The Chiral Protocol – A Military Science Fiction Thriller: Biogenesis War Book 2 (The Biogenesis War)

by L. L. Richman

  She blinked and ground to a halt as a thought occurred to her.

  “Omigod. This isn’t sanctioned, is it? The premier has no idea what you’re doing.”

  Marceau shot her an annoyed look as her actions brought him to a stop as well. “I don’t particularly care to drag you around by the arm, doctor, but I will if you don’t keep up. Clearly, there is nowhere for you to run, and this whole experience will be much more pleasant if you cooperate.”

  She crossed her arms and shot him a sour look. “For whom? You? Like I care.”

  Marceau’s expression hardened, and he stepped closer, looming over her. “Akkadians learn respect and discipline at a very young age,” he bit out. “We have penalties for disrespect that you soft imperialists cannot begin to fathom.”

  He took her hand, turning it over in his, and then suddenly bent her small finger back at an unnatural angle.

  She gasped, twisting her hand awkwardly to ease the building pressure, but he released her just before he did any real damage. Sam curled her fingers into a fist and held it protectively against her chest.

  “Did you know that the empire has nano to negate the basic medical package your people enjoy?” he asked in a mild tone, as if they were discussing a much more inane topic, like the weather or her preference for tulsi tea. “You don’t require every finger on this hand to do your work. Remember that.”

  Having made his point, he walked off.

  Sam watched him go, anger suffusing her. She called after him, “You people are real bastards, you know?”

  Halfway down the hall, he paused and pivoted to face her. “You really wish to test me on this, doctor?” One brow lifted, and his expression turned mocking. “I will resort to stronger methods to ensure your cooperation. That can begin now, if you like.”

  Sam sensed his contempt, knew that he considered her and all other Alliance citizens to be beneath him. The practical side of her nature cautioned her not to challenge him just yet.

  As long as I’m free to move about, I have a chance of finding additional ways to drop that SOS nano, she reminded herself as she moved to follow in his wake.

  His destination turned out to be a laboratory located at the end of a long corridor. Empty isolation rooms lined one side of the passage. They were distinguished by the channel, inset just outside each chamber’s clearsteel wall, that indicated an ES field had been installed. It was a standard setup for laboratories that dealt with unsafe and potentially lethal materials.

  “You must have been planning this since the moment we discovered what was in Luyten’s Star,” she mused as she paused in front of one of the rooms. “It had to have taken months to build an installation like this. I’m surprised you managed to hide from An-Yang all this time.”

  Marceau laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “It was already here. You’re standing in an abandoned Frenzy factory.”

  Sam’s eyes widened, and she stepped away from the isolation room. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to manufacture that drug? We should all be dead by now!”

  Marceau lifted a brow. “I imagine the squatters who were here when we arrived cleaned the place out pretty well, years ago.”

  Sam shot him a look of incredulity. “Don’t you people get the news in Akkadia? Coalition raids on Frenzy refineries? Hundreds of workers dead?”

  She gestured vaguely around her. “There could still be ultrafine refractory droplets floating around, caused by condensation during the vapor phase. Inhale enough of it, and no medical nano in the settled worlds could scrub it from your system fast enough to save you.”

  Her words seemed only to amuse him further.

  “If it makes you feel any better, Bijin insisted we do a clean sweep of our own before he’d set foot inside the place.” He placed a hand over his heart and bowed. “But your concern over the health of my people is admirable, doctor.”

  “Unfortunately, you’ve tied my well-being to your own,” Sam snapped. “Your people can all be shot into the core for all I care.”

  Marceau’s humor fled. “You’ve made your point, and as you say, your survival is tied to ours. More precisely, it’s tied to your performance.” He gestured to the airlock entrance to the laboratory. “It’s time for you to prove you’re worth keeping alive.”

  His hand on her back propelled her to the airlock. The two-stage system, the presence of hazmat suits, and Marceau’s insistence that she don one told Sam this was equivalent to L4 containment.

  This must be where the vials were being kept.

  The inner airlock doors slid open, and Sam’s eyes were arrested by the single prominent piece of furniture in the room: a long table upon which two glove boxes sat. She recognized them from the feed she’d seen earlier.

  “You are in Doctor Bijin’s world now, Doctor Travis,” Marceau warned as they approached the table. “I would advise you to tread carefully.”

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face the wall that separated the laboratory from the hallway. It was apparently some form of nano-coated clearsteel; although the wall was opaque from the outside, from inside it offered a clear view of the isolation rooms lined up across the hall.

  She realized with a start that not all of them were empty. A trace of glowing blue ran around the edge of three, indicating the ES field was active. Inside two were small clusters of people—three in one, four in another.

  Sam received the distinct impression that what she was seeing weren’t isolation rooms, but rather cages. The people inside were prisoners.

  “These are our test subjects,” Marceau explained. “We imported several from the homeworld for just this purpose.”

  “Somehow I doubt they volunteered for this,” Sam said in a barely audible voice, but Marceau heard.

  He laughed softly. “You would be correct. We have a prison on Eridu filled with a special breed of criminals. Some are traitors, others are those who have failed the cause. Political prisoners, you might say. And then there are enemy soldiers who need elimination.”

