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The Genome Rally (Sic Transit Terra Book 4)

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by Arlene F. Marks

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ABOUT THE BOOK GENRE:   Science Fiction   Action & Adventure   Space Opera     KINDLE     KOBO     NOOK     i-BOOK     google PLAY     AMAZON.COM     AMAZON.CA E-BOOK: ISBN: 9781770531833 EPUB, MOBI $5.99 US Paperback: ISBN: 9781770531840 Trade Paperback 5.5" X 8.5" $14.95 US $19.95 CDN 284 pages BISAC:   FIC28000   FIC028010   FIC028030

The Genome Rally (Sic Transit Terra Book 4) by Arlene F. Marks Copyright © 2018 by Arlene F. Marks CHAPTER 1 Transfer Point Charlie sat roughly equidistant from four separate Gates, each leading to a different sector of Earth space. Like all such installations, it was kept secure by a resident detachment of Rangers who took their job quite seriously. As he stepped through the portal from the screening area, Watch Commander Gael Dedrick paused to readjust his clothing. It had been a long time since he’d been so thoroughly examined by someone without a medical degree. The waiting area was designed to resemble an airfield lounge. Clusters of falsahyde chairs and sofas randomly populated a huge open space monitored by securecams. Everything was either low or transparent, to avoid interrupting the surveillance eyes’ line of sight. At the center of each furniture grouping was a plastiplex service module offering a variety of snacks and beverages, all packaged in colorful, edible containers. Dedrick scanned the room, not really surprised to find that nothing had changed in the past nine standard years. There was still no hope of privacy here, except perhaps in the unobtrusively marked washrooms (and even that wasn’t an odds-on bet). There was no escape from reality, either — InfoComm light screens had been mounted on every wall, putting nonstop news programming at seated eye level. At least the sound was muted. It was a small mercy, he thought as he dropped onto a dark green armchair. Another bit of luck was that he had apparently arrived between dockings on a very slow day. The lounge was empty, and the next transport going to Riviera Hub wasn’t scheduled to stop here for another standard hour. He eyed the chocolate brown sofa to his immediate right. It appeared long enough to accommodate his nearly two meters of height, and sixty-four minutes gave him plenty of time for a nap. "Commander Dedrick!" a voice called behind him. Curious, Gael turned in his seat. A stocky man with familiar-looking features was striding across the room toward him. The hopeful smile on the newcomer’s lips was belied by a hardness behind his eyes, and it was the hardness that twigged Dedrick’s memory, flashing into his mind the image of an advocate in a dark blue business suit, seated behind a desk. "You may not remember me," said the man, settling himself with a grunt onto the cushion at the near end of the sofa. "It’s been about thirteen years." "Actually, I do. Mister … Chase, isn’t it?" The man nodded, visibly impressed. "You’re the one who read my uncle’s will, back in ’87. So it’s 2400 C.E. on Earth now?" "It is. We turned the century seven and a half months ago." "Quite a coincidence, our running into each other like this," Dedrick remarked. Before replying, Chase drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and pushing out his chest. "It’s not a coincidence at all, Commander. I asked to be notified when you next took leave, so that I could arrange to meet you here. As the executor of Dennis Forrand’s estate, I have one more duty to perform. His final bequest, to be given to his last surviving relative." Dedrick frowned. "I’m not the last." "It’s a matter of semantics, isn’t it?" said Chase with a shrug. "You’re his last legitimate relative. Dennis Forrand was quite the ladies’ man in his youth. If I tried to track down every errant twig on his family tree, I’d have no time for anything else, and I do have other pressing matters to attend to. So, since he is not in a position to contradict me, here we are. And here you are." The advocate extended his hand. Dedrick paused, staring at the datawafer resting on the other man’s palm. "Please, take it," said Chase. "It’s a shame your uncle died before he could see what a fine officer you’ve become. I think he would have been exceptionally proud of you. And if I may say so, I also think he would have agreed with me that you more than anyone ought to have this." Reluctantly, Dedrick picked up the wafer with a thumb and forefinger. As the rest of his hand closed around it, he was startled to feel a curious tingling sensation. "What the—?" Chase’s bland expression matched his tone of voice as he said, "Don’t be alarmed, Commander. Your DNA has just decrypted the contents of the file. Anyone else’s will re-encrypt it. All they’ll hear if they try to read it will be a poorly-recorded compilation of music." Scowling, Dedrick warned, "If this