Chapter Three
Curled up next to Miranda’s feet, Sparky shot off the bunk. Yip, yip, yip, yip! The K9-500’s shrill bark pierced her ears—and probably the corridor, too.
“Quiet!” she commanded.
He continued barking—and snarling, pawing at the door.
“What is wrong with you? Why are you acting this way? Stop it, immediately!” She pulled on the harness and yanked him away from the door. “Somebody will hear you!” She’d made a promise to the captain—the larger-than-life, muscular captain with chiseled features and a gaze that managed to be both stern and brooding. Were all cyborgs as powerfully built as he? As imposing? His mouth had twitched with amusement at one point, but what would he look like if he gave a real smile?
In the week since the altercation, he’d insinuated himself into her consciousness, and though she tried, she couldn’t scrub his image from her mind. She found herself watching for him in case he paid the New Utopian area another visit, but he never had.
Just as well. The last thing she desired was another confrontation. He might not be so forgiving this time. She’d intended to obey his order, but after the trauma of the Verde Omega tragedy and the austerity of the Crimson Hawk, she longed for familiar company. Everyone she’d known well had been killed. Having her doggie bot activated helped to fulfill her need for companionship and comfort—especially since the New Utopian woman with whom she’d shared a cabin had disappeared two days ago and hadn’t returned.
Damn her luck. Now when she needed Sparky quiet, his barking, which had been a rarity before they boarded the ship, had begun to increase. As soon as they arrived on SSO15, she would have a full diagnostic run. Several times now in the week since he’d bitten the captain, he’d run to the door snapping and snarling for no apparent reason. The only people who moved among these corridors were the New Utopians. He’d never acted this way until the Tyranians had arrived. The attack had triggered some programming, a bad line of code that made him hypersensitive to stimuli.
“Silence. That’s an order,” she commanded. “Return to your pad.” She pointed to the recharging unit where she kept him when he wasn’t in use. “Sit!” He had no sooner settled on his docking station, when a communication hail sounded. Growling and barking, he charged at the door again.
Her heart thudded. Who would be hailing her? Had somebody heard the noise?
She doubted her fellow New Utopians would turn her in. Now that they’d begun to relax and feel safe, they’d also started to complain. They’d been restricted to three areas: their quarters, the mess hall, and the observation deck. Armed guards barred them from other areas. “We’re like prisoners!” they grumbled. Most likely they’d applaud flouting the captain’s edict as a way to “put one over” on the Crimson Hawk crew.
However, the lieutenant commander who met frequently with the New Utopian liaison would report the violation. Miranda had watched the schedule, and when Brack was due for a visit, she’d switched off the dog.
The hail sounded again. What if the lieutenant commander had dropped in unexpectedly, passed by, and heard barking? Quickly she shut off the bot and plunked him onto his pad before running to the intercom. “Y-yes? Who is it?”
“Althea.”
She sighed in relief that her secret was safe—and that her roommate had returned. She’d begun to worry. Where could she have been for two days? Miranda flung open the door. “What happened? Where did you go?” she said, and then her jaw dropped as she took in the woman’s appearance.
Althea’s eyes were bloodshot, her hair was mussed, and she wore mismatched, rumpled clothing—a man’s shirt with her leggings.
Ah. The walk of shame. No judgments. Stress increased the human need for comfort. That’s why she had activated Sparky against orders. If Althea could find solace in someone’s arms, more power to her.
“I must speak to you. May I come in?” Althea focused on the deactivated bot.
“Of course.” Miranda snorted. “It’s your cabin, too!” She and the other woman had been acquaintances rather than friends on Verde Omega, but after sharing a cabin for five days, they had grown closer. Althea had gotten a kick out of the robotic dog.
Her roommate glanced furtively behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Miranda peered into the vacant corridor. “Who are you looking for?”
“You.” Althea slipped inside, the door slid shut, and she leaned against the wall.
