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DEEDECK DESIGN
Chapter 20
Moira stared at the station official with a horrible sense of unreality. She knew her mouth hung open as if it had come unhinged, but she couldn’t seem to pick her chin up off her chest. “Wha…?” was the best she could do.
Coltier was a bit more coherent. “When did this rumor start? Where’s it coming from?”
The official kept glancing at her, his face growing more troubled each time. “Couple days ago, from the hotzone. Nobody high up is talking, and the news flashes don’t pin it down as fact, but when the word came down to detain her…” He shrugged, sending Moira another disturbed glance.
She drew in a deep breath, struggling to get past her shock. “Why are they saying that I engineered this virus?”
“Lots of rumors on that one—government project, you’re on the take, private contract—”
“No, I mean, why do they think it’s engineered?”
He blinked at her, his expression blank. “I don’t know. They do the med-babble, and I tune out.”
Moira felt urgency burn from her center out to her extremities. She turned to Coltier, gripping his arm with desperate strength. “We have to get into the zone. Now.”
“Doc, your dedication’s noble, but they’ve got a warrant on you. Better to get you the hell out of—”
“No! Don’t you get it? That’s where the rumor came from, so whoever is trying to get rid of me is there—”
“Possible, but not—”
“And if this thing really was engineered, we have to find out why. To stop it, save these people, and clear my name.”
He made a rough sound in his throat, upper lip curling in a prelude to a snarl. “This ain’t a fairytale, princess. You can save the day from the next galaxy over.”
She let go of him with a snarl of her own and collected her med kit. “I’m going with or without you.”
“Damn it, Moira,” he growled. Grabbing her upper arms in a tight clasp, he gave her a small shake, dark eyes burning into hers. “I could drag you to your chamber and lock you in.”
“Yes, you do seem the kidnapping caveman type,” she responded acidly, trying without success to shrug off his hold. “But I’m your client. You’re here to solve my case, and the answers are in the zone. So could you stop being a jackass for just a little while and help me?”
“What kind of answers do you expect to find from inside a jail cell?”
A voice interrupted, “I’ve got a flyer you could use.”
Moira turned her head to stare at the security guard, twisting in Coltier’s hold as much as he’d allow. “What?”
The man’s face was less swollen, but still battered looking, though his eyes were calm and direct as he met her gaze. “To get into the hotzone. If you go in a Richter flyer, nobody’ll know you. Nobody’ll stop you.”
Moira turned back to Coltier, meeting his flinty stare with raised eyebrows.
He made a low growl in the back of his throat and lifted his gaze to the security guard. “Why?” he barked.
The man didn’t seem to need elaboration to understand what Coltier was asking. “It’s obvious as hell she ain’t what they say she is. If I was her, I’d wanna know who put the blame for this massacre on me. And beat the bastard bloody,” he added, tongue gingerly touching a split in his lower lip as he shot Connie a dark look.
Connie didn’t respond in any overt way, but humor lurked in the corners of his eyes and mouth as he watched his victim.
“We wouldn’t get far without entry codes,” Coltier said, though his hands had loosened on her arms and his expression had sharpened with interest.
The man shrugged. “I could fly you in.” He met Moira’s gaze. “You’re here to stop this thing, right?”
“Yes. I don’t know how yet, but I will, if I can study the virus in detail.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll take you.”
Coltier released her and moved to stand in front of the man, exchanging a quick look with Connie before he addressed the station security guard. “Name?”
“Val Rufio.”
“You looking to be a hero, Rufio?”
The man stiffened, battered face tightening. “I got family here. Lost some already to this thing. I don’t wanna lose the rest.”
Coltier nodded slowly, studying him with hands braced on narrow hips. “All right, you’re hired.” He turned to the station official as Connie stepped forward to release Rufio from the netting. “What about you?”
The smaller man flicked a pained look at his former security guard, white lines of stress bracketing his mouth. “She’s still under a detain order. I can’t help.”
Rufio snorted. “You always were a weasel, Rickman.”
A groan distracted Moira, and she turned with a muttered exclamation to her forgotten patients by the hatch. Exemplary doctor she was turning out to be on this job. She moved toward them, but Connie caught her arm in gentle restraint.
“Not a good idea, Doc,” he said softly, and she noticed with a start that his weapon was back in his hand.
“But—”
“I got ‘im,” Rufio announced, stepping past Moira to his fellow security guard, who was sitting up with hands clutching his head. “Come on, Style. I gotcha.” Rufio helped the man to his feet and walked him over to the wall next to Rickman. Lowering him to a cushioned seat, he strapped him in securely.
“What th-hell…?” Style mumbled, squinting up at Rufio with a pained expression.
“Relax, man.”
Style glanced from his former companion to his imprisoned boss, then sighed and let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed. “Whatever,” he muttered.
