lab.

  This is new, he thought, approaching the area. He could tell by the sounds coming from inside that the scientist was constructing something.

  Coming to a stop just outside the alcove, he peered in. Stinton was there, as were a few of the crew from the torus’s machine shop.

  They were lowering a piece of equipment Fraley couldn’t see down into a large casing. He heard a muffled voice calling out instructions and bent over to spy a third figure—one of deGrasse’s engineers, on her back, guiding the equipment into position.

  Stinton’s voice sounded from behind the device, his tone a blend of annoyed and impatient.

  Just like every other time I’ve seen him.

  Fraley cleared his throat but he supposed Stinton couldn’t hear it over his own ire and the scraping noise of metal on metal. Stepping into the crowded alcove, Fraley pitched his voice to be heard over the din.

  “Doctor Stinton!” he shouted, and when that didn’t catch the man’s attention, he stepped closer, tapping one of the crew on the shoulder. With a nod, he indicated the woman should move out of the way so that he could take her place.

  Whatever Stinton was commissioning was heavy. Fraley could tell that from the way the equipment swayed under his hand as they swapped places.

  He looked up; a maglev lifter was doing the lion’s share of the work. The crew’s job was to guide it into place as the maglev lowered the bulky piece.

  Fraley reversed his gaze, and his brows drew down in concern when he realized the engineer’s face was directly in line with the heavy piece. She would be crushed, should the lifter fail.

  The woman was either very, very sure of herself and her equipment, or she liked to live life a bit dangerously. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

  Fraley had seen enough. Using the override his executive officer status gave him, he connected to the maglev lift and froze it into position, ensuring its safety interlocks were engaged before he let go of the heavy piece of machinery.

  “Doctor Stinton!” Fraley called out once more. This time, his voice carried to its intended target. The scientist jerked his head up with a scowl, ready to light into the person who’d dared interrupt the procedure. His gaze focused on Fraley and recognition flared.

  “Colonel Fraley,” Stinton said with a jerk of his chin that could barely be called civil.

  “Doctor,” Fraley gestured to the main part of the lab. “A minute of your time, if you please.”

  Stinton made an annoyed sound, but followed without any additional verbal complaint.

  “You should have contacted me via DUET,” Stinton scolded. “It would have saved you a trip down here. I can’t talk now. This is a terribly inopportune time—”

  “DUET?” Fraley interrupted, and Stinton favored him with a disgruntled look.

  “Yes, DUET. Direct Uplink Evanescent Telecom,” he responded in a tone better suited to a lecture hall.

  It took a moment for Fraley to process what the man was talking about. “Oh, you mean the wire.”

  His memory was fuzzy on detail, but he vaguely recalled that the company inventing the wire patented it under that acronym. The name had never taken hold.

  As was the case with so many household items, someone had coined a much more common name. Forever after, DUET had been known simply as ‘the wire’, and that had been that.

  No one ever called it by its proper name except, apparently, Lee Stinton. Fraley found that immensely funny. He fought to keep a straight face as Stinton’s bushy brows lowered and the man stared disapprovingly up at Fraley.

  “It’s official nomenclature is DUET. It’s a sign of disrespect for its inventors not to use the name they chose to describe it. I fail to understand why people can’t grasp—”

  “Excuse me, doctor. I’m sure you’d like to get back to whatever it is you’re building,” Fraley interrupted.

  “Yes, yes, my prototype,” Stinton began on an inhale, but Fraley forestalled him by the simple expedient of talking over the man.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do without Doctor Peres,” he continued smoothly. “We’ve been informed Peres is nowhere to be found.”

  “That’s— I can’t— Unacceptable!” Stinton spluttered. “Peres is my senior biochemist! He’s invaluable to my team. I can’t be expected to achieve what we projected within the estimated deadlines without him!”

  “That may well be true, sir, however no one on Hawking can locate him.”

  “We’ll have to delay our departure, then,” Stinton declared, and Fraley shook his head.

  “Not hap
pening, sir. Orders straight from Director Cutter at the NSA.” Fraley paused, and shot Stinton a piercing look. “You can, however, replace him if you can find someone near enough to our location to rendezvous with us in time.”

  Stinton opened his mouth to protest again, but then paused, contemplative look crossing his face. “Actually, now that you mention it….” He trailed off, expression thoughtful.

