Transition (Stryker Team Book 2)

by Frank Carey

  "And we have a lot of buyers, especially on Cora," Diana said. "Mersa, what was bought?"

  "Something called regenasyn."

  "Regenasyn," Kalana said. "The hospital was supposed to start sim trials next year. It holds great promise for repairing damaged tissues in trauma scenarios. How much did they order?"

  "Five gallons," Trent answered.

  "At one milliliter per dose, that’s almost 19,000 doses," Murph said over the room's PA system.

  "That explains this quarter's profits. I thought we had an accounting error," Diana noted. "We have safeguards which should have prevented the sale of that much material. I can only assume Peter bypassed them."

  "Captain, what the hell do you do with 19,000 doses of an experimental drug?" Mersa asked.

  "Ma'am, how long does the drug last?" Murph asked.

  "If memory serves, 48-hours. By then it is supposed to heal any wounds in a body. Hell, it could regenerate limbs," Kalana explained.

  "So, it acts like your robots, but on a cellular level?"

  "Pretty much, though the drug only regenerates. A dosed individual can't do this," she said as she formed a ray gun in her left hand.

  "What else did you find?" Diana asked.

  Trent handed her a sheaf of papers which she leafed through. "The stuff from Elven Industries is used to remotely control telepresence units. The material from Cora is used to..." She stopped, then handed the invoice to Kalana.

  "Genetically engineered life forms." She thumbed through the papers. "Goranthi. Basili. Sokuhl. Tyen! Elf 2a, here's one I don't recognize. It's only got a code designation, so it might be synthetic."

  "Captain, what's an elf 2a?" Mersa asked.

  "Male, larger and stronger than normal. I'm an elf 1, always female. Ambassador Irithyl is Elf 2b, your normal, everyday guy elf. Much rarer is elf 2a. General Royce Aymar is an elf 2a. Superior strength which rivals that of females, 2as can take a lot of damage before they're brought down. They are the true elf male warrior and protector."

  "And those species you read off, ma'am?" Mersa asked.

  "Components. Pieces to a puzzle. Ingredients for a walking, breathing cake. Not a clone, something much more dangerous."

  "Mindless meat sacks?" Trent asked.

  "Not mindless. Remember your history lessons? About thirty years ago, a GELF from the planet Crystal arrive in the League on his way to prep a planet for colonization. He was conceived in a test tube and grown in an artificial womb. He saved the ambassador by injecting him with his blood. He married the ambassador's adopted daughter--a GELF herself, one of Josiah Muntz's creations--and ended up saving the League from an attack from two rogue Alue..."

  "No relation to me, Captain. May they both rot in whatever hell they can find," Trent noted.

  "Got it, Trent. Two rogue Alue bent on killing every corporeal life form they could find. This invoice could be a blueprint for building an unstoppable army of sapient warriors, bred to do one thing: fight."

  "Against whom?" Murph asked. "Mistress Ventana, does your house have any interest in attacking the League using a GELF army?"

  "Gods no," she replied. "I can hire mercs for that. "Hell, my go-to merc, Nerita, could field an army in a week, so why grow one?"

  She handed the papers back to Kalana. Leafing through them, the captain asked, "Where is everything going?"

  Mersa activated the room's holoprojector and brought up a diagram of League space. "All materials were shipped from their respective planets to way stations on the rim including the GELF mix from Cora, the telepresence equipment from EIL, the five gallons of Regenasyn, and something labeled 'TPU-7600-XLR' from Orta--whatever the hell that is--are all being sent to a planet called 'Q'Tec' near the outer rim of League space in the eastern quadrant."

  "Never heard of it..." Kalana said, but stopped when Diana cleared her throat. "You've heard of Q'Tec?"

  "Yeah. We had a smuggling base there. It was abandoned years ago when we got into the wine business. There are two large buildings and a landing pad. Otherwise, the planet is one, ginormous jungle."

  "So, what are we looking at? A lab? A transport hub? Perhaps a staging area?" Kalana mused.

  "How do we find out?" Mersa asked.