“I’m glad you’re back. I was starting to get concerned,” she said. The other woman didn’t owe her any answers. What she did was her own business, but it would have been nice if she’d given her some clue she’d intended to disappear.
Althea pushed off from the wall and moved toward her, her gaze oddly vacant, yet assessing.
Uncomfortable, Miranda grappled for something to say. “I think something is wrong with Sparky. He’s been acting strangely.” She pressed his power switch.
With a snap and snarl, he hurled himself at Althea.
“Sparky! No!” Miranda caught the leash.
Her roommate scrambled for the door.
As if short-circuiting, the bot shuddered and snapped its jaws, fighting the leash.
Quickly she deactivated him and dashed after Althea. “I’m sorry! Come back. It’s okay! He’s off!” But the corridor was vacant.
Returning inside, she picked up the rigid, silent bot. His teeth were bared in a frozen snarl. She petted his synthetic fur. “Oh, Sparky. What happened to you?” With a heavy heart, she stowed him in a storage locker, where he would have to stay until she could get him to an AI repair shop. She couldn’t risk activating him anymore. Barking was one thing; attacking people was something else. He’d bitten the captain, and if she hadn’t caught the leash in time, he would have seriously injured Althea. He’d gone for the throat!
She should have obeyed the captain’s order. Thank the universe, Althea hadn’t been hurt. She’d have to find her and apologize.
* * * *
Beneath Dante’s feet, the Crimson Hawk hummed as it hurtled through space. Arms clasped behind his back, he stared through the observation window at the stars dotting the black. He took a deep breath and exhaled. They were midway to their destination. Two weeks had passed since they’d rescued the colonists. In another fortnight, everything would return to normal. They’d dock at SSO15, the New Utopians would get off the ship, including one particular member, and regular business could resume.
Miranda had intruded into his thoughts with increasing, rather than decreasing, frequency. How was she doing? Was everything okay? Was she comfortable? Did she need anything? He pictured her gaunt but lovely face, her eyes snapping with ire, her too-slender frame. Why had she of all people awakened his interest, his emotions? The more he thought about her, the more he began to feel. Confusing, conflicted longing knotted his stomach and caused his heart to race. Why her? Why now? Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t eject her from his mind, and finally he conceded defeat and asked his first officer about her.
Not her specifically, of course—he didn’t dare single her out. Rather, he’d inquired in a general way. “How are the New Utopians faring?”
“Fine.” The lieutenant commander had shrugged.
“No problems to report?”
“None.” That his first officer seemed a bit taciturn was unlike her, but Dante couldn’t probe for more information without arousing curiosity. His preoccupation with Miranda Lowell was better kept to himself.
Memories of their encounter stuck in his mind: her slenderness, her flashing eyes, her scowl, and her obvious affection for, and defense of, the canine robot. She treated it like it was a live dog, a pet. He had to admit it certainly looked real. It had him fooled until she had told him it was a robot seconds before it sank its titanium teeth into his ankle. Since his legs were titanium also, no permanent harm had been done, but it had hurt plenty.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured Miranda healthy and glowing, her curves filled out, her face serene and unpinched, and an ache filled him. It wouldn’t be totally inappropriate if he paid her a personal visit to check on her, would it?
Almost as if his longing conjured her presence, her reflection appeared in the window. Dante spun around. His heart took up an unusual pounding. Heat rushed to his face. He feared he might be blushing, and called up his nanos to tamp down the unusual reaction.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said. “May I speak to you?”
People would talk. Rumors could spread like the Aurelian plague. He swept his gaze over the room. Other than the mess hall, the observation deck was the only place on ship where crew and refugees could mingle. Not that they did. They remained apart, sitting among their respective groups.
He’d never noticed her here before. At the end of his day, he’d come to unwind, to stare into the black. To hope.
“What is it?” he growled, his heart skipping a beat. Two weeks had filled out the hollows in her cheeks and erased the dark smudges from beneath her eyes. She was still far too slender, but looked much healthier.
“Um…some of the New Utopians are missing.”
