Micah smothered a laugh at the Marine’s reaction. “Let me guess,” he said, stepping up beside Thad and clapping him on the shoulder. “You still owe him some steaks, and he’s here to collect.”
“Damn extortionist,” Thad muttered.
The black panther closing on them was a working cat, trained to attack targets and identify hidden threats. Pascal had been allowed to come along as a reward for the work he’d done on their last mission. Like Micah, he was the product of an illegal cloning. Pascal was Joule’s mirror twin. The panther’s brain was as entangled with his twin as Micah’s was with Jonathan.
The scientist responsible for their chirality hadn’t let ethics stand in the way of the implants he’d inserted into the animals’ brains. The simple E-V circuitry allowed for limited range communication. The panthers didn’t often make use of them… except when working, to acknowledge their handlers’ instructions.
Or to needle certain humans, like Thad.
Pascal slowed to a prowl, chuffing as he drew to a stop in front of them.
{Deal’s a deal,} Micah heard the cat say as he lifted baleful green eyes to Thad. {Fifty steaks. I’ve had three.}
Thad’s eyes narrowed, and he jabbed a finger toward the large animal. “You’ve had six, you mangy bastard.”
{Too small. Had to double up,} the cat replied, batting away Thad’s finger with a massive paw.
A snort erupted from Nina, causing the man to pivot and pin her with the kind of glare only a Marine captain could dish out.
“You have something to say, Chief?” he demanded.
Micah cupped a hand over his mouth and turned to the side as Nina smirked.
“Sir, yes sir,” she said. “Just wondering if the captain bothered to negotiate the size of those steaks before he entered into the agreement, sir.”
One of the medics paused on her way past. “Chief’s got you there, Thad,” the woman said. Nodding to the black cat, she added, “Pascal’s a pretty savvy negotiator. He’s already conned Cook out of ten kilos of bison jerky and two bags of catnip.”
“Catnip?” Micah’s brows rose. He turned to face Pascal. “I didn’t know panthers liked catnip.”
{Not a panther,} Pascal responded.
Micah’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
The medic tilted her head to indicate the ranger station. “A Huntington park ranger dropped by while you guys were rescuing the smokejumpers. Took one look and recognized Pascal’s build and markings.”
{Ceriban hunting cat,} the cat under scrutiny supplied, and then slitted his eyes at Thad once more. {Require lots of fresh meat. More than panthers. Deal’s now for seventy-five steaks.}
“Whoa, hoss, hold on there just a goddam minute.” Thad crossed his arms and stared down at the big animal. “Ain’t nobody ever told you? You can’t renegotiate a contract after the fact.”
{Was negotiated based on panther intake.} Pascal gave the big Marine the feline-equivalent of a smirk. {Ceriban hunting cats require more calories.}
Thad glowered at Pascal for another few seconds, and then turned on his heel and marched toward the ranger’s building.
The whine of an approaching aircraft had Micah scanning the skies. Nothing showed over the treeline, though he could tell by the sound that it was an incoming Firestrike.
His gaze settled at the far end of the runway, where he could see a steady stream of drones alighting beside the tanks of fire-retardant nanofoam. As soon as their payload was full, they were up again, heading back out to the front line, to coat unburnt brush and trees, doing their best to deny the raging beast the fuel it needed to sustain its fire.
His view of the departing drones was obscured by the appearance of a Firestrike that matched the one he’d flown. He lifted a hand in greeting as it neared, and then turned to rack his helmet behind the pilot’s seat before triggering the hatch closed once more. The cockpit’s nanosealed windlace sighed shut just as the Firestrike carrying the other half of Task Force Blue’s crew touched down a dozen meters to his right.
A gust of warm air greeted him, kicked up by the vessel’s landing. It brought with it a fresh wave of ash and burning wood, the scents mingling with the smells of dinner someone had scared up for the hungry, returning crews.
