Transmuted (Dark Landing Series Book 1)

by Robin Praytor

  “If our man’s not on the other side, we turn around and head back here. Understood?”

  Letty nodded, preoccupied with sealing one of her gloves.

  Drew slid into his own suit as he spoke. “Another thing. Since normally we’d be tethered to the station or to a ship, and not free floating, it’s important only one of us navigates so we don’t overshoot. You’ll be tethered to me, and I’ll control our direction and momentum. You won’t need to do anything unless there’s an emergency and you have to cut me loose.”

  She stopped struggling with the glove and looked at him. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, like if I spontaneously combust.” Drew felt foolish even suggesting such an absurd possibility. But all sorts of weird things happened in space—everyone knew that.

  “I thought you were afraid of freezing into a man-sickle. Is there a chance you might burst into flames?”

  “I’m trying to make a point.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Don’t use my propulsion jets unless I cut you loose first.” She taunted him with an exaggerated grin.

  It seemed she looked forward to their upcoming adventure. He was learning she could be impulsive and a risk-taker, but Drew found it hard to imagine she’d ever seen real peril before coming to Dark Landing. Neither had he, but she didn’t need to know that.

  They stood close together. As he held her gaze, Letty’s expression changed from a teasing grin to one of confused unease. He wanted to kiss her, and in that moment he felt certain she wanted him to. Words hung in the air unspoken. Drew hesitated too long; whatever passed between them was fleeting. Her attention returned to securing her glove.

  After double checking the seals, they attached their helmets and tested the environmental settings one last time. That done, they tethered their duffels on a short lead behind Letty and stepped into the airlock. The interior hatch closed behind them and the cabin depressurized. Drew faced the outer hatch, took a deep breath, and pressed the release.

  They drifted into open space. Drew’s stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard. He’d purposely avoided food and drink that morning so he’d have nothing to come back up. The intermittent contractions of the EMU soothed him. Its gentle massage facilitated an even distribution of bodily fluids to counter the headaches and blurred vision associated with weightlessness. He concentrated on modulating his breathing. After a few seconds, his panic subsided. He engaged the miniature propulsion jets located on the back of each arm, depressing one slightly longer than the other to angle them away from infinite space and toward the armature. Since the docks sat on the side of Dark Landing facing away from Spud, Drew and Letty could travel spaceside along the armature and be hidden from view until they reached them.

  The Temperance rested on the second sublevel, berth eight—the third berth when approaching from the east side of the station. Once they rounded the station and headed toward the Temperance, anyone in the ships docked in berths ten and nine could spot them, but that wasn’t a serious problem. Suited crew commonly carried out inspections and made repairs. No one would be close enough to tell they weren’t tethered to a particular ship.

  Drew kept his eyes on the armature exterior, avoiding the view out to space. They were making good time and were within a few yards of the junction between the arm and the station when he felt a tug on his tether. Their forward motion stopped. He reached for the nearest handhold on the armature and turned. Letty had one arm through a second handhold up to the crook of her elbow, anchoring her. She gestured frantically with her free hand at the three-by-three inch display on the opposite wrist. Drew pulled in closer to determine the problem.

  She had roughly a minute of oxygen left in her suit; nothing was coming from the tank on her back. Drew had tested her oxygen supply and flow multiple times. It was sufficient to make several trips between Spud and the Temperance. The tank connected directly to an aperture on the back of the suit with nothing to kink or become disconnected. He had no time to diagnose the problem. What had he been thinking? The EMUs were too old to risk their lives on. He glanced nervously at his own wrist display, relieved his reading was nominal. We have to return to Spud.

  He turned away from her and reached his free arm over his shoulder to point at the coiled hose secured to the back of his tank. Solely for sharing oxygen in an emergency, when extended, the capped hose reached two feet long. Removing the cap exposed a vulnerable diaphragm, which kept oxygen from escaping. The front of each suit held a female aperture with a matching diaphragm. When connected, a small, manual lever would break the diaphragms to allow the exchange of oxygen. He’d walked through the procedure with her once. Hopefully she’d been paying attention. He realized too late they should have practiced using two of the spare suits.

