It was obvious to Drew, if not to Letty, that neither man was sincere. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I want you to know she’s not alone.”
“I see that.” Travis’s look dismissed Drew. He turned his attention back to Letty. “Listen, babe, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and let you know how sorry I am, and how much I want to be there for you.”
“Thanks, Travis. I know—I miss you. I miss everyone . . . and Dad . . . But, I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”
Drew returned to his room to give them privacy, but stood next to the door so he could still hear.
“Listen,” Travis said, “I’m going to let you go. I promise not to bother you again, but please contact me as soon as you can. I want to know what’s going on. Don’t make me beat it out of Stephen.”
“As if you could.” She laughed softly. “I will, I promise. And if I can’t talk to you directly, I’ll leave a message for you with Stephen . . . or whoever.”
“I guess that’ll have to do. Take care. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
When she ended the transmission, Drew returned to the lounge. “That was nice of him.”
“Yes. We’re old friends. I’ve known him since I was nine. We went through school and most of college together. We’re like brother and sister . . . now. Like I said—just friends.”
“You don’t have to explain your relationship to me,” Drew said.
“I know. I know that. I was just telling you how we knew each other. That’s all.”
“That’s nice. He seems like a nice guy.” Drew went back to his room, and closed the door behind him.
Chapter 21: The Golden Tracer
Curtis stood in front of Drew’s desk at parade rest, his feet roughly ten inches apart, legs straight, hands clasped against the small of his back. His blue eyes fixed forward. At five-eleven and 185 pounds, he might be described as compact or sturdy, but never overweight. Though he disliked most things military, he understood the value in a level of regulatory fastidiousness on outposts such as Dark Landing. His auburn hair was cropped short; his uniform spotless and unwrinkled, with knife-edge creases across the back and down the sleeves and pant legs.
He doubted Fitz understood the stance’s meaning—and he would never think to put Curtis at ease, but it amused Curtis anyway. He played tiny mind-games most days to keep himself from imploding of boredom. It might simply be moving someone’s coffee cup from one side of their desk to the other, back and forth during the day. Or answering a question with a subtle double entendre. Someone, usually Drew, would inevitably grow suspicious, but that just made the games more challenging. If Drew commented, it provided Curtis an opportunity to practice his earnest, innocuous expression.
He disliked Fitz. He disliked Mattie Freelander even more. To be honest, he disliked most people, usually because they were dolts. A person needn’t be brilliant or accomplished, they just had to be interesting. He’d come to space for adventure and excitement—and maybe to escape a bit of trouble back on Earth—but until the last few days, he’d found only tedium. Torture me, kill me, just don’t bore me to death. He let his thoughts wander. Mattie thinks she’s clever, but she’s wrong. And there’s something going on between her and Fitz. Couldn’t be romance; he grimaced involuntarily at the thought.
Curtis liked and respected Drew Cutter, even though he saw through his lame attempts to deflect Curtis’s attention. What’s the big deal with the Taleen chick anyway? If given the chance, he and Drew might become friends. He’d tried to ingratiate himself with Drew, but nothing seemed to work. He’d like an invite to the weekly poker games, but Drew had ignored those hints as well.
“Curtis, are you listening to me?” Fitz said, breaking Curtis’s trance.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I may have missed . . . the middle . . . ”
“I received an urgent message from Minerva Station.” Fitz appeared frazzled and out-of-sorts.
“Minerva Station—right.”
“Can you get in touch with Drew?” He watched Curtis intently.
“What? No, of course not, why would you even ask that? If I knew where he was, I would tell you immediately, sir.”
Fitz waved his hand in front of his face as if shooing away gnats. “Mattie seems to think you know where Drew is. That there’s something you’re not telling us. Is he on the Temperance?”
“On the Temperance, sir? How could he be? I resent the implication that I would withhold . . . if anyone, Mattie . . . ” Caught off guard, he was sputtering.
Fitz sighed. “Mattie and her team searched Spud and found indications Drew and Miss Taleen had been hiding there. The environmental logs show the airlock to the armature was accessed the afternoon they went missing, and that you went over later that same day. They’re not anywhere on the station or Spud, and the Temperance was the first ship to leave after they disappeared.”
