Assassination Anxiety (The McKenzie Files) Read online

  ASSASSINATION ANXIETY

  The McKenzie Files

  Book 2

  by

  Barry K. Nelson

  The three captured and reprogrammed Brelac Reploids have proved their worth to the Protectorate in a fierce battle against the powerful cybernetic weapon Succubus, developed by traitorous Dr. Fenlow. The Reploids, commissioned to form a special unit known as the Silencers under the jurisdiction of the military’s Central Intelligence Division, are back on Maseklos Prime, working at menial jobs while the CID keeps a close eye on them. That changes when President Drennan is almost killed in a bizarre assassination attempt.

  Colin McKenzie and his team are ordered to uncover whoever’s behind the assassination attempt and to find and destroy the frightening weapons responsible for the horrible death and destruction at the President’s last election campaign address. After the first attempt on the President’s life, it’s certain more will follow.

  Meanwhile, Colin remains curious and wary about his dark past as a Vendetta operative formerly working against the Protectorate. The more he learns about his previous life, the less he likes it. Even more worrisome is the odd dreams he’s been having.

  As Colin, Diane, and Kelly chase leads in their case, they realize they may be up against unstoppable weapons – but they are the Protectorate’s only hope.

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  ~TABLE OF CONTENTS~

  Story Summary

  Copyright Information

  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

  About the Author

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  ASSASSINATION ANXIETY

  The McKenzie Files

  Book 2

  by

  Barry K. Nelson

  Licensed and Produced through

  Penumbra Publishing

  www.PenumbraPublishing.com

  ELECTRONIC EDITION

  EBOOK ISBN/EAN 13: 978-1-935563-66-2

  Copyright 2011 Barry K. Nelson

  All rights reserved

  Also available PRINT ISBN/EAN-13: 978-1-935563-67-9

  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, is entirely coincidental.

  Licensing Note: This ebook is licensed and sold for your personal enjoyment. Under copyright law, you may not resell, give away, or share copies of this book. You may purchase additional copies of this book for other individuals or direct them to purchase their own copies. If you are reading this book but did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, out of respect for the author’s effort and right to earn income from the work, please contact the publisher or retailer to purchase a legal copy.

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  ASSASSINATION ANXIETY

  The McKenzie Files

  Book 2

  by

  Barry K. Nelson

  back to top

  Chapter 1

  Sharp pain stabbed through Jim Norton’s lower back as he squirmed in the hard, uncomfortable seat. Being forced to sit in the small confines of this ship’s cockpit with his knees jammed up against the bottom of the control panel so far that they brushed against his hands as he clutched the ship’s twin control sticks was bad enough. But the fact that he could actually feel how hard the seat was through the slim padding of his gray space suit made things all the worse. The padding on the inside of his space helmet was hard and uncomfortable, as well. He would have preferred not to wear it, but this mission required that he and the other members of this team be prepared for immediate deployment once they reached their target destination. He diverted his gaze from the large panoramic viewscreen before him to look down at the ship’s instrument panel. Two small monitors emitted a blue glow, and below them a row of keys and buttons on a long touchpad also glowed blue. Several of them flickered on and off when they weren’t supposed to.

  Command has a bug up their ass about how important this mission is, yet they can’t be bothered to provide us with a decent ship to fly, or comfortable suits? He shook his head as best he could in the small confines of the cockpit, then turned stiffly, glancing back at his passengers sitting in the rear compartment behind the pilot seat.

  Sealed up in his space suit, technician John Baylor was securely strapped to a metal bench-style seat, with a shiny metal briefcase clutched in his lap. Sitting to Baylor’s left with his arms folded against his chest was Mike Jamison, another technician. Neither of them had wanted to be awakened until the ship reached its destination, but while Jamison’s helmet visor showed his eyes were closed, Baylor appeared wide awake.

  The two security agents wearing dark blue space suits, Paul Moyer and Brad Wardell, sat on the bench across from Baylor and Jamison, both holding their AR-20 laser assault rifles on their laps. What kind of trouble are they expecting, if they think we need these two guys along?

  Baylor turned his head, looking back at Jim, and his helmet speaker barked, “How much further do we have to go?”

  Jim looked at the monitor on the left, showing a small black triangle representing their ship as it drew closer to several small black squares at the top. The column of numbers to the right counted down. He turned back to Baylor. “ETA three minutes.”

  The monitor on the right showed a long black trajectory line across the blue background, with three black circles growing ever larger as they approached. Jim glanced at the forward viewscreen and saw the field of large metallic debris free-floating in space. Many of the huge chunks of jagged misshapen metal were larger than the fragile jet-styled ship that he and the others were traveling in. He maneuvered the ship with care between the debris. A collision with one of the metallic giants would instantly destroy their smaller craft.