  He could feel her releasing the coiled hose from the back of his tank. He fought the urge to turn around and see if she was successful. Fifteen seconds passed as he watched his flow gauge. Precious seconds later he realized he was holding his breath. He let it out and took in a fresh lungful. His gauge leapt double the previous level, and a tap on his shoulder communicated she was set.

  Over his shoulder, he jerked a thumb backward toward Spud, then pushed gently out from the armature. Letty pulled at his suit, stopping him. He angled his head around and saw she’d grabbed the handhold again. He pointed toward Spud.

  She made angry jabbing gestures in the opposite direction, toward the station and the docks. He shook his head. He . . . they needed to return to the safety of Spud. She alternated pointing forward and slapping the back of his helmet. They were getting nowhere. Panic rose when she wouldn’t let loose of the handhold. He was afraid to pull too hard and disconnect the oxygen hose. He placed his gloved hands in front of him, palms pressed together, eyes closed, and fought for control. Letty put a hand on each of his shoulders. He could barely feel her thumbs massaging his back through the thick fabric, but it calmed him. She activated her propulsion jets and they moved forward once again.

  With the two of them so close together, traveling would be awkward. More problematic, if a crew member from one of the ships spotted them now, with Letty essentially riding Drew piggyback, it would be obvious they were in trouble. Someone would be dispatched to assist them.

  They reached the armature junction and rounded it, hugging the station as they approached dockside. A bluish glow emanated from the lighted cargo bays, and the bulk of a ship protruded from the end berth. Letty probably saw nothing but the back of his helmet. This was the part of their journey he dreaded the most. They now had to leave the security of the station toward open space, then around the bows of the docked ships and down the line to the third bay and the Temperance.

  Even with Letty’s suit malfunction and his panic attack, they’d made good time. They would arrive well within the timeframe Curtis arranged for his man to be waiting by the airlock—assuming he’d be there at all. Drew shuddered at the thought of making the return trip to Spud. He tapped his propulsion controls and angled them away from the station toward open space. He bit his bottom lip to stave off a new wave of panic and steadied his breathing.

  Once even with the first ship’s bow, he maneuvered the jets so that they were traveling midlevel between corresponding view ports. If no one had seen them approach, they wouldn’t be in view again until they made the crossing between it and the ship in berth nine.

  Time slowed. It felt like they’d been in open space for hours, though Drew’s wrist display indicated they left Spud only thirty-five minutes earlier. According to his gauges, they had enough oxygen to continue two more hours, even sharing resources. He wondered what the opposite of claustrophobia was—agoraphobia? He wasn’t sure. He thought he recalled a phobia for being lost in the cold emptiness of space. As he pondered possible names for his fear, he kept one eye on his wrist display and watched for anyone else out for a stroll, or a shuttle launching from one of the ships.

  He remembered—astrophobia. He hadn’t faced it since the academy. He’d hidden his p
roblem well during training exercises and psych exams, graduating with the harmless notation of “mild initial anxiety” on his final record, but he was out of practice dealing with it.

  As they rounded the bow of the second ship and headed across to the Temperance, Drew sensed more than felt Letty bobbing along behind him. Every so often she shifted her hand from one shoulder to his other, telling him she was okay. Once closer to the Temperance, they would have to travel down her port side toward the docks to reach the cargo bay airlock. Dark Landing’s atmospheric shields would blur the view of anything outside the dock’s contained environment.

  Halfway between ships, he caught a movement to his right. A suited crewman had exited a hatch of the second ship and waived to signal help was on its way. Drew responded with the universal rigid arm, palm outward signal for stop. He elbowed Letty to indicate she should do the same. She caught on and repeated the gesture. The crewman hesitated, hanging close to the ship’s hatch, watching them. Drew couldn’t increase their momentum since they were already moving at maximum speed. He brought them in closer to the side of the Temperance, simultaneously letting the watching crewman know they had maneuverability. Once within a few feet of the airlock hatch, Drew reached out to grab the handhold. If no one was there to let them in, their little adventure was at an end.

