Mission: Mistletoe

by Gemma Brocato

  She paused to glance toward the corner office as awareness tingled up her spine. Dr. Truser watched her, the way a long-fanged Centaurian tagritte observed its prey before pouncing. It was apparent he didn’t trust the science personnel assigned to his section. Least of all his newest employee.

  Grabbing the stacks of docu-nimbis, Rhayne made a big show of depositing them in the storage container in the station before entering a second code to lock the cabinet. She gathered the personal journals and notes she’d walked in with, shoved them in her satchel, and pulled the strap over her shoulder. Checking one final time to insure she had cleared the surface, Rhayne lifted her hand and saluted Truser.

  At his curt nod, she moved toward the portal and walked quickly through. She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d done something wrong already.

  Chapter 3

  “Enter.” Rhayne issued the verbal command in response to the wooden tones announcing a visitor.

  Althea walked through the portal as it swished open with a hydraulic hiss. She’d released her hair from the restrictive braid she’d worn in the lab. The length, curl, and color of it amazed Rhayne. The silvery tresses should have made Althea look old, but her unlined face made it difficult for Rhayne to guess her actual age. Althea’s skin texture was pure and clear. She did not appear to have the Retrino-A implants. Rhayne had fashioned her own coarse hair into an intricate weave. In her opinion, her unmanageable hair was her least favorite feature.

  Althea’s head swung wildly side-to-side as she paused in the door. “Oh my Titan! What in the name of the gods happened in here?”

  Heat rushed into Rhayne’s cheeks. She was uncomfortably aware of what her quarters looked like. In the short time, less than two days she’d resided on Kronos, she’d managed to completely trash her living space. She hadn’t bothered to unpack her travel cases. Clothing, shoes, and toiletries erupted over the edge and spewed across the floor. Her dinner and breakfast dishes remained on the table where she’d left them. She’d tossed her satchel into an aircast lounger when she’d walked through the door, spilling the digi-reader and personal comm devices to the floor. Her comp-sys sat atop the unmade bed, adding to the clutter.

  “Looks a little lived in, doesn’t it?” Rhayne shrugged, then laughed as she hastily kicked clothes back toward the open bag on the floor. She stowed her comp-sys, then shut down the compressor that maintained the comfort level of her mattress. Air hissed from the release valve as the mattress deflated. Sweeping up the electronics and paper, she shoved it all back into her bag. “It never takes me long to make my personal space look as if a lunar tsunami whirled through. My career work relies so heavily on tidiness and organization, I don’t mind being messy here in private. I do hate to be caught at it, though.”

  Althea nodded. “Ah. I thought vandals had broken in. You’re indulging your rebellious side. I understand.”

  “My mother used to throw her hands up and pull my bedroom door shut.” Rhayne flipped the coverlet up and pressed the retractor button. Folding up on itself to fit into the small area, the platform slipped back into a recession in the wall.

  “Griffin used to do the same to me. He was obsessed with everything being in its place.” Althea pushed her hair back from her forehead and looked at Rhayne. “Wow! You look great. Kind of vintage yet still modern. The men on this station will be lining up to buy your first ale.”

  Rhayne had changed from her standard-issue green uniform to a free flowing, skin-revealing chal’dron. The lightweight, crimson-flecked material twisted around her body, similar to a sari from twenty-first century earth. She’d clasped gleaming Tritanian bands around her upper arms, leaving the rest of her body unadorned. Simple and striking. She paused from loading dishes into the sani-clean bay. Looking over her shoulder, she smirked. “What? This old thing? It’s just something I twisted on.”

  “Right. All you need is some crimson tint on your lips. That’ll get the boys drooling. Maybe I can pick up your sloppy seconds.”

  Rhayne snorted. “You’re no slouch yourself. I think I’ll have competition.” She dried her hands under the cyclonic blower by the sink and waited for the UV sanitizing cycle to complete. “Not that I want to meet anyone. I have too much work to do to get involved with a man.”

