Chaos Theory

Cosmic Lovely #1

CHAOS THEORY

Penelope Fletcher

Copyright © 2012 Penelope Fletcher

All rights reserved by the Author.

Smashwords Edition

British English

Cover Design

Penelope Fletcher

All characters and events in this novel are fictitious and
resemblance to real persons, living or dead, are purely
coincidental. No part of this novel may be reproduced, stored or
transmitted without the prior permission in writing from the
author, unless brief quotes for reviews.

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PART
ONE: CONTACT

I am human and let nothing human be alien to me.

Terence

1.

Starless Operative Zeke Hutchinson, “Z” to his compatriots,
“Son” to his commanding officer, was about to let loose and piss
his one-piece.

Comforted by the presence of the prayer beads tucked safely
into his breast pocket, hidden from its usual placement around his
wrist due to the formality required, he prayed to the Cosmic Virgin
for deliverance.

He had that sinking feeling. The warning he wouldn’t be taking
the shuttle off Home World to his birth planet to visit mama, as
he’d been promising these last six months.

He wished he had spent the time and credits he’d considered
too precious to waste in a confession booth before
deployment.

What were five hundred credits for a truly repentant
soul?

Should of, would of, could of.

“
The General’s eye keeps twitching,” Zeke whispered to S.O.
Jakob Valiant, who stood rigid in formation beside him. “He’s
pissed or stressed.”

Valiant’s navy beret sat at a cocky angle. It was a violation
of dress code, but Valiant was too relaxed to worry about the pithy
fine of a hundred credits. His one-piece fatigues were standard
issue taupe and made in the prior approved radioactive resistant
nylon. At least he had the foresight to zip the suit to the neck,
considering he usually wore the top half undone and tied around the
waist.

“
I wonder why,” Valiant muttered. “It’s not because aliens are
threatening to enslave our planet.”

“
What do they want?”

“
Not too bright today, Z?”

Zeke resisted the urge to grin. He was used to Valiant razzing
on him. He never teased back, Zeke didn’t have such a ready store
of insults, but he scuffled with the best of them. His usual
response to his friend’s teasing was to plant a fist in his face.
“I’m going to remember that.”

“
Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Valiant’s lips twitched.
“Stellar. The task of enlightenment falls to me. You’ve got to read
between the lines. These aliens arrive and pluck our world leaders
from under their security detail without batting an eyelid. They’re
returned whole, but terrified, can’t physically move their lips to
speak, and are locked down in medical for psych evaluations. Then
the Alliance Commander-in-Chief orders all military personal in
reserve on Quadrant21 to quietly rendezvous at a top-secret
facility. A cluster-fux rumoured to hold the last nuclear warheads
known to man. Not only was this base a myth before tonight, it’s
located in Quadrant103, one of the most hostile terrains planet
side. Soon as the last man trained to wield a weapon, or fly a jet
set foot off that piece of land, Quadrant21 was entirely cut off by
a government imposed Quarantine. The military was then advised it’s
about to be wiped off the map and declared a DeadZone by a freak
disease they refuse to name. None of that seems odd to
you?”

“
How do you know all this?”

“
I listen.” Valiant tapped his ear. “I’ve been paying for extra
sense upgrades. I haven’t got a family to support like you. How is
your mama anyway? Still making those delicious apple
dumplings?”

“
She’s steady. Asked after you once or twice. What does what
you’ve said have to do with what’s happening here?”

Valiant shifted restlessly. “Stars, if we weren’t in formation
I’d slap you. Some disease isn’t about to destroy Quadrant21. Our
entire unit hasn’t been called here to witness this event as an
‘honour.’”

Zeke exhaled hard through his nose. “Our unit is trained to
deal with … situations like this.”

“
They needed all of us?”

The Starless’ primary function was covert operations. It was
their job to manipulate, infiltrate, and occasionally assassinate.
This kind of protection detail was left to the recognised military
units. The Starless were sent when all other negotiations and plans
had failed. They were sent to wipe out anything they were pointed
at by any means necessary as quietly as possible.

They were ghosts in a world that proclaimed peace and
prosperity.

Zeke’s unit had never been convened like this. The Starless
were not called upon without serious provocation. He knew some of
the men from previous missions, was blood brothers with the
deadliest man in the unit, Valiant, but never had there been a need
for all of them at once.

But who was he to question his commanding officer?

Zeke was briefed on this mission and he’d made tracks to the
lavatory. When was he supposed to have demanded the answers to a
series of complicated political questions? Before he projectile
vomited his breakfast, or after he’d fallen to his knees in
prayer.

Valiant had acquired classified information on the mission he
risked his ass on.

Listening never hurt anybody.

“
Alright, I’ll bite,” Zeke murmured. “Why would they put up a
Quarantine?”

“
To blackout communications and keep the rest of the world from
realising what’s happening. Figure it out already.” Valiant sighed.
“Why did hostile forces invade in the past?”