  "We make discrete inquiries, my dear sergeant," Diana replied.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Orta embassy on Tralaska had found new digs since they came out of hiding. Once a secretive race who hid behind a lie of fire, they now welcomed visitors from all over the League as they worked at reestablishing themselves as a race to be trusted by one and all. Kalana walked up to the front gate and flashed her military ID card. "Captain Kalana Grenor to see Ambassador Markle. I have an appointment." She showed the guard, a burly human, the invitation and letter of introduction from Diana.

  "One moment, Captain," the guard said as he stepped inside the air-conditioned guard shack to make a call. Meanwhile, two other equally large human guards kept an eye on her.

  "Keeping busy?" she asked through the conveyance's open window.

  They said nothing, opting instead to just watch her. She was impressed. Most human males found her charms irresistible. The Ortas must have paid extra for the enhanced training.

  The first guard returned and handed her papers back. "Captain Grenor, you may proceed. Park in space 23A, then enter through the west door. Your escort will meet you there. Have a nice day."

  "Thanks, Sarge," she said with a wave of her tail. Moments later, she was walking through the door where a petite Orta waited for her in a pencil skirt, cotton blouse, and black heels. She would have looked like any League biped except for the red lightning bolt stripes and glowing red eyes.

  "Captain Grenor, my name is Marsha, and I'll be your escort during your visit. Can I get you anything to drink?" the woman asked as she led the Captain down the corridor.

  "No thank you. I'm fine. I do have one question, though."

  "Shoot."

  "All the Orta I've met have human-sounding names. Why is that?"

  "Coincidence. My full name is..." she proceeded to rattle off something that sounded like a steam calliope crossed with an out of tune screech owl. "Or Marsha for short."

  "I see. I bet that even my elven ears missed a few notes in that symphony."

  "Probably. Now, I hate to ask, but are you carrying any weapons?"

  Kalana transformed into a stryker form. "Technically, I am a weapon," she replied.

  "Oh my! Do you know Gabe Adon?"

  Confused, Kalana answered while returning to elf-form, "Yes, we're friends, and I trained with him. Why?"

  "Is he as dreamy as they say he is?"

  A voice came over the PA system. "Marsha! Quit pestering our guest. You'll get to meet Gabe when he visits next week. Now, bring the captain in."

  "Yes, Ambassador. I get to meet Gabe next week. Isn't that wonderful?"

  "Uh, yeah. Great," Kalana replied as she was led into the ambassador's office. Inside, another petite Orta stood in front of a large desk.

  "Captain Grenor! How good it is to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from a mutual friend. Please, come in. Marsha, you can go. I'll be fine."

  "Ma'am, she's a stryker..."

  "And a friend of Gabe’s. I promise, I'll buzz you in if she gets aggressive. Now, go!"

  "Yes, ma'am." Marsha turned and exited the room. Leaving the two women alone to talk.

  "That stryker shit never gets old. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?"

  "No thank you, Ambassador."

  "Call me Nat. Can I call you Kala?"

  "Yes, Nat, of course. May I ask what the deal is with Gabe?"

  "He saved our planet. From there it went from gratitude to hero worship, especially with the young adult women. So, what can I do for you?"

  "We're investigating the murder of Space Marine Colonel Peter Ventana, and we came across this invoice." Kalana handed a copy over to Nat.

  "I heard about that. I thought you'd been accused of that crime."

  "Yes, s
omeone convinced the Lady Ventana that I had killed him while he was on my table. Evidence came to light that exonerated me."

  "Did you know the colonel?"

  "He was my fiancé."

  The ambassador looked up. "Damn. That's rough..." she stopped, then leaned over the desk and pressed a button. "Marsha, activate security protocol 2."

  The door opened and four heavily armed, seven-foot-tall Orta walked in and took up positions at the room's four corners.

  A hum momentarily filled the room. "Ambassador, is there a problem?"

  "Where did you get this invoice?"

  "A hidden partition within the Ventana family data center. We also found these," she said while handing over the data packet. Nat leaned against the desk and perused the paperwork while Kalana examined the guards. "I thought your species was only four feet tall."

  "Our warrior cast is much larger. Every family has at least one. Not only can they fight like demons, they can cook like fiends."

