Transmuted (Dark Landing Series Book 1)

by Robin Praytor

  “Son of a bitch,” he said and returned to their cabin. If he could, he would have slammed the hatch shut behind him, but it slid effortlessly into place, its seals making only a soft sucking noise.

  “Drew! Language, please.” Letty sat on the lounger with one arm around the boy. Toby cast a smug, malicious sneer in Drew’s direction then turned and, with a cherubic countenance, gazed adoringly up at Letty. Drew hissed, causing Letty to glare at him again with increased intensity.

  “I’m going down to check in on the hookers. If you’re smart, you’ll lock him in the head.” He turned and left before either Toby or Letty could say anything further and before he received any more scathing looks.

  He was right; the girls were terrified. They huddled together on one cot sobbing and sniffling. As soon as they saw him, all three scrambled up to the bars.

  “Let us out.”

  “We’re going to die in here.”

  “What happened? Who’s shooting at us?”

  “Relax, ladies. You’re not going to die, and I’m not releasing you. Muck advised the Temperance might be targeted by a raider, and provided armed escorts. The raider wasn’t expecting a fight. It got in a couple sloppy shots, but when Muck returned fired, it took off. We’re on our way back to Dark Landing.”

  As he spoke, a crew member delivered container lunches of sandwiches, fresh veggies, and fruit. Since the trip had been cut short, there were plentiful rations, and the captain evidently knew food went a long way to calm the human soul. The ladies returned to their individual cots still mumbling, but distracted by the normality of lunch being served.

  Drew stopped by the mess on his way back to the cabin and picked up lunches for himself, Letty, and Toby. Toby was napping on the lounger when he came in. He left a container on the side table for the boy, but didn’t wake him.

  He knocked softly on Letty’s door. “I’m back, and I brought lunch.”

  “It’s open.”

  Drew entered her room, and handed her a container. “You mind if I stay and eat with you?”

  “Of course not. How are the ladies?”

  “Scared, but better now I think.” He pulled a chair closer to her bunk, unwrapped his sandwich, and sniffed at it. “Toby’s sound asleep. Did he say anything about his situation?”

  She smiled. “He called Prosse a ‘back water crap hole.’ While his folks were collecting their luggage, he told them he was going to find their new quarters. Somehow he snuck back onboard and hung out in the passenger lounge. He was a familiar face there, and no one gave him a second thought.”

  “Smart kid.”

  “Yes. Anyway, the ship debarked before his folks realized he was missing. He avoided capture for a few hours, but was eventually found by that ‘thick headed muscle monster.’ They stuck him in with the mess crew when the ship was attacked.”

  “Where was he going? Earth?”

  “No, he wants to go back to Dark Landing. He says that’s his home and, by the way, you’re his hero.”

  Drew laughed. “I doubt that. Do you know how many times I’ve had to bust him for his shenanigans?”

  “Even so . . . his goal is to become a station chief someday, just like you.”

  “Trust me—he’s playing you and he’s trying to play me.”

  “What are you going to do with him? There’s no way to return him to his parents right now.”

  “I’ll take him to the station until things settle down and I can put him on a ship back to Prosse.” He changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering. With your security forces scattered across the K.U., and your so-called massive database of ill-gotten information, how did you miss the current turn-of-events?”

  “Well, I haven’t read reports for the last eight weeks or so since I’ve been worried about Dad . . . and everything. Drew, I think the security breaches, the attacks on the outer colonies, the Golden Tracer, and now the Temperance, is all to weaken or disrupt the Alliance. Whoever’s responsible wants Taleen Industries, specifically Dad and I, and maybe even you, out of their way. But for the life of me, I can’t imagine why or who’s orchestrating it all.”

  Drew nodded. “You and your dad maybe, and it’s got something to do with your research. But there’s no reason they’d worry about me. By the way, did you notice anything odd about the gunship that attacked us?”

  “No. I mean—you know—it was kind of weird looking.”

  “You don’t think it changed from one view to the next?”