  “Oh, honey. We need to work on your priorities. Okay, for tonight we’ll make sure they look, but don’t touch. I promised you the details of the Mistletoe Project, and I’ll deliver.” Althea gestured toward the portal. “Are you ready?”

  Rhayne fastened her sandals around her ankles and straightened. “Let’s go,”

  * * * *

  Melodic Janus jazz played softly over the lounge speakers as Rhayne and Althea walked through the entrance to Ma’Jut. Tables were scattered throughout the dimly lit lounge. Patrons looked up from their Cassini Ales as Althea pointed out an empty spot in one corner, then led the way. Along the way, she greeted several of the other patrons with the customary non-military Company salute, one hand fisted against the opposite shoulder.

  The glow of a reserved sign reflected off the sem-nite surface as they approached. Rhayne slowed. “Althea, I don’t think we can sit here. It’s the manager’s personal table.”

  Althea slid into one of the barrel chairs, smiled, and waved in the direction of the bar. “I have a good son, don’t I? I streamed him earlier and told him to save me a table.”

  Rhayne glanced at the illuminated bar as she lowered herself to the chair opposite her new friend. Three people huddled at the far end, their backs to her. One of them had a shiny, bald head, reminding Rhayne of the man who’d sandwiched her earlier.

  “Relax. Jofor will deliver our wine in a second. What do you think of this music?”

  The upbeat, syncopated Janus beat set Rhayne’s toes in motion. She nodded in rhythm with the music. “It’s great.”

  Smiling, Rhayne scanned the room, looking the other patrons over while she and Althea waited for their drinks. Occupants at the adjoining tables wore off-duty clothes, although nearby, Marines, dressed in what Rhayne thought of as storm trooper regalia, sat in the corner facing the entrance. Most of the soldiers appeared relaxed in their seats. The one exception was the apparent squad leader, who returned her gaze with a grim look. His eyes flicked to Althea. Even at this distance, Rhayne noticed a muscle popping in his jaw.

  “So, what’s the story with Captain Courageous over there?” Rhayne tipped her head in the direction of the Marines.

  Althea responded without looking toward the corner. “That’s Deke Slater. He’s had a Martian flea up his ass since the Marine Corps privatized seven years ago. Just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“nearly five hundred years of tradition straight down the tubes.”

  “But the other branches all jumped to the private sector after the Business Coalition won the twenty-one-oh-two elections.”

  Althea shrugged. “He doesn’t think the BC should manage security for the universe. Says it doesn’t make any sense…the fox watching the henhouse, you know. He’s a typical alpha dog. Can’t stand change.”

  “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

  A shadow fell over the table as glass clinked against the artificial granite surface. A familiar, deep voice said, “She should. She was coupled with him for seven years.”

  “Griffin!” Althea jumped out of her chair and threw herself into a bone-crushing hug from the oversized man. “Welcome back. How was your trip?”

  A tiny gold hoop winked in his earlobe. Shocked to silence, Rhayne stared at the man. It was as if she’d conjured the pirate who’d saved her in the cargo bay with her thoughts.

  “Long. Seven days in transport stasis is too long. Next time I’m sending Jofor.” He settled his mother back on her chair before turning to introduce himself to her companion. Surprise flitted over his features. A slow, sexy grin split his lips, exposing straight white teeth. “Grace! Nice to see you again.”

  Rhayne stared into the intense blue eyes of the man who’d saved her from a c
rushing experience under a cargo float. He was every bit as attractive as she remembered. “Uh…hi.”

  Griffin, this is Dr. Rhayne Drake, not Grace. Rhayne, this is my son, Griffin.”

  “I ran into him on the Calypso Explorer,” Rhayne answered. Her eyes never left Griffin’s face.

  “Really? I thought you said you didn’t meet anyone en route.” Althea shot a questioning gaze across the table.

  “Didn’t happen until we docked. I saved her life.” Griffin laughed as he held onto Rhayne’s hand.

  Electricity chased up her arm and through her chest, lodging behind her sternum before spearing down her belly. Swallowing her rising desire, Rhayne explained, “I took a wrong turn on the way to the off-load bay and ended up in the cargo area instead. Your son pulled me out of the way as a load of Cassini Ale almost barreled me over.”