As he glanced over, the second Firestrike’s side doors cracked open and disgorged two figures. Specialist Will Morris was the crew’s flight engineer and crew chief. The man’s sandy hair glinted in the Ceriba sunlight as he turned to do a post-flight walkaround of his bird.
The other pulled her pilot’s helmet off, releasing a cascade of blue-black hair, before setting it back onto the pilot’s seat. Her body fairly buzzing with energy, Yuki grabbed the handholds inset into the frame of the aircraft and hauled herself up to inspect the air intake on the modified turbofan motor that had been added when the craft was converted to atmospheric flight.
Lieutenant Yuki O’Connell was Blue’s co-pilot. Together with Will and Nina, they rounded out the crew of the DAP Helios Micah and his twin Jonathan flew for the Geminate Navy.
Hey, bro. Jonathan’s voice broke in. The colonel wants the team assembled, ASAP. Says it’s urgent.
Micah’s gaze swung back to Thad. Although Micah captained the vessel that flew the task force to its missions, the team itself was under Thad’s command. The Marine’s expression indicated he’d intercepted a ping on his wire.
He caught Micah’s glance and nodded once.
Yeah, looks like someone’s just given Thad the head’s up, too, he told his other self. We’re on our way.
He looked over at Nina. The gunner pushed her hair back from a soot-covered face, an equally grimy hand trailing a smear up one cheek, into the hairline of her unruly, red hair.
How urgent is it? We’re not exactly spit-shined here.
Amusement surged over their connection. You smell like a campfire, you mean?
Been there, done that. Almost got skewered for our trouble, too. He sent Jonathan a mental snapshot of the fiery conifer-turned-javelin that had tried to take them out.
A low mental whistle was the other man’s reply. I’ll tell them you need twenty minutes once you arrive to make yourselves presentable.
Micah pushed a mental thanks toward his twin and turned back to the Firestrike to complete his own post-flight. Fifteen minutes later, the bird was as clean as they could make it; the aviation company’s cleaning crews would take care of checking the drives, restocking the ship’s stores, and ensuring all air intakes were clear of ash prior to its next flight.
“You ready, sir?” Nina asked as she shouldered a duffel from the back of the Firestrike. She nodded toward the ranger station. “Transport just pulled up.”
Micah nodded at the other Firestrike. “I’ll grab Yuki and Will.” He waved her on. “Don’t let them leave without us.”
“You got it.”
The crew chief hefted the duffel onto one well-muscled shoulder and walked toward the building that Mount Huntington Aviation called home.
Several minutes later, they were watching the ranger station recede into the distance as the transport headed south toward Ceriba’s capital city of St. Clair Township.
As they left the forest range behind, Micah could see the wildfire’s dense, black cloud base, formed from hot embers and ash. Topping it was a seething column of clouds with a plumed top that flattened where it hit Ceriba’s jet stream.
“You do take us to the nicest places, Cap.” Yuki’s eyes were fixed on the burnt landscape.
“Yeah, but it’s good to know we’re contributing, even if it’s just in a small way, to beating that monster into submission,” Nina said, tilting her head toward the plume.
Will’s smile was brief. The flight engineer was by far the quietest member of the team, but he more than made up for it by being the best damn mechanic ever to work on a Helios.
“I don’t think those two smokejumpers would call your contribution today insignificant,” he protested in a mild voice. His thoughtf
ul gaze turned from the view out the transport’s window to favor Nina with a slight frown.
Nina shrugged. “Still, wish we’d been able to stick around until that bastard was fully beaten down.”
“We’d be done by now anyway,” Thad said. He was stretched out several rows in front of them, cap drawn down low over his eyes, his head resting on Pascal’s flank. “Air attack just announced containment. Only thing left is to take care of hotspots for the next few hours.”
He pulled himself up, settling his cap back onto his head as he eyed Nina. “That’s mainly drone work, cher, plus SI and human crews following up to spot-check. Besides,” he added, settling his head back down onto Pascal’s flank and ignoring the hunting cat’s grunt, “something tells me we have a much bigger fire to put out than the one we just left.”
