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DEEDECK DESIGN
Chapter 18
Jax did not like the lack of communication from the zone. He’d tried other channels, and there was plenty of chatter in the Richter star system, but he couldn’t get through to anyone. It made him surly. Aggravating his condition was the doc, drifting between the control chamber and her sleeping chamber, back and forth, muttering under her breath. As if her presence would make the pod go faster. He understood her sense of urgency and irritation with the lack of contact, understood that she could do nothing else until they reached the zone, but her restless hovering was making him rabid.
The icing on the cake was that Moira only visited control with Connie present. When Connie spelled him at the controls so he could sleep, she’d disappear into her chamber with the door flashing its privacy seal. Part of him approved of her making sure that they weren’t alone together. He sure as hell couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands to himself, and her response to his kiss had been anything but cold. On the other hand, the male animal in him wanted to corner her and disprove her tacit denial of what was between them. In spite of the fact that he knew it would be a really bad idea.
Surly was an understatement. His people were all walking on eggshells around him. It didn’t help that Jaime Rutledge was still missing, though Kreel and Besh were amassing an enormous amount of evidence against him. Kreel had scoured Moira’s TSU, finding several intricate programs embedded in its normal systems, and while they didn’t obviously name Rutledge as their creator, his time logs revealed an inordinate amount of extra attention to her TSU. In addition, the authorities had pulled apart his living unit and had called in Kreel to disassemble his personal work station. The various projects he found in Rutledge’s personal data files matched the programming style of the killer, and one project seemed the basic framework for the attack programs.
Besh had backtracked Rutledge’s activities through personnel interviews and security logs. Rutledge had been very careful, so they had no direct evidence of tampering, but he was in the right places at the right times. Just before the attacks, he’d been acting strangely and had been seen in unusual places, visiting dives and out of the way areas in a break from his normal habits. But Besh could find no evidence of Rutledge meeting someone or contacting anyone. All of the man’s com records had been destroyed prior to the authorities invading his living unit.
Jax bared his teeth at the black void before him, feeling in his gut that his prey was slipping away. The longer they went without finding Rutledge, the worse their chances of discovering why Moira was attacked and who was behind it.
He heard his companions enter the control chamber and rearranged his features to a blank mask.
“Still no word?” Moira asked in an abrupt voice that said she knew the answer, but couldn’t help voicing the question.
Grinding his teeth, he contained a snarled response with an effort. “No,” he answered just as abruptly.
She sighed and stood behind the other pilot’s chair as Connie sat in it. “But we’re getting so close,” she murmured.
“Entering the system now.” He tapped the nav display, which showed their trajectory to a docking station around the outermost habitable planet in the Richter system. “They’ll have to answer soon or take this damned pod up their ass.”
She snorted with sour humor. “Well, that’s one way to get their attention.”
The outer planet came into view, growing in size as they neared it. Jax set the standard docking request on continuous loop as they approached, clenching his jaw with grim impatience at the lack of response. The station loomed in front of them, and Jax was about to start making threats, when a hostile voice said, “Slow your approach. Docking seal six. Wait for clearance.”
“Seal six, aye,” Jax responded curtly. “Send the station supervisor to the airlock to meet us. He’s got some explaining to do.”
There was no response, and Jax snarled low in his throat, maneuvering the pod with callous speed to the indicated docking port.
Ignoring the lurch of the ship under her, Moira leaned forward and touched the com. “Station, this is Dr. Moira Bannen, liaison for the DDEC. What’s your contamination status?” When she got no response, her lips thinned and eyes narrowed. “Station, if you don’t clear your status, I will declare the entire structure contaminated and the DDEC will shut it down.”
It was a bluff, since DeeDeck wasn’t talking to her either, but Jax appreciated the effort. More so since she finally got a reaction.
“There’s no virus here,” a harsh voice said, “and that’s the way we mean to keep it. Dock and wait ‘til we clear you.”
“Seems hot, boss,” Connie commented in a bland tone.
Jax nodded, muscles flexing in battle eagerness, but Moira spoke before he could. “Something’s wrong here. I’ve seen panic reactions before, and paranoia, but this is—”
“Hostile. We know, Doc. Make your prep, but don’t go near the hatch until we’re with you.”
“You have some idea of what’s going on?”
“Not a clue. Never hurts to be prepared, though.”
She muttered something under her breath with a crease between her brows, but she left the chamber without further comment.
“Full gear?” Connie asked when she was gone.
“Go with covert armor ‘til we know for sure. Tuck and carry.”
“Think we outta tell her?”
Jax shook his head. “No sense nerving her up. Bad mix.”
Connie nodded, understanding what he meant. If the doc was anxious when they went through the airlock and confronted the station personnel, whoever met them might take it wrong and escalate hostilities.
Jax docked hard and fast, ignoring the protocols flashing imperious instructions across his displays. Then he and Connie left control to gear up. Moira was waiting for them in the outer chamber with a travel case in hand, a puzzled frown on her lovely face as she watched them enter from the interior chambers instead of control. But she didn’t comment, turning instead to the hatch and the cycling airlock.
“Prepare to be boarded,” a voice came through the com.
Moira’s frown deepened into thunder. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “On what authority do you board a DDEC transport without permission?”
Jax met Connie’s grim gaze with a thrill of violent anticipation firing his muscles. Prowling to one side of the hatch, he was aware of Connie mirroring his movements on the other side. Drawing his weapon and waving Moira away from the hatch, he ignored her gasp and focused on the hatch seal with predatory intent. As it cycled and slid open, he eased back against the hull, lying in wait for his prey.
Two men stepped over the threshold together, eyes on Moira standing wide-eyed and frozen in the middle of the chamber. Jax pounced without hesitation, and Connie mirrored his actions again as if they were choreographed. After so many years working together, both in Patrol and in security, they knew each other’s moves so well that they were instinctual. The two station men had others behind them, so instead of immobilizing, Jax and Connie knocked them out with swift blows, before exploding over the hatch threshold together into the airlock.
Two more station security personnel met them with cries of surprised aggression and blasting weapons. Jax grunted to feel the impact of one shot on his chest, but didn’t slow down. Connie took one down with a shot of his own, while Jax barreled into the other, wrenching his weapon from his grip and leaping over him, leaving him for Connie as he headed for the last member of the station group. The station official was bolting for the other hatch, bleating his shocked fear. If he got into the station, they’d be locked out with no leverage to get in—the pod was weaponless. Jax vaulted after him, pouncing in a hard tackle that took the smaller man to the airlock floor before he could escape.
The man’s breath left his lungs in a loud whoosh, and his body writhed under Jax as he struggled to inhale again. Jax shot a glance over his shoulder, rising to a crouch over the prostrate official with one hand braced hard on the back of the man’s neck to keep him down. Connie was tidying up, beating the last security man insensible.
Satisfied that all was in control, Jax wrenched the smaller man over onto his back, grinding his procured weapon under the official’s chin. “Now,” he growled in savage command, “Let’s chat.”
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