First Colony: Books 1 - 3

by Ken Lozito

  “I had my intelligence analyst pull your records from the shuttle. They sent me the information you intended to file in your report. A mass-destruction NESS was deployed throughout Chronos Station. The NESS was brought online and activated, causing catastrophic destruction to the station. Nowhere does this report say it was you who detonated the thing, and I know a team like yours doesn’t bring enough ordnance to destroy an entire space station,” Wilkinson said.

  “She used the transponder codes from our own NESS so when the salvage teams go through the wreckage, all fingers will be pointed at me and my team,” Connor said.

  “You think you’re the first person to get kicked in the balls?”

  “I don’t know how you can equate me getting kicked in the balls with millions of people dying. If I had the bitch in my sights right now, I’d pull the trigger, no hesitation,” Connor said.

  Admiral Wilkinson sucked in a deep breath. “I need to know who you have left on Earth.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Wilkinson let out a bitter laugh. “Stubborn right to the end. Your father was the same way. You’re so angry you can hardly see straight and realize that I’m trying to help you. If you have anyone on Earth who’s important to you, I need to know so they can be protected.”

  Connor swallowed hard. “Alyssa, my ex, and our son, Sean.”

  “I need more than names. I need last known locations. When was the last time you spoke to them?”

  Connor’s mind raced as he tried to think of the last time he’d seen his son. “It’s been a few years,” he said, his own voice sounding rough.

  “How old is Sean now?”

  Connor frowned. “He’d be eleven years old now.”

  A deep pang crushed Connor’s chest. The primal need to protect his son that only showed itself in the quiet moments between missions pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

  “You haven’t seen your son in years?” Wilkinson asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

  “He needed a father who was going to be there for him, not someone who was away on deployment eleven months out of the year . . .”

  Wilkinson shook his head. “A boy deserves to have a father in his life, even if that father is married to the mission.”

  Connor’s vision swam as if he were looking down a long tunnel. A spike of adrenaline pushed the darkness back and he felt as if he were sinking into the chair. “What have you done to me?”

  Connor looked toward the door where his team was and surged to his feet. He took a step and stumbled to the floor.

  The admiral knelt down beside him. “Try to relax.”

  “The doctor didn’t give me a booster shot,” Connor said, his words slurring as if he were drunk on too much whiskey.

  He tried to crawl, but his arms and legs wouldn’t move. The last thing that registered in his mind was the southern drawl of Lieutenant Kim speaking.

  Admiral Wilkinson rose to his feet and looked down at the unconscious form of Connor Gates. He’d promised David that he’d look after his son, which had been all but impossible with Connor choosing to join the special forces.

  “It took them all a while to go down,” Doctor Kim said and waved for his staff to come in and retrieve Connor.

  “To be expected. The Ghosts would no doubt all have been using the latest implants and nanite technology that aren’t available anywhere else,” Wilkinson said. “Your staff . . . have they been briefed?”

  “Of course, sir, as you specified. We were never here and none of this happened,” Lieutenant Kim said. “But can I ask you a question, sir?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I just don’t understand why.”

  Wilkinson sighed and regarded the doctor. “I’ve served the NA Alliance for a long time. Life for the cause, but sometimes the laws and procedures we fight to protect aren’t good enough to effectively judge our soldiers. The Ghosts deserved better than what they were going to get.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you so certain they would have been implicated, much less convicted of a crime?”

  “The Syndicate has a lot of influence, and I’m unwilling to take the chance, not when I have a debt to pay.”

  Stasis tubes were being lined up in the hallway.

  “Sir, what happens to them now?” Lieutenant Kim asked.

  “You and your staff have done a great service, but your task is done,” Wilkinson said.

  The lieutenant’s eyes widened, and Wilkinson was once again struck by a doctor’s sense of entitlement. “We can’t just leave them here. They need to be monitored . . .” The lieutenant’s voice trailed off as a squad of soldiers without rank or insignia marched down the hallway.