COMPLICATIONS
National Security Agency
Parliament House
St. Clair Township, Ceriba
Duncan Cutter’s assistant had just shown up at his office with lunch when a comm request came in from Valenti.
“Thanks, Rob,” he said. “Just set it down, and I’ll get to it in a few.”
Rob hefted the wrap in his hand. “Just so you know, this isn’t just any sandwich,” he told Duncan. “It’s Chef’s signature. Ceriban quail smothered in chutney made from real night-blooming mockberries. It was their last one, and I had to fight Senator Regier for it.”
Duncan held up a hand. “I appreciate it, believe me. But this is important.”
Rob shot him a pointed look as he set the wrap and a container of water on the corner of Duncan’s desk. “Everything’s important. Can’t recall the last time you ate a lunch that required two hands, sir. Just saying.”
“Hazard of the job, Rob.”
His assistant dipped his head, acknowledging that fact as he backed out of the room and left Duncan alone.
With a longing look at the wrap, Duncan reached for the water as he accepted Valenti’s ping. As hungry as he was, he refused to chew in someone else’s ear, even if it was over the wire.
You’d think, after twelve years at this job, I’d be used to it by now, he thought. Rob’s right. Someday, I’m going to find time to eat a lunch that requires a knife and fork….
Valenti’s avatar popped up on his overlay, joined seconds later by Amara Toland. He sent them both a quick mental greeting as he uncapped his water and took a long drink.
{Just wanted you to know the team should be arriving at the base within the hour,} Valenti sent. {Are you free to join?}
{Hang on. Let me check.} He set the water down as he pulled up his calendar. He’d have to rearrange a few meetings, but it was doable.
{I’ll be there.}
{I won’t be,} Toland said. {I may have a lead on those four vials. I’m going to chase it down. I’ll send you whatever I find.}
Duncan paused, water halfway to his mouth once more. {Hold on. You said four vials?}
{That’s what Doctor Moran’s report indicated. Why?}
His eyes narrowed as his mind worked furiously to recall the image he’d seen in the SCIF earlier that day.
{Pull up the feed Ladue sent,} he instructed Valenti. {Take a good look at that closeup he captured of the case. Tell me what you see.}
The colonel’s avatar froze, and Duncan could tell she’d put them on hold. Moments later, an icon flashed on his overlay. It was an image capture of the open case.
Three vials rested within, the hazardous materials icon prominently displayed on each.
He heard Toland’s swift intake of breath.
{It seems we have two problems on our hands,} he told them, eyes glued to the frozen image. {If the Akkadians only have three vials, then where’s the fourth one?}
TEMPTATION
Hacker bar
Outskirts of town
St. Clair Township, Ceriba
The thief spied the hacker the moment he stepped inside the underground speakeasy. He waited for her gaze to land on him before moving in her direction. Her eyes widened a fraction in recognition, and she raised her glass in greeting.
Tilting his chin in acknowledgment, he let his gaze sweep the darkened area until they landed on a nearby server. He caught her attention, and then waited for her to navigate her way through the crowd to where he stood.
Leaning in so that she could hear him over the pulsing music, he placed his order and then pointed to the table where the hacker sat. Flipping the credit chit he held in his hand so that its smooth surface caught the light, he proffered it with a flourish so that she could scan it.
Seconds later, he’d crossed the room. Smiling, he slid into the booth beside the hacker. “So, how'd the handoff go down?” he asked by way of greeting.
“The package for the pharmaceutical company, you mean?”
At his nod, she tossed back the last of her drink and set the glass down onto the table with a decisive thud.
“Slicker than shit,” she bragged. She interlaced her hands, placing them behind her head, and leaned back with a proud grin. She waggled her elbow in the direction of the bar. “Saw you stopping the waiter. Didn’t happen to order me one, did ya?”
He nodded judiciously. “I did. Ordered an entire pitcher, in fact. Thought you might be in the mood to celebrate.”
