Genesis First Colony - Book One
Ken Lozito
Acoustical Books LLC
Copyright © 2017 by Ken Lozito
Published by Acoustical Books, LLC
KenLozito.com
Cover design by Jeff Brown
Editor: Myra Shelley
Proofreader: Tamara Blain
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ISBN: 978-1-945223-11-2
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
About the Author
Also by Ken Lozito
Chapter One
The freighter waited for clearance to make its final approach to Chronos Station while Connor Gates and his squad hid in a shipping container in the vast belly of the vessel. Connor glanced at his men. They were the most famous squad that no one outside the NA Command had ever heard of. Officially they didn’t exist. For hundreds of years, black ops military platoons had celebrated a long tradition of working in the shadows, and their effectiveness was measured by the undetected execution of their missions. Even within the shadowy confines of black ops, Connor’s Ghosts were a bit of a legend. When failure was not an option, it was the Ghosts who were given the toughest missions. Connor had been the CO of the Ghosts for ten years—not even a blip in the prolonged lifetimes of people in this day and age.
“We’re patched in, Colonel,” Sawyer said.
Connor used his implants to access the open comms channel on the bridge.
“Freighter JEC 2701, hold your approach while we validate the codes for your ship,” the harbormaster said.
“Copy. We’ll hold the approach,” the freighter’s helmsman replied.
A sub-screen appeared on Connor’s heads-up display that showed the ship’s codes being matched up with the records being transferred from the lunar shipping yards.
The station comms channel was muted by someone on the freighter’s bridge, and Connor heard the helmsman speaking.
“Captain, with as many deliveries as we make to this station, you’d think they’d give us a warmer welcome,” said the helmsman.
“They’re following standard protocol,” said the captain.
“Yeah, but targeting us with their weapons systems every time we come here is a bit much. It’s not like we’re part of the Syndicate or anything,” said the helmsman.
“And here I thought you couldn’t wait for some shore leave on a luxurious seventh-generation deep-space station,” said the captain.
Connor muted the comms channels and clenched his teeth at the mention of the Syndicate. He’d been hunting them for the past five years, patiently working his way closer to the vast crime family that had the power to challenge the nation-states of old.
The soldier next to Connor checked his weapon while he waited. “If they only knew the head of the Syndicate had taken up residence on this station,” Major Kasey Douglass said.
Kasey had been Connor’s second in command for almost as long as he’d been hunting the Syndicate.
“Only if our intel is good. Remember Sandy Springs?” Connor asked.
Kasey nodded. “Kinda hard to forget that crapstorm of an op.”
“This is the right place. I know it. A civilian space station that has weapons capabilities to defend itself from attack matches his MO,” Connor said.
“You still think the entire Syndicate is run by just one person?”
“It is,” Connor said.
“But we don’t have a name for this guy,” Kasey said.
“We have his location. He’s smart. Even if we’d come here with combat shuttles under stealth, we would have run the risk of alerting him. And even though the Sandy Springs op was a disaster, we learned a lot,” Connor said.
“Yeah, not to trust the chain of command in our own org. We’re completely off the reservation with this. No backup,” Kasey said.
“Had to be this way. I couldn’t risk the mission becoming compromised. Besides, it’s not like we’re breaking any rules. I do have authority to conduct this mission,” Connor said.
“I won’t argue about authority, but this is a civilian station—and not just any civilian station. This is Chronos. Only the most affluent dignitaries, ambassadors, and heads of corporations use this place as their go-to spot. If we have an incident here, it could hurt us. We should report the op to COMCENT,” Kasey said.
Connor regarded Kasey for a moment. The major was doing his job, voicing his concerns to his commanding officer. “Your concerns are noted, but this is still a comms blackout op. COMCENT will be notified after the op is complete, Major,” Connor replied.
“Of course, Colonel,” Kasey said and let the matter drop.
They all knew why they were there. The Syndicate had a significant research and development operation that did not abide by the Earth’s R&D accords, freely testing anything and everything on human subjects regardless of sex, age, or ethnic origin. Some of the research stations they’d shut down throughout the solar system still gave him nightmares as he recalled cross-species genetic experimentation that created horrific monsters that were set loose to test how well their experiments had worked. The Syndicate had become the NA Command’s highest priority, but the real work fell into black ops command channels. The Syndicate was among the most ruthless organizations in history. They had little regard for human life and operated above the law. The fact that they’d set up operations at a place like Chronos Station was a testament to their practices in maximizing collateral damage.
The harbormaster cleared the freighter to dock, and within the hour the large freighter was being guided to its docking slip. The Ghosts waited in silent anticipation. Once the ship docked, they could move under the cover of offloading activities. No one would suspect that one of the shipping containers carried an infiltration force.
“Wil, are you in the station’s systems yet?” Connor asked.
Wil Reisman waved his hands around, working through an interface that only he could see. “I’m in but only with transit access. We can get schematics and access the maglev transport, but I’m not in the secure Mosi system, Colonel.”
“Good. Those systems are closely monitored. I don’t want them tipped off to our presence,” Connor said.
“I’ve uploaded the station’s schematics to our suit computers,” Reisman said.
Connor brought up the schematics, and his suit computer showed a one hundred percent match for what they had on record. He inputted the latest intelligence overlay, and a path highlighted to a destination called Rabbit’s Foot.
“Send coded message to Bravo Squad. The op is a go,” Connor said.
The ship’s status showed that it was docked and the automated loaders would begin offloading the shipping containers to the station. Connor glanced at Tiegan, waiting for his tech ops specialist to give them the go-ahead.
Large lifts came for the priority pallets first, and Connor felt himself shift to zero gravity until their shipping container was brought within the station’s gravitational field. He engaged his combat suit’s camo-mode, which rendered them invisible to anyone watching, as well as to the station’s sensors. The secure latch of the shipping container’s door popped open and Connor pushed his way out, dropping down sixty meters to the ground. His combat suit absorbed the shock of his landing, and he quickly moved to the side while the rest of the squad came down and took up positions on the space dock.