“I was searching Spud for them myself, sir. I saw no sign someone had been there. I don’t know about the Temperance.”
“Okay, we’ll play it your way. I don’t have the time to spar with you right now. If you know where Drew is, tell him the Golden Tracer was attacked and destroyed early this morning. All souls on board were lost. The Temperance is delivering cargo to Minerva Station in two days. He needs to stop this silliness and turn himself in to Muck.”
Curtis’s smarmy facade deteriorated. “You’re shitting me? Who would . . . why would anyone attack the Golden Tracer? Muck can’t think Cutter’s involved.”
“I don’t know who thinks what. I’m leaving tomorrow morning on the Essovius for Minerva Station. Mattie’s in charge. You’re dismissed.”
“Mattie? What the—?”
“You’re dismissed!”
Stunned, Curtis left the office. Where did Fitz suddenly find his balls? Something turned on his el hefe switch. It must be that bitch Mattie’s doing. And, who’d have the nerve to attack the Golden Tracer? Why?
It was forty-five minutes until the night shift, but Kyle was entering HQ as Curtis came out of Drew’s office.
Curtis spoke to him in an undertone. “You know about the Golden Tracer?”
“Yeah, Mattie filled me in. That’s why I’m here early.”
“I just heard. You got any details?”
“Only that they got off one transmission identifying it as an Earth-design light cruiser, nothing else. I mean, except, it had to be armed to destroy the Golden Tracer. How would a raider get a hold of an Earth light cruiser?”
“I don’t know, and there’s been no raider activity in this quadrant in our lifetimes. Not since Earth joined the Alliance, anyway. Muck audit ships are only mid-range commuters. They don’t carry cargo. The only thing of value would be the ship itself, so why blow it up? It couldn’t fire back at them.”
“Maybe someone has a grudge against Muck?” Kyle offered.
“Everyone has a grudge against Muck.”
Mattie walked up behind Kyle and addressed Curtis.” You heard what happened, I see.”
“Mattie . . . er . . . sir. Congratulations.”
“Don’t get your pantaloons in a bunch. It’s only temporary.”
What is going on with everyone? Curtis tried to look affronted. “Hey, you won’t have any problems with me. I get it. You have seniority and someone has to be in charge. Drew would have picked you as well.”
“Good,” Mattie said. “Did Fitz talk to you about Drew?”
“He did,” Curtis said stiffly. “But I couldn’t help him. Since you’re here, if you two will excuse me. I need to finish my shift report.” He left them standing in the middle of the room and sat at the shift commander’s desk he shared with Mattie. Let her lurk around with her thumb up her ass. It’s my shift and my desk for another forty-five minutes.
Curtis worked until a little after shift end. Fitz and Mattie had left to grab dinner. He spoke to Kyle on his way out. “I’m going. Tell Mattie I’ll be on call if she wants me back.”
He wouldn’t risk conta
cting Drew directly, but he could get in touch with Nikko. If anyone tracked his transmission, he’d say he was following Fitz’s lead and asking his friend on the Temperance to keep an eye out for Drew and Miss Taleen.
~ ~ ∞ ~ ~
Drew and Letty retired to their individual rooms after the last dinner mess. The Temperance had made a brief stop on the moon colony of Prosse earlier in the day. Drew was relieved to learn the Greensteins debarked there. Though Prosse was a Camdu protectorate, it housed a human colony. He wished the authorities good luck with Toby. They would need it.
The Temperance would put in at Minerva Station in two days. He wondered what the hooker monks would do. The impropriety of three hookers getting off at, essentially, an Alliance police station, would be remarkable. He smiled at his unintended pun. Even if they put their robes back on, who would they be fooling? But then, the last eight days had been one surprise after another.
A muted gong sounded from the lounge, and it took him a few seconds to realize someone was at the entry hatch. He and Letty came out of their rooms at the same time. No part of a face was visible on the monitor. It displayed only a chambray shirt covering an expansive chest.
“It’s Nikko,” Drew said, opening the hatch. With his ever-present smile, the big man handed him a data vial, then turned and left.
