Messinants

by S. H. Jucha

  MESSINANTS

  Pyreans Book 2

  S. H. JUCHA

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by S. H. Jucha

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Published by Hannon Books, Inc.

  www.scottjucha.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9994928-2-6 (e-book)

  ISBN: 978-0-9994928-3-3 (softcover)

  First Edition: March 2018

  Cover Design: Damon Za

  Formatting: Polgarus Studio

  Acknowledgments

  Messinants is the second book in the Pyreans series. I wish to extend a special thanks to my independent editor, Joni Wilson, whose efforts enabled the finished product. To my proofreaders, Abiola Streete, Dr. Jan Hamilton, David Melvin, Ron Critchfield, Pat Bailey, and Mykola Dolgalov, I offer my sincere thanks for their support.

  I wish to thank several sources for information incorporated into the book’s science. Toby’s bone replacement (BRC, pronounced brick) originated from the website of EpiBone and commentary by CEO Nina Tandon.

  The El car diamond-thread cable concept was borrowed from Penn State Professor John Badding and Dow Chemical Company senior R&D analytical chemist Tom Fitzgibbons, who isolated liquid-state benzene molecules into a zigzagging arrangement of rings of carbon atoms in the shape of a triangular pyramid — a formation similar to that of diamonds.

  Despite the assistance I’ve received from others, all errors are mine.

  Glossary

  A glossary is located at the end of the book. Some alien names are used frequently. For pronunciation of many of them, refer to the glossary. For instance, Jatouche is pronounced as jaw-toosh, with a hard “j,” as are all the Jatouche names beginning with “j.”

  Table of Contents

  -1- Patch Death

  -2- Accusations

  -3- The JOS

  -4- Honora Belle

  -5- Q-Gates

  -6- Gasnar

  -7- Aliens

  -8- Emperion

  -9- Broadcast

  -10- Distributors

  -11- Suspicions

  -12- Stand Off

  -13- Stamerson

  -14- Return to Gasnar

  -15- They’re Back

  -16- We’re Coming

  -17- Broadcast

  -18- Triton

  -19- Comm Updates

  -20- Breakthrough

  -21- Pyre’s Reprieve

  -22- Rictook

  -23- What If

  -24- The Council

  -25- Recruitment

  -26- Emerson

  -27- Come Collect Us

  -28- Load Up

  -29- Introductions

  -30- Engineers

  -31- Line Three

  -32- Pyrean Green

  -33- Excess Energy

  -34- Jordie’s Agent

  -35- Gas Attack

  -36- Standoff

  -37- Celebration

  -38- Leverage

  -39- Recoveries

  -40- Triumvirate

  -41- Drigtik

  -42- Danny

  -43- Intravertor

  -44- Heroes

  -45- Decorations

  Glossary

  My Books

  The Author

  -1-

  Patch Death

  “Major Finian, we’ve got a suspicious death,” Commandant Emerson Strattleford called over his comm unit.

  “Where, Commandant?” Liam asked. It was late evening, and Liam was off duty, which was why he was surprised to receive Emerson’s call.

  “Locate my device, Major. I’ll preserve the scene until your people arrive,” Emerson replied and abruptly ended the call.

  Liam checked his comm unit for the duty roster and selected a name. When his call was answered, he said, “Sergeant Lindstrom, you’re authorized to locate the commandant’s position. Contact Sergeant Rodriguez and a forensics team to investigate a death at his location. Send me the reports when you file them.”

  “Understood, Sir,” Cecilia replied. She accessed the JOS station’s security personnel database, pulled up the code for the commandant’s comm unit, and pinged it. Then she called Miguel and passed on the major’s orders.

  Emerson stared dejectedly at the scantily clad body of Lily Tormelli. She was splayed across the bed, and her pose suggested she was asleep, except Lily was absolutely still, her eyes open and staring.

  The commandant’s evening had been flipped on its head. During the years, he’d availed himself of the services of more than a few coin-kitties. Then, ten months ago, he’d met Lily at the Starlight, one of the station’s more prestigious cantinas. It was an unlikely pairing. Emerson was a short man with a strident personality, which didn’t engender the amorous attentions of women, including service providers.

  Lily was Emerson’s physical opposite — tall, long-legged, and lithe. But, she was a kind and gentle woman. There was another element to their relationship, which was in addition to the exchange of coin and services. Lily was addicted to streak. It was a plant-based narcotic produced by the downsiders, the population of Pyreans who occupied the planet’s domes.

  Emerson was under no illusion that his position as commandant might have been the primary reason for their seemingly chance encounter at the cantina. He wasn’t happy to accommodate Lily’s habit, but, at the same time, he would have done anything to be with her.

  Lily’s weekly supply of streak was shipped to Emerson via the El, the elevator car that connected the station to the domes. Addressed to the station’s commandant, the package passed through freight customs without inspection.

  Knowing there were precious few minutes before security and forensics arrived, Emerson scanned the scene. There was nothing to be done about his DNA. It would be found throughout Lily’s cabin. That wasn’t his primary concern. He couldn’t believe that Lily had taken her life, which the scene suggested. It wasn’t like her, and, while the drug was addictive, it wasn’t debilitating.

