Golden Ratio: Lost

By Kady Nicols

In the country of Miribeaux, intelligence agents find themselves confounded by the most unusual prisoner any of them have ever met. Lia is a woman who doesn’t exist, at least officially. She claims to be an explorer, captured where nobody should be by pure chance.

While she does not appear to be a terrorist, her sudden arrival on a government black site raises serious questions. Nothing she says could possibly be true, but every other possible explanation seems even more dangerous. Is she an alien, angel or even a devil? Can they explain the strange occurrences that seem to follow her? More importantly, can she escape before she is forced to reveal secrets that will cause two worlds to collide?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886934182

Kady Nicols

Kady Nicols resides in Washington (the state!) with a small cast of supposed adults. Together they work to help rescue and home feral cats and their offspring. Kady has been a college student for far too long and is hoping to soon earn her own ‘Doctor’. She can be spotted in the wild at cons, the beach, the local University, and random roadside outcrops.

Book preview

About the Author

Kady Nicols resides in Washington (the state!) with a small cast of supposed adults. Together they work to help rescue and home feral cats and their offspring. Kady has been a college student for far too long and is hoping to soon earn her own ‘Doctor’. She can be spotted in the wild at cons, the beach, the local University, and random roadside outcrops.

Dedication

For my father, Homer, who has always been the best person he knew how to be, and has always done everything possible to see us succeed.

We did it daddy.

For my mother, Althea, who always believed in me.

Copyright Information ©

Kady Nicols 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Nicols, Kady

Golden Ratio: Lost

ISBN 9798886934175 (Paperback)

ISBN 9798886934182 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023913194

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

Bruce (2 and 3) and Rob, who live with me and have yet to strangle me.

Uncle Terry, who gave me my first sci-fi book.

Michelle and Tara, who wrote and silently encouraged me.

Kitimat

Pleistocene

Another letter. Another rejection. Captain Sabine Jeneaux sighed deeply, let the crisp sheet drop to the top of her desk, and stood. Leaving it there, she walked out into the narrow hallway, smoothing her expression. It wasn’t unexpected, she had applied for a posting at the Stuhini Peak facility three times already and been turned down each time with no explanation. The most frustrating part was that she would probably apply again, one final time. Maybe it was all a test to prove how tenacious she was. Sure, maybe. And maybe she would sprout wings and fly.

This posting wasn’t really that bad. Her berth even had a porthole and occasionally she saw something besides infinite blue; now and then she saw gray. And, she had the whole bunk to herself. She liked to imagine it was because everybody else was afraid she would try to talk to them. God forbid. She wasn’t a real officer and that made them avoid her. But, while it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t particularly exciting. In fact, it was downright boring.

Officially, she was part of Psychological Operations, a ‘Production Specialist’. Glorified Reporter was a far more accurate title. To that end, she was on a massive ship interviewing anybody who would talk to her for five minutes, so they could try to kludge together a video that would make joining the Royal Mirabeaux Navy sound interesting or, at least, livable.

It was funny, really, in a way. Here she was trying to convince some kids to join up and she knew she was mostly tricking them, the same way she’d been tricked into thinking this job was anything but rubbish. At least, the command staff had been reasonably friendly, Captain Tissander was a decent sort who didn’t seem to have the gender bias so many soldiers were prone to.

The hardest part was finding a decent place to work out on the ship that didn’t include sailors staring at her, the second hardest part was the noise. The RMN Tsedi Na’ was a helicopter carrier and that meant the constant thrumming of the various helicopters taking off and landing as pilots practiced. There wasn’t an active war and the folks in Pacifica weren’t likely to start trouble but the Califians seemed to have been infected by their years of fighting the forces out of the United States of Texas and if they weren’t officially at war with anybody else, they certainly weren’t above a little raiding if they thought they could get away with it.

Trouble was, they always seemed to think they could get away with it. So, the Royal Mirabeaux Navy trained, and practiced, and drilled, and made enough noise doing it, both literally and metaphorically, that even if the southerners were feeling squirrelly, they might reconsider harassing Mirabeaux shipping and ports. The people of Pacifica also didn’t seem to mind the extra presence either. And, hell, she thought in annoyance, at least it gives all these people work that accomplishes a real goal. Unlike hers.

She jogged the last few steps up a companionway and then had to turn sideways as two men hurried past her out of the bridge. Their rush surprised her somewhat, and while she didn’t catch their exact words, she could tell from the tone that they were anxious as they spoke quickly in hushed voices. Weird didn’t belong on a naval ship so it piqued her interest considerably.

It was supposed to be their ‘field day’ and that, a day of intense cleaning, didn’t seem like it would cause the level of tension currently gripping the command center of the carrier as she slipped in. She stepped back against the wall by the port, out of the way since she didn’t really have a specific reason to be on the bridge, to listen and watch. At least the brief puzzle was interesting, unlike everything else she had to do.