  Chapter 19: The Temperance

  Drew peered through the view port hoping to see someone staring back at him from the other side. It was a wasted effort. Layers of grime obstructed his view into the airlock interior. He suppressed the temptation to see if the crewman from the other ship was still watching, certain that was the case. He could feel the crewman’s eyes boring into his back.

  A key-pad to the right of the hatch held a large square button, which glowed green to indicate the airlock was empty and depressurized. Had someone occupied the airlock, suited or not, the button would be red and the hatch could only be released from the inside. Green or red, if Drew pushed the button before entering a code, an alarm would alert security of an unauthorized boarding attempt.

  It seemed silly, but the only thing he could think to do was knock. At the third rap, the hatch slid up, out of sight. Drew and Letty entered the airlock and pulled the duffels in after them. As soon as they cleared the opening, the outer hatch closed and the inside keypad flashed intermittent red. They faced the interior while they waited for the airlock to pressurize. Anxiety at what awaited them shipside replaced Drew’s sense of relief at surviving the spacewalk. He imagined Temperance security, or perhaps his own men, dispatched to return them to Dark Landing. When the button turned green, the hatch slid open and they stepped into the Temperance’s cargo bay.

  The man who greeted them was huge, taller than Drew in his EMU, a mass of muscle . . . and he was in a hurry. In seconds he had unattached Letty from Drew’s oxygen supply and had her helmet off. Just as fast, Drew’s helmet seal popped, and he was breathing Temperance air as well. While Drew fumbled with his gloves, the big guy set both tanks down and stripped back the top of Letty’s suit. He watched in trepidation as Nikko grasped her by the waist and lifted her out of the bottom half, then set her gingerly down on the deck next to it. He did the same with Drew. In no time they stood in front of the man in their civvies with the EMUs puddled beside them.

  The man’s smile was as big as he was. In a thick Earth-Eastern European accent, he introduced himself as Nikko and shook both their hands. Drew and Letty mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” in turn. Nikko had none of Curtis’s slime quotient but, by his bearing and sheer size, Drew was certain the man could be as dangerous as he was polite. Without being asked, he directed them to the purser’s stand, announcing he would deliver their duffels and the EMUs to their cabin and wait for them there.

  “Well, that went slick as snot on a gold tooth,” Drew said as soon as they entered the passage Nikko had indicated.

  “Did he just pick us up like dolls?” Letty asked.

  “Yes . . . yes, he did.”

  With Nikko’s accent, his directions required some interpretation. But after weaving through back corridors and up two levels, they successfully found the passenger area of the ship. Drew hung back, head down, and let Letty take the lead. She strolled up to the purser’s stand as if she owned it and introduced herself as Tina Kingsbury, Mr. Jacobs’s assistant. She advised the woman whose badge read “Melissa, Assistant Purser” that she and Mr. Jacobs were unable to access their suite. After checking her screen, Melissa flashed Letty a look of annoyed bureaucratic superiority, quickly followed by a sequence of facial expressions that needed no subtitles. She started to speak, hesitated, reconsidered, smiled, and apologized.

  Melissa is definitely management material, Drew thought.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how that happened, Miss Kingsbury. I’ve corrected the error. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No, that’s all. Thank you so much.” Letty returned the woman’s smile.

  “My pleasure. If you need anything at all, please contact the purser’s office. Refreshments will be served in the passenger mess along with a short orientation, exactly one hour after we debark.”

  Letty nodded her acknowledgement and preceded Drew down a carpeted corridor behind the purser’s station. When they moved out of ear shot, she said, “Well, that went slick as snot on a gold tooth.”

  Their cabin was tucked away at the end of the corridor. Drew palmed the access panel and the hatch slid open. He couldn’t squelch the uncomfortable feeling that things were falling into place too easily.