  “Changed? In what way?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I got the impression it was physically changing its shape. I’d need to study the vids to be sure. I think whoever’s responsible may come from outside the K.U., certainly outside the Alliance. But it seems obvious they have inside help.”

  He took the last bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. “Concerning that, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said.

  “Let me guess. How did the killer know Hernandez and I would be in that passage? Someone had to tell him. And, if you take you, me, and Hernandez out of the equation, that only leaves your command staff. I knew you’d have to face that sooner or later.”

  “You’re as smart as you are beautiful.”

  “Now who’s being played?”

  Chapter 25: Refugees

  Dark Landing was in chaos. Drew had conversed with both Curtis and Jones the day before the Temperance docked and knew what to expect. Outer colonies and bases of every Alliance member were suffering random attacks with no discernible motive. Evacuees who’d abandoned their remote colonies and outposts now crowded the station’s public areas. Drew judged the evacuees alone exceeded the station occupancy level by more than two thousand souls.

  While it appeared an unorganized mess at first glance, he soon detected a loose line comprising newcomers and residents alike. All carried their belongings and were queued for first available transport off the station to Earth or larger, more established colonies, in hopes their defenses would hold. The situation was ripe for disaster, but security staffers moved continuously through the throng to comfort and reassure everyone they were safe and to dampen petty arguments before they flared up.

  The news feeds reported the Alliance governments had stopped communicating with one another except to hurl accusations and threats. Member planets recalled their Muck representatives. Many of the Muck security staff stayed and acted independently to patrol and provide escorts where they could. But their fleet numbers were woefully insufficient to protect the entire quadrant.

  For almost two-hundred years, alliance members, including Earth, had focused on the three Es: exploration, entrepreneurship, and enlightenment, while letting their defensive forces wither. The universal consensus that reduction and de-emphasis on military assets was fundamental in building peaceful relationships between diverse civilizations seemed foolish in retrospect. Drew had happily surfed those peaceful waves along with everyone else, and now he couldn’t shake the feeling of shared responsibility for the tsunami that seemed bound to overwhelm them.

  Drew and Letty met with Doc and Curtis immediately after debarking. Back in his office, Drew couldn’t believe how good it felt to be sitting behind his desk, once again in charge despite the growing turmoil surrounding him.

  “What’s the situation, Doc?” Drew began.

  “Actually, Curtis will need to give you details. The last couple days, it’s been all I can do to keep up with the steady stream of people coming into medical.”

  “Curtis?”

  Curtis held Drew’s gaze for several moments, obviously savoring his bump in prestige. Drew expected a snarky comment, but when Curtis spoke he was organized and professional.

  “Right now we’re at about eight thousand souls. Since the influx of refugees is declining and more people are catching rides out, that figure should go down. That’s good, since our supplies are dwindling. And restocking is going to be a bitch. Most freighters have stopped running, at least in this direction. A number of
evacuees from the outer reaches brought rations with them and that’s helped. Also, for ships already here, I’ve been waiving docking fees and Muck tariffs in exchange for food goods. I estimate shortages will reach critical in about seven days. The place will start to stink as well, since I implemented water use restrictions and rationing.”

  Curtis yawned, and Drew wondered when he’d slept last.

  “We’re reaching out to nearby ships, letting them know we have people looking for rides and asking for whatever rations they can spare. A couple have detoured in, but neither of them had a lot of room for extra passengers and only minimal surplus food and water.”

  “What’s CoachStop saying?” Drew asked.

  “They understand our situation and are working with the co-ops to send supplies our way. They keep saying they’ll get back to me, but so far nada. Rumor has it our own co-op lost a freighter this morning. At this point, it’s hard to separate fact from fiction. We also heard the financial markets on all Alliance planets are on the verge of crashing if they haven’t already.”

  “Drew, does the station have defenses?” Letty asked.