As aircraft carriers went, the Tsedi Na’ wasn’t particularly huge. It didn’t need to be, not to transport and support helicopters instead of fixed wing craft. To that end the bridge wasn’t as large, only two stories tall. Like others of its kind, the whole bridge was wrapped in clear windows, giving a good view out over the sub-arctic waters and shoreline. She did not envy the people who had to clean the outside of those panes. Did some poor non-com have to hang from the roof or did they get a really long pole?

The ship was passing between closely spaced islands along the western coast of the British Columbia Province; the cluster of steep walled bastions carved from the stone by the last ice age that they had purchased, along with the Province of Alaska, from the Russians in the 1860s. The islands were rough and craggy, some quite large, and mostly wooded with few human habitations except at the couple of port cities and Juneau to the north.

Sailors in blue button-down shirts and baseball caps stood or sat at each station, most with heavy large headphones covering their ears. Here and there, a few senior personnel were checking in with various subordinates and taking notes on their clipboards, while a couple of others stood over the tactical map station, updating their position on the archaic paper maps they still used. The Tsedi Na’ was not high on the list for retrofitting, it seemed. Shocking.

To a civilian it would have seemed perfectly normal but for the RMC it was in near chaos. The commanding officer, Captain Tissander, stood leaning over a communication station, speaking in a hushed but urgent tone with the operator there. His executive officer, Commander Avci, stood at his shoulder, listening intently, brow furrowed. It was the first time she’d seen the man so intense. Two NCOs bustled in and joined the trio, speaking in hurried whispers. She couldn’t quite catch what they were saying over the other general noise of the carrier, but the fact that they were from Tactical Operations was telling enough. They only got involved when there was something actually happening.

Avci left the com station and hurried through the room to another, one of the newer ones that interfaced with the growing satellite networks. That station was closer, and she could, if she focused, just make out what they were saying as Captain Tissander joined them, along with the two Tac-Op non-coms.

This is the best angle, ma’am, the young man said, managing not to squeak only by pure luck, he couldn’t be old enough to actually shave, could he? You can kind of see what they might be talking about here. Captain Jeneaux edged a little closer, catching a glimpse of the screen and the view of a mountain hillside. She didn’t recognize it, but she thought she saw movement back in the trees, not an animal, and then a figure stopped, and she could see that it was human.

Do we have any footage from last night? Jeneaux asked without thinking then winced, she wasn’t even really supposed to be there, and she was junior to both of them. Why had she come onto the damn bridge in the first place?

Captain Tissander and Commander Avci turned to look at her and she wilted a little. Captain? Tissander asked slowly, one eyebrow raised. Even the NCOs eyed her wordlessly and she determinedly ignored them.

Ahhh, sorry sir. Feeling her face grow hot and knowing she must look something like a ripe tomato, she started to step away. He waved her forward, almost absently.

No harm, Captain, perhaps you will have something to add to this puzzle. Avci had already turned back to the console and was instructing the matelot there to look for any footage from that night and Jeneaux tried not to sigh in relief that he wasn’t mad. She failed. Her rank in Air Command was roughly equivalent to Commander Avci, if a smidge lower. She stepped up in time for the display to change. The new image was a still, not video and came from another angle, making the location of interest harder to see.

There, she said, pointing at a small spot on the screen, a faint orange glow with a pale smudge above it. That looks like a campfire. She was surprised they had those stills at all, that remote of a location really didn’t have much reason to be under such scrutiny. Perhaps what was being mined there was that important.

Yes, yes it does. And there is another one, he noted, pointing to another faint orange spot on the shot. Commander Avci pointed to a third wordlessly. Indeed. Let’s look at the live feed again. The view swapped, and they could see the area more clearly in the early morning sunlight. There were certainly people down there, the camp seemed to be coming awake and a coil of smoke had begun rising from back some little ways into the trees.

It doesn’t look like a large group, less than twenty people I’d say. Any other recent activity in the area? She glanced at the two officers who both shook their heads. Was Tissander smiling?

That, of course, begs the question, where did they come from and how did they get there? This location has limited entry points and should be inaccessible to anybody not cleared to be there, Captain Tissander said conversationally. Below on the deck, several helicopters were warming up, the crew showing a little more vigor when they knew it wasn’t just a training drill. Finally, the ship’s captain clapped his hands together once, briskly, and said, Alright, gear up.

Avci saluted quickly and took off and Jeneaux sighed, it had been fun to contribute for a while, but it had to come to an end eventually, she supposed.

Captain Jeneaux, are you going? You might get some good footage, Captain Tissander asked as she turned away, trying not to look dejected. He wasn’t wrong, however.