  "Doesn't the size difference make it difficult to, you know...?"

  "We make it work. OK, we have a real problem here."

  "What kind of problem?"

  "What I'm about to tell you is top secret."

  "As an Officer in the Space Marines, I have top clearance."

  "Good. The TPU-7600-XLR unit is an advanced teleportation unit we've been developing to compete with the Erdexi transport sphere product line. Its only in the prototype stage. The XLR designation indicates that this unit doesn't need a receiver pad. You type in the coordinates and away you go."

  "Wait, you've developed a teleportaion system like the ones in the movies?"

  "Centuries ago. We use them to get around Orta. Now that we've come out to the League, we find we need to up our trading, so we thought there might be a market for the unit. The problem is this unit has never gone through rigorous testing. It could cost us billions of credits if its existence got out before we were able to field test it."

  "I hate to ask, but what's its range?"

  "From a planetary surface, it can teleport an object--animate or inanimate--up to a quarter light-second."

  "Wow."

  "I find the second item much more concerning."

  "What second item?"

  "The last item in the list of genetic materials, the one that only has a numeric designation."

  "Oh, that one. I couldn’t figure out what species that came from."

  The ambassador pointed to one of the guards. "It's from our warrior caste. Whoever is mixing these species is trying to make a super soldier that I doubt even a stryker could deal with."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Capital City is Tralaska's gem, its shining beacon in a League filled with the mundane, at least as far as the Tralaskans were concerned. It is a mecca of art, science, technology, and most importantly, food. The finest chefs from every planet in the League have set up shop in the city and were mighty damn happy to do so.

  Kalana, Mersa, and Trent drew looks as the host led them to a private booth in the far corner of the expansive dining room.

  "It's like they've never seen anyone in uniform before," Trent whispered.

  "Buddy, I don't think it's the uniforms," Mersa said with a nervous flick of her wings. This caused the crowd to make a quiet "oooh" sound.

  Once the trio was seated, the host showed them menus, took their drink orders, then activated the privacy field as he left. "Wow, Lady Ventana outdid herself sending us here," Mersa said.

  "Yes, she did," Kalana said. "I think it bothers her that she tried to get me killed."

  "Captain, what happened with that?" Trent asked. "Not to be blunt, but surgeons lose patients all the time. Why would she think you killed him?"

  "Supposedly, I was drunk when I walked into the operating room. The investigators showed a vid of me and Peter having a fight a few hours before the accident. It clearly showed an inebriated me slapping him before he stormed off. They had witnesses. Problem was I never visited the bar this happened in, nor did Peter and I have a fight. Marissa, my lawyer, tried to get the evidence tossed, but Diana stepped in. I was supposed to get the death penalty, but got a last-minute reprieve when General McMurphy intervened as a favor to Captain Williamson."

  "Captain Williamson seems to know people in high places," Mersa said, referring to her commanding officer, Captain John Williamson, commander of the Bonehead Team.

  "Yeah. Which brings us to the now. I was tasked to find Peter's killer, but come to find he isn't dead, and his death was faked. We also have a possible invasion scenario."

  "We have to report this, ma'am," Murph said over the earcomms.

  "Report to who?" Mersa asked. "Not to dis the corps, but do we trust them? With all due respect to the Colonel, I can't believe he could pull something like this off without inside help."

  A chime sounded. "Good, our drinks are here," Kalana said. She pressed a button on the table which collapsed a section of the privacy field.

  Instead of a waiter, General Marta McMurphy, Elf Marine Expeditionary Force, retired, and ex-Space Marine, stepped inside with a tray of drinks. The three Space Marines stood and saluted as she placed the drinks on the table and gave the tray to a passing waiter. "At ease, people and have a seat," she said while returning the salute. She sat down and took a sip of her wine. "Kalana, I got your message. What the hell is going on?"

  Kalana reestablished the field before launching into her report. When she finished, she waited for a reaction from the general.

  "Sergeant Trent is correct. We must keep this information to ourselves until we're sure Trent's concerns are unfounded. Sergeant Mersa, where can we find this Caleb Proctor?"

  "He usually hangs out in the Black InterWeb. I haven't seen him since... Well, since I joined the corps."