  “Not really. We have shielding capabilities to protect from debris and small asteroids, but they’re a huge power drain and haven’t been deployed since . . . ever, I think. I don’t know how they’d hold up under serious fire. I assume Fitz kept the system in peak condition at least.” At the mention of Fitz’s name everyone but Curtis avoided eye contact with Drew. It’s time to discuss the gargantuan Bindian lizard in the room.

  “Have we learned anything more about Fitz’s and Mattie’s whereabouts, or the engineer’s? What’s his name?” Curtis and Doc exchanged glances, neither speaking. “Would you like me to flip a coin, guys?” Drew asked.

  Doc finally stepped up. “Fitz and Mattie are gone; no one seems to know where. All of our inquiries have reached dead ends.” She winced at her unfortunate phrasing and continued. “But,” with another quick look at Curtis, “we found Justin Ruble early this morning. His throat was cut and his body left in a maintenance tube. I bagged and stored him. He’s been dead for at least three days. I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to complete an official autopsy. We were waiting for you before notifying his family and Earth authorities. Drew, I really need to get back to med-lab. Can you stop by later?”

  “Of course.” Drew got the impression she would prefer to speak with him in private. He’d gotten the same feeling when Doc delivered the summary of Speller’s autopsy at the last command staff meeting. With Hernandez’ murder and his own suspension, he’d forgotten all about it.

  “Wait a sec, Doc. Were you aware—or you, Curtis—that Eleanor Fitzwilliam-Bennett is Fitz’s sister?”

  Curtis mouth opened slightly. He looked back at Drew with a blank expression.

  “Governor Fitzwilliam-Bennett?” Doc asked.

  “So . . . no.”

  Letty intruded. “Do you mind if I use your conference room? I want to contact my office. I might be able to arrange protection for the station as well as scrounge up supplies.”

  Curtis jumped in. “Miss Taleen, check with Kyle on your way out. He’s prioritized the shortages, but right now water is my main concern.”

  “I will. And please call me Letty.”

  Doc followed Letty out of the office shaking her head. Left alone, Drew and Curtis sat in awkward silence.

  Curtis broke first. “So, Nikko—a cool dude, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Drew agreed. “Look, Curtis, we need to have a conversation at some point about your side businesses. But now’s not that time. I want to commend you on the job you’re doing. I don’t think I could have handled things better myself.” Seeing the relief and pride in Curtis’s eyes only reconfirmed to Drew that he’d been an across-the-board ass at judging people’s true characters. “This is overstepping my authority, but I’m naming you acting chief of administration. Understand that CoachStop won’t approve a field promotion without further consideration, even under these circumstances. I’ll let you choose a temporary successor for your command position.”

  “I appreciate that. Thanks. Since Jonesy’s covering the nightshift, Kyle is the obvious choice,” Curtis said.

  “Make that appointment before the end of the day if you can. The first thing I want him to do is initiate a station-wide search for Mattie . . . or her body.” It made Drew sick to think of Mattie as either a victim or a traitor.

  “Actually, we’ve already searched every crack and corner. I’m confident she’s not on the station or on Spud, dead or alive. If you want, I’ll order a second search.”

  “No. I should have known you already did that.” It occurred to Drew how easy it would be to replace him. Hell, I’ve already been replaced. Drew shook off his feelings of irrelevance. “So, a couple things . . . ” He filled Curtis in on the security breaches, the possibility the hooker monks contaminated Dark Landing residents who in turn contaminated station technology, and the ETOC’s oversight of that situation. Curtis accepted the new information with remarkable calm.

  Their meeting finished, they swung by the conference room to check on Letty. Drew wasn’t surprised to see Toby sitting at the table next to her while she worked. Not knowing what else to do with him, he’d left the boy in the security rec room with a warning: “For every tear I find in the pool table felt, I’ll yank out a lock of your hair.” Toby had just laughed in his face. Hero my ass.

  “Any luck?” Drew asked, ignoring Toby.

