by A. K. DuBoff
The colonel gave a slow nod. “The Guard’s responsibility is to assess threats and carry out orders in the best interest of the Taran Empire. You have performed admirably in retrieving information to support those goals.”
If a career in the Guard hadn’t worked out, Kaen would have made a bomaxed good politician. Kira flashed a prim smile. “Happy to do my part, sir.”
Kaen steepled his fingers. “It’s been, what, nine years since you joined the Guard?”
“Yes, sir. Coming up on ten in two months.”
He nodded. “I can tell you’ve been around long enough to know when a superior officer is dodging your questions.”
No shite. Kira decided a shrug was the best response.
“Well, your observations at the MTech lab support a larger pool of evidence we’ve gathered over the past eight months. We’re at the leading edge of a crisis.”
That was surprisingly candid. Kira came to attention. “Sir…?”
“We’ve been tracking a group of researchers in MTech performing illegal genetic experimentation,” Kaen explained. “The lab you infiltrated was one of those facilities, and the data you retrieved is documentation of the experiments.”
“What kind of experiments?”
“We believe they are trying to make a hybrid—bringing together the traits of those with telekinetic abilities and some sort of unknown alien physiology.”
Kira’s mouth involuntarily dropped open. “An… alien hybrid? I didn’t know there were—”
“There hasn’t been an official first contact with this race, but the information we’ve received points to an influence outside of known Taran biology. MTech’s reports refer to this new group as the ‘Robus’.”
Alien hybrids with telekinetic abilities? What the fok would a person like that be able to do?! Kira shifted in her chair. “Sir, why are you telling me this?”
“Because we fear that the Mysaran Coalition intends to use these alien-hybrid Robus to attack Elusia, which we anticipate will soon rejoin the Taran Empire. We want to stop that conflict before it starts.”
“Of course. But I—”
Kaen fixed her in a level gaze. “The Guard needs you to go back to Valta, Kira. MTech has established a new lab. We need you to find out why.”
Kira worked her mouth, unsure what to say. She hadn’t been back to her homeworld since she left as a teenager. Her stomach clenched, thinking about what it would be like to return after so long.
While the Guard’s promises of using her abilities to help others had resonated with Kira, not everyone in her community had seen it that way. Some considered it a waste of her gift, others an adulteration. Her family had begged her not to leave, but the opportunity to travel the stars was too much for her to pass up. She’d left them all behind—suddenly and without ceremony. She was certain there were lingering hard feelings, even after a decade, and she didn’t need that kind of emotional baggage to distract her from a mission. The Guard was her life now.
“Sir, why would MTech set up a lab on Valta?” Even as Kira voiced the question, she already knew the answer. Whatever gives the planet its special telepathic connections, they want it.
Mysar and Elusia had argued over claim to Valta since the system was colonized. MTech, though, was a private company and could tread where government could not. However, what Kira had witnessed on MTech’s remote moon lab had made it clear that something else was going on besides sanctioned research.
“We trust you’ll get to the bottom of it,” Kaen responded after giving her a moment to reflect. “You have authorization to use any means necessary.”
“No restrictions, sir?” That was a first. Even in the most critical missions, Kira had always been held to strict rules of engagement about which forms of telepathic influence were allowed—a code she followed even in her personal life. If they were granting access to the dark side, the situation was very dire indeed.
Kaen inclined his head. “We need this handled quickly and quietly.”
“That’s what my team does, sir.”
“Your team won’t be going with you on this one—at least not for the initial recon work.”
Kira’s eyes narrowed. “Sir, but—”
“We feel that a more… local contact would be beneficial for the mission.” His tone was final.
Kira sighed inwardly. “Of course, sir. I’m happy to work with anyone.” She hoped the statement came out with a straight face. In truth, she’d joined the Guard so she’d be among the esteemed elite rather than being partnered with whatever poor sap happened to be assigned to a random project. Her patience for idiots lasted about as long as her tolerance for poor musical accompaniment to viral videos.
“When your name came up for the assignment, our local government contacts remembered you. They located someone with the appropriate qualifications who already appears to be an acquaintance of yours. He’ll serve as your liaison.”
Just my fantastic luck… Kira braced herself. “Oh, and who’s that, sir?”
“Leon Calleti.”
Oh, shitebiscuits. “Um.”
Kaen raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“That’ll be… fine, sir.”
Leon Foking Calleti. That figures. It had been more like ‘foking Leon Calleti’ a decade prior, before Kira dumped him with no notice to join the Guard. Of anyone, he made her the most nervous to see again.
“Excellent. You’ll depart on a transport to Valta this afternoon,” Kaen stated. “We’ll assess the right time to bring in your team once you have the lay of the land.”
“Yes, sir.” She stood, her head swimming with the possible scenarios for how her reunion with Leon might go.
“Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir.” I’m going to need it.
— — —
It was obvious Kira has been flustered by her partnership with Leon, but Kaen trusted her to adapt. She always did.