  One mass of debris drew his attention. The large triangular-shaped hulk with a gaping jagged-edged hole in its side spun slowly counterclockwise. Jim pulled back on the control sticks, slowing the ship’s forward momentum until it came to a stop. He pressed four keys on the ship’s instrument panel. “We’re here,” he shouted back to the others.

  Baylor unstrapped himself from his seat and headed for the cockpit. He leaned over Jim’s right shoulder to look through the forward viewscreen. “Is the signal still coming through?” he asked.

  Jim glimpsed at the monitor on the right. The three circles were still moving across the line, still growing larger as they traveled. “Signal’s still coming in strong.”

  “Can we go in? That opening looks big enough for our ship,” said Baylor.

  “You can see that the fragment is spinning. It wouldn’t be safe,” Jim told him. “We’re going to have to stay inside the ship and send the drones in to locate the object.”

  “The drones? This is a delicate operation. You can’t send the drones in to handle this without our supervision,” Baylor protested.

  “It’s too dangerous for humans,” Jim insisted. “There could be free-floating debris inside that thing. The drones are expendable.” He pressed a key on the panel. “Opening cargo bay hatch.” He pressed three more keys. “Robotic drones are activated and deployed to retrieve the target.”

  Through the forward viewscreen, Jim and the
rest of the crew members watched as four spider-shaped robots flew out from their ship. Each drone’s eight long legs were folded up under its oval-shaped body. The drones emitted a white glow from the end of their twin cylindrical top thrusters as they were propelled through space toward the spinning metallic mass. Maneuvering with mechanically precise care, the drones entered the mass’s opening. For several minutes, the crew watched and waited.

  “I hope the object is still reasonably intact,” said Jamison. “It’s probably been through hell.”

  “It should be,” Baylor said. “Considering the strength of the signal.”

  “That’s not what has me worried,” Jim said. “It’s the other thing in there.” He glanced back at the gun-toting security officers. “That’s why Moyer and Wardell are here.”

  Moyer moved in closer. “You don’t have to worry about that oversized tin solder. If there’s any problem, we’re equipped to handle it.” Moyer patted the side of his laser rifle.

  An oversized tin soldier? That’s not what I’ve heard, Jim thought. But you guys know what you’re doing. I just get paid to fly.

  Jamison thrust his finger out toward the viewscreen. “There!” he shouted. “They’re coming back.”

  The four robots emerged from the opening in the fragment. Two of them were attached to the left and right sides of a large, shiny metal object, while the other two held onto the top and bottom portions of the object. The drones’ long legs were wrapped around the object as they flew back to the ship, partially obscuring it so that Jim couldn’t quite make out its exact shape. The team of robots moved out of view as they flew beneath the ship to enter the cargo bay.

  “There you go. Target retrieved,” Jim confirmed, as the sensors reported the robots had cleared the bay hatch. He pressed a button on the control panel to close the cargo bay.

  “Just like that?” Wardell objected. “I didn’t expect the job to be this easy.”

  “Easy is how command wanted it,” Jim replied as he unstrapped himself from his seat and rose to face Wardell. “You itching to use your hardware?”

  “As long as there’s no trouble, we’re happy,” Moyer added. “We don’t need any wild shooting spree to endanger the unit. Let’s get down to the cargo bay and take a look.”

  Baylor and Jamison turned and headed away from the cockpit with Jim and the others following. They descended a short flight of metal steps and entered a small, dark corridor with several pipes and cables zigzagging across the ceiling. The group stopped in front of the heavy black metal door to the cargo bay. Jim pressed a white glowing button on the wall to the right of the door, and the door rose with a loud hum. Baylor and Jamison ducked inside the cargo bay, not waiting for the door to fully open.

  These guys are practically tripping over themselves to get to this thing, Jim thought, laughing to himself. Bet they’d really piss themselves if this thing isn’t really working the way they thought. Doesn’t matter to me. Either way, Carp Technologies is paying me a hefty fee for the flight.

  In the cargo bay, Jim and the others gathered around the center of attention. The four robots surrounded the object they’d retrieved from the space debris. They backed away at Baylor’s command. A large humanoid robot at least seven feet long lay on the floor, its silvery body marred by black scorch marks. The robot’s reverse-jointed legs and three-toed feet seemed to have suffered the worst, as they were completely blackened from exposure to some form of extreme heat. The same heat damage apparently had affected the large triangular-shaped wings mounted on the robot’s back. Its scorched left wing with the long cylindrical thruster mounted on the tip was still intact, while the right wing was missing entirely.

  The robot’s large ovoid head faced upward, with a thin, black horizontal lens eye slashed perfectly across the upper portion. Jim imagined that the two long, sharp horns on the sides of the robot’s head were heavy enough to make moving it difficult during a closer examination. The two accordion hoses beneath its lens eye ran down to a four-foot metal cylinder the robot hugged against its chest with its large, three clawed left hand. Jim was relieved to see that the robot’s right arm plasma weapon, the long barrel with the four horizontal and vertical fins, remained inactive as it rested on the floor. But he turned his attention back to the cylinder that the robot was holding. It bore large patches of black scorch marks. On the bottom of the cylinder were four thick cables that looked as though they were severed with a clean stroke.