  “They’ll be taken care of, I promise,” Wilkinson said.

  The mobile medical unit left them, and Wilkinson made a mental note to have them watched to be sure they kept their mouths shut.

  One of the soldiers approached. “We’re here to transport the cargo, sir.”

  “One minute,” Wilkinson said, and the soldier stepped to the side.

  Wilkinson reached into his pocket and withdrew a data storage stick. He walked over to Connor’s stasis tube and opened the access panel, glancing at the stick that held the recorded message he’d hastily done while Connor was in with the doctors. After a moment he shoved it inside and closed the panel. He’d done all he could.

  Wilkinson turned around. “Daniels,” he said, “take these containers to the Ark Project and mark them for transfer to permanent storage. At no time are these containers to be out of your care until they’re permanently stowed. Is that clear?”

  “Absolutely, sir. We’ll report back to you when it’s finished,” Daniels said.

  Wilkinson knew the soldier could be trusted, but he still had a lot of favors to call in to make this work. He would have liked to have done more. Lord knows Connor deserved better than this, and he hoped that one day Connor would forgive him for what was about to happen. But . . . better to ask forgiveness than permission.

  “Carry on,” Wilkinson said and returned to the small office.

  “Ship’s log,” Wilkinson said. The ship’s computer chimed, indicating the log was open. “Indianapolis was the first ship to find the wreckage of Chronos Station. Preliminary scans indicate there were no survivors or ships detected nearby. We’ll be conducting an investigation and reporting our findings.

  “Computer, package the log and beam a transmission back to COMCENT.”

  5

  Connor felt something tugging him from a deep sleep. The more awake he became, the more he became aware of the tingling pain he felt in his hands and feet. It felt as if his eyes were pinned down by steel weights and refused all his attempts to open them. There was something hard in his throat. He heard the sound of muffled voices speaking but couldn’t understand them. Connor tried to cough, and his throat muscles worked to expel the hard rod that was in his mouth. He raised his hands, but someone held him down. The tube in his throat was yanked out. He winced and coughed weakly, spitting out a foul-tasting liquid as someone helped roll him to his side.

  “Give yourself a few moments to adjust. We’ve just pulled you from stasis,” a woman’s voice said.

  Connor couldn’t tell if he was just having a really bad dream or if he’d awakened to a nightmare where he was trapped in his own body, unable to move.

  “Can he answer questions yet?” a man’s voice shrilled.

  Though Connor couldn’t open his eyes, the man’s tone grated on his nerves.

  “Not yet, Dr. Baker. He’s only just come around,” the woman said.

  Connor heard someone stomp across the floor.

  “I don’t know how this could have happened. Dr. Peter Faulkner, the eminent planetary scientist, was supposed to be in his pod. That’s not him,” the man said.

  Sounds of footsteps stomped closer to Connor.

  “Hey, can you hear me? We need to know your name.”

  “Doctor, please. He
just needs a few minutes for the stasis drugs to wear off. We’ve got revival protocols to follow. Perhaps you should step outside.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me, Kara.”

  “Of course, Dr. Baker,” Kara said.

  Connor was gently rolled onto his back, and the bed he was in started to rise. It was hard to think. He pushed his eyes open, and it was like trying to see through thick syrup. Connor squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. Someone pressed a cool wet towel on his face and wiped the gooey substance from his eyes. Connor opened them and saw a young woman looking down at him. She smiled.

  “Take it easy and give the revival cocktail some time to work. You’re likely to feel a bit off until it starts to kick in,” Kara said.

  Connor cleared his throat. Everything about his body felt wrong.

  “Drink this. It will help,” Kara said and put a straw in his mouth.

  Connor sucked down the liquid, which contained a faint trace of cinnamon. He drank a few mouthfuls and coughed because his throat refused to work properly. A thin man with beady eyes glared at him.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “Doctor—” Kara began.