He saw her eyes narrow in suspicion as she dropped her arms. He grinned and with the flick of a hand, held the chit up between his fingers for her to see. “It just so happens that I came into a bit of a windfall today, so I thought I’d do the honors.”
She squinted at the stolen chit he’d lifted from some hapless pedestrian, hand reaching out for it. He pulled it out of her reach.
“How long before they notice it’s missing?” she asked with a sniff.
He buried his annoyance at her implied slight behind another blinding grin. “Oh, it’s not missing, luv. I cloned some fool’s unprotected credit chit.”
“What in the stars was someone doing with one of those?”
The chit went spinning into the air as he flipped it. Just as quickly, he snatched it back, fingers curving around it possessively.
“My guess, something illegal he didn’t want traced back to his ID token, otherwise it woulda been encrypted. So, see? You could say I was just doing my part to keep crime off the streets.”
She settled back with a smirk. “Well, then. I accept your offer to foot the bill for this little celebration.” She inclined her head as if she were bestowing some great privilege upon him.
Ignoring her airs, he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “So, those government types over at the CID never caught on that someone nipped their package?”
Her expression turned smug. “You were with me,” she said, her voice breezily confident as she nudged him on the shoulder. “You saw, same as I did. It went off without a hitch.”
His brows drew down. “Initially, yeah, but this is the Centers for Infectious Diseases we’re talking here.”
The hacker sat up, offended. “So what? Did you think they had some sort of tracker embedded in the case the vials were in that I wouldn’t catch?”
“Well…maybe,” he admitted.
She shrugged. “The shipment was legit. There really was a package scheduled for pickup by the courier service that day,” she reminded him. “You were in the delivery van with me. You saw the dispatch come through for it. You saw me go in and bring it back out. What’s with the third degree?”
He lifted a placating palm. “Just curious, is all. You usually don’t go for the jobs that require anything beyond cracking into a server and moving electronic shit around. Hell, I rarely see you outside your studio. I just wondered what made you break your routine.”
She slitted her eyes as she leaned into him. “Credits,” she hissed, her voice low. “Lots and lots of them.”
She broke off as the server approached, pitcher in hand. It wasn’t until they were alone once more and he’d poured them both a drink that she continued.
“It might have been outside my standard portfolio, but it’s not something I’ve never done before,” she added, and he heard the asperity in her voice that warned him to back off. “It was easy enough to hack into the delivery company’s database, add myself to their roster, and assign the job to me. The transport was waiting for me, keyed to my forged employee ID. Passing the package off to Brower Biologic’s agent was even easier. They had a substitute package ready. I just added it to the delivery pile, and then walked off the job.”
She paused to take a sip of her drink. He felt her studying him as he fiddled with the credit chit. “He got the package, I got the credits, end of story. So why don’t you tell me what this is really about, hmm?”
Still, he was reluctant. “And no one opened the case? No one scanned the contents, or questioned what was inside? They were satisfied with what you delivered?” he persisted.
“Jake, what is wrong with you?” she snapped, setting her drink down a little harder than necessary.
The thief pulled his hand out from his jacket, cupping an object that he waggled in front of his friend's face. “Well, if they’re satisfied, then it’s unlikely they’ll care that I helped myself to one of these, then.”
She sat up abruptly and hissed, “Holy shit, you stole from me?”
She swiped at the vial, but he jerked it away from her grasp, pocketing it once more.
“When? How—?” She sagged back in her seat, scowling at him. “It was when I handed you the case, wasn’t it? When you placed it in the storage locker in the back of the delivery transport.”
He nodded once. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” He pitched his voice low and let admiration seep into his tone. “It was a real rush, watching you work.”
Her ego had always been her weak spot; she was so easy to manipulate. This time proved no different.
She preened under his compliment, anger melting away, as he knew it would. “What are you going to do with it?” she asked grudgingly.
The Chiral Protocol – A Military Science Fiction Thriller: Biogenesis War Book 2 (The Biogenesis War) Page 5