Sir? She had to squash her excitement, but in her head, she was already halfway ready to leave. Of course! She bolted for her bunk to get her field gear. It wasn’t like she had unpacked much; she had no intention of staying on the boat any longer than she had to.

She was back as swiftly as possible. Her berth was higher in the ship than many and that meant shorter travel times, so she was quick returning to the deck of the Tsedi Na’, still strapping her helmet on and securing her vest. It felt good to be doing something again, so good that she didn’t question why the military had been called in instead of the police.

~~

The morning was vibrant and crisp and the view off the overlook was clear for several kilometers. A few clouds drifted by in the distance, pristine white against the bright blue sky. Below, in the valley around the long, narrow lake, mist drifted over the surface of the water and between the decrepit looking long red-gray wooden buildings of what appeared to be an abandoned mining camp.

The water of the lake sparkled in the slanted light, milky and tinged blue-green by the sediments in the glacial runoff, surface mirror-smooth. Past the ridge that bounded the valley on the far side, another, larger vale was visible, broad floor bowed toward the stream that snaked, almost drunkenly, down the middle. It’s banks were lost in the dense cluster of trees that followed the waters path, darker green than the chartreuse of the fuzzy young grass that ran all the way up to the steep, pine-clad arêtes that bounded it.

The buildings themselves had given the exploration team pause when they had seen them the previous evening. It was the first time they had ever encountered a world that showed any signs of human habitation though two other teams had found human life on worlds they visited, and relics of that kind were not uncommon. Lieutenant Jaffari was wary of exploring the area after the discovery and finally agreed to allow one team to descend to investigate. Beta team, led by Staff Sergeant Hall, would accompany Sergeant Diego Ramirez and Doctor Lia Taylor down into the valley for an initial assessment.

The exposed cliffs across the rounded, scooped out hollow, were banded pale white and an almost metallic bronze color, glinting dully in the early sun. Penny for your thoughts? A familiar voice rumbled from behind where the small, dark haired woman stood on the edge of the cliff. Lia curled her bare toes in the damp soil under her feet, finding the disharmoniously metallic tang of magnesium in it. Sergeant Ramirez came into view to one side, staying a few feet further back from the overlook’s edge and casting a wary look at the drop-off. She glanced back, grinning at him, bright green eyes alight, thumbs hooked in the straps of her lurid pink field-pack.

I’ve been tasting mag since we got here, and see how it’s banded over there? Lia paused to point, cheeks flush with excitement. I’ll bet money, more than your penny, that it’s a Layered Mafic that we’re in the middle of. The white is anorthosite and the brown is bronzite, magnesium and iron pyroxene, mostly mag though, I think, here. I don’t know how far we are from the basal zone, but it will have chromitite layers, dunite, a few other really primitive things… The glazed look on his face told her she had lost him.

Right, blah blah blah, interesting rocks. She sighed dramatically. But what I’m really thinking is that it’s an ore complex; chromium, palladium, maybe platinum. Chrome isn’t really valuable but it’s strategic; they need it to manufacture good steel. Palladium goes into catalytic converters, electronics, surgical tools… it’s not common either. Platinum… well… she shrugged. It reminds me of the Stillwater Complex back home and that one is very valuable. I did my dissertation on the fluid flow dynamics in this kind of system, actually. If this is similar it may be a very good find.

Assuming it’s abandoned, and we don’t have problems with people here. That was a much larger concern given the presence of buildings below.

"Well yes but that’s not my problem. I don’t do the whole people end of things. I’m just here to tell you if it’s worth… people-ing," she said in a bored tone, waving a hand dismissively.

That isn’t a real word, Ramirez replied.

Pfah, your face isn’t a real word.

What?

Your face isn’t a real word, she replied in a very matter of fact tone, as though he hadn’t heard her clearly but what she said made perfect sense. He didn’t press it, likely for the sake of his sanity, and shook his head. Smart man.

I’m going back to camp to get my pack, are you ready to… He trailed off and her head snapped around to the deep base thumping of a helicopter. The massive looming shape crested the far hill and sped across the intervening valley and behind them the camp erupted into chaos.

~~

The miners hadn’t been wrong. There was a group in the depression at the top of the steep gorge. They were scurrying like a kicked hill of ants through the woods as the trio of massive black Griffons swooped in toward them, arrowing in on the clearing perched on the side of the mountain. It was clearly a military or paramilitary group, uniformly dressed in clothing that would allow them to blend better into their surroundings and well equipped with modern rifles and other gear. They were organized and while they seemed to be scrambling chaotically, there was a certain amount of coordination to their movements.

The downdraft kicked up a massive cloud of ochre yellow and rust red dust and debris, filling the air and obscuring them as they stormed out of the helicopters, many of the soldiers in the group shouting as they deployed, spreading out and finding cover behind the abundant outcroppings of surprisingly bright white stone.

