Mission: Mistletoe

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Mission: Mistletoe Page 4

by Gemma Brocato


  Rhayne shook her head no, then yes. She stared hard at her hands on the surface of the table. A chuckle rumbled through the chest pressed against her shoulder.

  “Okay, I’ll take pity.” Griffin relaxed in his chair. “How was your first day in the lab?”

  Rhayne breathed a sigh of relief at the change of subject. This was something she could discuss without getting tongue-tied. “It was good. Although, it seems Director Truser suffers with control issues. Has your mom told you that if he’s not in the lab, no one else can be? Unbelievable. His rule stymies progress and innovative thinking. I’m not happy about being time-restricted,” she complained. She shifted in her seat to face him. The hand he dangled from the armrest teased across the top of her thigh. Where was she now? She swallowed and cast about her addled brain for the words to continue her thoughts. Oh, yes, time restrictions. She continued, “Worse still, I can’t access data and research logs beyond the basic reports. Those logs could hold the answer. What if the answer is one password away from success? What if I was on the verge of a breakthrough and had to stop working? An Airfloat of Cassini Ale could run me down and kill me. The entire project could be lost because I wasn’t allowed to stay in the lab past his enforced quitting time.”

  Butterflies danced in her stomach as she watched a grin spread across Griffin’s face at her mention of how they met. Titan, he was beautiful. She lost herself in the depths of his eyes. His smile spread wider making it hard for her to look away. When he lifted a hand to trace the pattern on the Tritanian band she wore, shivers coursed through her as his fingers skimmed her bare arm.

  She had to stop this. She was here to work…to make a difference for some other family facing the same tragic situation she’d dealt with three years ago. Harsh aching grief washed over her. A cold wave of dread followed closely. Her determination to find a cure had to remain her priority. But with the time restrictions Truser invoked on lab hours and access, perhaps there was time for a fling with a man like Griffin. She had to do something to fill her free hours but she didn’t know that spending time with him would end well. She forced herself to blink. She should ease away from Griffin. It would be for the best.

  “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the extra hours after your enforced quitting time.” Griffin drew his fingers over her shoulder, skimmed her collarbone, then teased at the intricately woven hair at the base of her neck.

  This was his idea of taking pity? Had he read her mind? While he continued caressing her neck, the skin of her arms prickled and delightful shivers coursed down her spine. Her breasts tightened under his light touch and her breath sped up. Rhayne blinked again and cleared her throat. “Um… Fortunately, Truser stayed in his office most of the day with his back to the observation window. I asked 58 what was going on and he said the man spent the day talking to Raster Claymont.” Rhayne paused. Oh, his fingertips were distracting. “I’ve had a few interactions with Claymont in the past. Why would Dr. Truser be on a comm with the director of the Weapons and Info Tech division of the Business Coalition? The WIT agenda makes me very uneasy.”

  An expression of concern flitted over Griffin’s face when he glanced toward the Marines in the corner. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “I heard rumors off-station about a classified project the BC commissioned for the Super Eight Insurance-Indemnity firms. Supposedly, some very specific research being done on a remote station is for a completely different purpose than lab personnel have been led to believe.”

  “You think it’s here? On Kronos? How would we find out?”

  “Find out what?” Althea asked as she slid into her chair.

  Griffin shifted back and dropped his hand to the table. “Why a research director in charge of a peace-themed project is talking to a big gun like Raster Claymont from the WIT.”

  “Oh, Titan! Deke just told me some upper echelon weapons people were coming next week for the Saturnalia celebration. Claymont is on the passenger manifest.”

  Griffin groaned. “Holy Hades, this keeps getting uglier by the minute.”

  Rhayne frowned and twisted to look at Griffin. “The few research logs and backup disks I could access today seemed skewed…almost manufactured. They certainly weren’t a representation of all the progress I’d been led to believe had been made on the project.” Based on the reports she’d scanned today, she’d bet her Master Science Researcher classification some of the documentation had been falsified. “It’s a leap, but… Heavens, I can’t believe I’m going to say this. Considering mistletoe is toxic to humans, and the rumors Griffin mentioned… Althea, it is possible Truser’s running the project with a different outcome in mind.”

  With a frown marring her brow, Althea canted her head to the side and considered. “I suppose it’s possible. You’ve seen how secretive Truser is about testing processes within the lab. He’s segregated people who normally would work together so they don’t know what the other researchers are doing. We argued about it this morning.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense.” Rhayne shook her head. “Any potential breakthroughs would be impeded by lack of information.”

