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

by L. L. Richman

  The thief shrugged. “I found a buyer. Want in?”

  * * *

  The next morning found Jake seated in his ship’s cockpit, staring at his face on the ship’s forward screen. Except it looked nothing like him, and was menacing as hell. Intimidating enough that he’d think twice about crossing himself. He turned his head, and the image on the holo did the same.

  “So, you think he’ll buy it?” he asked.

  As he watched, the image in the holoscreen before him parroted the words back.

  He heard an inelegant snort come through over the connection. {I’m the best,} the hacker reminded him, and he could hear the self-assuredness in her tone. {He won’t have any way of tracing the ping, and he certainly won’t know that the image on his holo isn’t of you. Relax. You’ve got this.}

  Jake grimaced, the image before him mirroring his actions. “Okay, then. Well, wish me luck. I’m pinging him now.”

  He used the encrypted, untraceable connection the hacker had set up for him to connect to the Drug Lord.

  Self-styled ‘Drug Lord’, he reminded himself with a sardonic twist to his lips. Guy’s a legend in his own mind. Who would name themselves something like that, anyway?

  An SI answered on the other end. The thief introduced himself—using his alias—and let the SI know he had valuable material the Drug Lord would want to have.

  After a few moments spent haggling, with the hacker lurking in the background and listening to the entire exchange, the SI agreed to put him through to the Drug Lord’s properties manager.

  A thin-faced woman appeared on the holo, impatience etched into her face. {What do you want?} she demanded.

  The thief didn’t respond. He merely held up the vial in one hand, with the hazardous material icon clearly visible to the holorecorder.

  The woman’s face morphed from irritation to curiosity, and the thief knew she was hooked.

  {What is it?} she asked.

  The thief waggled the cylinder in his hand. “Something the CID’s been studying,” he grunted out, pitching his voice a half octave lower than his normal speaking voice.

  {Cut it out,} the hacker hissed. {My program’s compensating for your speech pattern, too. Now just act normal. Well, whatever your normal is, anyway.}

  The thief cleared his throat and realized belatedly that the hacker’s comment had distracted him, and he’d missed the woman’s response.

  She reared her head back and shook her head. {Don’t need any government trouble coming down upon our heads, not to mention the shit they’re messing with in there is just as likely to kill you as not. No thanks.}

  She reached to disconnect, and he quickly raised a hand.

  “It’s also something a pharmaceutical company went to a lot of trouble to acquire,” he rushed to say. “They paid big money to get their hands on three vials of this stuff. I…liberated…the fourth before they took delivery.”

  He saw the woman’s eyes narrow at this, and he abruptly regretted his momentary lapse into honesty. If the hacker’s sharp comment over his wire was any indication, she thought it was a particularly stupid move herself.

  That was all quickly forgotten at the woman’s next words.

  {How much do you want for it?}

  “Thirty million creds.” He managed to hang onto his stoic expression even in the face of her derisive laughter.

  {I see you have a sense of humor,} she replied. Amusement fled, and her eyes went dead. {No.}

  He shrugged and, with a bravado he didn’t feel, said, “Okay, then. Give me a counteroffer.”

  After several minutes of haggling, they agreed upon a price, provided the thief was able to deliver the vial’s provenance.

  That had taken him aback, and only a quick mental reassurance from the hacker had allowed him to keep his equanimity as he agreed to the properties manager’s demands.

  “Very good,” he said. “Where and when would you like to make the exchange?”

  The woman thought a moment. {I can have someone at the Starshot buoy at the one-AU mark from Ceriba, toward the Klintis belt, by tomorrow, fifteen hundred local.}

  The thief considered his response. “That’ll work. My man will be in a small, private runabout with this tail number.”

  He rattled off the number of one of the ‘burner’ transponders he’d had made, and the woman nodded.

  {Until then.}

  The comm signal severed, and the thief sat back with a sigh.

