Transmuted (Dark Landing Series Book 1)

by Robin Praytor

  “Drew?”

  The sound of his name broke through his disjointed thought process. He looked at Letty, mouth slightly open then, collecting his wits, back to Secretary Rostenkowski. “Yes, right, Fitz, our chief of administration and Governor Fitzwilliam-Bennett’s brother.” Mercifully, the moment passed.

  Rostenkowski addressed Letty, “What’s your schedule?”

  “I’m not sure. We’re evidently to be questioned by Muck. As I told you, Chief Cutter thinks they already know about the . . . cold virus . . . but we won’t confirm that for them. That’s Governor Fitzwilliam-Bennett’s job.”

  The responsibilities of the governor’s office included maintaining goodwill and setting policy for day-to-day interactions with Alliance-member and non-member planets, as well as the appointment and oversight of Earth’s Muck representatives.

  “There’s a good chance we’ll be detained for several days, possibly longer. With my dad gone, how are you coordinating with our research teams?” Letty asked.

  “Each team lead contacted me and advised that Mr. Speller had left instructions for them to work directly with our agency to whatever extent I need. Without further information, that’s how I’ve proceeded.”

  “Good,” Letty said.” It seems Dad covered all the bases. I’ll contact you again as soon as I’m able, but I don’t know how long that might be. By the way, ask the governor about Muck’s ship, the Golden Tracer. She’ll explain the situation, and she’ll probably want to investigate the possibility the two matters are connected.” Letty ended the transmission.

  She turned to Drew, excited. “Her reference to ‘explosive discoveries’ by the Taleen research teams means the nitroglycerine.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “‘Paid consultant’ must mean informant.”

  Drew nodded.

  “I’m pretty sure the Mr. Diak Anne mentioned was also mentioned by the hooker monks outside our shuttle hatch while we waited to go down to Bin.”

  Drew nodded again, distracted by his own thoughts.

  Letty switched topics. “You had no idea about the relationship between Chief Fitzwilliam and Governor Fitzwilliam-Bennett, did you?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Chapter 22: By Any Name

  The presence of unlicensed working ladies on the Temperance had not gone unnoticed. Without the proof to take action himself, the captain happily conceded jurisdiction and, at Drew’s request, offered assistance in the form of Nikko. The ladies had booked lower class bunks under the gender-neutral names Tammas Cameron, Chris Stevens, and Michael Gautier, the same names they’d used on Dark Landing.

  Nikko was a man of few words, but he knew his ship, including, without consulting the passenger list, where the three women were bivouacked. However, upon arrival, they found only empty lockers and containers of fresh, neatly folded linen at the foot of stripped bunks. With breakfast mess already ended, they tried the passenger common areas next with the same results.

  “Maybe they’re on the job,” Drew postulated. Though, to his mind, it was too early in the day. He assumed hooker monks worked the nightshift. But of course, since the ship’s crew worked around the clock, it made sense the ladies would accommodate all three shifts.

  Nikko grunted and headed in a new direction with Drew on his heels. He followed him up one level and down a narrow corridor with six close-set hatches lining each side. Drew guessed they were crew quarters a couple notches above hammocks. At the far end of the corridor, Nikko pounded on the first hatch. The sound shot up the narrow hallway like a bullet in a gun barrel. Several hatches opened, heads popped out and just as quickly disappeared inside again.

  The hatch Nikko was pounding on opened to reveal a man in a sleeveless tee and boxers. His surly expression turned to alarm as he looked up at Nikko’s smiling face, two feet above him. Still smiling, Nikko grasped the man’s head, his hand covering the entire crown, and pulled him forward. The man’s arms dangled passively at his sides, his face pressed into Nikko’s expansive chest. Nikko craned his head and peered into the quarters. Not finding what he was looking for, he pushed the man back inside and closed the hatch, then pounded on the next one.

  The crew quartered on this level must have out-ranked Nikko, but that didn’t seem to present an issue. When his pounding went unanswered, Nikko entered what Drew figured was the master access code and opened the hatch uninvited, squeezing his massive frame inside the quarters. Again, finding nothing, he backed out and pounded on the next hatch.

