Authors: David VanDyke
Tags: #thriller, #adventure, #action, #military, #science fiction, #aliens, #space, #war, #plague, #apocalyptic, #virus, #spaceship, #combat
The Orion Plague
Plague Wars Series Book 4
by
David VanDyke
Smashwords Edition
Published by David VanDyke
Copyright 2012 David VanDyke
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62626-018-4
This ebook is licensed for your personal
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author.
No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means
whatsoever (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without prior
written permission and consent from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, businesses and incidents are either products of
the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
Thanks to my friends and fellow
science-fiction authors Vaughn Heppner and B.V. Larson, for their
tireless encouragement, for persevering and showing me the way.
Thanks to my readers – my lovely wife Beth,
my brother Andrew, my father Chet, my friend and fellow author Ryan
King, and the members of our Friday Night Writes group – Carol
Scheina, R. Brian Roser, and Duane Lee, talented authors all - for
their excellent critiques; their feedback has made me a better
writer and this book a better novel.
Cover design by
Humblenations.com
Plague Wars Series
The Eden Plague - Book 1
The Demon Plagues - Book 2
The Reaper Plague - Book 3
The Orion Plague - Book 4
Comes The Destroyer - Book 5
, coming
Summer 2013
Stellar Conquest Series
First Conquest
-
Book 1
a
Novella, coming Spring 2013
Desolator - Book 2
coming Spring
2013
Other Works
Unfettered
Low Justice
For more information visit
http://www.davidvandykeauthor.com/
Aboard the Meme survey craft, ten months
from Earth's Solar System.
Biologist reluctantly answered Commander’s
queries regarding the effectiveness of its phage deployment upon
the Blue Planet of Species 666, that called themselves
Humans
. “Although casualties have approached twenty-five
percent, the indigenes have countered each phage sufficiently to
survive and preserve their technology.”
“You said probability of full infection was
eighty percent!”
“Unfortunately eighty percent is not
certain,” Biologist whined.
“The facts are not in dispute. You are the
Biologist, you must form a plan to achieve success.” Commander
mused upon his role, to coordinate, motivate, and decide. Stating
the obvious to its subordinates became tiresome. In fact, simply
being trapped here in this ship with them was tiresome.
“Biologist has failed,” Executive broke in.
“We must initiate my alternate plan.”
“We are not warriors or engineers!”
complained Biologist.
“I have sufficient depth of memory to carry
out the operation,” Executive said confidently. “My plan will
succeed where yours has failed. My plan will wipe out species
666.”
“Then with whom shall we Blend? I grow weary
of this form. I desire to achieve the next stage!” Biologist
protested.
“If you are so eager to exercise your lusts,
why don't you Blend with a lower life form?” Executive’s molecular
voice was tinged with contempt.
“Enough!” Commander raised his volume of
communication. “Biologist, you shall continue to create phages to
confound or kill the
Humans
. Executive, once we have
gathered information, we will put your plan into effect. Better to
eradicate them than be punished with dissolution for allowing
another Species 447.”
All three shuddered at the mention of their
ancient nemesis. Executive replied, “Agreed. I shall locate a
suitable asteroid as soon as we enter their star system.”
Marine Master Sergeant Jill Repeth paced
back and forth in the musty canvas smell of an unused Civil Affairs
Battalion tent. A few folding tables, some chairs, and an easel
with a super-sized paper pad were all it held. The battalion staff
had long since moved into the abandoned school next door. She
resisted the urge to check outside again and told herself to have
patience, but her supply was short these days.
She rubbed her hands together. Dirt and dead
skin sloughed off in little rolls as the innumerable cuts and
scrapes of combat healed. Slowly. She wondered if her Eden Plague
was somehow running out of juice, then dismissed the idea.
Not enough sleep, not enough decent
food,
she thought.
That’s all. The virus supercharges the
body but it’s not magic. I need a break.
Then,
Rick won’t get a break. It’s been
weeks since he was taken.
She felt like hitting someone, kicking
someone. She’d been doing a lot of that lately, and it was wearing
away at her conscience. Most times whoever she’d punched deserved
it. Sometimes not. Her troops always covered for her; bruises would
heal, and edginess was chalked up to the stress of war.