  Dr. Baker swung his beady eyes toward the woman. “Thank you, Kara. I’ll take it from here. I’m sure you have other patients to check on.”

  Kara glanced at Connor regretfully. “I’ll be just outside,” she said and left the room.

  Dr. Baker walked to the side of the bed, snapping his fingers in front of Connor’s face and then by his ears. He shined a bright light in Connor’s face. Connor tried to raise his arm, and the doctor glanced down.

  “Motor control and response to stimuli are normal,” Dr. Baker said. He leaned down. “So I know you can hear me. I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’d better start answering questions.”

  “What are you talking about?” Connor said, his voice sounding gravelly in his own ears.

  “This is taking too long,” Dr. Baker said and crossed the room. He pulled a syringe from a container and filled it with clear liquid from a vial.

  Connor tried to wave the doctor off, but he was too weak.

  “Now, this will sting a little,” Dr. Baker said and jabbed the thick needle into Connor’s thigh.

  White fiery pain shot through his system as if there were lightning burning through his veins. Connor screamed and grabbed the doctor by his shirt, pulling him in. Dr. Baker’s eyes widened, and Connor growled as he shoved the doctor across the room. Whatever the doctor had given him had made him able to move, so Connor stood up as the doctor turned around. He limped over and grabbed the doctor, pulling him off balance while driving his knee into the doctor’s chest.

  “I’m sick of doctors sticking me with stuff, asshole,” Connor said.

  He shoved the stunned doctor into the wall, and the beady-eyed tyrant collapsed to the floor.

  Connor became aware of a sharp pain in his thigh and saw that the syringe was still in his leg. He yanked it out and clutched it like a knife. “Let’s see how you like being stuck.”

  Connor charged across the room, fist raised, but the door to the room opened and someone tackled him to the floor. Strong hands grabbed his arm, and he let go of the syringe. A man in a blue uniform tried to pin Connor down, but Connor twisted around and punched the guy in the stomach multiple times, then drove his palm up into the man’s face. The man fell off him and Connor was on his feet instantly. There were screams coming from the hallway, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Something hit him in the back, and a jolt of electricity brought Connor to his knees. He collapsed forward and his cheek slapped against the floor. A small amount of drool escaped his mouth and he groaned.

  “What’s going on here?” someone asked with the voice of authority.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Quinn. I left him alone with Dr. Baker and then I heard shouting coming from the room,” Kara said.

  “Alright. Let’s get him up in that bed. Get the restraints on him,” Dr. Quinn said.

  Connor felt himself being lifted and taken back to his bed. Metallic straps raced across his body, securing him in place. He lay there, knowing the effects of the stunner used on him would only last for a short while. He watched as they carried Dr. Baker out and felt a small bit of satisfaction when he saw blood dripping down the doctor’s face from a shallow gash on his forehead. He was really starting to hate doctors. Connor closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Later on, Connor woke up again. He was alone in the room and the metallic restraints were still wrapped around his body so he couldn’t move. The door opened and an older woman walked in, her long brown hair pulled back. She regarded him like a mother would a misbehaving child.

  “You’re awake. Have you calmed down?”

  Connor nodded. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but he felt more refreshed than he had before.

  “Good. I’m Ashley Quinn, head medical doctor on the Ark.”

  Great. Another damn doctor. “As long as you don’t go sticking me with any needles, we’ll get along fine,” Connor said.

  Ashley’s lips curved. “Dr. Baker’s bedside manner leaves much to be desired. I’m sorry about that.”

  “You can say that again,” Connor replied.

  He tried to stretch, but the restraints kept him in place.

  “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t stick you with any needles unless you give me the okay, and I’ll even let you out of those restraints if you promise not to attack anyone else. Deal?” Ashley said.

  Connor nodded.

  Ashley pressed her lips together. “I need to hear you say it.”