Somebody in beta team launched a stun grenade into the largest concentration of strangers, and the loud WHUMP echoed even over the sounds of the helicopters as two of them lifted back up into the air, swooping around to provide cover from above as the teams began to move in on the camp. Radios crackled to life with reports from the Thermal Imaging techs, guiding them in the dimness of the dust cloud.

Those reports quickly turned to confusion, however as even the thermal cameras started losing track, unable to follow most of the strangers. They still showed all of the Mirabeaux troops, the campfires, and even warm patches on the ground, just fewer and fewer opponents. It was as if they just vanished, one by one.

~~

Lia slunk through the haze, pausing to scan from behind a larger outcrop on the edge of the clearing. That had been a stun grenade. Who was attacking them? Where was Ramirez? And Sergeant Hall? This kind of thing was not supposed to be happening, she was civilian damnit.

TAYLOR! A familiar voice bellowed over the din of gunfire and shouting. Her head whipped around, and she caught sight of Ramirez about five meters away behind the next nearest large outcropping of stone. She crouched where she was a moment, her partner flowing out to cover her skin, clothing, and pack, causing her to blend in with the forest around her and also giving her a small modicum of protection. A moment longer and a brief pause in the gunfire came and she darted across the gap. There, she found both of the two men she had been hoping to locate, Sergeants Hall and Ramirez.

Time to go kid, Ramirez said gruffly, jerking his chin toward the Flux Tab on her shirt and reaching for his. She nodded and reached for her own. Behind Ramirez, Sergeant Hall was doing the same, his tab clipped on the strap of his pack. Just before his fingers closed on the small, coin-like disk, however, he jerked, tumbling to the ground, bright red blossoming on his chest.

SARGE! She screamed, lunging to catch the large man as he slumped to the ground. Behind her, Ramirez cursed and dropped down to crawl up next to her. Ramirez, his tab! She yelled over the noise, tugging on the bleeding man’s pack; the bullet that had torn through his body had also destroyed the recall tab.

Shit. Here, he needs medical. He tore his own tab away from his collar and clipped it on the other man’s vest, squeezing it to activate it. Hall met his eyes as he faded. Now you. Go. I’ll be fine. She blinked for a moment, confused and then it hit her; they only had her tab left and he had to stay behind. There wasn’t time for goodbyes and Taylor knew that it was the right choice, not because of what she might say but because of what she was and what she carried inside of her. She reached up, steeling herself against the intense nausea that the transition caused her because of her bond.

The shelter of the outcrop exploded around them and Taylor found herself several meters away, covered in scaly plates. She scrambled to her feet, wincing as the plates withdrew, sinking back into her skin, fast extrusion always hurt a little and the withdrawal wasn’t exactly pleasant. Sigmund grumbled in the back of her mind about avoiding explosions and she snorted in soft amusement at the comment before sobering.

Ramirez was nowhere in sight but soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms were swarming over the remains of the stony shelter with practiced efficiency. She crouched, hand flying back up to the tab but then froze. Ramirez might be hurt; she had to find him and make sure he was okay before she could leave. Lieutenant Jaffari was going to be furious with her. Again.

Quickly, she leapt to her feet and took off at a dead run, hitting the release on her pack and letting it fall to the ground. Aided by Sigmund, she was faster than most unbonded humans and she was easily able to outpace most of the strangers who gave chase, even without any additional tricks. Two managed to stay on her tail though.

The forest opened up in front of her, revealing an old, decrepit wooden pathway; part stairs, part ramp, the wood splintered and grayed with age and exposure. It was one of the remnants of the old mining camp down below and she gave a half-thought prayer that the rickety old thing would hold up as she tore down it, leaping over missing slats in a mad downhill dash.

The closest pursuer dove at her as soon as they were near enough, slamming into her full force. The impact carried them both to the ground but as they landed, Taylor on her stomach and the stranger on Taylor’s back, she arched up, driving an elbow toward the face of the woman who had tackled her. The helmet protected most of her head, but her lower face was exposed, and the point caught her hard in the jaw, snapping her head to the side and her eyes rolled up. With the same momentum Taylor rolled the other woman off her and regained her feet, facing the partner with her limp form between them.

Taylor’s right foot shifted back slightly so that she wasn’t facing the stranger straight-on but at an angle that presented less of a target. Her left hand drifted down around hip level, palm out and open, her right up near her shoulder, curled into a loose fist.

The soldier had a rifle up on her but was looking less than perfectly assured as her lips curled into a smile that wasn’t particularly friendly. You can try to take me, or you can look to her, Taylor said calmly. I say try because I do not think you will succeed. The gun stayed up and she sighed with resignation as he took a step closer, skirting the downed woman.

"Put your hands on your head, turn