Moira removed Connie’s restraining hold with a firm touch and approached to run her scanner over Style. “You’ve got a mild concussion. When we’re gone, I want you to go to the infirmary for observation. Get plenty of rest and don’t strain yourself.” While she spoke, she prepared medication and injected him with it.
A moment later, he sighed again, his muscles relaxing. “Thanks,” he said without opening his eyes, the lines of pain in his face easing.
Moira turned to see Rufio strapping the other unconscious man into the netting with Connie’s help. She ran her scanner over him, nodding with satisfaction when she found little damage, and gave him an injection as well.
“Finished?” Coltier asked in a wry tone.
She glanced his way to find him watching her with arms folded across his chest and amusement in his dark eyes. Lifting her chin, she answered, “Almost.” Turning to the station official, she scanned him as she said, “The man in the airlock needs to be hospitalized. You’ll see to it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded in a subdued tone.
“You have minor bruising, nothing serious. Can I give you anything for the pain?”
“No, ma’am. I can take care of it later.”
“All right.” She hesitated, meeting his eyes with a niggling sensation of regret. “I’m sorry you and your men were injured because of me. I’ve been a disaster magnet since I got here—someone’s been trying very hard to keep me from helping you.”
He shook his head, eyes dropping from hers. “Don’t think on it, ma’am.”
“Not much chance of that,” she muttered with a sigh, turning to Coltier and catching his ghost smile again.
He didn’t comment, though, glancing over at Rufio with a commanding look. “You get your flyer. We’ll switch ships in space.”
Rufio lifted his eyebrows, but didn’t argue, moving into the airlock without hesitation. Connie followed him, weapon still drawn.
Moira frowned. “What do you mean, switch ships in space? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It’s not fun, but if we walk onto that station, we risk getting nabbed,” he responded, striding over to the hatch and helping Connie to drag the last injured man over the threshold. Then he nodded through the hatch at the waiting Rufio before sealing the hatch once more. “And that boy’s gotta earn trust.”
“Oh,” she murmured, feeling foolish and naïve. She’d taken Rufio at face value, never once thinking that he might be playing them false, might be trying to escape or lure them into a trap.
“This pod’s defensible. That out there’s unknown territory,” Connie added, nodding to the airlock and the station beyond, as Coltier moved toward the control chamber.
Moira gave her companion a dubious nod, feeling out of her element. As usual. She was definitely going to put in for hazard pay when this was over. If she still had a job—she wasn’t exactly following acceptable DDEC protocol right now. But if this virus was engineered…
She felt her brows pull together in a frown, urgency firing through her muscles again at the thought. Weaponized bioengineering had been banned eons ago. It still happened, of course—the black market thrived as it always had in the crevices of civilization, the universe too expansive a place to police with complete accuracy, and humans still fought over all the usual things, though the intergalactic government was a quelling force that discouraged escalation.
This was her area, though. Her job, her responsibility. The possibility of an engineered virus terrified and infuriated her. Nature killed on a daily basis, but warping natural organisms to kill was murder. In this case, mass murder, the death of millions resting at the feet of an individual…or organization?
She was still chewing on the possibilities when the floor shuddered under her. She glanced up to find Connie entering the chamber with a load of baggage and pursed her lips, disconcerted that she hadn’t been aware of him leaving. He moved too quickly and quietly for such a big man. He and Coltier both.
Coltier appeared as if her thought had drawn him there, though he gave her barely a glance on his way to the hatch. He checked the controls, skimmed the hatch seal with his fingers, and then turned to them. “Seal looks good, but the airlock is a flimsy temp, so no sudden movements. Gravity will be light in there—use the handholds to pull yourself across instead of pushing with your feet.”
“I’m not good with zero gravity,” Moira said uneasily, thinking nauseous thoughts.
“It’s a short trip, Doc. Two, three steps and you’re there.”
She looked down at his long legs. “So…five or six of my steps,” she clarified with a lift of an eyebrow.
He chuckled and stepped close to catch her elbow. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”
Earlier, her anger had been enough insulation against the warm magnetism of his touch, but now she could barely think past the feel of his strong fingers on her flesh and the inviting humor in his dark eyes. She wanted to ambush that ghost smile, trap it with her mouth before it could get away again, discover its taste and nibble it off his lips.
She looked down quickly and moved toward the hatch, hoping he hadn’t seen that sudden surge of lust on her face. He moved with her, fingers still curled with disconcerting gentleness around her arm. The warmth of him so close drew her, and she found herself leaning a little toward him as though her center of gravity had shifted.
Then the hatch opened and she saw the flexible airlock, heard the faint pops it made as it shifted between the two ships, and gulped. She leaned even closer to Coltier but for an entirely different reason, lust buried under a wave of fear. “Oh, this is so going to suck,” she breathed.
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