“
Religious and economic reasons, but we all know it was about
securing land and any precious substances like oil and natural
gasses. Thank the Virgin for BlueAtom8.” Valiant snorted, but even
he paled thinking of the ugly, blood soaked past of humanity. “Mock
it, Val, but you have to be relieved we don’t have that problem
anymore. War was one of the reasons all governments fell under the
New World Order. Not our brightest moment, but the alternative was
shit too. Admit it’s not that bad. The Alliance could be worse.
After world war five, our planet couldn’t take much more. We needed
to do something.”

“
It wasn’t the people who started those conflicts.” Valiant
frowned. “It never is. We fight the battles when the ones causing
the problem hide underground and send innocent people to
die.”

Zeke didn’t like feeling like a pawn. He was a good soldier.
His curiosity just got the better of him. Not that curiosity
counted for anything. He’d learn about atrocities, but not have the
valour to act against any mayhem unless ordered to.

That was the difference between a soldier and a hero, he
supposed.

“
Where’s your patriotism?”

“
Don’t need that. One earth, one people.”

Zeke subtly motioned his head towards the scene below. “I
think the word applies now more then ever.”

Spotting his commanding officer glaring at them, Zeke elbowed
Valiant. They straightened their spines and stared
ahead.

The first drops of water from the sky might as well have been
bombs from the reaction of the squadron. Rain bounced off their
clothes and ran down their laser rifles.

Zeke and Valiant clamped their lips together. The panic was
acute, not that they let it show.

The atmosphere had been compromised by radioactive waste.
Quadrant6 was safe, but they were standing outside it on the OutRim
border, and were not in a SafeZone.

Their commanding officer barked, the clipped order to cover
their heads music to the ears.

Zeke, Valiant, and the rest of the unit pulled their hoods,
and snapped on their masks, protecting their eyes, nose, and mouth.
Harsh, relieved breathing burst through the mask’s communication
unit. The headgear stifled, but was better than acid rain soaking
into the pores.

Valiant tapped Zeke’s arm twice, part of their secret code and
the operatives slyly turned the transmissions unit in their masks
onto a private frequency. The soldiers were arranged in a block
formation, and Valiant and Zeke had been quiet enough to hold a
conversation, but if they spoke without changing the transmission
frequency to private, the whole squad would overhear them. At least
with their facial movement obscured by the headgear they didn’t
have to try and speak without moving their lips.

Valiant spoke first, his voice smooth and deep with a
smokiness that harmed him none when it came to picking up women.
“Do you remember what happened to the natives of the invaded
territories?”

“
Slavery. At the end of the twentieth extermination was
easiest.” Zeke winced. “Remember what happened to the purebloods?”
He shuddered. “The zero tolerance policy on biochemical warfare is
the one thing the Alliance has unquestionably gotten
right.”

Weapons that focused on the eradication of living organisms at
a molecular level had been destroyed after what happened in the
aftermath of world war four.

At the end of the twentieth century, there was an alarming and
unexplained increase in racial hate groups. Some speculated relaxed
opinion after an enforced order from government to lighten up on
sentences for racial crimes contributed to simmering racial
prejudice, and bred a generation of repressed and confused. Young
men and women with a lack of identity who clung to the only thing
recognisable to the naked eye; skin colour.

Dirt on the graves of those who died in the last war had
barely settled before political unrest had the people in a
mess.

The last of the Amazonian rainforest disappeared and the world
worried about the loss of twenty percent of oxygen-enriched land.
The rest of the world’s rainforests and jungles became a premium to
fight for.

The threat of yet another campaign pushed aside rumours of
terrorization happening within civilized borders.

Racial hate groups ran shantytowns and advanced segregation. A
genetic purist insulted the leader of a group of powerful
supremacists, and after that, things got bad. There were denials
the anarchy that followed was caused by this feud, but many
accepted the power struggle between these two groups sparked the
beginning of a dramatic shift in world politics.

The weapon had been designed to destroy people of a certain
genetic composition, but mutated and destroyed all peoples with
pure genetic bloodlines.

It was the most terrifying and destructive terrorist attack
the world had seen. A third of the global population died. Martial
law was enforced, and used to set up Quarantines in infected areas.
Though the disease was targeted to pure bloods, the fear it would
continue to mutate and destroy everyone amounted to
hysteria.

Even those with mixed genes who were only carriers got locked
away.

The stubborn starved to death waiting for salvation. Those
unable to handle living in Quarantine were gifted suicide kits.
They had come to realise the government would never risk the
disease mutating and spreading.

They wanted out.

People of all races fell in line after the bodies were cleaned
up, and mass cremations had black smoke burning holes in the
sky.

The irony? The purists and supremacists destroyed themselves,
and in one move made mixed blood superior to the weaker pureblood
since it was more susceptible to genetic contamination.

The people left standing, aptly named the Lost Generation,
wanted peace and equality, but had to face yet another world war.
The governments tried to lay blame for the terrorist attack on each
other, and fought for the right to lay claim to the other planets
in the solar system ready for colonization made possible by new
technology.