Vendetta (Project Vetus Book 2)

by Emmy Chandler

  I glance at Dreyer. “How sure are we about the date?”

  “Positive.” She nudges the prone guard to make sure he isn’t going to get up, and he doesn’t move. He’s out cold.

  “Show him the inventory.”

  Dreyer taps her wrist com and navigates to the form she found earlier. She swipes one finger over the screen, and a virtual version of the form appears in the air over her device, anchored to it so that when she moves the com, the virtual screen moves in sync.

  “These are the items that were on the freighter. Almost all of them are listed for sale by you. Which is how we wound up here. So why would you lie about hitting that freighter?”

  Green squints at the list, and Dreyer obliges him by scrolling slowly down it. And finally, Green huffs as he turns back to me. “I remember that job. But it wasn’t a freighter. It was an evidentiary transport.”

  “Evidentiary?” Dreyer blinks, surprised. “As in…evidence?”

  Green nods. “The Bureau was transporting evidence from various planets to the capital of the sector, to be used in some criminal trials. After the trial, they’re required to keep the evidence on hand for a certain period of time, in case of an appeal, but then they sell it at auction.” He shrugs. “We didn’t want to wait for the auction. Or bid. So we just intercepted the ship and took what we wanted.”

  An evidentiary transport. Fuck. I glance at Dreyer, and her expression mirrors my own anger. Meshach sent us after something the fucking Bureau seized as evidence. Something they chose not to describe in the shipping manifest.

  “And where is that cargo now?” I ask.

  “Everything we got from that transport is over there.” Willie’s arm trembles when he points to one corner of the warehouse, where a bunch of crates are stacked on the floor. “Go look. Take whatever you want.”

  “Pryor.” I toss my head at the corner. “Check it out?”

  “On it.” Dreyer’s footsteps echo away from me, and I pivot with Green still in my grip, so I can keep an eye on both her and on the door to the warehouse.

  “These are all labeled with stick-on digital shipping labels,” Dreyer says, shoving one of the crates aside so she can get to the label on another. She touches it, then slides her finger up, and the form scrolls up along with her motion, showing her the rest of the inventory.

  “Nope.” Dreyer turns to examine another label. “Not this one either.” I wait while she climbs on top of one of the larger boxes to read the ones stacked higher up. “I don’t see anything that could be what we’re looking for. There are crates from Zelos and Notus 3, but there’s nothing here from Theron.” When she’s gone over all the labels, she jumps down from the top of the highest crate and lands in a crouch. “But we have no way of knowing how much he’s already sold, from that transport.”

  I turn back to Green. “Where’s the record of what you’ve sold? On your com?” I glance at the device at my feet, glad I didn’t stomp on it. “Show me.”

  Green nods frantically, though he looks more angry than scared. Which means he’s going to try something.

  I fight the urge to let my weapons slide from my arms. If he sees them, I’ll have to kill him, and I have no desire to do that. He hasn’t offended Grace, and Dreyer’s already had to hurt one of the guards.

  Green drops to his knees and grabs the wrist com. I snatch it from him and pull him to his feet before he can use it to call for help from other guards positioned elsewhere on the space station. “Show me the records.” I hold the device between us, so I can see every move he makes.

  Green taps through a couple of menus, and a spreadsheet finally appears on the small screen.

  “Bigger,” I say, and he swipes his finger up, opening a virtual screen suspended over his device.

  “This block here is from that transport. Every item we ‘liberated’ is listed here, along with its status, in the column on the right. As you can see, some have sold, some are still available, a couple of them we decided to keep, and there were also a few that were no use to anyone. So we incinerated them.”

  “They would have been useful to anyone involved in a court appeal,” Dreyer snaps at him.

  Green only shrugs.

  “Scroll down,” I order as I skim the inventory. He obeys, dragging his finger along the small screen, and the form slides up in its virtual display, right in front of my face. “There’s no unmarked crate here.”

  “Are you sure?” She studies the screen over my shoulder. “Maybe it’s listed by its contents.”