  “Bill was attending the Wyss Symposium. Let me take a look at their roster. I hate to lose Bill, you understand, but maybe….”

  The man hummed, tapping a meaty finger against his bottom lip, and Fraley knew the man was accessing attendee information over his wire.

  Excuse me, he thought sardonically, the DUET.

  After a moment, Stinton straightened with a decisive nod. “I’ll give you two names. Linnet Thompson would be my first choice. If you can’t get her to sign on, then…” His face twisted into a quick grimace, “I suppose Clint Janus will do.”

  Fraley nodded. “Very good, Doctor. I’ll have someone in communications reach out to the two individuals and see if one of them will accept.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, deGrasse’s communications officer of the watch linked with the Ford-Svaiter node housed in a Starshot buoy holding station in the black, a thousand kilometers above the research torus.

  The officer uploaded two messages. Two messages arrived at Hawking’s Starshot buoy. One was delivered. The other was not.

  No one noticed the carrier pulse that hid amongst the streams of data coming from the Starshot buoy. The woman responsible covered her path exceedingly well.

  The message for Clint Janus she left alone. The one marked for delivery to Linnet Thompson, she deleted.

  SIXTEEN

  Merki Institute

  Midland

  For the second time today, Ell was headed back to the Merki Institute. As she walked, she mulled over Quinn’s odd words.

  When he’d asked if Travis was sure she’d seen braids and not beads, she’d felt unease slither down her spine. It sounded eerily familiar, a memory of something she’d once heard.

  No matter how hard she tried, the memory remained elusive, buried in the recesses of her mind.

  When asked, Quinn had demurred. {Might be an old wives’ tale,} he’d said. {Let me hunt it down first. I don’t want to influence the investigation on hearsay.}

  Ell stepped through the Institute’s entrance and into its cool environs, looking around for a woman who matched Thompson’s description. She was a brunette seated on one of the lobby sofas, foot bouncing restlessly at the end of a crossed leg.

  The woman’s head turned just as Ell’s overlay identified her. Linnet rose with a smile and started forward.

  At the same time, Ell heard a small explosive pop. The sound was one she hadn’t heard in years, and yet it was unmistakable. In an instant, her CUSP service pistol was in her hands.

  The compact, ultra-short pistol was a directed energy weapon that integrated seamlessly with her implants. She used it to track the source of the shaped charge, ignoring startled exclamations of bystanders scrambling out of her way.

  The biochemist came to an abrupt halt on a quick inhale when she caught sight of the weapon, just as the heavy reproduction chandelier above her head came crashing down.

  Flipping the pistol’s setting to its widest dispersion, Ell fired a short burst at the chandelier as she launched herself toward the biochemist. Hooking a hand around Linnet’s waist, Ell propelled them both into a controlled roll, diving behind the shelter of a nearby chair.

  The pressure wave from the pulse Ell directed at the chandelier caused the fixture to lurch to the left, but didn’t prevent it from shattering. Ell felt Linnet cringe beneath her as a hail of tiny missiles impacted the chair’s upholstered surface, crystal shards ricocheting from the tiled floor as the impact turned them into shrapnel.

  Silence descended once more, broken only by the crunch of glass beneath her feet as Ell slowly rose and looked cautiously about.

  “Is anyone injured?” she called out while handshaking with the Institute’s SI to request security and emergency services. She saw some with superficial cuts, heard a few querulous voices exclaiming in dismay, but there seemed to be no one in dire need of medical assistance.

  “Stay down,” she murmured to Linnet. Stepping away from the chair, she moved to a defensible position against a nearby wall and kept her head on a swivel, weapon out, until reinforcements arrived.

  It took another half hour of explaining who she was and what had transpired before security agreed to bring in local law enforcement. While she waited, she reached out to Rafe and Quinn, and updated them.

  {This was no accident,} she warned. {I’d be willing to bet there’s a connection. We need to get Sam Travis in protective custody, too.}

  Rafe nodded. {The only two people who know Thompson might be an eyewitness are Mieks or Janus, correct?}

  {Yes, but they could have talked, or perhaps we were overheard,} Ell replied.