“Nice seeing you again,” Drew called after the retreating hulk. He inserted the vial into the wall monitor. The image of Curtis Walker materialized on screen. Drew and Letty moved to the two-seater lounger. Curtis had evidently transmitted from his personal quarters. He was sitting in a relaxed position at a table filled with dirty food containers.
“Nikko, buddy, the guy in charge here seems to think there are two people from the station—a dopey looking guy with a super-hot woman—who got on the Temperance to avoid questioning about a local matter.” Curtis looked to be enjoying himself. “Keep your eyes out for them, will you?
“You’re scheduled to stop at Minerva Station in a couple days, right? Our chief of administration is heading that way himself, but he’ll be about a week behind you. He thinks the two I told you about should turn themselves in. It’s likely Muck security will board the Temperance to search for them otherwise.
“Speaking of security, three monks boarded the Temperance from Dark Landing at the same time as those two. That’s assuming those two did board . . . which I don’t know they did. Anyway, I’ve been looking into the monks’ backgrounds—don’t ask—and I’m pretty sure those guys are not monks. They’re probably not even guys. Anyway, I thought you should know.
“Oh, and did you hear about the Muck ship, the Golden Tracer? It was attacked and destroyed early this morning. I don’t have any details yet except all hands were lost.”
“So, that’s it. Take care, buddy. Catch you later.” Curtis’s image froze and then faded out.
Drew stomach sunk. He was stunned by the loss of the Golden Tracer and its crew. Why would anyone attack a Muck audit ship? It made no sense. And that meant Bertie Wellington was dead. He would miss his friend in spite of the current strain on their friendship. He turned to Letty. “Well, the jig’s up,” he said without emotion.
“Why do you do that? Why do you say things like, ‘the game’s afoot’ and ‘the jig’s up’? People have died. My father is dead.”
He reached out to comfort her, but as usual, she pulled back from his touch. “I’m sorry, Letty, I’m being insensitive. It’s just . . . when I’m in these situations, I tend to be flippant. Don’t ask me why. I had a friend on the Golden Tracer.” Chastised, he was genuinely sorry he’d reacted so callously. It hid his true feelings.
“No, I’m the one that’s sorry. You’re right, the jig is up, and we’re back where we started. We haven’t learned anything,” Letty said.
“We’ve learned who the monks are and how the bogeymen are spreading nanoids,” Drew offered.
“Yes, but we still don’t know who’s in charge. It’s not the hookers for sure. And who killed Hernandez? And now we don’t know who or why someone would blow up a Muck ship. Everything that’s happened . . . happening . . . is connected. We were foolish to think we could figure this out ourselves. I’m contacting Rostenkowski tonight.”
Drew silently added his own items to the list of things they didn’t know. Like how Hernandez’ killer had known precisely when and where Letty would be. And why was Fitz on his way to Minerva Station? Invitations to Minerva Station were infrequent and only offered to politicians and other VIPs. What could possibly be the connection between the loss of the Golden Tracer and Dark Landing? What did they need to speak to Fitz about that they couldn’t discuss over a live feed? The list grew longer, but Drew withheld his contributions, not wanting to add to Letty’s defeatist mood.
“First,” he said, “we didn’t really have a choice in making this trip—we were following our only lead. Second, go ahead and call Rostenkowski. I’m going to reveal myself to the Temperance captain and enlist his help in detaining the hookers. At least they can take them back to Dark Landing for questioning. Look on the bright side.”
“What?”
“We’ll get to visit Minerva Station. How many people can say that?”
“You’re being flip again and, actually, I’ve been there before.”
“Of course you have.” Drew looked at the monitor. “Well, there’s no reason to wait,” he said. “Transmit Internal: Pursers Office.” The message, Holding for Pursers Office, flashed on the screen, quickly replaced with the image of the assistant purser.
“This is Melissa. Good evening, Mr. Jacobs. How may I help you?”
“Melissa, my real name is Drew Cutter. I’m chief of security on Dark Landing. I’ve been traveling on the Temperance under an alias because I’m tracking three suspects wanted for questioning.” Drew hoped Melissa was unaware of his current shaky status on Dark Landing.