  Emerson carefully searched the dresser, nightstands, couch, and chairs in the richly appointed sleeping quarters. There was no indication of pill vials, syringes, or any implement by which Lily might have taken her life.

  Peering closely at Lily, Emerson performed a cursory inspection of her body. He couldn’t find any indication of trauma. Her skin appeared as flawless as ever.

  Emerson did find Lily’s comm unit. It was partially tucked under her arm. Using a disposable wipe, he pulled the device free and was surprised to discover it open, the virtual screen projecting above the device. That was an odd thing for Lily to do. She jealously guarded her comm unit. As an independent coin-kitty, her contacts and comm history were incredibly valuable to her and a good many people.

  Examining the screen, Emerson saw a message meant for him. It said, “Bitty, I’m sorry. I can’t live without my streak, and I don’t want to hurt you. I love you.”

  The commandant used his comm unit to take a snapshot of Lily’s screen, then, with a second wipe, he cleared the message. He was about to close the comm, when he halted. Instead, Emerson accessed the device’s system controls and selected the wipe function. When the comm unit chimed, marking the end of the operation, he closed the unit and tucked it under her arm, where he’d found it.

  Emerson got rid of the wipes by flushing them down the sink. As they rapidly dissolved in the running water, he heard, “Commandan
t? It’s Sergeant Lindstrom.”

  “Here, Sergeant,” Emerson replied, stepping from the bathroom, his voice guiding Cecilia into the sleeping quarters.

  “I was told we’re considering this death as suspicious, Commandant,” Cecilia said, asking for confirmation.

  “Investigate carefully and fully, Sergeant. Am I clear?” Emerson replied, his eyes boring into Cecilia’s.

  “Crystal clear, Commandant,” Cecilia responded, snapping upright. A question was on the tip of her tongue, but Emerson quickly vacated the sleeping quarters. Seconds later, she heard the cabin door slide open and close, and she was left alone with the deceased.

  With little to go on, Cecilia began documenting the scene. She activated her comm unit with a touch of her thumb. Starting from the cabin’s front door, she recorded the entire salon and then moved into the sleeping quarters. She paid particular attention to the body, leaning in for closeups of the limbs, torso, and face.

  Cecilia heard the cabin door slide open and Miguel Rodriguez call out, “Security.”

  “In the sleeping quarters with the body, Miguel,” Cecilia replied. “I’m nearly done recording the scene,” she added, when Miguel walked into the room.

  “Do we have an ID, Cecilia?” Miguel asked.

  “Negative,” Cecilia replied.

  Miguel pulled his DAD, a portable DNA analysis device, also known as a sniffer. He touched it to the dead woman’s toe and waited.

  The DAD accessed a database, which held the DNA profile of every stationer born aboard the JOS, the Jenkels Orbital Platform, in the past 129 years. The database included spacers, active and retired, and the occupants of the Honora Belle, the Pyreans’ colony ship. It didn’t include the downsiders, who occupied the domes on the planet, much to security’s frustration.

  “Her name’s Lily Tormelli, and this is her cabin,” Miguel said, when the DAD returned a match. “She’s a registered coin-kitty. How did the commandant say he got word of this death?”

  “He didn’t,” Cecilia replied, closing her comm unit. “All he said to me was make sure that we investigate this death thoroughly. Then he left. More like he ran,” she added, flicking a hand toward the door.

  “Hmm, strange,” Miguel commented.

  “Sergeant Rodriguez, forensics is here,” Jorge Olas called from the cabin door.

  “Sleeping quarters,” Miguel shouted.

  “Touch anything?” Jorge asked, as his team entered the room. He nodded appreciatively, when he received negative replies. “Anyone else been here?”

  “The commandant was here when I arrived,” Cecilia replied, “but he left quickly. I didn’t get to ask him a single question.”

  “Odd,” Jorge commented, and Cecilia and Miguel exchanged quick glances. That’s what they were all thinking. “You two done?” Jorge asked.

  “All yours, Jorge,” Miguel said, stepping away from the bed.

  “What do we have?” Jorge asked, making a cursory examination of the body, as he pulled on gloves.

  “We’ve been told by the commandant to treat the circumstances as suspicious and to check every detail,” Cecilia replied.

  “Doubly odd,” Jorge replied, studying Cecilia’s face. Her serious expression told him what he needed to know. “You two want to wait for the cursory examination before I move the body or get my report later?”

  “Wait,” the two sergeants replied in unison.

  A forensics tech pulled a scope, hooked it to a monitor, and began a slow scan of the body from the feet upwards. Jorge hovered over the monitor. When the tech finished, she looked at Jorge, who nodded. She slipped the scope into its sleeve on her belt, and she and a male tech turned the body over.

  “Wait,” Miguel ordered. “Roll her back.” With gloved hands, he slipped out the comm unit from under Lily’s body. “You’re good to go,” he added to Jorge, and the techs rolled the body over.

  Miguel scanned the comm unit with the sniffer, but he found only the one DNA profile on the unit, Lily’s.

  Meanwhile, the male tech employed his own sniffer and was checking the room. In seconds, it beeped, indicating a match. Then, it continued to beep regularly, announcing new matches, until the tech shut down the audio signal.

