This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017
A Kindle Scout selection
Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
To Preston, my love (who is not a pigeon),
and to my son, my baby, Anthony,
whom I miss more every day.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you Kindle Press for your willingness to take a chance on first-time authors.
I am particularly indebted to my editor, Darren Todd, who stripped me of all conceit. I cringed at every word he cut, but without his keen eye and unerring judgment, I could not have made it this far.
To all the members of our Wednesday Night Critique Group—you guys rock. A special shout out to longtime members, fellow authors, and friends: Kara Piazza (the attorney), Doreen McLaughlin (the teacher), and Stephanie Horton (the doctor), and, of course, Darren Todd (the editor). How lucky it was to find so much talent, humor, and support gathered at the same place and time each week.
Finally, I would like to thank my friends and family (and at times, complete strangers) who managed to keep their eyes open while I went on and on about “the book.”
Robin Praytor
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1: Dark Landing
Chapter 2: Decked
Chapter 3: Mattie Freelander
Chapter 4: Three Chiefs
Chapter 5: Camdulings
Chapter 6: Curtis Walker
Chapter 7: Letty’s Cell
Chapter 8: Interrogation
Chapter 9: Bad News
Chapter 10: Morning After
Chapter 11: Investigation
Chapter 12: Smoking Knife
Chapter 13: Suspended
Chapter 14: Escape
Chapter 15: The Plan
Chapter 16: Data Vials
Chapter 17: Found
Chapter 18: Space Walk
Chapter 19: The Temperance
Chapter 20: Bin
Chapter 21: The Golden Tracer
Chapter 22: By Any Name
Chapter 23: Minerva Station
Chapter 24: Encounter
Chapter 25: Refugees
Chapter 26: Lost and Found
Chapter 27: Reinforcements
Chapter 28: Onslaught
Chapter 29: Escape Pod
Chapter 30: Sar Mode
Chapter 31: Interlude
Chapter 32: It Lives
Chapter 33: The Marigold
Chapter 34: Toby’s Plan
Chapter 35: Catching a Ride
Chapter 36: Bad Turn
Chapter 37: Man Down
Chapter 38: Leavings
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
SNEAK PEAK: DISCOVERIES
Prologue
Destruction of the last defender belonged by tradition to Sar Mode. None too soon—the appointed principal’s next turning was only days away. She directed Quell’s battle escorts to the rear. The centuries-old tradition demanded that the command ship make the final kill independent of the armada.
The Paresee warship turned two-hundred-seventy degrees to Quell’s right flank, feigning its intention to run. At the last moment it swung back, its cannons positioned for a broadside strike. Perfectly synced with the Paresee, the Diak ship countered its move. Devices planted by the advance force had infiltrated the planet’s military. The Paresee captain’s every order was transmitted to the Diak in real time.
Sar Mode admired the captain’s dogged determination to cripple the Diak ship or even, with luck, destroy it. When the ship achieved its optimal attitude the ill-fated captain ordered his cannons to fire, realizing his strategy had failed milliseconds after the command was given. The enemy ship faced him head-on, its lasers fully charged.
Sar Mode waited until the Paresee missiles were equidistance between the two ships. Her lasers ignited the incoming projectiles in succession, right to left, throwing up a curtain of blinding white light. When the curtain fell, the Paresee ship sat, a dark center surrounded by hundreds of escape capsules. The circular wave widened as the capsules accelerated into the void. Some headed into Quell’s shields. All but one disintegrated on contact in a glittering display. The pod carrying the Paresee captain, its momentum stopped by the Diak beam, was held in place until the others blinked from existence.
Sar Mode watched as the remaining capsules continued on their doomed journey. It was doubtful any of the pods’ inhabitants would survive, but she hoped one or two might. They reminded her of the farfeni flower when the core burst and its seeds scattered to the four winds—one of the few original memories left to her. We will not die today.
She lowered the shields and drew the captain’s pod aboard. He was young and virile. Blood still coursed through his veins. Sar Mode was impatient to add his memories to her database. She would replay them slowly, savoring each one as long as possible, and tuck a few away for the dark moments.
When the Paresee ship was destroyed and Sar Mode safely transferred to her new host, she dispatched the landers to the planet below to eliminate any remaining ground resistance. The planet must be cleared in preparation for the colony ships’ arrival. While they waited, the colonists would bicker among themselves over the best sites, those with the highest populations. But the colonists would be second to choose. Gunship pilots who’d survived the brief war were rewarded with first choice of the conquered. In order to preserve their purpose, only Diak who had fully turned could become pilots, and once rewarded, they were rotated out of the ranks.
The next target had been selected some time ago. Unlike the Paresee system, where only one of its planets supported life, the next objective consisted of multiple planetary systems and five inhabited planets. Preliminary invasion measures had commenced earlier than usual—well in advance of the Diak arrival. Devices were seeding the populations even now.
The armada reassembled at the newly constructed command station to rest, repair damaged ships, strengthen its numbers, and wait for their seeds to take root.