  {Sam’s safe while she’s with Cass,} Rafe told them both. {City Center’s a fortress, though it won’t hurt to give them a heads-up.}

  {I’ll arrange for off-duty police to guard them overnight,} Quinn offered, and Ell sent her thanks.

  Another several minutes were spent bringing the Midland detective up to speed before the two of them could investigate the source of the shaped charge Ell had heard.

  The detective let out a low whistle as he crouched beside her on the portable maglev lift and examined the spot where the explosive device had gone off.

  “Damned if you weren’t right, Agent Cyr.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Sheared off, slick as a whistle, right at its base. No way was this an accident.”

  Ell smiled humorlessly. “I know. These went off from time to time where I was deployed. Difficult to mistake that sound.”

  “It’s a distinctive one, all right,” he agreed. “Heard a few myself, when I served with the Two-Oh-Two.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you did, Detective.”

  He nodded toward Linnet. “The way you’re acting, I take it there’s reason to suspect she’s being targeted?”

  Ell’s lips pressed together. “The details are classified, but yes,” she admitted. “Did you see the BOLO Chief Asato released this morning?”

  She accessed the ‘be on the lookout’ write-up Hawking PD had made, based on Sam’s description and pushed it to his wire. He accepted it, and then blew out a breath as he scanned the information.

  “Yeah, saw that earlier today.” He looked around as the lift deposited them back onto the ground. “I’ll link this report to the BOLO, adding that the person’s wanted for questioning about this incident, too.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” she said as she stepped off the lift.

  The detective wandered over to take statements from those still being treated for superficial wounds, and Ell headed back to Linnet.

  The woman was seated on a bench that had been cleared of debris. She looked up at Ell’s approach.

  “I know I said it earlier, but thanks again for the save,” she said. “Can I go now?”

  “I’d rather you not,” Ell said as she took a seat beside her. Pointing to the remains of the light fixture scattered on the marble floor, she added, “This was no accident.”

  Linnet’s brow furrowed. “Why would anyone purposely destroy a chandelier like that?”

  “In order to harm you.” Ell kept her voice calm, her expression steady and firm. A look of shock crossed Linnet’s face, followed by denial as she began to shake her head.

  “I think you saw something you shouldn’t have yesterday, you and your friend, Samantha,” Ell persisted.

  Concern for her friend clouded Linnet’s eyes “I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary. But Sam—if she’s in danger, we have to warn her—”

  Ell held up a hand. “Already taken care of,” she assured her. Dropping her hand, she asked, “How well do yo
u know Bill Peres?”

  A look of confusion crossed Linnet’s face. “Doctor Peres? Not at all. I just met him for the first time last night. Why?”

  “He’s missing,” Ell said bluntly, taking Linnet’s elbow and pulling her to her feet. “We believe he’s been kidnapped, and you may have seen the one who did it.”

  Linnet’s mouth fell open, disbelief in her eyes. “I can’t even—”

  Ell motioned her toward the exit. “Let’s get you over to where your friend, Sam, is, and then we’ll talk more about it, okay?”

  SEVENTEEN

  DeWitt–Zander home

  Portsmouth

  Late that night, Cass was jolted out of a sound sleep by an emergency call.

  {Ma’am, sorry to bother you,} her night manager said, {but we have a situation.} The voice in her head vibrated with tension.

  {What’s up?} She shoved the covers off and rolled into a sitting position.

  Turbo, their overweight tabby cat, grumbled his discontent at being relocated from his place at the foot of the bed. Absently, she reached a hand to give him a scratch along his spine but he moved to Rafe’s side, just out of reach.

  Ingrate, she thought. At least the middle-of-the-night call hadn’t disturbed Rafe. He was at the base, working late.

  {You know how Thirty-Four was down by sixty percent?}

  {Ye-esss ….} Cass sent, jaw cracking as she lost her fight with a huge yawn.

  {Well, it’s dipped to twenty percent strength, and—}

  Cass scrubbed at her bed head, taking a moment to tug on one strand in her frustration. {Stars, man, just spit it out!}

  She heard the guy blow a quick breath before blurting out, {Thirty-Three just blew. I mean, totally failed. Gone. Kaput.}

  Cass’s blood ran cold as she realized what that kind of exposure meant for those living in that sector of the habitat.

  Holy— With Thirty-two down for the refit, that’s…that’s three tubes in a row! All the redundancies, they’re gone.