  “Busy woman,” Miguel quietly commented to Cecilia.

  “Look at her,” Cecilia replied. “Beautiful and statuesque. Not to mention that she leases a private cabin instead of working out of a club.”

  “A lot of coin changing hands,” Miguel agreed.

  “Lift the hair. Check behind the ears and through the scalp,” Jorge ordered. Monitoring the scope’s output, he said, “Check behind the other ear.”

  “Confirmed,” the female tech said.

  “Sniff them,” Jorge ordered.

  “Only the deceased’s DNA,” the male tech replied.

  “What did you find?” Miguel asked.

  “The woman’s been patched … one patch tucked behind each ear. We found only her DNA on them,” Jorge replied. “It’s looking like suicide. She could have gotten the patches from med staff, trading for coin or services. I’ll know more after a full examination.”

  While the forensics team went about moving the body to a gurney, Cecilia and Miguel stepped into the salon.

  “Check this,” Miguel said, holding up the dead woman’s comm unit.

  “Cleared?” Cecilia said, reading the small system’s status window.

  “She could have wanted to prevent her client list from falling into other hands,” Miguel suggested.

  “She’s a registered coin-kitty. It’s a legal profession, and she lives in a nice area of the JOS. Anyone who wanted to know who her clients were only had to drop a snoop cam in the ceiling, with a view of the corridor,” Cecilia replied.

  “So why is the commandant telling us to investigate this death as suspicious?” Miguel asked.

  * * * *

  Early the next morning, Major Finian was in his office, reviewing the sergeants’ report and the preliminary forensic analysis on Lily Tormelli. His people had worked late due to the commandant’s interest in the case. Emerson wasn’t a well-respected man, but that didn’t change the way the security and forensic teams performed their jobs. Liam liked to think that was because officers below Emerson’s rank set good examples, the likes of who sat in front of him, Lieutenant Devon Higgins.

  “What am I missing, Liam?” Devon asked. “This woman has been addicted to streak for years. According to forensics, her entire hair length, every seventy-eight centimeters, tested positive for the drug. More than likely, her supplier cut her off, she panicked, and used some illegal patches.”

  “When was the last time you heard of a patch death that wasn’t administered by the med teams, Devon?” Liam asked.

  “Actually, not one, since it became legal to request the procedure for terminal conditions,” Devon replied. “Maybe the woman just wanted privacy.”

  “Possible, but you’re forgetting that patches are under direct control of the forensics head,” Liam replied.

  “Oh,” Devon said quietly, realizing Liam was speaking about Margaret O’Toole, which meant that inventory access was tightly controlled. “There was that theft years ago,” Devon suddenly recalled.

  “Ten patches, seven years ago,” Liam agreed. “And there was a spate of suspicious deaths, following the theft, within the following nine months.”

  “Yes, I recall the basics. Stationers were using the patches, but the postmortems indicated they didn’t have any underlying terminal symptoms. Everyone thought that it was the spread of some sort of mysterious space dementia. But, I don’t remember the outcome of those cases. I was sitting for my officer’s exams, at the time.”

  “There was no outcome, Devon. Eight of the ten patches were used, and forensics listed the deaths as unexplained suicides.”

  “So, ten patches are taken. Eight are used immediately. Are you saying the patches that Lily used came from these ten?” Devon asked.

  “I checked with Margaret t
his morning,” Liam said. “The two patches on our deceased are from the group of ten that was stolen. And, before you ask, Margaret’s inventory of deadly items has been kept in a vault ever since the robbery, and she showed me the electronic methods used to procure and account for them. I haven’t a clue how anyone could get two more of them now and neither does Margaret.”

  “Who sits on two patches for seven years? Are you thinking this woman wrestled with thoughts of suicide for years and finally killed herself after all this time?” Devon asked.

  “That scenario doesn’t make sense to me, Devon,” Liam replied.

  “But why do I think that you want us to continue to investigate this as a suspicious death?” Devon asked.

  “I was at your desk, when those patch deaths occurred,” Liam replied. “I had a theory, at the time, but I didn’t have an opportunity to discuss it with the major, who sat at this desk.”

  “Who was that?” Devon asked.

  “The last of the patch deaths,” Liam said.

  “I think I’ll wait to hear your theory before I say anything more,” Devon replied.

  “In order, the deaths were: a maintenance tech, a prominent JOS businessman, a cantina owner, a freight supervisor, a cantina owner, a coin-kat, a freight unloader, and Major Dorsey. Each death was accomplished by a patch on the neck or behind the ear.”

  “Which leads me to wonder why this woman, Lily, used two patches,” Devon mused.

  “I have two guesses about that,” Liam replied, leaning back in his chair. “She might have thought the efficacy had been reduced over time and wanted to ensure that the patches did the job. Then again, she might have wanted to ensure that the second patch wasn’t left to be used by some unfortunate individual. Putting that aside, there’s another reason to pursue this case. Lily Tormelli was Emerson’s latest paramour.”

  Devon narrowed his eyes at Liam. “You’ve had the commandant followed,” he whispered conspiratorially.