Chapter 1: Dark Landing
2519, Zeta Quadrant, Known Universe
Security Chief Drew Cutter leaned his six-foot-three frame over the mezzanine rail and watched the security team herd the cutpurse through the bazaar below. They angled him toward an out-of-the-way spot where they could take him with little fuss. Their target zigzagged around the stalls and merchandise displays, nudging shoppers aside in a half-hearted attempt to dodge his pursuers. He’d been made and had no place to run. Petty thieves and con artists were rare on Dark Landing. Those who found their way to the station also found their stays cut shorter than anticipated.
The three-man security team was in position to take their man unnoticed by surrounding shoppers when the new-hire, evidently deciding it was his chance to shine, lunged at the culprit. He misjudged the distance and came up a full two feet short. Unable to check his momentum, he stumbled into the man, shoving him against a display rack filled with decorative glow-globes. They went down together—a tangled mess of shelving and thrashing limbs. Globes scattered across the deck as customers ran to retrieve them for the irate merchant. Eyes on the bouncing balls
, several side spats developed as people bumped heads and stepped on each other’s feet.
Jones, the team lead, stood back, silently taking in the ruckus while his second endeavored to separate the newbie from the display rack. Jones threw his head back and looked up at Drew. Next in line for shift commander, Jonesy always seemed to know when the boss was watching. Arms out, palms up, with a “do-you-believe-this-shit” expression, he shrugged at Drew before calmly moving into the fray to sort it out.
Confident Jones could handle the mess, Drew turned from the scene below. He surveyed the offerings of the mezzanine food court. It’d been one of those days. Irked whenever the station wasn’t lumbering along with monotonous efficiency, he imagined its routine as a length of silk fabric. His job was to iron out the little wrinkles. He’d beat them out if necessary, but that was never his first choice.
He pushed the incident to the back of his mind. If he was smart, he’d grab a quick bite and head back to the office to catch up on his logs. It was Thursday, 1930 station time. Three cargo freighters arrived earlier in the day, joining five others already docked. When their cargos were loaded or unloaded, the crews would clean up for station leave. Eight ships in dock at once meant a hectic weekend.
Still deciding between sauerkraut and bean curd, or reconstituted chicken and rice, Drew’s com implant purred the name Matilda Freelander, his nightshift commander, in his ear.
“Yes, Mattie?”
“You coming back to the office tonight?”
“I’m thinking about it. Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem. There’s a lady here.”
He waited a beat before prompting. “And . . . ?”
“She asked to speak with you personally. I told her you’d already left.”
“This lady got a name?”
Now it was Mattie’s turn to take a beat. “Letty Taleen.”
Drew frowned. “Has she said what she wants?” It wasn’t like Mattie to dance around a point, but he could tell by her measured tone something was up. Taleen . . . Taleen . . . it couldn’t be that Taleen.
“I leave it to you, Mattie. Do you think I should come back?” He made no effort to hide his irritation.
Mattie responded with her usual indifference. “It might prove interesting.”
“Okay, but I’m gonna grab something to eat first. End all.” A barely audible tone sounded in his ear, signifying the end of the communication.
There was no line at Long Chow’s. He ordered a chicken and rice bowl to go. He’d take the long way back to the office. Whoever she was, it wouldn’t hurt to keep her waiting some. She probably had a beef about damaged luggage or rude station personnel. Still, Mattie was holding something back.
He tried to remember the first name of the Taleen Industries woman from the documentaries he’d seen. He thought it was Karen or maybe Katherine. Taleen was an uncommon surname, but anyone of that consequence wouldn’t have business on Dark Landing, not in person anyway.
Other than a few scattered mining operations and sparsely populated scientific bases, Dark Landing was the last station in the relay, as far as you could dock from any developed planet in the Known Universe, Earth or alien. Its proximity to multiple, stabilized wormholes made it the perfect hub for hopping between galaxies, but it lacked the luxury accommodations and amenities needed to attract passenger ships, especially those carrying multi-world CEOs. The station catered to inter-planetary trade and was a staging point for space science organizations.
Drew reflected on what he knew of Taleen Industries, a multi-world conglomerate licensed to do business on each of the five MCTT-member planets, and the largest, most diversified outfit in the Known Universe. The founders, an entrepreneurial couple, died in the TuD’wei spaceport disaster, leaving an infant girl as sole heiress.
Karen, or Katherine, an adult now, maintained a low profile. Depending on which version you believed, she was a protected recluse with more looks than brains who didn’t involve herself in running the store, or a freak-of-nature brainiac who ran all aspects of the operation from self-imposed exile.
Before entering the conveyer, he reconsidered and instead turned and sought an empty rail bench. To his mind, no good had ever come from surprises. As he sat down, he tapped the small, slightly raised patch of skin behind his left earlobe. Dock Command, he mouthed voicelessly, unwrapping his dinner.
The reply was immediate. “Benson here. Hello, Chief.”
“Hey, Benny. Can you do me a quick favor?” Drew asked, and shoveled a bite of chicken and rice into his mouth.