“Oh, dear, I . . . I find this very distressing.”
“I’m sorry to spring it on you, but I want to meet with the captain first thing in the morning if that’s possible.”
“I’m sure he’ll take time to see you under the circumstances. But I need to check with his admin first. When I get a firm appointment, I’ll message the information.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” Drew said.
“May I ask . . . are these suspects dangerous?” Melissa glanced nervously over her shoulder as if someone were creeping up on her.
“I don’t believe so. I just can’t have them debarking at one of our stops.”
“I understand. I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks again.” Drew ended the transmission. “Okay, Letty, you’re up.”
Letty squared her shoulders and addressed the monitor: “Transmit External Relay: Earth, Washington, DC, Earth Technology Oversight Commission, Secretary A. Rostenkowski.”
A message appeared on the screen in response to her request: Connecting to external transmission relay. Approximate wait ten minutes. Please state your name and/or affiliation.
Letty looked at Drew. “Katherine Leticia Taleen,” she said, shrugging.
“Does she know who you are?”
“No, but it’s 2:00 a.m. there. I’m betting that name will prompt a transmission transfer from her office to her personal com system.” Letty was right, several minutes later the image of Anne Rostenkowski filled the screen. She was evidently used to people waking her in the middle of the night. Dressed in a meditation robe, with her hair neatly coiffed, she appeared alert.
“Rebecca? What on Earth?”
“Actually, it’s Letty Taleen, not Rebecca. I’m sorry to have deceived you, but, considering my new circumstances, there’s no longer a reason to conceal my identity. To confuse you further, I’m traveling now under the name Tina Kingsbury,” she said, with an apologetic smile.
“I’m . . . I’m astounded. All this time I thought you were George’s assistant. I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Taleen.” The secretary grew noticeably unnerved but managed to sta
y focused. “I received your message, and you evidently got mine. We need to talk. We’ve made some headway here, not all of which we can discuss over a live feed. And I see you’re with a friend?” Her gaze shifted to Drew.
“Anne, this is Drew Cutter, he’s chief of security on Dark Landing. He’s also fully familiar with our situation.”
Drew nodded at Secretary Rostenkowski.
The secretary’s countenance immediately changed from perplexed wonder at Letty’s true identity to stern dismay. “You had no right. This is a serious breach of confidentiality.”
“I think when you hear the details you’ll understand that I had no choice.” Letty summarized the series of events since she arrived on Dark Landing, maintaining the loosely coded references they’d employed in their earlier messages. Secretary Rostenkowski sat quietly through Letty’s narration.
“If I understood your earlier message,” Letty finished, “Camdu is experiencing an outbreak of a similar cold virus?”
“Yes. At least that’s what I was advised by Mr. Diak, a . . . a paid consultant who contacted us independently. We haven’t confirmed the information but, unless we learn otherwise, I’m acting as if his report is factual.”
Letty interrupted her. “That name sounds familiar. How are you spelling it?”
“D-i-a-k,” Rostenkowski said and went on. “I’ve since received veiled inquiries from the other Alliance planets, which lend credibility. In line with what you just shared with me, the Taleen research teams have made some explosive discoveries of which you may not be aware. At this point I need to brief Earth Governor Fitzwilliam-Bennett.” Rostenkowski turned her gaze to Drew. “It occurs to me now. You work with the governor’s brother don’t you, Chief Cutter?”
Drew stiffened. Rostenkowski’s shock at learning Rebecca Richards’s true identity couldn’t compare to his shock at being told his chief of administration, Martin Fitzwilliam, a man he’d known for years, was brother to Earth Governor Eleanor Fitzwilliam-Bennett. How is it possible I don’t know this? Yeah, the names are the same, but it’s a big universe. People share last names, and Fitz has never said anything. There’s nothing in his personnel file. In those few seconds, Drew tried desperately to reconcile the revelation and his long-term friendship with Fitz. Does his sister have something to do with his trip to Minerva Station? He wondered how many other people he knew were concealing their true identities.
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