  “And then once again when a dock droid tried to vacuum her up.”

  Rhayne reluctantly tugged her hand from Griffin’s warm grasp.

  “Ah,” Althea grinned. “That’s why you call her Grace. Now it makes sense. And I was only married to Deke for three years.”

  “Three, five, seven…it was too long.” He folded his long body onto the seat next to Rhayne, crowding her a bit.

  “It wasn’t that horrible. We spent most of the last year in different parts of the solar system. You know as well as I, it didn’t get ugly until the Corps went private. He found it difficult to settle into the lesser role of station security chief.”

  “He still looks at you like he owns you. I don’t like that.” Griffin stared hard at Deke, pinning him a look so cold it raised goose bumps on Rhayne’s arms.

  “He knows he doesn’t. As a matter of fact, after you went off station last month, he was pretty relaxed. We even managed to remain civilized when we had a drink together. And said goodbye at the door the next morning, just like adults.”

  Rhayne smothered a chuckle at Griffin’s horrified expression. She guessed he didn’t want that much information about his mother’s private life. Althea shot Griffin a look laced heavily with shades of you started it. Griffin’s mouth snapped shut. Time to change the subject.

  “Your mother tells me you manage the entertainment on the station. That must be interesting.”

  Two sets of vivid blue eyes swiveled toward her, startling her with their intensity. Titan! She had multiple advanced science degrees. She’d addressed the universal assembly during the last session on Mars, but his heated expression and damned good looks mesmerized her. She was not capable of stringing a sentence together, let alone make small talk.

  “Challenging is a better description.” Griffin smiled easily at Rhayne, waving a hand toward the Marines in the corner. “Since the Corps went private, discipline in the ranks is lax. Cassini ale, space fever, and lazy security forces translate to unchecked aggressive behavior from some of the residents on the station. It will be worse next week when Saturnalia begins and the tourists arrive.”

  “I’d heard the celebration attracts a lot of off-worlders. It looks like you’ve been getting ready for it.” Rhayne gestured toward the greenery strung across the front of the bar. Decorating had been one of the few traditions to survive since Christmas had been outlawed over a hundred years earlier.

  “This place will really start looking festive in the next couple of days. Saturnalia and Solstice are colossal draws, especially since the Business Coalition implemented their ban on religious observations, including Christmas. It’s all business all the time with that particular political party.” Griffin’s gaze wandered idly around the room, but his posture suggested his study was anything but casual. He noted everything and everyone as sure as she was sitting here.

  He returned his attention to her and let his eyes roam over her in the same deceptively lazy manner. He smiled, apparently pleased with what he saw. Rhayne gasped as she flashed back to the cargo dock where they’d met, and the way his muscular body had felt planked against hers. His scrutiny had her stomach tingling happily.

  “Their ban didn’t include harvest celebrations like Solstice or Equinox. A friend in Logistics said the hidden clerics arrived on the transport with us.” His smile illuminated his face, accentuating his rogue pirate look. “She estimates passenger craft will be stacked three deep beginning Monday. Since only mining personnel are allowed on Saturn’s surface, orbiting around the planet is the closest most people can get.”

  An unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation gnawed at the pit of Rhayne’s stomach when Griffin mentioned his friend was a she. Silly twit. She’d met him only minutes ago. Well, okay, for the second time. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him, but a man this striking, and as nice, had to belong to someone else. She shook off the feeling and sipped her wine.

  “Do you know the story behind the celebration?” Althea asked.

  Rhayne searched her memory but found nothing beyond the scientific facts of the plant that held a special place in festival folklore. “I know it dates to before the first millennium. It’s about rebirth and rejuvenation, right?”

