A shadow moving in the bay outside her cubicle made her glance up. She thought at first it was a medic coming to check the monitor after all, but the shadow slipped past the open side of her enclosure without stopping. Something about the way the man moved told her he wasn’t a medic; he wasn’t a visitor or a patient. He didn’t look like someone on a charitable mission at all. Shit! Murphy had said those two she’d been following had ended up in Sickbay.
She sat up and stripped the monitor sensor from her wrist. That would bring the medics running in a minute or two, so backup would be on the way. Certainly she had no more than the element of surprise to stop what the man intended to do a couple of cubicles over.
Rayna swung her feet over the side of the bunk and tried to ignore the dizziness swamping her as she struggled to stand. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, so she shuffled slowly from the top of the bunk to the bottom, from there to the corner of the cubicle, keeping a hand on something solid for support. Her ribs screamed at her, refusing to let her stand up straight.
“Freaking light still has some work to do,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
She had begun to realize what she was planning was impossible when she saw a middle-aged woman in blue scrubs and a younger male in no discernible uniform hurrying through the bay in her direction.
“Please don’t tell me you’re looking for the bathroom,” the woman said.
“Call Security. You have an intruder trying to get to a couple of your patients.”
The male assistant looked at the woman, who seemed to be the one in charge. Rayna squinted at her nametag: Doc Berta. The doctor pulled them all back into Rayna’s cubicle and reached for the comm unit at her waist.
“Chen, we have a problem in Sickbay.” As she talked she gestured to the medic to get her patient back in bed. Rayna was only too happy to comply. “Somebody’s trying to get to those two Cap’s got under guard down here. No, I don’t see your boy. Whoever it is must’ve already taken him out and is in there with the prisoners. Well, hurry it up, damn it.”
The doctor keyed off the comm and jabbed a finger at Rayna. “Stay in that bed. Am I clear?”
“Not a problem.” Rayna could barely find the energy to speak the words.
The doctor pulled at her orderly. “With me, hon. On the double.” Rayna sat up, though the agony that flared through her ribs nearly sent her right back down again. “No! Let Security handle it. He’ll kill you.”
The doctor was already moving, her lanky assistant close behind. “Honey, this is my sickbay. Nobody messes with my patients but me.” Rayna tried to get up. She really did. She knew the kind of man Doc Berta was going up against—a skilled agent, an assassin for hire. He wasn’t the kind to listen to unarmed argument, no matter how courageous. He would kill the woman if she got in his way. He would kill her if she annoyed him. And, chances were, he would kill her just for the fun of it.
So Rayna tried to get out of that bunk and help the woman. But her battered body would not cooperate. Her limbs felt like they were encased in tritanium shielding, and every breath drew in pain. She was glued to the bunk, like it or not. She waited, expecting raised voices, scuffling, the eventual whine of a laser pistol or the brief, shocked gasp of pain if he used a knife. But all she heard was the low murmur of Doc Berta’s calm voice. What was she doing, talking him into joining her for milk and cookies?
Security arrived on the double, led by a sturdy, no-nonsense Terrene with the genetic markers of Earth’s Asia. The team disappeared in the direction of the prisoners’ cubicle, but no firefight broke out. The fact that more talking ensued could only mean that the prisoners were dead and the assassin had somehow escaped.
Rayna was dead beat, but she forced her heavy eyelids to stay open. She knew it wouldn’t be long, and, sure enough, within minutes Captain Murphy’s determined stride took him past her cubicle toward the crime scene. Then, at last, she heard those raised voices she’d been expecting.
“How the hell did this happen, Chen? You’re telling me he waltzed through Sickbay, got through an armed guard, killed two men and disappeared without anyone seeing him?”
Both Berta and Chen started to answer, but the captain’s bark shut them up. “One at a time!”
“Only partially correct, Cap,” Chen said. “Doc here got a glimpse of him.”
“On his way out. But I wouldn’t have if Rayna hadn’t seen him first and limped out of bed to follow him.”
“What?” Throughout Sickbay, sensitive monitoring equipment responded to the roar with alarm. “Where is she now?”
“She’s fine. She didn’t get more than about three steps before I found her and sent her back to bed. But she’s the one who saw the man in the first place. Without her we wouldn’t have had a clue what happened here. I would have just diagnosed death by post-traumatic seizure. Rare, but it happens.”
“Twice?” Murphy sounded skeptical.
“No, that’s the beauty of it. The other fellow—Arden?—his was a standard heart attack. Had a genetic basis for it. This guy was good.”
“Well, let’s give him the Assassin of the Year Award, shall we? Chen, what’s the plan?”
“I’ve got people working an expanding grid from this point, checking for all unauthorized personnel in the air ducts, engineering access points and service tubes as well as companionways and lifts. It would help if we had a description.”
A description. Rayna thought back to her glimpse of the man as he passed through Sickbay, but she could recall few details. He’d been little more than a darker shape against the unlit background of the outer bay. She could say he’d been of average height and wiry. Beyond that, she had nothing to offer. She hadn’t seen his face or his hair. She tried to picture the shadowy figure, but kept drifting.
“Rayna? You awake?”