  {See? Told you.} The hacker’s confident voice surged inside his head. {Don’t forget. I get twenty percent, up front.}

  He sent her a breezy smile. “No worries, I have your account info. The minute the credits clear, they’ll be transferred to you.” He held up a hand. “Honest.”

  A sarcastic laugh was her only reply. {Good thing I didn’t invest a lot of time into your avatar. Just remember, it’s just as easy for me to undo that work and send them your real ID as it is for me to keep it hidden from them.}

  Jake blanched at the thought of the Drug Lord’s people discovering his fabrication, but then mentally shrugged it off. The person the hacker thought he was didn’t exist, either, so what did it really matter?

  He was adept at slipping through the cracks and disappearing. If trouble found him, he’d simply disappear until things blew over and he could reinvent himself once more.

  * * *

  The thief had to disengage his drive’s safety interlocks, redlining the ship in order to make it to the Starshot buoy in time for the rendezvous. To take his mind off his current circumstances—being webbed into a cradle while enduring a ten-g acceleration, despite his civilian-grade pilot’s mods, was still not much fun—he focused his attention on the elaborate security lock sealing the vial.

  The vial itself was locked tightly into a protective vault, cushioned to withstand the forces exerted upon it. His wire was connected to nanofilaments he’d threaded through the vault, allowing him access to the vial’s encrypted seal.

  He fancied himself somewhat of an expert safecracker, and the vial was proving to be a fascinating challenge. He applied various combinations to no avail, but thought he might have just hit on the right combination of programming cues.

  He dropped the nanopackage onto the seal just as his ship’s sensors detected a Mercer Mining tug turning its nose ponderously toward the buoy. Moments later, the vessel was hailing him.

  {Runabout seven-hotel-victor, any news on the championship game’s score?}

  The code-word challenge was just as the properties manager said it would be.

  He replied in kind. “Nothing yet, sorry to say. Last I heard, it wasn’t looking good for the Merki Meerkats, though.”

  Not for the first time did he wonder what in the stars a meerkat was, but the thought was a fleeting one, quickly forgotten as he dove into the intricacies of bleeding off speed and matching velocities with the other ship.

  Hours later, the tug latched onto his small runabout and began inexorably hauling it in. He wisely chose to allow the beefier machine to handle synching the hatches. As he waited, he ran his thumb over the top of the vial as he’d done countless times.

  His heart lurched when the lid moved.

  Holy shit, that last app combo worked!

  He peered closely at the glass container; the material inside looked like nothing more than distilled water. Curiosity overcame him.

  {Hey, you said this stuff was harmless, right? Whatever’s in it is totally inert?} He sent the thought privately along the encrypted channel the hacker had set up with him.

  {Yes,} came her guarded response. {Why?}

  He sent her a mental shrug as he uncapped the vial and looked inside. He was surprised to see the interior was separated into two partitions, an inner and outer chamber.

  He thought about trying to hack the seal on the inner compartment, too, but thought better of it. What if the two liquids became volatile when mixed?

  He dribbled a few drops onto the console in front of him. Nothing happened
. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. Still nothing. Disappointed, he recapped the glass cylinder.

  {Just wanted to reassure the buyer that it’s safe to transport is all,} he told her.

  She cursed and sent him a vicious mental shove. {Were you messing with it again?}

  {What do you mean, ‘again’?} he asked.

  {I saw you playing with it that night at the speakeasy,} she said. {You were rubbing your thumb along the top like a worry-stone. What’d you do, try some of your lock-picking programs to see if you could crack the seal?}

  When he didn’t respond, she groaned. {You did, didn’t you. Stars, please tell me you didn’t use something as ham-handed as a Crowbar.}

  {Of course not,} he shot back, offended that she would suggest such a thing. {My apps are much more sophisticated than that.}

  {Well, you’d better reseal it, fast, and pray they don’t notice. They might suspect you contaminated it.}

  The thief swore when a blinking icon appeared on his overlay, indicating the tug’s hatch was cycling.

  He ordered his safecracking app to rebuild the seal he’d just undone. Just as a thunderous pounding sounded on the outside of his own hatch, the app pinged, informing him the reprogramming was complete.