  “Maybe, but the planet of origin is listed for all of these, and there’s no Theron on the list.” I tap Green’s com screen to dismiss the virtual display. “Where’s that crate?” I demand.

  “I have no idea, I swear.” His focus volleys between Dreyer and me. “There was no unmarked cargo in what we took from the transport.”

  “So, you left it on board?” Dreyer’s steps echo across the warehouse toward me.

  “No. We got everything. Even the fucking dishes from the galley. There was no unmarked crate on the evidentiary transport.”

  Dreyer turns to me with one brow raised, silently asking me whether or not I believe him. But I have no answer for her.

  Our best bet is to call in Burke Jamison. But that will inevitably lead to a debate about what to do with Green and his still-breathing guard, who will know much more about us than they should. Especially after Dreyer’s demonstration of her alien ability. But I can’t see that we have any other choice.

  I tap my earpiece. “Jamison, we need you out here.”

  Burke’s voice echoes in my ear. “On my way.”

  I turn to Dreyer. “Can you deal with the security guards in the docking bay?”

  She turns and draws her pistol, then she heads into the long, straight hallway leading back to where we entered the space station. I watch as she opens the door at the end of the hall and slips into the docking bay. A flash of red light pulses through the open doorway, and I hear a thunk as the guard hits the floor.

  Two more red pulses follow in rapid succession, as she deals with the guards in elevated positions. Then Dreyer speaks into my ear. “Docking bay is secure.”

  Sotelo pipes up next. “Lawrence and I will stand watch. Zamora, you stay onboard at the controls, in case we need to leave quickly.”

  “On it,” Zamora replies, and I hear the muffled groan of metal as he sinks into the pilot’s chair.

  A minute later, Dreyer and Jamison head down the hallway in my direction. “What can I do?” Jamison asks.

  “Just listen and evaluate.” I turn back to Green. “Tell me one more time about the unmarked crate on the evidentiary transport your crew boarded and robbed last month.”

  Green huffs, aiming a confused glance at Jamison before he turns back to me. “There was no unmarked crate. I’ve already told you.”

  “Yet there’s one listed on the transport’s inventory.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. We hit that transport for the guns being shipped on it, and while we were at it, we took everything else that wasn’t bolted down. But the guns are the only reason we even have that inventory. They’re the only things we counted or verified before bringing aboard. Everything else was a bonus.”

  I turn to Jamison.

  “He’s nervous,” Jamison says, and though he appears to be studying Green’s face, he’s actually looking a bit deeper than that. “Which makes sense, considering the position he’s in. But if he knew anything about the crate, he’d tell you, just to save his own life.”

  “So the crate wasn’t on that ship?” Dreyer asks.

  Jamison shrugs. “If it was, this man doesn’t know about it.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Green’s eyes narrow on Jamison, but it’s clear he’s asking about our entire crew.

  “No one,” Dreyer tells him as I throw his wrist com over the nearest shelf and across the warehouse. “We were never here.”

  “We can’t just leave him,” I insist, already dre
ading this debate. “He’s seen our faces. He’s heard Jamison’s real name. And he’s seen what both of you can do.” Part of what they can do, anyway.

  “Mr. Willie Green isn’t going to be a problem. Are you, Mr. Green?” Dreyer aims her pistol at his head. “Because I’d hate to have to come back and kill you.”

  “Just go,” he says. “You were never here.”

  I turn to Jamison for another assessment, and he shrugs. “He means it, at least right now. But people sometimes change their minds.”

  “I won’t,” Green insists.

  “If you do, your death won’t be quick,” I promise him.

  “Let’s go.” Dreyer is already heading for the hall, and on the way, she reaches into an open crate and snatches a package of chocolate bars. She holds it over her head without looking back. “Mind if I take this?”

  “Take anything you want!” Green calls after her. “Just please go,” he adds in a softer voice.

  “I’ll leave your gun in the docking bay,” I tell him, as Jamison and I follow Dreyer.

  Thiago already has the engine fired up as we board the ship, and as the ramp folds up, I realize that Dreyer has also taken both of the laser rifles she got from Green’s guards.