is some kind of joke—!" "I assure you, Commander, there’s nothing remotely amusing about it. The protection that’s been placed around this information is entirely warranted, as you’ll understand once you’ve read it." "What the devil is in this file?" Chase leaned in, prompting Dedrick to do the same, and lowered his voice. "I’m under strict instructions not to discuss it with you. However, I must caution you that the contents of this wafer are a closely guarded family secret, to be viewed in privacy and only on an offline playback device, what members of your generation refer to as ‘rogue technology’. Such a device will shortly be falling into your hands. Do not activate it anywhere near an InfoComm unit. Disable the vox and use the keypad only. And tell absolutely no one what you now have or where it came from." This man was delusional, Dedrick decided. Tell no one about an exchange that had just taken place in an area bristling with monitored recording devices? Then he noticed the light screen on the opposite wall. There was nothing on it but static. Swiveling his gaze, Dedrick saw the same thing on every screen in the room. A jamming field had been activated. Alarms should have gone off immediately. Why hadn’t they? "When did you—?" "As I said, Commander, there was nothing coincidental about this meeting. And now I must leave you." "What if I have questions? How can I reach you?" "I’m afraid you can’t. I’ve closed my office on Earth and am on my way home to deal with some rather urgent problems, so I won’t be available for the foreseeable future." "You’re from a colony?" Chase grinned mirthlessly and got to his feet. "You might say that. Good luck, Commander. Enjoy your stay on Riviera Hub." Without another word, the advocate headed for one of the embarkation portals. As soon as he passed through the door, all the light screens in the room switched back to displaying the continuous approved news feed. Dedrick returned his attention to the datawafer cupped in his hand. It looked so innocent, so utterly ordinary. And yet… A closely guarded family secret, Chase had said. The Forrand fortune had been made in pharmaceuticals, almost literally a cutthroat industry since the pandemic of 2172. This could well be some sort of proprietary chemical formula that a competing firm would love to get its mitts on. Or it could be something much darker and more dangerous. It could even be worth killing for. With that thought, a floodgate opened in his mind, releasing a torrent of unpleasant realizations. If Chase had known where to find him, others might know as well. Dedrick was tall and strong, but he could still be surprised and overpowered. With a growing sense of unease, he slipped the wafer into his jacket pocket and sealed the lip shut. There could be no napping or even dropping his guard now, not until he learned exactly what sort of "hot potato" dear Uncle Dennis had handed off to him. —— «» —— WELCOME TO RIVIERA HUB! WELCOME! WELCOME! With suitcase in hand, Dedrick exited the docking ramp, negotiated a more crowded version of the waiting lounge at the transfer point, and stepped through the arching portal beneath that effusively flashing sign. He was now in a hallway tarted up to look like a boardwalk on the beach. He measured its length in long, purposeful strides, nominally registering the brightly colored façades of the snack shops and souvenir stands that lined one side of the corridor, and no more than glancing at the holographic mural of a tropical lagoon that occupied the other. Gael Dedrick hadn’t come here to relax and have fun in the simulated sun. That was just a cover story. He was meeting an old family friend with connections, someone he hoped could help him make a problem go away. It was a risky enough undertaking without the added worry of what might be on that damned datawafer. The micro-circuited slip of plastiplex had been front of his mind for days now, unsettling his thoughts and abrading his mood. By the time he’d debarked from the transport vessel, he was cursing himself for letting curiosity overrule his common sense and accepting a gift — any gift — from Dennis Forrand, alive or dead. Growing up as the nephew of a largely disliked Supreme Adjudicator had made Dedrick more sensitive than most to the power wielded by those in control of the truth. Power and secrets seemed to go together. Every influential family on Earth had something lurking in its past, some blot or taint or evil deed that waited, like a land mine in a meadow, for an innocent to stumble onto it and blow himself sky-high. Before Angel of Death had broken out, the Forrands had been one of the five most powerful families on Earth. Gael had always suspected that it also meant they had more than their share of ugly secrets. Now the power was gone, along with the Forrand name, and it all came down to him — Dennis Forrand’s last surviving legitimate heir — and whatever unspeakable truth Forrand had decided to entrust to him. For what