A trample of boots fell in behind him. The main computer transmitted monotone status reports over his com patch:
Disturbance contained at sublevel two, customs box two, airlock engaged, one fatality, no injured, emergency personnel dispatched.
The message updated with each repeat:
Disturbance contained at sublevel two, customs box two, station-side airlock retracted, one fatality, no injured, fire, environmental, and security personnel on scene. Additional security personnel en route.
Each of the two station sublevels held five docking bays and two separate entrances into the station. While atmospheric shields maintained environmental services for the docks, the box-shaped entrances were twenty-by-twenty-foot emergency airlocks. All station personnel, visiting crew, and passengers entered through the airlocks when passing from dockside to station-side, no matter how many times a day or an hour they made the trip.
Environmental detection equipment scanned everyone and everything in the box during the short crossing. Only when the sensors and the technicians monitoring the displays agreed that nothing in the box posed a threat to the station would the airlock open station-side.
Disturbance contained at sublevel two, customs box two—
“Pause,” Drew said, stopping the transmission. It took him more than twenty minutes to make the trip from Security HQ to sublevel two. Mattie followed with a team of ten men. Security personnel closer to the scene had cordoned off the area. His additional men spread out, confirming no threat remained.
Drew took several minutes to study the scene for himself before taking reports. That there’d been an explosion was obvious, though any residual smoke had been sucked out with the oxygen to suffocate the fire. Simultaneously, ceiling jets would inject the appropriate chemical compound to neutralize any residual contaminates.
There was minimal charring, but the box walls were liberally splattered with blood and grisly bits of debris. Drew assumed the grisly bits had belonged to the small mound of remains lying under a damp tarp in the middle of the airlock deck.
He dipped his head toward the fire captain, who’d been glancing in his direction every few seconds, waiting for his signal. Captain Davies spoke to his next-in-command before heading over, shedding the top half of his environmental suit as he approached. Along with security personnel, fire and environmental staff manned a shared substation on each dock level.
“We have everything under control, Chief. The fatality was a crew member from berth eight, the Temperance,” Davies reported.
“Do we know what caused the explosion?”
“Yes, but you won’t believe it. The scan indicated old fashioned, Earth-grown nitro suspended in the inner pouch of a water skin. Can’t tell what ignited it yet.”
Drew tried to remember what little he knew about the antique ordinance. “That’s bizarre. Nitro was notoriously unstable, and it would take an awful lot to cause any damage. It could never breach the hull of the station.”
Davies nodded. “Yeah, if that’s what was intended. Plenty of other choices would be safer and easier to come by. Makes no sense.”
“Find out if there are other uses for nitro, especially anything that might not be obvious to humans,” Drew said, then added, “And try the med-lab database. There might be something there.”
“Already on it, sir. It’s too early to know for sure, but I don’t see anything to indicate a calculated attack against the station.”
Drew relaxed a bit. “I hope you’re right. We’ll talk again after I see the initial reports.”
He motioned Mattie over. “I don’t suppose you have much on this guy yet?”
She shook her head. “Only his name, Jonas Trammel. We’re gathering ship’s officers and crew now to start interviews. I’ll file it as we learn more.”
“If you have everything in check here, I’m going back to the office.” He took another quick look around, satisfied the responders had it under control.
On the way back, he issued a general statement to reassure the station populace they were safe and had nothing to worry about.
Back at HQ, Kyle glanced up briefly from his monitor as Drew passed. He would know as much as Drew by now, maybe more if anything came through in the last few minutes.
Eager for the serenity of his office, Drew called for low lights as he stepped through the hatch and for backup as he drew his blaster and pointed it at a movement in the corner. Startled and already on edge, only his academy training stopped him from pulling the trigger. In two seconds Kyle fell in at his side, weapon drawn.
“I’ll be a jackal’s ass!” Kyle lowered his weapon. “I thought she’d left. I’m really sorry, Chief. In all the excitement. . . . Let’s go, Miss Taleen. Get up!”
Still brandishing his blaster, Drew stared at the kid he’d noticed earlier. He’d evidently decided to move from the metal lobby bench to the more comfortable lounger in Drew’s office. Wait, did Kyle call him ‘she?’ ‘Miss Taleen?’
She lay perfectly still, ignoring Kyle’s command. Her gaze never wavered from Drew’s blaster. Evidently unprepared to take a chance, she gave him the time he needed to absorb the situation. When his thumb reset the safety catch and his arm relaxed, she sat up, pulled the slouch hat from her head and shook out her hair. How had he ever mistaken her for a man?
He continued staring as he holstered his sidearm, then dismissed Kyle with a flick of his index finger. She stood at five-foot-seven or eight; he figured the boots added an inch or two.
He could tell she was slender, though the loose-fitting poncho revealed no discernible figure. No woman with a face like hers could have anything but a figure to match.
Her hair, thick and jet black, with maroon and navy highlights, barely brushed her shoulders. Her complexion was translucent, cheeks slightly flushed.
Drew took a deep, ragged breath.