  Nikko waited in the small lounge of their suite, the EMUs and duffels in a pile next to him. Drew pulled the infamous package from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over. Nikko accepted the package and, flashing another face-wide smile, exited the cabin, ducking through the hatch. No words were exchanged.

  ~ ~ ∞ ~ ~

  Letty stored her duffel and EMU in one of the bedrooms, freshened up, then joined Drew in the lounge. He was scrolling through a list of menu options on a wall-mounted monitor.

  “They’re transmitting the orientation to our cabin. I may be able to see most of the passengers from here.”

  “Good. When I come back, we can compare notes. Do you think someone from the station would recognize me?”

  “Possible, but I doubt it. Even so, only command and a handful of security staff know who you are, especially in connection with all that’s happened. What about passengers you traveled with on the way out?”

  “No chance. I avoided contact as much as I could. When I had to interact, I kept my hat on, head down, and said as little as possible. Cleaned up, in a business suit and without the hat, they’ll never give me a second glance.”

  Drew looked like he wanted to comment. After a moment, he winked.

  Now what does that mean?

  “Smile for the camera,” he said as she left.

  On familiar ground now, Letty headed to the mess. To further distinguish herself from the reclusive Rebecca Richards who’d made the trip out, she decided to act the extrovert Taleen Industries ambassador. She nodded and smiled at everyone she passed, sprinkling in “Hellos” here and there.

  In the mess, she accepted a glass of wine and hugged the back bulkhead, giving her full view of the room. She raised her glass in the direction of the empty podium where she thought there might be a camera and toasted Drew, then looked around for monks.

  She recognized a few faces of passengers continuing on from the first half of the trip, and noted they were few in number. Since the ship was returning to Dark Landing, most must have opted to stay on the station. There were no monks. Among the passengers she didn’t recognize stood a distinguished gentleman who Letty guessed worked in the sciences. He looked like every physicist she knew—a preoccupied tour guide. A family—father, mother, and a boy of about eight—stood by themselves looking out-of-place. A businessman had been at the canapé table stuffing his face since Letty arrived.

  She noticed two women at the bar
with exaggerated hair and makeup, and tight-fitting clothing that revealed a lot of skin. Another woman stood nearby, chatting seductively with a male passenger. Openly staring, she realized the two at the bar were now staring back at her wearing sardonic expressions. Fortunately, the head purser stepped to the podium and diverted everyone’s attention.

  After the purser’s short welcome speech came mess schedules and safety announcements, and then the crowd disbursed. The monks were a no-show. Letty wrapped several canapé in a napkin, grabbed another glass of wine, and headed back to their quarters.

  As she entered, she offered the snacks and wine to Drew. “Well?”

  Drew unfolded the napkin, and sniffed at the appetizer suspiciously. “Thanks. I didn’t recognize anyone from the station except the kid and his parents, the Greensteins. The boy, Toby, is a problem child. We’ve pulled him into HQ a dozen times for various mischief. The family and I are well-acquainted. If Toby’s onboard, this ship’s in imminent danger.”

  Letty ignored his comment. “What about the scientist-type and the businessman? They weren’t on the first half of the trip with me. Did you recognize them?”

  He shook his head.

  “What about—”

  “—the hookers?” Drew finished her question. “We’ve had several recent complaints of prostitution. Since we serve a wide variety of races and cultures, we don’t permit hookers, licensed or otherwise—and I think these are otherwise. It was only a matter of time until we IDed them. They must have felt us closing in and decided to pack it up. My guess is they’re getting off at one of the mining operations.”

  “They seemed as interested in me as I was in them.”

  “You were sizing them up based on their appearance. They were doing the same. It’s a woman thing, isn’t it?”

  “Men don’t size people up?”

  “Okay, it’s a human thing.”

  “Whatever. I’m taking the first meal with the crew. It seems likely the monks would do the same if they want to avoid socializing. I don’t remember ever seeing monks before.”