  As Drew watched, it occurred to him he didn’t know what Nikko did on the Temperance. When he asked, he received a two-word response, “Compliance officer.” That made sense and covered a broad spectrum of responsibilities. Nikko probably would have offered his assistance without Drew asking for it.

  They continued down that side of the corridor with Nikko pounding on hatches one after the other, using the master code to open it if no one answered. As each hatch opened, musty aromas of sweat and dirty linens drifted into the corridor and lingered.

  At the sixth hatch, a stout man met him wearing nothing but a head of wild gray hair and one bushy, black eyebrow that underscored his forehead. He growled something to Nikko in a language that seemed to match Nikko’s accented English. With the wide smile Drew now suspected was surgically fixed in place, Nikko stepped back a few inches, replying respectfully to the man in the same language. Whatever he’d said set the man off. He shook his fist at Nikko, issuing a string of what could only be curses, but allowed him to pass.

  High pitch screams and more cursing, this time in English, followed as the big man emerged through the hatch, bending low to allow clearance for the squirming woman draped over one shoulder. He dropped her unceremoniously face-down on the deck and, with a foot planted firmly on her back, tossed Drew two restraining ribbons. Nikko held her while Drew tied her hands behind her back and wrestled her flailing feet together long enough to secure them at the ankles. They left her squirming on the deck and moved to the other side of the corridor. The hatch pounding started again.

  In short order, all three ladies, with hands and feet secured, lay squealing and squirming on the deck. After they’d bound the last woman, Nikko went back into the quarters where he’d found her and returned with a dirty sock and a bandanna. Bending over the loudest of the three, he balled up the sock and stuffed it into her mouth, trying the bandanna around her head to hold it in place. The other two, seeing what lay in store for them, quieted.

  Drew picked up the woman with the sock in her mouth, carrying her rescue-style, her body wrapped around the back of his neck. He followed Nikko, who had the other two slung one over each shoulder, down to the ship’s holding cell. The pungent odor of animal manure and urine overtook Drew when they entered. He noticed that even Nikko’s eyes were watering. Drew felt certain he’d located George Speller’s workstation, and it appeared no one had cleaned up after he’d left the ship. Drew didn’t hear any animal noises though, and didn’t bother to nose around to confirm his guess.

  The Temperance had one large cell with a half-dozen cots, reminiscent of drunk-tanks back on Earth. It was tucked into the corner of a storage area filled with cartons stacked to the deck above. Nikko and Drew deposited the ladies one to a cot. The only other occupant awoke from a nap to gape at his new cellmates. Nikko nodded toward the open door, motioning for the man to leave.

  The man shook his head. “Pero, tengo más de seis horas para completar,” he pleaded, anxious to serve his full sentence. Nikko’s smile widened ominously, his head still cocked toward the exit. The man mumbled what were certainly Spanish expletives, crawled off his cot, and slunk out of the cell. He glanced back over his shoulder at his lost opportunity. Drew noted that, in a short period of time, he’d heard curses in three languages.

  As Nikko and Drew removed their captives’ restraints, the questions and profanities started anew along with complaints about the accommodations. Drew spoke over the racket to Nikko. “Can we just leave them here for a
couple hours? It’s getting close to lunch, and I want my partner with me when I question them. Will I be able to get back in?”

  Nikko nodded. As they exited the outer hatch, he punched a code into the palm reader and motioned for Drew to press his palm on the pad.

  “Is that all I need?”

  “Keelo-Alpa-Sulu-doo-Yonkee-vive,” Nikko said, then he disappeared, leaving Drew to find his way back to his quarters while translating Nikko’s code into English.

  He found Letty sitting cross-legged on the lounger with the processor in her lap. “Well?” she asked.

  “Mission accomplished. The ladies are relaxing in a luxury suite. I thought we’d grab a bite to eat. I want them to stew a little. Afterward we can question them together. But I need to contact Doc first.”

  “Doc?”