Chapter 2: Decked
“Pretty sloppy operation, Cutter,” were the first words out of generously full lips.
Transfixed, mouth already opened, only air whooshed out in place of a coherent response from Drew.
Black, intelligent eyes stared back at him, as black as her hair, and framed by ebony brows.
“You are Security Chief Andrew Vincent Cutter, aren’t you?” she asked, frowning.
He nodded; his breath and equilibrium returned. He hadn’t spoken yet, assessing the situation. Right hand still resting on the hilt of his blaster, he relaxed the arm further, then let it drop to his side.
She took a few moments to study him. “Do you need medical attention?” she asked finally, with what seemed like genuine concern. When he didn’t respond immediately, she edged sideways, closer to the hatch.
Without warning, she erupted. “Incredible! You’re the one who’s supposed to protect me from the bogeymen? I just remembered I have someplace else to be.” She snatched her pack from the lounger and headed toward the hatch.
Composure fully restored, Drew grabbed her arm as she moved past him. “Hold it, lady!”
That was a mistake.
A second later, he was lying flat on his back with Miss Taleen straddled across him. Her hands and knees pinned his arms to the deck. By this point, if she were serious, she should have used a head butt to break his nose. Instead, she stared down at him, panting lightly. While it would’ve been difficult to convince anyone of it at the moment, she’d employed a move at which Drew was adept. Equally adept at the counter move, he was enjoying the view until he heard chortling outside the hatch.
Despite the pleasure he got from the woman’s weight against his thighs, he needed to take control of the situation. He pressed the backs of his arms against the deck for leverage and raised his head and shoulders upward as far as he could, feigning an attempt to kiss her. The tactic always worked against men. As calculated, she wrinkled her perfectly shaped nose and leaned back and away from him, reducing the pressure on his arms just enough and drawing her ankles closer to his hands.
When Drew grabbed he
r ankles, she instinctively lifted her hands to reach behind and free herself, shifting her center of gravity. He shoved up and backward. Emitting a loud shriek, she flew over his head, landing half-in and half-out of the hatch with a satisfying thud. The staff’s chortles turned to roars of laughter.
Drew flipped up and onto his feet in one smooth movement. He lifted her from the deck by an underarm and dragged her through the hatch, issuing the verbal command to close it behind them, and shutting out the retreating laughter of his men. He heaved her back onto the lounger, picked up her pack, and chucked it at her. With a steadying breath, he sat down at his desk.
“For the moment, I’ll ignore that you just attacked me, but you can bet we’ll get back to that. Let’s start over. Hello, Miss Taleen, I’m Security Chief Andrew Cutter. Everyone calls me Drew or Chief. I understand you wanted to speak with me. How may I help you?” He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. Fingers laced behind his head, elbows akimbo, he gazed at her nonchalantly, or so he hoped.
She glared back at him, rubbing a shoulder, appearing more angry than injured. “You weren’t attacked; I checked you.” When he didn’t rise to the bait, she went on. “You grabbed me and I defended myself. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Anyway, I traveled here at the request of my father. He sent me to you specifically for your help. Ha!” She rolled her eyes at the absurdity. “To protect me and—”
He interrupted her; something didn’t jibe. “Your father? Before we go any further, can we establish your identity? Who are you and who’s your father?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Humor me.”
“Believe me, I am.” She smirked, and lifted her chin with a proud air. “I’m Katherine Leticia Taleen—Letty, head of Taleen Industries. My father is George Speller. Technically, he is . . . was . . . is my guardian.”
Drew lowered his feet and leaned forward, elbows on the desk in front of him. Lustful thoughts aside, he watched her intently while mentally arranging his next questions. “You’re not making any sense. Why would George Speller, the most celebrated CEO in the K.U., send you way out here for protection? And to me of all people? Taleen Industries has a security force larger, better trained, and better equipped than most planets. Why aren’t they protecting you? And protecting you from what?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure Dad had his reasons.”
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Speller myself.”
For the first time, she appeared uncertain. “Y-you can’t. He’s gone, disappeared, almost two months now. He left me a message. I was supposed to run and make my way here to you. He didn’t say what I was running from.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her hands. Drew thought she might be tearing up. She wasn’t. After a few seconds contemplating her nails, she straightened, eyes dry. “Actually, I thought you’d answer those questions. You really weren’t expecting me? You don’t know my dad?”
He shook his head. “No, and I find it hard to believe George Speller is missing, especially for two months. If that’s true, the whole universe would be talking about it.”
She seemed as perplexed as Drew. He suspected her story was leading to some kind of elaborate con, but he couldn’t figure the end game. He’d let it play out. In the meantime, she was sure something to look at. They sat unmoving for several seconds.
“‘Bogeymen,’ really?” he asked, breaking the tension. She laughed a little. Enough for Drew to know he wanted to hear her laugh more. Not tonight.
“Look, it seems you and I have a lot of ground to cover. But, it’s getting late, and I’ve got reports to read and another mystery to solve. We can start again in the morning. Do you have quarters? When did you arrive—on what ship?”
“I arrived today on the Temperance.”
“You know about the explosion then?”