Of course she hadn’t sought him out because she wanted to see him. Why in the galaxy would she? He straightened. “What do you mean?”
“They’re gone. I haven’t seen them in days.”
“There are two hundred twelve of you. It would be easy to overlook someone.”
She shook her head and lifted up a tablet in her hand. “I thought so, too, at first. But I got a manifest, and went through and checked off everyone’s name. If I had trouble finding someone, I asked people they were close to, so I’m sure I’ve accounted for everyone.”
“And you did this, why?”
“Well, I started out looking for my roommate, Althea Withers. We shared a cabin together the first few nights aboard the Crimson Hawk. Then she disappeared. A couple of days later, she returned briefly, but now she’s been gone again for more than a week.” She bit her lip, and a worried frown creased her forehead.
Dante gestured to a seating area. “Why don’t we sit down?” he said, intending to reassure her. No one could get on or off the ship. The New Utopians had to be here. Either Miranda had miscounted—or they’d ventured into a restricted area. If the latter proved to be the case, then action needed to be taken. Civilians couldn’t be allowed to wander around a warbird.
Once seated he said, “If your roommate disappeared once before, she’ll come back.”
“No.” Brown curls bounced with a vehement shake. “Althea is gone. The first time she’d left for only for two days.” A faint blush tinted cheeks. “I assumed she had met someone. Then when she came back, she…um…got scared and, uh, left again. She hasn’t been seen since. She’s vanished.”
“What scared her?”
She inhaled and released a long sigh. “I switched Sparky on again, and he malfunctioned. He…uh…tried to attack her.”
He’d told her to keep the bot in hibernation! Dante compressed his lips.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. He’s off now. But don’t you see? Something strange is going on. People are disappearing. It’s not just Althea.”
“I must insist you keep the bot powered down,” he rebuked, but without censure in his tone because she was upset. “So the unit scared your roommate, and she disappeared. Did you report it to the liaison?”
“He’s one of the ones missing!”
“What?” No one could vanish, but this qualified as dereliction of duty. If the liaison had made himself so scarce no one could locate him, he wasn’t performing his job. Another representative needed to be appointed. “Are you certain?”
“He hasn’t been seen in days. He hasn’t been to his quarters or the mess hall. That was when I called up the manifest we were given and went through it, matching names to bodies.” She tapped her tablet’s screen before sliding the device across the table. “Here are the names. Nine New Utopians have disappeared.”
Nine? He scanned the list. With the exception of the liaison and the roommate whose name he’d just learned, he didn’t recognize anyone, but nine?
“What about Lieutenant Commander Brack?” he asked. “Did you report it to her?”
Miranda nodded. “She said I was mistaken. I’m an archivist. My job is to maintain accurate records and chronicle events. I wouldn’t report people as missing unless I was absolutely sure they were.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”
“But you don’t. I can see it on your face.”
Dante chose his words carefully. “You have done your research, and your conclusion is logical, but I assure you it’s highly unlikely a passenger could get off the Crimson Hawk. If by some infinitesimal chance they accomplished it, it wouldn’t be without anyone noticing or leaving a computer signature. If your friends are not in the area reserved for the New Utopians, then they have sneaked off to a part of the ship where they are not supposed to be.”
“How did they get past the guards?”
How indeed. Apparently, it wasn’t only the colonists’ liaison who’d shirked his duty. The brig was going to be full. “I’d like the answer to that myself,” he replied and tapped his commlink.
“Yes, captain?” his first officer responded.
“Please do a headcount of New Utopians. Verify that they’re where they’re supposed to be.”
“There are two hundred twelve, sir. I’m sure they are in their quarters.”
“Check again. I have cause to believe several of them may have strayed. You can start by locating the liaison, Warren Ochoa, also Althea Withers, Carolinda Haverson, Benjamin Yves…” He read from Miranda’s list.
“Anything else, sir?”
“When did you meet with Mr. Ochoa last?”
“This morning.”
Miranda was shaking her head.
