Quantum Contingency Read online

  Quantum Contingency

  R. K. Young

  Quantum Contingency

  Biosynth Wars Book One

  Copyright © 2019 R. K. Young

  www.rkyoungbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  To John, the center of my galaxy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  A Note to the Reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  The repair drone jerked twice and fell limp against the edge of the Scorg freighter, an ugly but serviceable livestock transport vessel. The remnant sparks from the EMP blast flickered through the machine’s compact body. It slumped against a ship antenna, and the faded blue outline of the proton shield it had been restitching flickered away, leaving a gaping hole in the freighter’s defense.

  Andromeda Spire pushed the blaster joystick off to the side and repositioned her hands on her bi-wing’s steering controls.

  Anyone who knew Andromeda in her past life, however, would say her name was Mia. Most of them were dead now, but she kept the nickname. It was short and unmemorable. Best for remaining anonymous. Just the way she liked it.

  Especially when you were a one-woman mercenary outfit with a large amount of contracts to run—and zero room for error.

  Just like her present task.

  She pointed her bi-wing’s nose straight into the breach in the shield, tilting the ship up on a diagonal to squeeze through.

  Once inside the larger ship’s artificial atmosphere, she lined the bi-wing up with the top of the freighter. A pair of magnetic tethers shot out the undercarriage of the smaller ship and latched on to the surface below. The slack in the line retracted and pulled the bi-wing in the last few feet to land. Then she locked the throttle in place and slid her fingers over her options screen, setting the emergency power brakes and dimming the lights in the cockpit.

  Most repair drones of that size would be out for ten minutes from her EMP blast. She needed to be quick on her toes. Back onto her ship before anyone knew the difference.

  She hopped out of her seat, pulled at the loose neckline of her fitted shirt, and did a visual check of the black ozone suit underneath. Then she lowered her goggles over her eyes and slid on a tactical helmet.

  She drew in a few breaths to test the airway conversion in her facemask and made sure the last of her pale pink hair was tucked up into the back of the helmet.

  “Perfect. Come on, luck.”

  Truth be told, luck hadn’t been on her side in a long time, but she was hopeful that would change.

  She grabbed the loop of metal rope next to the door and hit the exit button. The single hatch door slid open, and she leaned out into the darkness. Beyond the soft shimmer of the freighter’s shield, infinite space stretched out into the stars.

  A shiver ran down her spine. She tightened her fingers around the rope.

  Her father had always told her to trust her equipment. There was nothing to fear walking in space.

  If only he knew the side hustles she was using her equipment for now.

  Her current contract was small, like most of the jobs she ran for the Scorg. Some petty argument between a divorced couple involving a family heirloom.

  The Scorg lived in clans of loosely related families. They had a real knack for bickering amongst themselves, and luckily for Mia, it supplied her with a steady stream of contracts. She found their clan politics rather ridiculous, but the Scorg paid reliably, and often. She had no complaints as long as it put food on her table.

  And money toward her debts.

  She set her jaw and rolled her neck until it cracked.

  Time to get the job done.

  On the freighter’s surface, the repair drone was still out, sitting next to an open service port. She lassoed the anchor antennae with the free end of her zipline and secured the slack. With a single tug to test the tautness of the line, she whipped an adamantile ribbon over it, pushed off the ship, and slid down to the freighter’s surface.

  The service port was empty, a long square tunnel with an orange glow of artificial light at the other end. She crawled in on her belly.

  She’d studied the ship’s schematics briefly. She knew where to find her targeted heirloom, but there was no way to know where any crewmember might be lurking. She’d have to be on high alert. Especially while sneaking through the livestock pit.

  The service port opened into an empty corridor. Two doors down would be an entrance to a giant bay in the belly of the ship, full of live cargo. She crossed the hall on soft-soled boots and ducked into the foyer of a set of double doors. They slid open at the press of a button.

  The room ran nearly the entire length of the ship, dimly-lit and warm. The lowlights on the ceiling bounced off a thousand bony backs of brown ungs, standing side-by-side and leaning on one another as they slept. She could imagine the wall of stench that would be hitting her full in the face at that moment and gave a heartfelt thanks for her mask. Swimming in cattle with a mask on sure beat sneaking through them on a desert planet where the sand held in the stink.

  The door zipped closed behind her, and she dropped down next to a big brown bull. Her black clothes allowed her to slip into the shadows between them as she moved. The thin suit pressed against her body converted her scent into odorless ozone. She moved through the herd as much of a bother as a fly. The last thing she needed was a spooked mass of animals that would not only crush her but also alert the crew.