  “Saturnalia historically celebrates the birth of Saturn. God of life, fertility, and all that nonsense. In ancient Greece, the festival started at the Winter Solstice and continued for seven to ten days.” Althea leaned back in her chair, her gaze resting on Deke Slater. “Masters ‘served’ the slaves during the festival and everyone celebrated birth, death, and rebirth. Of course, it was only ceremonial. Servants still had to prepare the feast and clean up after. Eventually, it evolved to Earth’s Christmas celebration.”

  Griffin took over the explanation. “Mistletoe was revered as magical…mysterious. The reverent considered its white berries sacred and believed they were Hera’s tears, frozen as they fell to earth.” He paused, his eyes lingering on Rhayne’s lips. “Humans kiss under the mistletoe in memory and veneration. It’s a foretelling of joy to come at the rebirth of the world.”

  “It seems that the research project is aptly named then.” Rhayne sat forward in her chair, enthralled by the words. Or maybe it was the man telling the story.

  “It’s definitely a more whimsical name than viscum album L.” Althea snorted derisively and sipped her wine.

  Griffin echoed his mother’s scoffing laughter. “It’s odd that anyone would revere a parasite.”

  “Historically, it’s been used medicinally for a variety of ailments. In the right doses, healers can use it to treat headaches, seizures, and even cancer,” Rhayne said. “Which is significant. But it’s toxic to humans.”

  Griffin’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Althea traced her finger over a seam in the surface of the table. “Many things are toxic to humans. But it’s because of the plant’s history that researchers began looking at it as a possible medical cure.” She leaned back in her seat. “We started the Mistletoe Project over three years ago based on decades-old research that suggested the berries could be genetically modified and used to create a vaccine to ward off certain diseases. Our goal has not been to cure, but rather, to prevent.”

  A waiter appeared at the table with more wine. Rhayne was surprised to discover her glass was empty. The wine tasted delicious, but she didn’t remember drinking all of it. Griffin took the bottle from the server and poured more into her glass. She extended her bare arm, wrist up to pay for this round.

  “I’ve got this.” Griffin nodded to the server, who bowed slightly, then retreated.

  He reached across the table to add more of the rich red liquor into his mother’s glass. Althea covered the mouth of her cup, and then turned her head. Rhayne followed her gaze. Across the room, Slater stood and began walking in their direction.

  Althea straightened in her seat and spoke without taking her eyes from the man approaching them. “Rhayne, you might want to take it slow with the wine. It’s potent when you’re not used to it. Not to mention the extra ionization Griffin pumps into the atmosphere in this place. Will you excuse me for a minute?”

  Not waiting for a respon
se, Althea rose from her chair. She glided across the room to meet her former husband halfway. Rhayne couldn’t tell if Griffin’s scowl was meant for the Marine or his mother.

  “You tweak the air?” Rhayne asked.

  He took his gaze off the couple in the center of the room and turned the full power of his gaze on her. “Makes the natives less restless. It’s not easy living on a space station. Adding extra ions to the air energizes people without agitating them the way some amino-libations do.”

  “As wonderful as the wine is, the combination of the intoxicant and charged molecules will leave me sillier than I like.” Rhayne voiced her regret as she pushed her glass away without taking another sip.

  “Silly can be a good thing.” Griffin lifted an eyebrow suggestively at Rhayne.

  She’d never been silly a day in her life. At her quick gasp and headshake, he sighed and tapped his finger on the summoning button. The serv-bot delivering water nearby completed its task before gliding with a whisper of sound to their table. Griffin swiped the menu feature on the bot’s control panel. He smiled and added flavoring and water to a glass the bot supplied. Putting it in front of Rhayne, he said, “Try this. It’s the most refreshing non-stim formula on the station.”

  “Thanks,” Rhayne said as she lifted the glass to her lips. She blinked as the added essence exploded on her tongue. It was tart and sweet at the same time. Griffin’s lips twisted into a slow smile. Amazement and desire played tag along her nerve endings as his eyes danced slowly along her body.

  Heat swept up her neck and settled in her cheeks. In spite of the tasty beverage on the table, her mouth felt drier than the Borealls Plains of Mercury. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. Griffin slid his arm along the back of her chair, drawing close enough his hot breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “Am I making you nervous?”