  “So, an evidentiary transport?” Sotelo says, as Thiago pulls us out of the docking bay. “That would have been good to know.”

  “Yeah, but now I understand why no one else could find his cargo.” I pull the earpiece from my ear and drop it into the charging box on my console. “He lied about the kind of ship it was stolen from. That fucker wants us to find evidence that disappeared on the way to a criminal trial. Evidence the Bureau is no doubt still looking for.”

  “So, wait,” Grace says from her chair, as she removes her own earpiece. “Someone stole something from official Bureau custody, and now Meshach wants you guys to steal it from whoever already stole it? So, he’s not after something he bought, that was stolen during shipping?”

  “I suspect those are both at least partially true,” Jamison says. “I got a pretty good read on Meshach, when we were on Gebose. He was withholding some details. But we knew this job was off the books for a reason, so I didn’t think much about that, at the time. And I didn’t get the sense that he was out-right lying.”

  “So, what?” I ask as I take a seat at my console, just feet from Grace’s chair. “We’re thinking he bought something that was then seized as evidence, before it could be shipped to him?”

  Jamison shrugs. “That’s as good a guess as I could make.”

  “Then he just let us believe that it disappeared on its way to him, when it really disappeared on its way to trial,” Zamora says.

  “Whose trial was it?” Grace looks pale, and I can see that this development has upset her. “What was the crime? What does it have to do with Theron? With me?”

  “No idea,” Sotelo says. “But let’s see what we can find out.” He gestures to my console, and I swivel to face it, while Dreyer takes a seat at the other work station.

  “You do another search for Theron, with the new details added as search parameters, and I’ll try to figure out what trial the evidence was supposed to be used in?” Dreyer says.

  “Sounds good.” I unlock my console and—

  “Vaughn?” Grace’s voice is unsteady, and the beast sounds an alarm in my head. I spin in my chair to face her, and I’m already on my feet when she reaches for me. “I don’t feel—” Her eyes flutter closed and she slumps over in her chair.

  “Grace!” I scoop her up, and her head hangs limp over my arm, her feet dangling. She’s completely unresponsive.

  Help her! The beast demands.

  But I can only clutch her to my chest as panic makes a desperate cadence out of my pulse.

  “Coleman.” Dreyer pops out of her seat. “Put her down over here.” She grabs a blanket from one of the open sleeping bunks and spreads it out on the floor. “Zamora, grab the med kit from the cargo hold. It’s bolted to the wall, by the stairs.”

  Help her, the beast orders, as my heart makes a similar demand with every beat that echoes through my chest. But I don’t know how.

  I’ve never in my life felt so helpless. So worthless.

  “Oh my god, what happened?” Lilli cries as I lay Grace on the floor. She drops to her knees next to me and brushes hair back from Grace’s face. “She was fine a second ago.”

  “No, she wasn’t.” My hands hover over her. The beast’s agonized pacing in my head is so loud it’s nearly all I can hear. “She was tired, and she looked pale. I should have paid more attention to that. I should have—”

  “She was fine a second ago, and she’s fine now,” Sotelo says. “This is the same thing that happened to Lilli. It’s just her body working through those changes I warned you about.” But the captain is on his feet, which tells me he’s more concerned than he sounds.

  “You don’t know that,” I growl as I press two fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. She’s breathing and her heart is beating. That’s all I know, and I cling to it.

  Sotelo says something about coincidence, and hormones, and mating fever, but I’m not listening, because I’m watching the seconds tick by on my com device while I take her pulse. “Seventy-two beats per minute.” I say, as Zamora emerges from the hatch with the med kit. “That’s good, right?”

  “Perfectly normal.” Sotelo gently tugs Lilli back. “Let’s give them some space. Seriously, Coleman, I know you’re worried. I would be too. I was, when it was Lilli. But she was fine.”

  Help her! The beast demands again, and his fear feeds my own, sharpening my voice.