“What?” She blinked at him, confused. He was so close, sitting at the head of the bunk. She’d been alone just a moment ago. Her heartbeat sped up, alerting the monitor again. “I was waiting for you. I must have fallen asleep.”
“I’m sorry to have to wake you. I have to ask you a few questions.” His brow wrinkled. “Did you say you were waiting for me?”
“You want to know about the assassin. You need a description.”
“Um, yeah. Did you see him?”
“No. I’m sorry. All I saw was a shadow—medium height, kinda thin. I didn’t see his face.” There was something about the way he moved, though. Her mind just wouldn’t process it.
Murphy nodded as if he’d suspected as much. “Doc Berta said about the same thing. The man was a pro.”
“Did you learn anything from your prisoners before he got to them?”
“No.” His jaw clenched hard. “Something about this stinks.”
“If you mean there’s more to it than a few slaves taking a notion to steal a ship and strike out on their own, then, yeah, I agree. Too much trouble to protect such a hare-brained scheme.”
“Thank you, Agent. Or is it Detective now?” He smiled and tugged a little at her covers. “How about you think about staying in bed? You need your rest.”
Ruthless, she pressed her advantage. “How about you think about taking me to LinHo? You owe me now.”
She expected a scowl, but instead he grinned. “You’re right, Little Bit, I do owe you. Maybe dinner in my cabin once you’re feeling better. But LinHo? Not only no, but hell no. Especially not now. I’m getting these people off my ship double-quick before the Grays find me and blow me out of space.” He stood up and paused to touch her cheek ever so gently. “Sleep. Feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Of course the monitor beeped to alert everyone in range that her heartbeat had surged once more. She saw Murphy glance at it and smile as he left the cubicle, the damn, cocky sonofabitch! Rayna couldn’t tell which was more infuriating, the insufferable captain or her uncontrollable reaction to him. Only two things were certain: everything fucking hurt, and she was tired of thinking. She gave in at last
and pushed the button at her side. Within seconds the patch attached to the skin of her arm delivered the medication that brought both relief from pain and blessed unconsciousness. She sighed and knew no more.
Chen shook her head. “I’m sorry, Cap. He’s gone. Short of locking up every LO on this ship and the Fleeflek, I don’t see what else I can do.”
Sam took a deep breath and scanned his crowded command room. Both Chen and his ceiling-scraping Executive Officer were too much for the space. He had to get out.
He ducked through the hatch. “Walk with me.”
The two officers flanked him as he stalked the corridors toward the PT deck, scattering crew along the way. “The LO’s stay on lockdown. Confine them to quarters except for eating, and rec and shower rotations.”
“Cap, we don’t have time to babysit these people.” Mo’s protest was just loud enough for Sam to hear. “We’ve got a ship to run. Do you realize we’ll have to escort them everywhere? How we gonna do that?”
“Mo, you know damn well while we’re running deep space there’s nothing to do on shift but run systems checks and swab the decks. This’ll give the crew something new to do.”
His XO stared at him. “‘Swab the decks’? What the hell does that mean?”
“Old pirate term. Look it up.” He paused, pulling his officers to the side of the corridor to let two crew members pass by. “The more time we spend with these people the greater the chance we’ll uncover something. The assassin is still out there, which means the conspirators that tried to take my ship are still out there. I want them. Make it happen.”
Chen stepped up. “How about I coordinate an effort to put together a master schedule with all the sections that are housing LO’s? If I sit on the section heads they can make assignments by the end of the day. I’ll run it by Mo when I’m done, and he can brief you when we’ve got a final?”
Sam raised an eyebrow at Mo, waiting for him to approve the plan. Chen was taking on a bit much, but Mo had the rest of the ship to worry about, and he usually chose efficiency over territoriality. When the Pataran inclined his head, the captain gave his orders.
“All right, Mei. I’ll expect a report by the middle of the second watch.”
“You’ll have it, Cap.” The Security officer turned and headed off in the opposite direction just as the two men pulled up at the PT deck. The hatches stood open and a cleaning crew was still working on transforming the space back to its intended use.
Sam surveyed the disruption with weary resignation.
“Tell me you weren’t planning to work out.” Mo frowned at his captain.
“I had hoped to work off some of this frustration, yes.”
“What you are feeling, my friend, is exhaustion.” Mo took him by the arm and led him down the corridor toward the lift. “You haven’t slept in . . . even I don’t know how long. I’ll wager you haven’t eaten in at least a day. Don’t make me quote the regs to force you to rest.”
“Pirate ships don’t have regs.”
“This one does. You wrote them yourself.”
By the time they reached his cabin, Sam was crumbling. Just the mention of how long he’d been on his feet had been enough to make him stumble; now all he could think about was stretching out in his bunk in sweet oblivion. He managed to kick off his boots and drag a blanket over his shoulders before his eyelids drifted shut.
Mo’s voice reached him from a long way off. “Should I call up for some food . . . never mind. I’ll buzz you at 1800. Sleep well.”
He registered the time—1130—heaved a deep sigh and slept.