With the necessity for Kira’s team to be on the sidelines for the first phase, she’d need someone she could trust. An ex, while not ideal, meant an automatic level of familiarity that could never be achieved with a stranger. Couple that with Leon’s degree in genetics and he was the perfect counterpart to accompany her in an undercover investigation of the MTech facility on her homeworld.
Kaen turned his attention to his own task: finding the mole in the Guard.
Ever since the official investigation into MTech began eight months prior, little bits of information hadn’t added up—nothing on the scale of the botched mission data for Kira’s team, but enough that he’d been suspicious. Now, with the safety of his people and the fate of the Elvar Trinary on the line, they needed to stem the problem. Fast.
He tapped his fingertips together while he thought. If the mole is working with the Mysarans, we have to bait the trap. What information would a potential opponent want to know?
An idea popped into his mind. He tried to dismiss it as too risky, but it persisted. Before he could question it further, Kaen touched the comm link icon on his touch-surface desktop. “Cindy, please draft an order for Bravo Company to depart on the Zepher tomorrow at 06:00 for a patrol of Mysar’s moon. However, do not distribute the communication.”
His assistant took a moment to respond. “Sir, I see no prior record of that deployment.”
“There hasn’t been. Just save it in the public folder—I’ll talk to General Lucian.”
“Understood, sir. Anything else?”
“No. Thank you, Cindy. Let me know when it’s ready.” Kaen ended the comm link.
The idea now fully formed, he called up Captain Spencer Thoreau, the outpost’s resident digital security specialist. “Captain, I have a favor to ask.”
“Whatever you need, Colonel.”
“The public folder where we queue deployment orders before the release—can you turn on tracking for everyone who views that folder?”
“Sure,” Thoreau replied. “What are you looking for?”
“A pattern. Can yo
u send me a log of the views every hour?”
“Yes, sir, I can set up an automatic report for you.”
“Excellent. And is there any chance you can give me access to view the outgoing communications from the facility?”
Thoreau hesitated. “Half of it is classified as personal information. We don’t make a point of listening in on conversations between our soldiers and loved ones back home.”
“I don’t need the content, just the precise data use for any files transferred within the facility and outside.”
“Just file size, huh?” The security specialist thought for a moment. “I think I could configure a dashboard for you. Is there something I should be aware of, sir?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I determine that,” Kaen told him. “When can you have the dashboard ready?”
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
Now that’s Guard efficiency. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll keep you apprised.”
“I’m on it.”
No sooner had Kaen ended the comm link than a message from Cindy popped up on his desktop that the mission brief was ready.
He pulled up the file and attached a dummy set of encrypted orders and a manifest—information that would be easier to forward rather than transcribe into a different communication. After closing out of the file, he made a note of the specific file size, then added a tracker to it. Even if the perpetrator stripped away the tracker—as any competent individual would—he’d be able to see if a data packet that size began circulating. Of course, there were no guarantees that the information wouldn’t be relayed in some other manner, but the short timeframe would prompt distributing the message to collaborators as quickly as possible.
He leaned back in his chair. Now we see who bites.
— — —
Moving into Stage Three so soon wasn’t part of the original plan, but Monica Waylon didn’t have a choice. With the Tararian Guard closing in, she’d need to do some swift housekeeping.
She strode down the hall with her lab coat fluttering behind her, examining the specimens to either side of the corridor. Early in her career, research subjects had been living, intelligent beings; now they were only tools.
One of the female subjects glared at Monica from inside a cell as she passed, softly glowing green eyes hard with rage. “You can’t keep us here. Let us out!”
Monica stopped and pivoted on her heel. It figured that it would be that woman to speak up. “We can do whatever we please. You should have read the contract more closely.”
“No contract could justify holding innocent civilians captive like this for… stars know how long it’s been!”
“Oh, but you’re our employees.” A devious smile touched Monica’s lips. “It’s all laid out very clearly in the contract. If the work demands you become permanent residents, then it’s within our rights to enforce that clause.”
The woman in the cell snarled. “I never signed up to work here!”
“But you chose to immigrate to this world. Like I said, the terms were clearly stated.”
“That agreement was two thousand pages long! No one could be expected to read—”
“That’s too bad.” Monica continued on her way.
Deep down, she knew she was being a heartless bitch, but it was part of the job. When she began working for MTech right out of her graduate program in genetics, a new universe of ethics opened up. No longer was it black and white, good and evil of science and morality, but rather endless shades of gray. To advance, one must push the boundaries of established norms.
Sometimes, testing those boundaries meant inconveniencing a few people. But, for the good of the science and for the Mysaran Coalition, she had a duty to take whatever steps were necessary to achieve the desired ends. In this case, that meant crafting new tools to carry her people into the future.