purpose? he wondered. As leverage, so he could rebuild the Forrand empire? Not a chance. Gael was a spacer and always would be. Spacers tended to spend as little time on Earth as possible. So, it had come as no surprise to anyone that he’d chosen to take his R and R on one of the resort hubs. Fleet personnel on leave liked to party. They generally requested billeting located as close as possible to the action. However, Dedrick had reserved quarters for one in Beachfront Ring, the one farthest from the social sector in the station’s core. It also tended to be the most sparsely occupied, a situation that suited his current mission, not to mention his current mood, to perfection. The tube car let him off in a hallway that had seen better days. If there had been a worn carpet on the deck or fraying curtains on the viewports, he would have described it as shabby. Instead, the word "weary" sprang to mind. Someone had apparently spared considerable effort while this last part of the hub was being built. The interior bulkheads, uniformly plaincoated a nondescript bluish gray, were visibly patched in places, and numerous dings and scrapes had simply been painted over. At least the deck under his feet was even, saving Dedrick from having to constantly watch his step. He located the correctly numbered door and pressed his thumb to the lock. With a low hum, the metal slab slid aside, admitting him into a room about the same size and shape as his suite aboard the Marco Polo. The décor was a pleasant surprise. Mainly burnt orange and shades of gold, the colors reminded him of a painting he’d once seen of an Earth forest in autumn. Dedrick didn’t need much beyond the creature comforts. Fortunately, they all appeared to be present. From the entrance, he was able to identify a more-than-ample bed, a bright green table and two matching chairs, and a partly-closed wall panel that suggested the location of the personal hygiene closet. Before he could explore any further, a crackling sound made him turn to his left, where a hologram had materialized. "Welcome to Riviera Hub, Watch Commander Gael Dedrick," said the hologram in a cheerful, if staticky, voice. "I am Jeeves, your concierge. My purpose is to ensure that your vacation is as relaxing and enjoyable as possible. If you need anything, tell me and I will have it brought to you. If anything displeases you, tell me and I will have it corrected or repaired at once. If there is anything I can do to enhance or improve your holiday experience, request it and I will comply. To summon me, simply call my name and I will appear." The image was sketchy at best. It pixilated in random bursts, as though it were absorbing small caliber weapons fire, and the sound quality left a lot to be desired. Nonetheless, this was clearly meant to be a version of the manically grinning bellboy depicted beside the Hub’s logo in the InfoComm ad. The figure in the ad wore a sharply pressed, burgundy-colored uniform with dark blue stripes on the cuffs and down the sleeves of the jacket, and a large, ornately scripted golden ‘R’ embossed over the left breast pocket. The figure Dedrick was staring at now looked dingy and rumpled, as though he’d just been pulled out of a gutter somewhere after an interval-long drinking binge while wearing that same uniform. Somehow it seemed appropriate. This Jeeves was old technology, relegated to the least desirable part of the station. Eventually he would be replaced by an upgraded version of himself. Or maybe he would just be scrapped and not replaced at all. It was rather sad, actually. The hologram looked more like a ghost. Dedrick could probably have walked through it to get to the sleeping area, but he’d been Fleet-trained to protect the weak and helpless and chose to step around it instead. "I need information, Jeeves," he said, swinging his suitcase onto the bedcovers and flipping it open. "I have full access to the hub’s intranet. What is your question, sir?" "Are there any messages for me?" "You have one message." Gael waited for more, realizing after a long moment of silence that Jeeves was even older than he’d thought. The concierge had little or no intuitiveness. "Please repeat the message to me." "Of course, sir! ‘Meet me in the Luau Lounge at eighteen hundred hours station time.’" "Did the sender provide a name?" "No, sir." Dedrick paused thoughtfully. His contact was exercising caution. He should probably do the same and assume that whatever he said in the presence of this hologram was being recorded somewhere. "And what time is it now, Jeeves?" "The current station time is seventeen hundred forty-two hours." He did a quick mental calculation. Twenty-two standard minutes gave him just enough time to wash up and change his clothes before heading out to the rendezvous point. "Thank you, Jeeves. You can go now." "Very good, sir. Have an enjoyable evening." And with that, the concierge seemed to implode before his eyes.

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