  “Yeah. The ladies are contagious. In case we can’t accompany them back to Dark Landing, Doc needs to keep them isolated until the ETOC collects them.”

  “We’ll be at Minerva Station early in the morning. I think we should skip lunch and question them now. We may not get the opportunity later.”

  “Okay, but I’m still hungry. Be a doll and grab me a fruit pouch,” he said. Sitting down heavily on the cushion next to her, he addressed the wall monitor. “Transmit External Relay: Zeta Quadrant, Sector 1701, Dark Landing Station, Chief of Medical, Dr. Tammy Jameson.”

  A confirmation message displayed: Connecting to external transmission relay. Approximate wait three minutes. Please state your name and/or affiliation.

  “Drew Cutter.” Drew faced the screen, but watched Letty out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t moved. “Well, it was worth a try.” He got up and crossed the room to where their remaining food pouches lay on a side table.

  His conversation with Doc proved awkward. She was surprised and confused at receiving his transmission, and questioned the reason for the detainees being thrust into her care.

  “Why is the ETOC interested in prostitutes on a remote space station? I insist you tell me what type of contagion I’ll be dealing with. Otherwise, I cannot let them debark here.”

  “Look, I can’t tell you exactly. It’s not airborne or even a real disease, it’s something . . . else.”

  “Not good enough.” Doc crossed her arms, staring unblinking from the monitor.

  Letty interjected. “Doctor, when the women arrive, perform a DNA scan. You’ll understand the problem and why the ETOC is involved. There’s no danger as long as you keep them isolated from other residents and away from tech devices.”

  Evidently accepting that was all the information she was going to get, Doc shifted her gaze back to Drew. “How much trouble are you in?”

  “I don’t know. We’re docking at Minerva Station shortly, and I’ll find out then. It’s possible I won’t be returning to Dark Landing just yet. I know I’m asking a lot, but can I count on you, Doc?”

  “Not like you’re giving me a choice.” Her features softened. “Of course, Drew, you know Fitz and I always have your back.”

  “Thanks, Doc. Speaking of, any idea why Fitz is headed to Minerva as well?”

  “They didn’t want to send another ship after they lost the Golden Tracer—you know about that?” Drew nodded and she continued. “They wanted to question Fitz, but who knows why they couldn’t do it over a live feed.”

  “Only Muck knows,” Drew responded fittingly. He was tempted to ask if she knew who Fitz’s sister was, but decided to wait until he could talk to Fitz face-to-face. He was sure the simple answer was Fitz didn’t want to be constantly compared or approached because of the relationship, but that didn’t excuse him for keeping it from his fellow chiefs.

  “I’ll talk to you again as soon as I can. Thanks for taking care of my girls.”

  “Take care of yourself, Drew. Things will work out. You’re a good man.”

  “End transmission.”

  He turned to Letty, who was busily chewing the last piece of his dried fruit. “It’s hooker monk time.”

  ~ ~ ∞ ~ ~

  Drew would have preferred to question the women separately, but the storage area lacked an interview room. As he entered this time, he peeked around a pallet of cartons and saw a corral area, its deck covered in filthy straw. Though empty now, there was space for a dozen smallish animals if they were crowded together. A stack of smaller cages that probably held the eggers, sat next to a water trough. He started to point out to Letty the place where her father had worked, then decided against it.

  When they approached the cell, one of the women stepped forward. “Where are you putting us off? This place stinks.”

  Ah, we have a leader. “You’re going back to Dark Landing and eventually into the arms of the ETOC,” Drew said.

  “The ETOC?” The woman looked as confused as Doc had been.

  “Which one are you?” Letty asked.

  “I’m the pretty one.” All three laughed.

  Letty ignored the quip. “What’s your name?”

  “Tammas. What’s the ETOC got to do with anything?”

  “We’ll ask the questions,” Drew said. “Who do you work for?”

  “We work for ourselves; we’re free agents.” The other two left their cots and joined Tammas at the bars.

  Drew decided to try a more direct approach. “What’s the objective of the nanoid programming?”