Monica reached the ‘observation room’, as they had dubbed the administration center for the underground lab. A series of computer stations were arranged in the center of the room, with monitors mounted to the walls displaying footage of the holding cells and treatment rooms. A door to her right led to the rest of the facility and one on the left provided access to a lab space.
Tim was seated in a rolling chair amidst the central stations. He did a full spin in the chair and stopped, facing her. “Please tell me we get to do something, already. I’m going out of my mind down here.”
“Your wish has been granted. We have clearance to proceed with Stage Three.”
“About time.” Tim did another spin in his chair. “The locals have been asking questions again, you know.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. They always were a nosy bunch, given how they are.”
“It’s what makes them so perfect, after all.”
Monica examined the other scientist. “Does it ever bother you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“What we’re doing here. Permanently changing people’s lives.”
He shrugged. “I do think about it sometimes, but my job requires me to remain objective.”
“Yes, it does,” Monica emphasized. She joined him in the center of the room and activated the control panel, navigating to a video she’d recovered from deleted surveillance footage the night before.
The video popped up on the screen closest to Tim’s chair—just a still image of a holding cell, paused on the first frame.
“Now, Tim, I have always valued how you are dedicated to the science. In the five years we’ve worked together, I have only gained respect for your capabilities as a geneticist. However, for as great as you are with the science, I feel you are equally prone to misplaced sympathies.”
“How did you get…?” Tim’s face paled. “Monica, I don’t know what you saw, but it’s not what you think.”
“I’m not so sure.” Monica’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, never taking her gaze off of him. “See, if we’re moving into Stage Three, I can’t have even the slightest hesitation. Everything we’ve done up to this point will have been child’s play by comparison. My team’s loyalties must be unquestioned.”
Tim sat up straighter in his chair. “Right, of course. You have no reason to doubt me.”
“I really wish that were the case.” Monica started the video.
Aside from an advancing time-stamp, the video didn’t change for several seconds. Then, a woman appeared at the front of the cell—the same woman Monica had confronted several minutes prior. That brief conversation had confirmed what she already knew from the video. Her spirit was alive and well because she had hope for freedom. It could only mean one thing.
Five seconds later, Tim appeared in the frame, rushing toward the cell. “It won’t be much longer,” he said in the footage.
“I can’t take it anymore,” the woman pleaded. “Please, just unlock it. I’ll find my own way out.”
“You’d never make it. Next week—it’s all arranged.”
She wiped a tear from her face with the heel of her hand. “I guess I’m in no position to argue.”
“It’ll be okay, Melissa. Trust me.”
“I do.”
Tim placed his palm against the plexiglass covering the cell entrance, and she held up her own hand to mirror his.
He lingered for two seconds before hurrying away outside the camera’s view.
Monica stopped the video, shaking her head with disgust at how easily Tim had lost focus of their mission and fallen to the whims of his heart. It was pitiful.
She glowered over Tim. “I think that’s exactly what it looks like.”
Her associate rolled backward in his chair. “I can explain—”
“Whatever you were going to say, it’s not good enough. I’m sorry, Tim, but with Stage Three coming, you’re just too big of a liability. It’s a shame.” Monica raised her hand.
“No, I—”
Tim’s cry cut off in a garbled choke as Monica gripped him in a telekinetic vise, constricting his throat. “For
what it’s worth, I’ll miss you,” she told him, his arms flailing as she telekinetically pulled him out of his chair and slowly crushed the life out of him. His eyes lost their fear as they rolled back in his head, his body going limp.
She dropped his body back into the chair. “What a waste,” she murmured. Alas, it was so difficult to find good assistants.
CHAPTER 5
Kira stared out the shuttle viewport at the Valtan landscape before her.
Pristine mountains rose above a fertile valley, which contained a sprawling forest and a river that wove its way toward the ocean to the east. The unique environmental properties had prompted officials to declare ninety-nine percent of the planet protected land, and her hometown of Tribeca was the largest of only three settlements on the planet.
Due to the covert nature of her mission, she was being dropped off in a civilian shuttle from the orbiting spaceport. Also on board were a group of tourists from Elusia—the obnoxious kind that found obvious features to be the most fascinating thing ever.
The couple across the aisle from Kira was particularly insufferable, making a point of explaining to one another how the hills were different shades of green the farther away they were in the distance. Kira found herself counting prime numbers to keep herself distracted from the inane comments while they landed.
She had just reached three thousand one hundred eighty-seven when the shuttle finally came to rest on the ground.
Across the aisle, the woman pointed out the viewport at a grove of trees along the edge of the landing pad. “Are those, like, parasites?”
“What do you mean?” her husband replied.
She scrunched up her nose. “That white poofy stuff on them. Is it some kind of growth?”
Kira barely resisted smacking her forehead. “Uh, I think that’s just a flowering tree.”
“Oh, really?” The woman tilted her head. “Huh.”
I’m going to strangle her if I don’t get off this shuttle right now! Kira unbuckled her harness and quickly grabbed her travel bag before the tourists could make it into the aisle.