  Only a few ungs blew a warm breath at her while the rest continued to doze, but even they didn’t register her as a threat.

  On the far side of the bay, the empty black of an open doorway stood against the metal wall. If her schematic data was correct, her target would be through that door. The caretaker for the ungs and the ex-husband of her latest client.

  Mia peeked into the caretaker’s room. It was darker than the bay, and she pressed a finger to the side of her goggles through her mask to activate their void vision. As if someone had switched on a white light, a short metal locker in the corner and the nearby hanging lamp appeared. Nearer to her was a short bed. Two large, bare feet stuck out from under a blanket.

  She froze.

  All was still
but for the blanket that rose and fell. Slow, steady breaths rolled through the silence. She slipped by the sleeping occupant and over to the locker. It was a manual door with a latch. It creaked when she opened it.

  A crumbled bag sat in the bottom. She reached a hand into it and pushed around clothes and a small concealable blaster before her fingers touched something smooth and round.

  She lifted out the glittering green pendant and settled it into her palm. An oval stone encircled with smaller, clear gems.

  Bingo.

  She slipped the necklace into her hip pocket and eased the locker door back into position.

  Something shifted behind her but before she could turn, an arm slithered around her neck and took hold. A bolt of nerves shot through her body, and she grabbed hold of the forearm.

  The elbow bent down. A short guy. The arm was thick with wiry, curly hair. Scorg.

  She rocked the assailant over her back with a soft grunt and sent him rolling onto the floor a few feet away. His stocky body splayed out onto the smooth metal. She crouched and pulled a knife from the sheath on her boot as he scrambled to his feet.

  He swung a meaty fist at her. She leaned away from the attack and snagged his arm. They twisted silently across the floor. He struggled against her hold. She spun his back against her chest and slipped her knife under his throat. He jerked in surprise and froze.

  She didn’t take on tasks that included killing a target. Mostly theft and delivery.

  But she had also trained how to protect herself. No matter what.

  She grimaced as she pressed the knife in tighter, edging further into the darkness.

  At the back of the room, another doorway opened into a second sleeping quarters. She hadn’t noticed it before. Across from the door was another bed with a nearly identical pair of feet protruding from the blanket. Smaller ones. A tiny orange head with brown braids at the other end. The small Scorg girl’s eyes were closed, and she slept peacefully.

  The man in Mia’s arms struggled.

  “That one yours?” she growled under her breath.

  He nodded on tense shoulders.

  Dammit.

  She didn’t have long to get back out. This guy would squeal. Others on board would flock to them. She closed her eyes for a breath and recalculated her route through the freighter and back out to her ship. Then she pressed the tip of the knife into the Scorg’s throat.

  “Quiet,” she whispered. Then she shoved him.

  He fell face first into the edge of his daughter’s bed, and Mia was on the move.

  She dove into the cattle. A few stomped and snorted this time. She ducked under their heads and bellies. Tension grew. More stomps and grunts. Behind her the Scorg shouted.

  “Thief, stop!”

  She kept moving but ungs threw their heads up left and right. Hooves shuffled and nearly crushed her foot. Then a blast went off. A blue beam hit the back of the animal in front of her. It screamed and fell to its knees.

  Chaos followed. A beefy shoulder smashed into her. She climbed up on top of the closest ung, hopping from one back to the next.

  The double bay doors opened, and two figures stepped in. Mia lunged for the side door platform. The cattle stampeded around in a circle, thrashing and shoving one another. Over the calamity, one of the figures spotted her and pointed as she threw herself at the door.

  In the hallway, another two crewmembers ran toward her. One stopped and drew a blaster.

  Not today, buddy.

  She sprinted at him. His eyes widened, and he held up his gun in wobbly arms. The single shot he managed went over her ducked head.

  Then she leapt at him, planting her hands on his shoulders and vaulting over him. She swung her leg at the second crewman, and it cracked against his jaw, sending him sprawling with a scream. With a final jerk of her wrists, she wrenched the first off his feet before running down an adjacent hallway.

  There was an airlock at the end. Perfect.

  She slid against the door and punched the control panel. The heavy metal door slipped open. She dove into the chamber and slapped at the inner panel. Air compressed with a hiss.

  Through the floor-length window beside the door, she could see two figures turn the corner. In the lead was the half-dressed Scorg she’d tangled with before. His brows were drawn in tight, and he shouted, but his voice was lost behind the thick glass.