Dante didn’t know what to believe. Well, actually he did: Miranda was wrong. His officers had enough to do without conducting a needless roll call. He eyed the woman across the table. She’d sneaked aboard a robot with a dangerous malfunction, and after promising to keep it in powered down, switched it back on, allowing it to attack a colonist. Why should he listen to her? Because he was attracted to her? If anything, his inexplicable interest offered reason not to follow up. His personal feelings should not sway his decision.
But, it was possible the colonists had gone exploring where they shouldn’t. They could have gotten locked in somewhere. Or if someone were curious, bored, or mischievous, they might try to hack into the Crimson Hawk’s computer system. What if they accidentally released one of the weapons? Lowered the shields? Disabled a critical function? In addition, if his crewmembers had permitted the New Utopians to stray, Dante needed to know.
“Do a complete head count and report back to me ASAP,” he said to Brack.
“Very well, captain.”
The commlink closed.
“When I hear something, I’ll let you know.” He handed the tablet back to Miranda. When the lieutenant commander verified everyone was present and accounted for, she would have to accept the facts.
“Thank you,” she said.
They stared at each other across the table. An odd expectancy hummed through him. Blood rushed in his ears, and he imagined he heard her heart racing. Impossible. His cyborg hearing was sharp, but not that sharp.
She dropped her gaze. “Well, I’d…uh…I’d better let you get back to running the ship.” She scooted back her chair.
Don’t let her go yet.
“You’re looking much improved,” he said in a rush, and then winced, realizing he’d implied she hadn’t looked all right before. Unlike his metal-reinforced bones, which would never oxidize, his conversational skills with the opposite sex had rusted from lack of use.
“The food on the ship is very good,” she said. Her lips curved with a small smile. “And I’ve been eating a lot of it. Besides hunting down the colonists, the Tyranians destroyed our food stores to ensure any surviving stragglers would die of starvation.”
She’d endured a harrowing experience. It had taken six weeks from the invasion until the Crimson Hawk had received the distress call and had been able to get there. If the ship had been any farther away, every single colonist would have perished. If Miranda had become a little anxious, well, it was understandable.
“How’s your leg?” she asked.
“Good as new.”
“I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it. With my nanos, the bite wound had healed by the next morning, and all traces had disappeared the day after. Just give me your word you’ll keep the bot powered down.” A cyborg, he’d healed fast, but if the K9-500 bit a human, the outcome wouldn’t be so good.
She crossed her heart. “I learned my lesson. I had assumed when you grabbed me to keep me from falling, it triggered a protective response in Sparky, but he hasn’t been performing to spec lately.”
“You need to get that checked out.”
“I intend to when I get to the space station. He’s the only thing I have left. My father gave him to me before he died.”
“On Verde Omega—”
“No, no,” she added quickly. “He died when I was teenager. I’ve had Sparky ever since, and he saved me from the Tyranians. He bit one of them, too.”
Thank goodness she had had the bot. “Maybe I could examine him?” Dante offered.
What was he thinking? He needed to break off all association with this woman—not find ways to spend time with her. A relationship between the captain and a refugee passenger would be inappropriate—not to mention short-termed. Once the ship docked, they would go their separate ways, as they should. And if he already ached at the idea of never seeing her again, how much worse would it be if he got to know her better?
“I don’t understand.” She frowned.
“We have an android lab. I’m no coding expert, but as a cyborg, I run diagnostics on my own programming regularly. I can examine…uh…Sparky for anomalies, red flags.”
Was he crazy? He couldn’t fraternize with a passenger! Tell her never mind. Forget what I said.
“You’d do that?” Her face lit up with a beautiful, glowing smile. For the second time since he’d met her, he felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. If she ever smiled at him like that...well, she was, but only because he’d offered to run a diagnostic on her robot.
“Let me see when I have the time,” he backpedaled. Before he extended any more stupid offers, he excused himself. “I’ll let you know what Lieutenant Commander Brack finds out,” he said, and rose to his feet. “I must return to the bridge.” He fled the observation deck.