  She jerked around to glare at him. “That’s against the Accords!”

  The man shot her a sardonic look. “If you make it out of here alive, doctor, do you really think the Alliance will go to war with Akkadia over such a trivial thing?”

  She narrowed her eyes and pointed at the isolation rooms where the prisoners were held. “I don’t think any of those people would call their situation trivial, ‘Colonel’.”

  He looked down at her in annoyance. “I would not expect you to understand. You are a product of your Geminate upbringing.” He gestured to the prisoners. “This is the Akkadian way. My people are not wasteful of anything—not even those sentenced to die. They were brought to the base so that they might serve the empire one last time.”

  Sam shuddered at the explanation. “That’s barbaric,” she whispered.

  Marceau shrugged dismissively. “You imperialists are all the same. You have never known what it is like to struggle the way Akkadia did when it was first settled. It breeds a spine into our people, a pragmatism we comprehend on a visceral level. I do not expect you to understand such a thing.”

  Marceau pulled her closer to the lab’s windows, hand once more wrapped around her arm, forcing her to accompany him.

  “Akkadian tradition found many uses for those who would be dead,” he said. His tone sounded like he was lecturing in front of a classroom as he began to enumerate.

  “Once broken, they make passable servants,” he told her. “Some military prisoners were inserted onto the battlefield training ground, but most didn’t fare as well as we’d hoped against Akkadian soldiers.”

  Sam pressed her free hand to her stomach to try to still its churning.

  Marceau stopped just before the clearsteel wall and released her. He stood looking out at the prisoners across the hall, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His voice grew distant, as if he were recalling a memory.

  “In ages past, if no other purpose was found, prisoners c
ould always be used as fuel.”

  Sam stepped back, eliciting a chuckle from the man.

  “Oh, there’s no need for that any longer,” he said, as if to reassure her. “But we do, on occasion, find other ways for them to serve.”

  As Sam stared into the isolation rooms, she realized belatedly she should have been documenting everything she’d seen since leaving the fictional Rosen sector. She remedied that now, starting with the victims in this cell. If she ever made it off this rock, she would at least have proof of the atrocities these people were committing.

  Stepping forward once more, she studied the four men in the first cell. They looked broken, all hope lost.

  Marceau took her arm again, leading her past the second occupied cell, where two men and a woman were held. She observed each one carefully, seeing the same dispirited acceptance of their fates.

  The Akkadian stopped in front of an empty isolation room. “Doctor Bijin says the prisoners we have are too small a sample size to be considered statistically reliable. He insists that the margin for error is so great that standard deviation cannot even be measured.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, wondering where he was going with this. The look in his eyes told her it wasn’t any place good.

  “You’re the scientist. You know more about these things than I do. Tell me, doctor,” he said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes, “how important is standard deviation in a test of the weapon we intend to deploy? Would seven deaths suffice? Ten?”

  Movement caught her eye from across the hall. She turned to look, and her breath froze in her throat as a door opened in the back of the empty cell and three people were shoved inside. She didn’t recognize the first two, but the third one….

  Her gaze rocketed to Marceau. “Why did you bring them here?” she demanded.

  The colonel merely raised a skeptical brow. “Really, doctor. Did you think you were the only person we acquired when we sought scientists who could manipulate the chiral material?”

  He gestured to the three people Sam assumed were all Alliance citizens. She knew for a fact that one of them was.

  “I will make you a deal, doctor. You cooperate with Bijin, answer his questions, assist him, and perform whatever task he asks you to perform. Do so without hesitation, and I will not include these three in our test run of the final bioweapon.”

  Marceau’s gaze turned flinty and his hand tightened painfully around Sam’s arm. “If he tells me you have fought him on this, or if I in any way sense you are trying to sabotage our goals, these three won’t just be included with the rest of the test subjects.” He turned her to face the group of scientists in the cell and pressed his hand against the window. “They will be the first ones we test the bioweapon on. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” Sam whispered through numb lips.

  He must have done something to the wall to adjust its transparency, for as Linnet Thompson—Sam’s peer and friend—looked up, her eyes widened in recognition.

  All Sam could do was stare helplessly back at her.

  ANTIGEN DROP

  Task Force Blue HQ

  Humbolt Base, Ceriba

  After hearing that Harper had intercepted Sam’s SOS, Cutter authorized a military gate override to allow a Shadow Recon flight to slip unnoticed into An-Yang space.

  The ship was one of five DAP Helios vessels flown by Shadow Recon crews, all under Major Snell’s command. While Katana’s pilot was occupied keeping the ship from being detected, the ship’s copilot launched a small fleet of drones that went winging toward the asteroid belt where the signal originated.

  The ship had come to rest an AU away from the asteroid they’d identified as their target, hovering invisibly beside a nearby Starshot buoy. A whiskerbeam relay provided an untraceable, real-time connection to TF Blue’s situation room.

  “I’m reading a faint energy signature from this area here,” the drone pilot’s voice sounded over the connection. In the next instant, a spot on the asteroid projected in the holotank lit up.