“On the Temperance?!”
“Not exactly. A member of the crew was transporting an explosive chemical. It ignited in the station airlock.” Drew watched her expression for any indication of pre-knowledge. Her features registered only puzzled concern.
“Do you have quarters on board or do you need a room?” he asked.
“I’ll stay here.”
“Here on the station?”
“No, here in your office. This couch is a lot more comfortable than my bunk on the Temperance.”
“Well, you can’t stay in my office. That’s dumb. If you’re the head of Taleen Industries, and I gotta tell you I’m not taking your word for that, couldn’t you afford a stateroom on the Temperance instead of a bunk?”
“Of course, but when I travel I keep a low profile.”
“Perhaps, if you’re trying to keep a low profile, you shouldn’t be using your real name—if Katherine Leticia Taleen is your name. You may think the poncho and hat make an impenetrable disguise, but what’s the point if you’re traveling under your own name?”
“I’m not . . . ” With another sigh, “I thought we were going to do this in the morning?”
“You’re right. I’ll arrange a room at Landers Keep.”
“I’m staying right here. You have a comfy couch, a private head with a chem-shower. There’s probably something to eat in the op’s galley.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I don’t care what you think! I’m tired and I’m staying here tonight.”
“Look, crazy lady—”
“Who do you think you’re working for anyway?” she spat out, triumphant, chin high.
Drew fell speechless once more. Fuck! That’s an unexpected twist. He admired her style. “What are you trying to say?” he asked, recovering faster this time.
“I’m saying, you work for me, and I can prove it.”
She joined him behind the desk. The entire desktop, dark now, was a document screen with a palm reader visible under the surface to his right. To activate the screen, several smaller monitors installed in the credenza behind him, and the large monitor on the wall above the credenza, he had only to lay his hand on the reader.
Letty brushed his shoulder as she reached across the desk in front of him, his view blocked momentarily by her poncho. She smelled of leather, stale wool, and orange blossoms, the latter fragrance dredged up from somewhere in his youth on Earth. She placed her right hand on the reader. His desk lit up, displaying the unfinished logs he’d left out earlier. Simultaneously, a mechanical hum sounded from three screens rising to a comfortable viewing angle out of the flat surface of the credenza behind him, and he knew the wall monitor now glowed softly with several columns of menu options.
She removed her hand, leaned back against the edge of the desk, and looked down at him smugly. “As I said, I’m spending the night right here. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning, say 0700?”
Drew pressed an index finger to a small icon beneath the palm reader, returning all screens to their idle state. He tapped his com patch. “Kyle, send two men in here. No, make it four.” He was shaken, and it probably showed, but he stared evenly back at the woman.
“You may be my boss, or my boss’s boss’s boss—whatever. That’s one more thing to sort out tomorrow, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you in my office with access to station systems.”
The hatch opened and his men crowded in with curious looks.
“Take her to holding and have her searched. Disable her com implant and lock her up. I want someone watching her every second of every minute until I order otherwise.”
He expected a scene, but she went quietly without a backward glance, chin lifted. Drew thought the chin thing must be part of her normal carriage.
Chapter 3: Mattie Freelander
His day now completely turned to shit, Drew strained to keep a conversational tone as he tapped his com and spoke into the air above his desk, “Mattie, where we at?”
“Just starting my report. I’ll have the preliminary in about an hour.”
“Can’t wait, come on in. I ne
ed Kyle too. Ask him to bring coffee, please.”
In two minutes they both entered his office. Mattie pulled a chair from the side wall and dragged it next to his desk. Kyle handed Drew his coffee.
“Thanks, Kyle. Grab the pack on the lounger, it’s Miss Taleen’s. Go through it for ID, visa, and anything else of interest. Scan it for hidden compartments. Make sure there’s nothing she can use as a weapon, then give the rest back to her.”
Drew delivered the next request with an intense stare meant to ward off questions. “She said she’s the head of Taleen Industries. My access reader captured her palm print. Run it and a full background check. I want to make sure she’s who she claims to be.”
Kyle darted a startled glance at Mattie as Drew continued.
“She also said she came in on the Temperance, but I had customs look for a Taleen earlier and nothing showed. She was probably traveling under an alias.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of anything he’d missed. Sandy brown strands curled around his fingers. It was longer than he liked.
“Also, check George Speller’s name against my profile. I can’t imagine when we would’ve crossed paths, but I guess it’s possible. And have Benny investigate the Temperance. I want a complete ownership abstract since her first launch.” He paused for a few seconds. “That’s it for now.
“Oh, and keep all tech gear away from her. I don’t want the men chatting her up, either. Tell them to keep a professional distance. Right now she’s in holding; there’s no need for an official record. Later, if necessary, we can book her. I’m sure you’ll dig something up—counterfeit travel documents—whatever.”
Kyle scurried from the office before Drew thought of anything else.
“Wow! I heard she decked you,” Mattie said with a wide grin.
“That’s not the half of it. Between you and me, she has access to station systems!”
Transmuted (Dark Landing Series Book 1) Page 2