  “Of sorts. I ordered a Bin TSF unit to provide two corvette-class ships to protect the station until replacements arrive. They’ll be here day-after-tomorrow, that is if Bin authorities allow them to shuttle up to the Taleen space port there. They may be Bindians, but they’re also Taleen employees—Earth employees. I’m still working on the supply issue. Bin has only limited human provisions. Toby’s been helping me.” She smiled at the boy.

  “I’ll bet,” Drew said. “I’m headed over to med-lab to see what Doc’s up against. I’ll talk to you later. Maybe we can scare up dinner.” As he left, he gave Curtis a carry-on nod and stuck his tongue out at Toby. The boy flipped him off in reply, careful that Letty didn’t see his gesture.

  ~ ~ ∞ ~ ~

  As Drew made his way to med-lab, he had to skirt groups of refugees camped out in the passageways. The new-comers wouldn’t know who he was, but he nodded and smiled as he passed anyway. The security staff seemed relieved he’d returned. He stopped and greeted each one with a slap on the back and words of appreciation.

  In med-lab, interns and nurses scurried from one exam station to the next. Fortunately, Dark Landing served as a residency training facility for med grads bound for the colonies. Since various Earth foundations subsidized their salaries, the station had more medical personnel than would otherwise be assigned.

  He found Doc in her office relaying instructions to a nurse. She motioned him in, inclining her head at the chair in front of her desk.

  “Thanks, Becky. Just keep a close eye on him, and let me know of any changes.”

  The nurse closed the door behind her.

  “Thanks for coming so soon. We really need to talk.” She looked weary and, it seemed to Drew, a little scared.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Earlier I told you I hadn’t had time to do an official autopsy on Justin Ruble, Fitz’s engineer.”

  “Yeah—so?”

  “Well, emphasis on the word official. Since we knew the cause of death, I asked one of the interns to do a preliminary autopsy for me to sign off on. It’s not like me to take shortcuts, Drew. But we were so busy, and Ruble—”

  “Doc, I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself. Just tell me what you found.”

  “He had no internal organs.”

  “Huh? Wait—what?”

  “No kidneys, no liver, no lungs, no heart, no brain . . . you name it. What he did have was a skeletal structure, muscles, connective tissue, and skin, of course, a partial vascular system of arteries and veins, a
nd so on. But what’s the point without a heart or lungs? Remember, I told you that George Speller had only one kidney; the other had been removed with a surgical precision I’ve never seen before? It was the same for Ruble, except on a massive scale.”

  Drew was struggling to understand. “So, you’re saying his throat was slit, then—whoever—removed his organs too?”

  “No. Somehow, incredibly, it had to be done before death, and it wasn’t the cause of death.”

  “Okay, I never had any medical training, but I feel sure that’s impossible.”

  “Way beyond impossible; there’s no plausible explanation. And I found no associated incisions on the skin.“

  Drew thought about it for a few seconds, then asked, “Was Ruble one of the patients who came in with cold symptoms and a rash?”

  Doc voiced a command to her processor. Justin Ruble’s medical records displayed. “Next . . . next . . . stop.” She turned back to Drew expressing her surprise. “How did you know?”

  “There may be an explanation after all,” he said.

  ~ ~ ∞ ~ ~

  Drew, Letty, and Curtis stood to one side while Doc instructed Tammas Cameron to lie still on the exam table, reassuring her that taking a blood sample and doing a body scan wouldn’t hurt a bit. Tammas chewed her bottom lip, but otherwise lay motionless while Doc entered the desired scan settings.

  When the procedures were completed, Curtis summoned a security staffer to return Tammas to her holding cell.

  “Well?” Drew asked Doc.

  “I don’t believe it. There’s been a . . . transmutation. Every organ in her body has reconstructed from what, without further study, appear to be multi-modality nanoparticles, performing all the requisite life functions while still preserving individual intellect and personality. Her blood and DNA samples are devoid of nanoparticles. They must have disintegrated as soon as the samples were drawn. I’m sure the same happens if the subject dies, which explains the missing organs from Speller and Ruble. I need to do further analysis to determine what residual compounds are left, if any.” Doc’s excitement was palpable.