  "Was he part of the crew you belonged to, the one that was busted by the OffSec sweep?"

  Kalana was surprised to see the Basili blush. "Yes, ma'am. He and a couple of his lieutenants got away while the rest of us didn't."

  "Assuming he's still alive and in the League, can you find him?"

  "Maybe. The problem is that he's old school. He uses tricks that haven't been used in twenty years. That's what put him at the top of the hacker world."

  "What if you had help from someone who helped create the old school?"

  "You have someone in mind?" Kalana asked.

  "Yes, most definitely. And just by luck, she's in town for a few days. Drink your drinks for we have some visiting to do."

  CHAPTER NINE

  They left the bar and took public transportation to the space docks at the edge of the city. From there, they took a tram to berth 18 where a large freighter was being unloaded. As they approached the ship, Kalana noticed the name. "Ma'am, you have a freighter named after you?"

  "Yeah. It’s a long story. My daughter, Shenda, is her captain and owner while most of my kids are part of the crew. The Marta is one of six freighters Shenda and her husband, Chasm, run out of Ventos Prime and Earth."

  They got out of the tram and made their way to the ship where a tall gray elf waited for them, only he wasn't an elf, he was an elf-like Logash complete with a blue biocrystal embedded in his chest. "Grandma!" he said as he ran up and gave Marta a hug. "How have you been?" He looked up and saw Kalana. Going immediately to attention, he snapped a smart salute. "Lieutenant Grayson McMurphy, ma'am. Welcome to the Marta McMurphy."

  She saw the dog tags around his neck. "At ease, Space Marine. Why no salute for the general?"

  "Standing orders. None of my family are allowed to salute me. I find it creepy. Grayson, where's Ashley?"

  "In town, shopping with the rest of the crew. I volunteered to watch the unload."

  "Is Aerith with them?"

  "No, she's working on something important in her cabin. Want me to call her?"

  "Naw. I think I'll surprise her."

  "Good luck," he said while stepping wide to let her and her companions pass.

  Marta led them through the deserted
ship, stopping at a door marked "Aerith." Taking a breath, Marta rapped on the door. "Aerith, honey, it's momma!"

  "Shit. Give me a minute..."

  Moments later, the door opened and a man walked out while putting on his shirt. When he glanced at Kalana, she saw that though he had elf ears and tail, his eyes were human. "Hey, Marta, nice to see you."

  "Good to see you, Sean. Sorry about the interruption. We'll try to make it short."

  "Take your time. She'll be happy to see you."

  He headed forward. "Sean Dayton, ex-OffSec agent and Aerith's husband," Marta explained. The door opened a crack, then full. An elfling woman stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. "Sorry. The place is a mess..."

  "I bet," Marta said with a raised eyebrow.

  "Mom! I didn't expect to see you this trip. I thought you were on Ventos Prime. Who are your friends?"

  "Space Marine Captain Kalana Grenor, ma'am," Kalana said as she shook Aerith's hand. "And these are members of my team, Sergeant Mersa and Sergeant Trent."

  "Nice to meet you," Aerith said as she shook their hands. "Mom, what's going on?"

  "Got someplace we can talk private like?"

  "Sure, follow me."

  Aerith led them to the ship's computer center. "Pull up seats while I set the privacy system." While they sat, she pressed a few buttons. "OK, we're completely isolated. Anyone listening will get instructions for meat loaf. So, what's up?"

  Marta explained.

  "Wow." Aerith looked at Kalana, then Mersa. "Damn. Mersa, what was your handle?"

  "Banshee, ma'am."

  "Ah, the Hastings Caper. OffSec was lucky their snitch was as high up as he was, else he would have been walking around barefoot on Halcyon. Caleb Proctor. I remember him. Good skills and a real lady's man." She smirked when she saw Mersa's smile. "Let's see if I still have the touch." Aerith turned to a console and typed in some commands."

  "Ma'am, you mentioned a snitch? I thought we had just slipped up," Mersa said.

  "I read the reports. No one slipped. OffSec was waiting for you thanks to the informant."

  "And...?" Mersa asked.