CHAPTER SIX
Doc Berta shook her head and frowned at the readings on the panel behind Rayna’s head. “I can’t find a reason to keep you here any longer, Carver.” She sighed. “But if I let you out of my sight Cap will have my ass.”
Rayna’s brows came together in the center of her forehead. “What does Murphy have to do with it?” She had an ugly suspicion she knew the answer.
When the doctor wouldn’t meet her gaze, that guess was confirmed. “This is my Sickbay, but it’s Captain Murphy’s ship. He gives the orders. We follow them.”
Outrage propelled her forward in her sickbed, but the pain from her abused ribs immediately put a leash on her anger. “Am I ready to be discharged or not? I feel fine!” That last wasn’t exactly the truth—she still felt like the discards from making an omelet—but if she didn’t get out of bed this minute she just might lose what was left of her sanity.
The doctor drew herself up to her full height, which was only impressive if you were flat on your back in a hospital bed. “The captain has the last say about every damn thing on his ship. And in this case, I have to agree with him. Security is at stake. We have an assassin on the loose—an assassin you saw, need I remind you? Cap says you aren’t going anywhere until he clears it.”
The monitors still attached to Rayna’s body went crazy. “To hell with that! The assassin doesn’t know I saw him!” She swung her legs to the floor, ignoring the dizziness that followed the action. She began stripping the patches from her skin and the alarms fell silent. “Where are my clothes?”
“What the hell is going on here?”
Rayna didn’t have to see him to know who belonged to the voice. The commanding baritone was enough to freeze her in place and put her heart in overdrive. She turned to see Sam Murphy standing in the opening to her cubicle, his expression dark.
She lifted her chin. “The doctor says I’m well enough to leave.”
The captain glared at Doc Berta, who gave an exasperated sigh and raised her arms in surrender. “I gave orders she should be kept here under guard until I said otherwise.” Murphy’s voice was a growl now, low and primal.
“I can’t justify keeping her here on medical reasons,” the doctor argued.
Rayna found a set of clean clothes in the cabinet next to her bed and stuck her legs into the jumpsuit. She turned to the wall to avoid Murphy’s stare as she slipped her upper body into the suit, responding to the hunger in his gaze with a blush that spread heat over every inch of her skin.
“She needs protection.”
Dressed, she turned to confront him. “I can take care of myself, Captain.” She fought the light-headeness the turn had caused her.
He smirked. “You’re weak as a day-old targa.”
“Targas are born with claws and teeth. And you can’t keep me in a cage.” She stood facing him, waiting for him to step aside.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. Fire smoldered deep in his eyes. If he had stood across a sparring mat from her, she would have had no idea how to anticipate the strike. Was he angry? Was he frustrated? Was he attracted? Did he want to protect her, or kill her himself? Maybe what she saw in his eyes was only a reflection of what she felt. The man drove her crazy.
“At least let me walk you back to your cabin.” The words were bitten off and spit out.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
She bent to put on the soft, Vibram-soled boots most everyone wore onboard ship and had to swallow a groan. It still hurt so damn much! She stood, hiding her pain, concealing any sign of weakness. She couldn’t afford to let him see; she refused to give him the advantage. Despite all her care, he reached out to help steady her. She shrugged him off and pushed past him to the cubicle entrance.
Rayna glanced at Doc Berta. “Am I good to go?”
It infuriated her that the doctor looked to the captain. “Cap?”
“If she passes out in the corridor, what should I do?”
Berta grinned. “Guess you’ll have to pick her up and haul her ass back here.”
“Right.” He met Rayna’s narrowed gaze and inclined his head in the direction of the exit. “After you.”
As they left Sickbay, the two Security guards who’d been stationed at the entrance to the med facility fell in behind them. Rayna let out an exasperated breath.
“Is that really necessary?”
“What? Are you suggesting you’re in shape to fight off another attacker—or two—even with my help?”
She had to admit the thought of hand-to-hand combat right now made her sick to her stomach.
Murphy caught her expression and took a breath. “Let’s just say I’m feeling lazy today. Any trouble and we’ll let the boys handle it.”
They reached the lift and took it to Deck Five, where she shared the cabin with Lainie and the others. As they took to the corridor again, she noticed his usual conquering stride had slowed to a moseying stroll. In deference to her? Truthfully she didn’t feel like moving with any kind of catlike grace, either. Damn it!
She needed a distraction. “How goes the search for the assassin?”
His face turned stormy. “We’ve eliminated several possibilities.”
“That well, huh?”
“The murders had a sobering effect on the men we had in the brig.”
“They’re not talking.”
“No. And without a description or any evidence left at the scene, searching two ships and 800 LO’s is a near-impossible task.”
“It could be anyone.”
“In effect. I don’t suppose you noticed anyone suspicious in that hold with you before we captured the Fleeflek?”
She laughed. “Besides myself, you mean?”
He turned to stare at her. “Funny that this particular slaver should harbor not just one, but two . . . shall we say, trained agents undercover?”
She hadn’t thought of it that way. It was, in fact, damned strange. Had the operation been blown? In that case, why not just go after her? Why all the craziness with an attempted takeover of Murphy’s ship, unless it was to regain the slaves?
Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3) Page 6