  Connor blew out a breath. “I promise. Why are you treating me like a child?”

  “Vocalization of a promise has a higher success rate,” Ashley said.

  She tapped a few commands into her tablet computer and the metallic restraints retracted back into the bed.

  Connor raised his arms and stretched, letting out a large yawn followed by a sigh. He hated being tied down. He glanced at the doctor. She was a handsome woman, and her confident gaze held none of the telltale signs of inexperience, despite her outward appearance. A wedding ring gleamed from her left hand.

  “Where am I?” Connor asked.

  “That’s the real question, isn’t it? I’m afraid it’s going to take a bit of explaining,” Ashley said and regarded him for a moment. “You look like you could stand stretching your legs a bit. Would you like to take a short walk?”

  Connor looked down at his appearance. He had on a white close-knit unitard that strained against his muscles.

  Ashley turned around and opened a cabinet door, pulling out some clothes, along with a pair of slippers, and tossing them on the bed. “I’ll step outside while you get dressed. Then we can talk about where we are. And I’d like to find out more about you and what you remember.”

  Dr. Quinn turned and left the room. Connor glanced at the door as it shut and sighed. He pulled off the unitard and took a quick sniff. A musky scent assaulted his nostrils, and he flung the unitard into a container marked for laundry. He really wanted to take a shower and wash, but there was no bathroom in the room. He put on the gray shirt and sweatpants Dr. Quinn had found. The synthetic cotton felt soft against his skin. He slipped his feet into the slippers and headed for the door.

  Connor stepped out into a long hallway where people were walking about from room to room. All of them were wearing some kind of blue uniform with a golden sunburst patch on the shoulder. He frowned, trying to remember where he’d seen that symbol before, but the vague memory remained stubbornly out of reach. To his left were two men with shock-sticks on their belts. The looks they gave him were neither challenging nor relenting.

  “My office is up this way on the left,” Dr. Quinn said.

  Connor glanced at the two men and raised his eyebrows.

  “You did cause quite a ruckus when they woke you up. Tim and Theo are here just in case,” Dr. Quinn said.

  Connor nodded, and they started walk
ing down the hallway. He glanced inside some of the rooms and they all had stasis pods in them. None of the rooms had windows, so he couldn’t use that to determine where he was. Connor found that the more he walked, the less stiff he became.

  “I can have lunch brought up if you’re hungry,” Dr. Quinn said.

  Connor frowned. “Why are you trying to be nice to me? It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but . . .”

  “I’ve found that common courtesy can go a long way, and I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” Dr. Quinn said.

  She opened a door to an office with a wide desk. Behind the desk was a window, but it was grayed out, so he couldn’t see outside.

  “Have a seat,” she said and told Tim and Theo to wait outside.

  Connor sat down in one of the plush chairs on the opposite side of the desk. Dr. Quinn sat down on the business side and opened up an info terminal.

  “Okay, is this where the interrogation begins, Dr. Quinn?” Connor asked.

  “No need to be so formal. You can call me Ashley if you want,” she said and seemed to consider him for a moment. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve served in the military.”

  Connor didn’t reply.

  “I need to ask you a couple of questions before we get to explaining where we are. First, can you tell me the year?” Ashley asked.

  “It’s 2217,” Connor said.

  Ashley noted his answer. “Will you tell me your name?”

  “Gates, Connor.”

  “So you are in the military,” Ashley said.

  “I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am.”

  Ashley smiled. “Ma’am. That’s one I don’t hear too often anymore,” she said and entered his name into the info terminal. She waited a moment and then glanced at him. “It says here that you were NA Alliance Special Forces and you were killed in action.”

  Connor frowned and his gaze narrowed.

  “Here, look,” Ashley said and tapped a few commands in so a holoscreen appeared over the desk for him to see.

  Connor’s eyes widened. He was looking at his own service record, which was supposed to be sealed since he was black ops and the CO of the Ghosts.