Half of me is missing, and it’s the inside
half.
She felt like her skin had thinned, reversed
itself, and turned to sandpaper. Everyone and everything irritated.
Colonel Muzik came to talk to her from time to time, and she
appreciated it. Tolerated it. But in reality she’d been living for
the day when they took her off the leash so she could go find
Rick.
Is this love?
She wondered about that.
Or is it just loss, frustration, lust for vengeance?
No one
had ever affronted her like Scott Stone, the Psycho they called the
Professor.
It wasn’t the manhandling, or the threats of
rape. Not even the utter disregard and disrespect he showed for
her. No, he had stolen her soul mate, and
that
she could not
abide.
In her more reflective moments she knew her
thinking was suspect. Real love was not possessive.
Love is
patient, love is kind, is not puffed up, seeks not its own.
Well she sure as hell was seeking her own and if that violated
divine principles, then Saint Paul could stuff it. She thought
about trying to get through to Christine Forman, but frankly she
didn’t think she wanted to hear what her chaplain friend had to
say.
When Rick had first been captured she’d told
herself they would run across him eventually, but with every other
success came the news that he was nowhere to be found. She’d
mentally prepared to come upon him lying dead somewhere. She’d
stayed focused, on task, and had not let personal concerns get in
her way until Fredericksburg and its slaves were freed. But the
report that he had been sent away, traded or sold to some “shadow
men” with “burn rooms” had eaten away at her. She’d worked like a
demon to complete the tasks given her, waiting weeks for the day
she would be freed to do what she must.
That day had come.
“Master Sergeant?” A short, slightly fleshy
soldier poked his head into the tent.
“Grusky. Good to see you. I see you put on
SFC.”
“Yes I did.” He slapped his chest where the
three-up, two-down insignia of Sergeant First Class, E-7, showed.
“Thanks to your fitness report and the Bronze Star.”
“You earned it. Listen, can you look outside
and see if anyone you know is wandering around?” She checked her
watch. “It’s still five till, but I would have expected more to
show by now.”
“Sure, Master Sergeant.” He looked puzzled
but walked out. Five minutes later he led three more people in.
“Lockerbie, Donovan, good to see you. Butler,
sorry about Shute.”
“Yeah, thanks, Master Sergeant. But we kicked
their asses.” The young sergeant swallowed his grief for his best
friend and glared hotly around, as if looking for something to
attack.
“Yes, we did.” Jill took a deep breath. “Sit
down, everyone.” She motioned toward the chairs, then took one
herself.
“What’s this all about?” asked Grusky. “I got
pulled off my next security mission and got told to report here.
Them too.” He hooked a thumb at the rest.
“That’s because I asked for you. I need some
people I can trust, to help me go after Rick Johnstone.”
“The liaison officer? Why is that our job?”
Grusky stared at her for a moment as realization set in. “Ooh,
right.”
Air Force Staff Sergeant Lockerbie smirked,
then smoothed her face when Repeth glared at her. “Sorry, Master
Sergeant, I wasn’t smiling at you, just at what he said.” She
nodded at Grusky.
“What?” asked Butler. “I don’t get it.”
“You wouldn’t, you corn-fed hick.” Lockerbie
punched Butler in the shoulder. He blushed.
Grusky’s eyes lit up wickedly. “Ooh, right.
You guys too? Looks like Donovan and I are the only ones not got
the bug.”
“Yes, and if you boys fell in love with each
other we’d all be symmetrical,” Repeth snarled, bringing shocked
looks to everyone’s faces. “Now let’s dispense with the bullshit
and get our heads in the game, shall we? I’ve been given authority
to put together a team, and you’re it.”
“A rescue team?” Grusky asked carefully.
“We’re MPs, Master Sergeant, not spec ops. Don’t you want some of
those new nanocommandos we keep hearing about?”
“Even if I could get some, which I can’t, I
wouldn’t want them. They’re unreliable. Too many go berserk. I
don’t think people were made to have tiny machines running around
in their bodies. At least not yet.”