  He examined it closely, pleased the vial showed no evidence of tampering. {Okay, here goes nothing. I’m unsealing the hatch.}

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, the ships had separated, the thief ten million credits richer—less the hacker’s twenty percent. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling almost giddy at his own success.

  He punched up the local news net, and the holo flared to life. Emblazoned upon the screen was an advertisement for a cruise through the Atlieka Rapids on a luxury yacht run by Royal Ceriban Cruise Lines.

  Leaning back in the pilot’s seat, he laced his hands behind his head and grinned. “I could use a vacation,” he mused. “Now that, right there, is the proper way to celebrate a windfall.”

  He sat up, and with great relish, had the ship’s net connect to the reservations line at Royal Ceriba.

  BRIEFING

  Humbolt Base

  geostationary orbit, Ceriba

  Micah didn’t often get ferried around in a Navy pinnace sent specifically to escort him to base. He had to admit, this was a far more efficient way to get back to Humbolt than hitching a ride on a shuttle, or taking the elevator.

  If Jonathan hadn’t already let him know the situation was urgent, the pinnace sitting hot on the spaceport’s tarmac would have clued him in. He could tell the way they were being routed that the pinnace was being given a priority slot.

  They shed Ceriba’s atmosphere, slipping into Humbolt’s controlled space in record time. From there, it was a short jaunt past the imaginary line that separated the station’s commercial side from its military operations area and into the Navy’s docking bay.

  {Pinwheel-Three, Humbolt Base.} Micah heard the local traffic controller contact the pinnace’s pilot over the base’s spaceport comm frequency. {Cleared to Echo-Three.}

  The ship began to move gently forward, their pilot nudging them on thrusters in the direction indicated.

  As the pinnace taxied to its berth, they began to gather their gear. Nina shouldered her kit while Yuki arched her back to work out the kinks.

  The minute the pinnace settled into its cradle, the hatch cycled open. Thad stood with a groan and Pascal pushed past, flowing down the ramp and out onto Humbolt’s dock.

  Will shoved to his feet. “If that cat’s not careful, he’s going to get shot by some freaked-out airman.” He ducked out of the pinnace to follow, Nina and Yuki at his heels.

  Thad moved to the hatch, his big frame blocking the view of the bay just beyond. Shooting a look over his shoulder, he asked, “Comin’, Navy?”

  Micah nodded. {Any idea what’s awaiting us?} he sent privately as the Marine’s feet landed with a thump on the sole of the deck.

  Thad grunted. {Nothin’ good, ami,} he replied as they headed for the bay doors.

  They lapsed into a silence that continued until they hit a restricted area deep inside Humbolt Base, reserved for the men and women of the Special Reconnaissance Unit. A security SI stopped them at the entrance.

  Micah felt his heart kick a little faster, as it always did when his ID token was challenged at these security checkpoints. He knew his clearance had come from the highest level within the Alliance, but still, it was a forgery. There was only one Jonathan Micah Case.

  He passed through, as he always did. The amused look Thad slid him told Micah his tension had not gone unnoticed.

  {Quit being an asshole,} he grumbled.

  {Quit freaking out every time you pass through security, Navy. You’re not a fraud.}

  {No,} came his acerbic response, {just a freak of nature.}

  Thad shot him a mental eyeroll. {Freak of science, hoss. Get it right.}

  They slowed as they approached the next checkpoint, buried deep inside the SRU. A shadow detached itself from the bulkhead. The soldier was dressed in Navy greys that sported a holopatch on its right sleeve. It was the SRU’s seal, a stylized carbyne blade embedded in a flame. It confirmed she belonged inside this restricted zone.

  This base of operations was within a sector so classified, it was categorized as a black site. It was the home of Task Force Blue.

  Aside from the warriors billeted there, the people cleared to enter the area were few. All reported directly to Colonel Tala Valenti. She, in turn, reported directly to Duncan Cutter.