  Micah knew that Daz, Katana’s copilot, had a delicate touch and could sneak up on anyone, anywhere. Still, he held his breath as the woman pushed her stealthed drones closer, willing them not to be discovered.

  Breathe, bro.

  Micah shot Jonathan a dark look. You know what they’ll do to Sam if they learn we’ve found them?

  No, but—

  Neither do I, but I can guaran-damn-tee you it won’t be good.

  Jonathan’s expression turned slightly amused. And holding your breath’s going to keep that from happening?

  Micah narrowed his eyes at his other self. Fuck off.

  He turned back to the holotank when Daz spoke once more.

  “I’m going to try to ease in a bit closer….”

  He could tell from the distant quality of her voice that she was fully enmeshed with the drones under her control.

  She delicately probed at the asteroid, gently coaxing the unwieldy rock to give up its secrets.

  “Don’t push this, Lieutenant,” Major Snell ordered. The man paced, arms folded under his armpits, head down, as he listened to the report the pilot was feeding them.

  “Copy that, sir,” her voice returned. “Wait one. I’m seeing entry points.”

  The asteroid lit up once more as Daz identified five different vents that led into the asteroid’s core. She had the drones drop the latest iteration of breaching nano packages onto the lip of each one.

  Those in the situation room back at Blue waited silently for the telemetry to come in. All five lit up with indicators that showed airlocks at the end of each vent.

  “Bingo,” Daz breathed, and another sector of the asteroid lit up. “It’s well hidden, sir, but you see that right there? That’s the seam for bay doors, people.”

  “Well done,” Snell said. “Now pull those drones in and get the hell out of there. I want Katana back in Alliance space before anyone has a chance to spot you in that star system.”

  Daz sent a two-click, and the chatter from Katana lowered in volume as the pilot talked Daz back into the fold.

  Micah turned to Valenti. “Ma’am, request permission to fly the Proxima op.”

  When Valenti started to shake her head, he sped up.

  “I know what Captain Moran said about my chiral immunity, but if we can take this base and defuse the weapon, then whatever’s been planted on Hawking becomes a non-issue.”

  A brief flash of sympathy appeared in the colonel’s eyes, and then it was gone. “Unacceptable risk. You’ll be going to Hawking.”

  Micah clenched his teeth before nodding reluctantly. He glanced at Jonathan. “If I’m inserting into Hawking, does that bench Wraith, then?”

  Valenti and Snell exchanged a long look, and the Shadow Recon CO sighed and shook his head. “No. Jonathan will captain Wraith.”

  Valenti turned to Jonathan. “You’ll drop Captain Severance, along with teams One through Four onto the asteroid.”

  “I’m sending a pair of Novastrikes to accompany you,” Snell added, “full stealth.”

  Jonathan nodded and straightened. “Permission to join Thad’s briefing, sir?”

  Snell nodded, and Jonathan clapped Micah on the shoulder on his way out of the situation room.

  Don’t worry. We’ll bring her back.

  Micah met his twin’s eyes. You do that.

  As the doors slid shut behind Jonathan, Valenti turned her attention to Gabe.

  “I’ve retasked Delta and Foxtrot. They’re awaiting you and Micah down on level two. Sasha will lead the two Ranger teams, but she takes her orders from you, understood?”

  Gabe jerked his head in a crisp nod.

  “I’ll get Johnson to fly you all over on Scimitar,” Snell said. “Circle back with him once you’ve touched base with Delta and Foxtrot and have an ETA.”

  “I hear you know one of my former operators,” Valenti said, and Gabe shot her a questioning look.

  “Ell Cyr,” she clarified.


  Gabe’s expression cleared and he nodded. “I do, ma’am. She runs the Navy’s NCIC branch on Hawking.”

  Micah looked up at that, surprised. “I’d heard she left the teams, but I didn’t know she was NCIC now. She was one hell of a sniper.”

  Valenti nodded but didn’t otherwise address his comment. “I understand she’s familiar with the institute. You both should know that the director cleared her to be read into this mission.” Her gaze strayed to Micah. “Major Zander as well.”

  “Fully read in?” Micah asked carefully.

  “Chiral material, yes. You and Jonathan?” Valenti’s gaze swerved from Micah to Gabe. “No.”

  Gabe’s brow wrinkled. “Why Zander?”

  “He’s former team, too,” Micah explained. “Well, Shadow Recon, at least.”

  “He’ll provide extra coverage, plus have eyes and ears on all traffic coming into the habitat,” Snell explained. “Hopefully, his people will be able to finger the ship that delivers the goods from the asteroid base.”

  Gabe eyed Micah. “With your permission, then, I think Micah and I should meet up with Sasha and sit in on their mission planning.”

  Valenti nodded. “Granted. Sasha knows I want this buttoned down and the team ready to roll by tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Micah turned to follow Gabe out the door, but paused as it slid open to admit Duncan Cutter.

  “I have news,” the director said as he walked over to the holotank.

  His expression told Micah that, unlike everything else they’d been hearing over the past two days, this might actually be good news.

  Cutter dipped his hand into the tank, and moments later, Addy’s face peered back at them.

  “Captain,” the director greeted, “can you please tell the team what you just told me?”