  The three of them stared back at him as if he were speaking Bahdaneian. “Do we look like tech geniuses to you?” Tammas replied. “Ask me how much pleasure I can give you in an hour, Chief. I’ll double that figure for you, sweetie.” She winked at Letty.

  Drew went for the jugular. “You’re aware treason carries the death penalty.”

  That cracked their street-wise facade. “Treason? Since when is hooking treason? Who do you think we are?”

  Drew kept up the pressure. “I think you’re working for a religious cult that’s spreading tech viruses across the K.U.”

  “That’s crazy. We’re not working for anybody. I told you, we’re free agents.” A sliver of alarm flashed in Tammas’s eyes.

  “If that’s true, tell us how you came to be at Dark Landing dressed as monks.” They seemed honestly perplexed by his accusations. Even so, they knew more than they were saying.

  The three exchanged glances, seemingly reaching a silent consensus. Tammas spoke once more, dropping her street edge. So far, the other two had remained silent. “We were working in Arizona. The LAPD picked us up for not having a license.”

  Prostitution wasn’t a crime; it was a business, with licensing, taxes, and requirements for regular physicals and continuing health education. But the law made a distinct difference between street ladies and high-end, licensed professionals with their own security and accounting staffs. And there was no middle rank.

  “We weren’t together then, we only met in jail,” she continued. “It wasn’t our first time, so the judge set our bails super high. Since we couldn’t pay, they scheduled us for mandatory reeducation and forced licensing. That goes on a lady’s permanent record you know. Then this monk came in and said he would bail us out on condition we leave Earth. He gave us travel documents and fare to Dark Landing, and the robes to use as a disguise. The robes worked swell. You never figured it out did you? We should have worn them here too.”

  Drew didn’t comment.

  “Anyway, it was time to move on, so here we are. That’s it. I don’t know nothin’ about nanoids or treason.”

  “What was the monk’s name?” Letty asked.

  “Brother Diak.”

  Letty shot a look at Drew. “Brother Diak gave you tickets to Dark Landing specifically?”

  “Right, he gave us everything. Our documents, tickets, walking script, our shots—”

  Drew interrupted, “Shots?”

  “Yeah, shots against space diseases—that sort a thing.”

  “What did this Brother Diak look like?” Letty asked.

  “I don’t know, with the hood and all. He was youngish, nothing spec
ial.”

  One of the other two spoke for the first time. “He was nice. He told us there were hookers in his bible and this man, Jesus, loved hookers.”

  “All right,” Drew said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll be dropped back on Dark Landing and held for the ETOC. Doc Jameson will be in charge of you until they arrive. They’ll ask the same questions we did and a lot more. Tell the truth, and if it checks out, you’ll be okay.”

  “We weren’t the only ones,” Tammas said.

  “What?” Drew asked.

  “Yeah, there were at least a dozen others he bailed out too.”

  “Where did they go?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 23: Minerva Station

  Drew contacted the Temperance captain and thanked him for his cooperation. He considered warning the captain of the possible contamination by the hooker monks, but decided to risk waiting to see what Muck had in mind. On that front, it seemed only fair to tell him what to expect when they docked at Minerva Station the next morning.

  “Captain, it’s likely Muck security will want to . . . ah . . . speak with me tomorrow. There was an incident on Dark Landing that they feel I didn’t handle according to protocol.”

  A moment of silence passed before the captain replied. “I see. Perhaps it’s best if you, and Miss Kingsbury as well, are in my office when we arrive, so as not to keep Muck waiting. I’ll send Nikko to accompany you just before we dock.”

  “Thank you.” The captain was a wise man. Or he didn’t want Muck snooping around his ship.

  Nikko arrived at their quarters at 0700. As the three of them made their way to the captain’s office, Drew assured Nikko that his personal troubles with Muck had nothing to do with the package they’d delivered. Nikko smiled and nodded, seemingly unconcerned. This reminded Drew, even though he was no longer chief of security, Curtis had to be dealt with. Is Curtis the traitor? Drew still struggled with that possibility.