“I’ll try. What’s up?”
He spoke around his mouthful. “I need the registries for the ships docked today and the names of the companies they’re hauling for.”
Benson “Benny” Capone, Senior Dock Foreman, answered without hesitation. “Berth four is co-op-owned, hauling alien and human medical supplies. Berth five, also co-op-owned, is dropping an order here and picking up most of the med cargo from berth four. Both are scheduled to depart in three days. Four is returning back up the line to the Deep Light station, and five is headed to its home port on Fehdeen.”
Drew sensed he was speaking from memory and not from a record screen. With little effort, Benny could recall the details of every ship that embarked and debarked from the station on his watch.
The dock foreman continued. “Berth eight is Earth-registry, non-gov. Cane Cargo is listed as principally insured. She unloaded a few cartons of trade goods to barter with the local merchants and debarked four, one-way passengers. She’s scheduled to depart in three days too. No departure destination filed yet.”
“I’ve reviewed the registries for everything docked before today. I don’t remember seeing a Taleen Industries’ connection. You?” Drew asked.
“Nope, none that’s obvious. What with holding companies, co-op interests, and the like, it’s hard to say for sure. If you can give me an hour or two, I’ll dig deeper.”
“No, that’s okay, Benny. You gonna be at poker Saturday?”
“You betcha.”
Drew cut the connection. Co-ops owned most of the trade stations scattered at that end of space, and most of the cargo ships. Their shares changed daily, and ownership often proved difficult to determine. Taleen Industries could have interests in any of the ships currently docked. Only Muck knows.
Drew tapped his com implant and mouthed a new request, Customs. A low beeping indicated he’d entered the queue, and the speed of the beep told him he was next. Thirty seconds passed.
“Customs Duty-officer Marcowitz, sir. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Marcowitz, would you check arrivals for the last few weeks for a ‘Taleen’?”
“Searching t-a-l-e-e-n, sir. No results for the past thirty days.”
“Thank you. End all.”
With no more information than when he started, he ate the last bite of rice, dumped his bowl and fork into a waste chute, and headed to the conveyer that would drop him at Security HQ.
Before he could enter the conveyer, he had to step aside to let three Praetorian monks exit single file, heads down. Dark brown hoods concealed their faces, and their long robes brushed the deck. Arms crossed in front, their hands were buried deep in bell-bottomed sleeves.
Why Praetorians would come to Dark Landing and stay as long as these three had, over six weeks now, nagged at Drew. He’d assumed they were only passing through, but they hadn’t left. He’d kept a close watch on them. As long as they didn’t create the customary disturbances with public demonstrations and doom-provoking prophecy, he’d let them be. It was a free space after all. That they seemed to rush around the station at all hours perplexed him. Where the hell are they rushing to and from anyway?
~ ~ ∞ ~ ~
The man leaned casually against the bulkhead outside Security Headquarters, watching for her to come out. She’d been in there for a while. The passageway remained busy but no one seemed to pay him any attention.
They’d lost track of Speller
on Mars after a botched attempt to take him out. She was their best chance of finding him now. Their information said the two were close, really close. They spent as much of their personal time together as they did during work hours. Some guys had all the luck. The contact on Earth had followed her for several weeks until she’d boarded the Temperance. Her trip to Dark Landing was no coincidence.
The conveyer doors opened and the chief of security exited and headed into HQ. The man tapped his com and mouthed a command. “Cutter just returned to HQ. What should I do?” He kept his voice low. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and entered the waiting conveyer.
~ ~ ∞ ~ ~
Drew was still shaking his head in puzzlement over the Praetorians when he arrived at HQ. Everything appeared quiet. The duty roster indicated Jones’s team had deposited their cutpurse and returned to patrol. The prisoner was being questioned in interview room two.
A kid of maybe eighteen or nineteen was curled up, napping on the two-seater bench in what was generously referred to as the reception area. Drew pegged him as a down-and-out who’d worked his way to Dark Landing but lacked the resources to move on.
He wore the favored travel kit consisting of a multi-purpose wool poncho with long leather fringe. The fringe was often used to tie the garment across an opening for privacy. A slouch hat pulled down to his chin, and dungarees with the pant legs tucked into worn, high-topped leather boots completed the outfit.
A small shoulder pack served as his pillow with the strap end clutched in the boy’s hand and the upper portion wrapped securely around his wrist. He may be young, but he’s an experienced traveler, Drew thought.
Mattie and her assistant Kyle stood together at the back of the room outside Drew’s darkened office, and studied a panel on the wall. No Letty Taleen in sight. She’d evidently decided not to wait for him, or perhaps she was in the head. Laughter spilled from the open hatch of the staff rec room. Maybe she’s shooting pool with the night crew, he thought and chuckled.
Drew heard the boom of a distant explosion a second before the klaxon blared and the emergency lights flashed. He whirled and headed back toward the conveyer. As he passed the bench, he noticed the kid had scuttled under it, still clutching his shoulder pack. Quick thinker.
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