  The airlock finished its cycle, and the exterior door opened just as the target reached the glass and slammed his fists against it. She blew him a kiss as she slipped out onto the hull of the ship.

  The exit was on the opposite end of the freighter than she’d entered. Her zipline was still secure far across the hull. She grabbed hold of the nearest anchor bar and used them to climb over to her ship. The service drone was awake again and pointed at her when she approached.

  “Port three,” it chirped. “Calling a forty-five-six. Alert. Alert.”

  The warnings continued as she hauled herself up into the bi-wing.

  “Keep on calling, man,” she said to herself with a grin. “I’m out of here.”

  She detached the zipline at her ship and threw the end out the door before it closed. Then she plopped down in the cockpit and pulled her helmet off her head.

  A screech rolled in from the back of the ship, followed by a tiny creak and flap of wings. A large brown bat landed on the back of her chair as she withdrew the ship anchors.

  “I got it, Wynx,” she said.

  The bat stretched a long, leathery wing over the back of the chair, followed by a synthetic fiber one, and wiggled down onto her shoulder. It chattered a string of chirps into her ear.

  “You know you couldn’t go. You talk too much.”

  Wynx snorted. She pushed the throttle on the ship, and it lifted off the freighter. With one hand on the bi-wing’s controls, she pushed her goggles up onto the top of her head. The bat sniffed around her neck and gave a short squeak. She put a hand in her pocket and pulled out the green gemstone for him to poke.

  “Looks like we’re eating dinner tonight.” She grinned.

  2

  The diner was dingy and smelled like fish, but at least it had more legroom than the cockpit of her rusty loaner ship. Not to mention, a pressurized dining area. She hated trying to eat with an oxygen shield in her mouth.

  Mia stretched her legs out under the table in the corner and held her menu just below eye level. The couple she’d been watching on the far side of the room walked to the exit door.

  “Need something—” The waitress gasped next to her. She was short and plump, a Scorg woman with faded orange skin and a trunk that hung to her chin. Her hand was pressed to her chest, and she stared at Wynx, who’d planted himself in the middle of the table and was nibbling at a slice of fruit on Mia’s plate. He stopped long enough to give the waitress a happy chirp and went back to his meal.

  “Coffee, please,” Mia said and held out her empty mug.

  The waitress smoothed her hands down her green-stained apron and shook the shock from her face.

  “Sure, sugar,” she said as she waddled away.

  Three tables down, a human couple with a toddler ate dinner. The girl giggled and waved a half-eaten sandwich at her father. He smiled and laughed.

  Mia looked away. Wynx put the clawed tip of his synthwing on her hand with a rolling squeak. She smiled at him and scratched him under the chin. He purred.

  “Here we are,” the waitress said. She lifted the coffee pot and poured a steamy stream into the awaiting cup.

  Mia lifted the mug to her lips and surveyed the room again. A group of four tall patrons stood near the door. They spoke with one another in whistles, touching and pulling on each other’s arms. One laughed, snorting hard enough to send him bumping into a companion. Mia grinned into her coffee cup.

  She had no idea what they were saying, but it never deterred her from watching the flow of diners that came and went.

  Mandoorum sat on the edge of the galaxy and drew a larger variety
of interesting intergalactic travelers than most of its neighboring planets. Even the lone human with blue spiked hair and a green bird on his shoulder drew her eyes. He didn’t speak to the waitress but whispered to the bird when he thought no one was looking.

  When another Scorg woman stepped through the front door, Mia sat up. A smaller green-skinned humanoid with a heavy limp and deep frown lines trailed behind.

  The Scorg had an usually long trunk, and it jerked left and right until the woman spotted Mia. Then her face lit up like the port tarmac in rush hour.

  “It’s you!” She scurried over. Mia always told her clients to follow the pink hair. “Spire, isn’t it?”

  Mia nodded.

  The Scorg woman slid into the opposite side of the booth with a grin. Wynx looked up at her with fruit rind hanging from his mouth. The lady stopped a breath as she stared at him, forced a small smile, and looked back to Mia.

  “Cute. Did you get it?”

  Mia pulled the pendant from her pocket and held it out over the table. The Scorg squealed, kicking the table with her large, bare feet. Then she reached for the gem with trembling fingers. Mia pulled it back an inch. The two met eyes, and the Scorg threw up her hands with a grin.

  “Yes, payment. You wanted coins?”

  Mia nodded.

  The woman skewed her face with a tilt of her head. “Whatever. Your call. The coins, Ghava,” she said over her shoulder.