  Moyer and Wardell both stood back from the robot and aimed their weapons as if to fire at a second’s notice. Baylor made a slow approach to the inert robot and knelt down to inspect it.

  “Well?” Wardell asked, raising his rifle higher to eye level. “Is it dead?”

  “It’s clearly dead,” Baylor assured him. “A shame, too.” He ran his hand along the front of the robot’s face, almost reverently. “Only three Deltans were made, and this one was the only one that survived. The other two were destroyed during the battle of Maseklos Prime two months ago.” He sighed. “But it’s the other unit that we should be worried about.”

  Jamison stepped in closer. “Amazing how the Deltan rescued the central processing unit. It appears to have protected it from harm during the battle. That explains how it got damaged.”

  “Okay, so we got it,” said Wardell. “What the hell do we do now?”

  “We need to run a full diagnostic on the unit to see if it’s still intact,” Baylor replied. “Command wants to make sure that the unit is still able to function after all it’s been through.”

  Jim Norton’s attention was still focused on the Deltan clutching the cylinder. “That’s after we pry the unit loose from its big brother here.”

  Baylor stood up. “That shouldn’t be a problem with the Deltan deactivated.”

  Moyer lowered his weapon to his chest. “All this trouble making us come all the way out here to get a piece of junk off another piece of junk. Why not just build a new one?”

  Baylor laughed. “Because this unit is unique. And the guy who built it is dead. So, it’s one of a kind. That’s why Command is so anxious to get it back intact.” Baylor gave the Deltan’s leg a slight tap with his foot. “Getting the big guy here too is a bonus. I could spend days in the lab going over these two. This is amazing technology.”

  Jim imagined gleeful boyish grins on Baylor and Jamison’s faces behind their helmet visors. Two science geeks in tech heaven as they worked over the prize of a lifetime. He turned to Moyer and Wardell, still holding their rifles in anticipation of a firefight. “Are you guys gonna stand down, or what? It’s just a pile of junk now,” he said, pointing a finger at the Deltan.

  Baylor turned to face him. “This pile of junk, as you call it, once had the firepower to bring down a fully shielded battle cruiser with a single shot. It’s a remarkable piece of machinery. Just like its little brother here.”

  “All I know is, if the big ugly one gives us any shit, we shoot it,” Wardell responded. “But for now, I’ll take your word that it’s dead.”

  Wardell lowered his rifle, pointing the barrel to the floor. Moyer also lowered his gun.

  Jim stepped closer to the Deltan, his attention focused on the cylinder it cradled in its arms. “So, what’s the story? You think this thing is okay?”

  “It appears to be,” Baylor replied. “We won’t know for sure until we run our diagnostic on its systems. But if it’s able to transmit a long ranged distress signal across space, then I’d say that it’s in good shape.” Baylor knelt down again and ran his hand along a shiny cable running from the bottom of the cylinder to the Deltan’s chest. “I wonder what this is for.”

  “If the unit is still functioning, then maybe we can try to communicate with it,” Jamison suggested.

  “Communicate with it all you want,” Jim said, heading for the cargo bay door. “Now that we’ve got this thing loaded onboard, I’ve got to transmit my report to Command. Then we’re out of here.” He headed for the door.

  He walked back
up the steps and returned to the cockpit. Sitting sat down at the instrument panel, he activated the communications system and said, “This is pilot Jim Norton, reporting to Command. We have located and retrieved the central processing module from the debris field, along with the inactive Deltan unit. The Deltan was no threat. Technicians Baylor and Jamison are planning to run diagnostic tests on the unit to confirm that the module it’s still intact. After they’ve concluded their tests, I’m returning the ship to base. Norton out.”

  Once Baylor and Jamison to finish running their preliminary diagnostic tests on the unit, they could return to the Vendetta starbase, where a team of scientists and technicians employed by Carp Technologies would take possession of their prize. And Baylor and Jamison could play all kinds of geek games with their new Deltan toy and the central processing unit.

  Jim checked the ship’s status and noticed the cargo door indicator flashing. Why the hell are they closing the door? He left the cockpit, descended back down the steps, and approached the cargo bay door, which was now shut. He pressed the button at the right side of the door. Nothing happened. He pressed it again. There was still no reaction from the door. What the hell’s going on? He tried a more basic approach – pounding his fist three times against the door’s metal surface. “What the hell’s going on?” he shouted, hoping that the men on the other side would hear. “The door won’t open.”

  He pounded three more times against the door, then pressed the button again – still with no reaction. System malfunction, he told himself. He was no technician like Baylor and Jamison. He hoped one of them would be able to find some way to override the controls from their side and get the door open. Otherwise without being strapped into seats, the four men were going to have a bumpy ride back to the starbase.