  “Sirs.” The lieutenant nodded respectfully. Her security token challenged theirs, and when they cleared, she gestured down the passageway. “The colonel’s in the SCIF. Director Cutter’s on his way. ETA, fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks, LT,” Micah replied.

  Thad clapped him on the shoulder, waved his hand in the air, and gave an exaggerated cough. “C’mon Navy, let’s get you cleaned up before you set off the base’s smoke alarms.”

  “Not looking too pretty yourself there, jarhead.”

  Thad snorted a laugh as they jogged toward TF Blue’s housing.

  Took you long enough. Jonathan’s voice popped into his head. Valenti’s getting impatient.

  As if he knew Micah and Jonathan were mentally conversing, Thad’s head swung his direction when they approached his quarters. “That lazy-ass flyboy on the other end of that woo-woo connection not telling you anything, hoss?”

  Micah shook his head, pausing two doors down. “Nothing, sorry.”

  Thad shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough, ami. Fifteen minutes,” the Marine drawled, pointing a meaty finger in his direction. “Don’t be late.”

  After a quick but much-needed shower, Micah slipped into the SCIF room behind Thad. A quick glance around told him the only other team members in on the meeting were the ‘lazy-ass flyboy’ and Thad’s second, Gabriel Alvarez.

  Gabe’s eyes collided with his, and they exchanged a brief nod. Micah had met the former NCIC special agent nine months earlier, at the receiving end of the other man’s weapon.

  The naval investigator had been annoyed to learn he’d been played. The enemy had given Gabe false information, leading the then-agent to believe Micah was a wanted criminal. Gabe had cornered Micah at a critical moment, and they’d nearly lost one of their own in the process.

  Both Gabe and Micah were determined that Akkadia would someday pay for that, one way or another.

  Micah’s gaze traveled past Gabe to where the colonel sat. He gave a respectful nod before making his way around the table. As Micah slid into his seat, he spared Jonathan a look and saw lines of pain bracketing his mouth.

  Shoulder bothering you again?

  Jonathan’s eyelids flickered. Leave it.

  Two weeks earlier, it had been Micah’s turn to stay behind while his twin deployed. Jonathan had taken several rounds while providing covering fire for a hot extraction of an SRU team. He’d continued to return fire, bracing himself against the ins
ide of Wraith’s hatch until every operative was aboard.

  The team’s medic had stabilized him during the return flight, but the wound had done enough damage that Navy surgeons had suggested simply growing a new limb.

  Jonathan had refused.

  Maybe you should take their advice, have them replace it, like they did your legs?

  Jonathan’s response was immediate, his words causing Micah to flinch.

  I think they’ve cloned enough of me as it is, don’t you?

  The words hung there between them as the silence lengthened. Micah kept his expression neutral, but he could see guilt begin to play over Jonathan’s face.

  Shit. Didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Jonathan’s voice was tinged with regret.

  Just then, Duncan Cutter entered the room, bringing their mental conversation to a halt. With him was Admiral Toland and Captain Addy Moran, deGrasse’s former chief surgeon. Upon their return to Procyon, Admiral Toland had added Addy to Project Rufus as its chief medical advisor. Together, their job was to pick up the shattered pieces of deGrasse’s chiral research and make sense of it.

  “Thanks for coming,” Cutter said as the doors shut behind him.

  The moment they sealed, Micah’s connection to the base’s military net was severed. The SCIF was active.

  “The admiral is here to update us on a developing situation,” the director told them.

  The room’s holoscreen flickered on. An image appeared of a container filled with metal cylinders. Each cylinder was marked with a hazardous materials icon.

  “Admiral?” Cutter invited, waving a hand toward the screen.

  Toland studied the visual for a moment before turning to face those assembled.

  “As you may know, everything we brought back from Luyten’s Star is at the Center for Infectious Diseases in nearby Montpelier,” she said. “We have dedicated labs running tests on the material we were able to salvage. Some experiments can’t be conducted planetside, however, so I sent a small team of trusted personnel to Hawking to set up a smaller, remote testing center.”