  “Lilli was also unconscious for three days and required IV fluids and an entire barrage of tests. We can’t do that here. And we don’t have Dr. Brennan around to put her skills and equipment to use for good, for once.”

  “We may not have her, but we do have some of her equipment,” Dreyer says. “Filmore stocked the Dinghy with everything he could possibly need.”

  Dr. Justin Filmore was Dr. Brennan’s second in command in zone X. He’d planned to steal Lilli and Dreyer from the lab and sell them to one of UA’s competitors, and the Dinghy was his get-away vehicle. Which we stole and used to escape the prison planet, after we killed him.

  “Move and let me see her arm.” Dreyer shoves me over and unseals a sterile, metal-framed vial with a needle in one end. It’s an automatic syringe blood tester.

  “Do you know what you’re doing with that thing?” I ask as I move back to give her more space.

  “I saw Brennan use these a hundred times. Sterilize the crook of her elbow.”

  “With what?” I ask, and Zamora drops an alcohol wipe packet into my lap from the med kit he’s still holding. I rip into it and thoroughly cleanse the inside of Grace’s left elbow, trying to push back my terror so I can be of some use to her.

  “Okay, here goes.” Dreyer presses the syringe to a vein running through the bend in Grace’s elbow, and the cylinder begins to fill with blood. “I don’t think we need much, since we don’t have lab equipment to do a more in-depth analysis. Get a bandage.”

  Before I can ask Zamora for one, he drops one into my lap, and I rip it open. Dreyer pulls the needle from Grace’s arm, and I apply the small bandage, then I press on it to help stop the bleeding.

  “What will that tell you?” I ask Dreyer.

  She shrugs. “We’re about to find out.”

  While we wait for the results, Zamora lays one hand on my shoulder. “She’s going to be fine, man. One way or another. If she needs a doctor, we’ll damn well find one for her, even if we have to kidnap one from a medical outpost somewhere.”

  “Thanks.” For the first time since I met Grace, I don’t want to punch Thiago Zamora in the face. Probably because for the first time since that moment, he isn’t presenting himself as a rival for Grace’s affection.

  Finally, the cylinder beeps. “Okay.” Dreyer squints at the tiny screen on the side of it. “This thing analyzes a lot of different…leve
ls. And it says they’re all in the normal range for a woman her age. Which it can evidently tell from her blood.”

  Lilli finally looks up from Grace’s face, hope shining in her eyes. “So, she’s okay?”

  “Well, she’s not anemic, or diabetic, or anything like that. No sign of infection or any cancers. Her heart, kidney, and liver function look good. She’s not currently pregnant, and her hormone levels are normal. And according to this thing, she’s tested negative for more than one hundred twenty different toxins.”

  “I told you,” Sotelo says. “She’s going to be fine.”

  “Not if we can’t feed her,” I growl at him. “Not if she’s unconscious too long to remain hydrated.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he says. “I’m just saying that for now, what she needs is rest. So her body can adjust to whatever changes your DNA has triggered. And that may not take anywhere near three days, because medically speaking, every patient is different. Including Lilli and Grace.”

  “But we should have a plan,” I insist. “For where to find a doctor, in case we do need one.”

  Sotelo nods. “Let’s figure out where our job is going to take us, then look for doctors there, or somewhere on the way.”

  “Guys.” Dreyer’s voice sounds strange. A little stunned. “I think we’re going to be able to kill two birds with one stone, in that regard.” She’s still staring at the automatic blood tester, but not at the little screen on the side of it. “Look.” She holds it out to me, and I squint to read the tiny print etched into the metal casing on the side opposite the screen.

  “Theron Laboratories, Inc…” I read. “Holy shit. Theron isn’t a planet. It’s a fucking lab.”

  “Grace is from a lab?” Lawrence frowns from his chair, trying to follow the discussion without getting in the way. “How can anyone be from a lab?”

  “The same way we’re from a lab,” Zamora says, and he doesn’t seem to realize his left hand is rubbing the seam in his right forearm. “I’m guessing they did something to her at Theron, and she was a different person afterward. Just like us.”