  “Every person assigned to the study functions as a separate entity. Truser has a chokehold on all results and reports. No one sees them but him. Nobody has access to anything. It’s stalemated the entire project. And he watches us like an eSpy-bot most days. As if he’s afraid we’ll talk amongst ourselves.”

  “So no one works together toward the common goal?”

  Althea snorted. “No one even knows what the goal is. The project initially started with the theory that mistletoe could be genetically modified to cure neoplastic disease.” She shot a sympathetic look at Rhayne. “But in the last six months, Truser has implemented a lot of changes in protocol, citing BC mandates. Against my wishes, I might add. It’s my blasted project. It seems more like we’re working on a placebo. No one is making progress and most of us in the lab are pretty much just streaming it in. No one is motivated to work on finding a cure.”

  Griffin slouched back in his seat. “I don’t know how you work in that environment. I had no idea it was so bad. Sounds as if Truser’s turned into a dictator. Or is he just functioning as some other entity’s puppet?”

  Rhayne’s shoulders tensed. “If the IIF and WIT are both involved, they could be running research and development for a way to kill people instead of seeking a cure. It’s happened before.”

  “That’s awful,” Althea exclaimed. She paused, horror filling her eyes. “Oh, my Titan! If that’s the case, I could be implicated in the production of a weapon of mass destruction.”

  “What are you talking about, Mom?” Griffin demanded. “How would it be your fault?”

  “Truser’s the lab director, but my name is on record as lead researcher. It will look like I worked toward a completely different goal. I could end up on the penal colony on Nmeme.” She shuddered when she mentioned a moon in orbit around Jupiter.

  “No fracking way!” Griffin slammed his fist on the table, drawing attention from the tables nearby. He lowered his voice. “That’s unacceptable. What do we do?”

  No one spoke for several long moments while they each pondered ideas. Griffin’s gaze traveled from Althea’s face to Rhayne’s. “Come on. You two are hotshot scientists. Surely, you can think of something.”

  “I’ve an orientation with him on my timeline tomorrow. I might be able to convince him to grant me full system access by pleading the desire to be a team player and get up to speed as fast as possible.” Rhayne traced the condensation on her glass thoughtfully. “I have a near photographic memory. If I run a visual scan something might jump out.”

  Althea nodded encouragingly. “Well that’s a huge asset for us. I’ll give you a quick overview of the parts of the project I think might be suspect so you’ll know what to look for. This could work. Titan, I hope it works.”

  “If Weapons and Info Tech drones are involved, what you two are talking about could be dangerous. I don’t like the idea of either
of you playing spy. You should leave that to the professionals,” Griffin interjected.

  Althea bristled. “Who would that be? Have you met anyone who knows this project better than I do?”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. If you insist on playing eSpy-bot, I can’t let you do it alone. You two shouldn’t have all the fun. Tell me how I can help.”

  Chapter 4

  Nerves masqueraded as butterflies in Rhayne’s stomach when she depressed the caller button on the portal to Truser’s office late the next morning. She’d spent the first part of her day studying the protocols and procedures for the lab and reviewing the project results. Based on what Althea had pointed out as suspect in the experiments, Rhayne had to agree with her partner’s assertion that something was rotten on Kronos.

  “Come.”

  A lock disengaged in front of her at the director’s command. She’d worked in labs where secrecy was key, where everyone locked up vital information at the end of the day, but to sit behind locked doors during the workday was taking discretion a step too far. Did the man not trust his lab employees? Or was he really hiding something? Rhayne was going with what was behind door number two. Truser was up to no good. She wiped her suddenly damp palms on her sani-suit as the door hissed open.

  Truser barely glanced away from his holo-imager as Rhayne stood nervously in front of him. “Ah. Good morning, Dr. Drake. I trust you had an entertaining evening with Dr. Cooper. Ma’jut is a top-notch establishment. Just right for sharing conversation and a bit of wine, eh?”

  “Yes. And Althea was so helpful in providing background on the project. I feel less at a loss this morning.” Not a lie. She did have a better understanding of why the project had not made more progress.

  Truser’s eyes narrowed as she spoke, making the butterflies dance more vigorously. What in Hades was wrong with her? She’d had more jittery nerves in the past two days than in the last two years. She’d never been any better at lying than she was with small talk. She needed some serious life coaching on social skills once she discovered the formula for the serum to cure this deadly disease.

  Rhayne cleared her throat and spoke around the uncomfortable knot there. “My comp-sys password seems to be restricted. I have only limited access to some of the files I need to review. I’d like to scan the first stage lab reports, if I may.”

  “That won’t be possible, Dr. Drake.” He continued to study the display on his screen.

  “Dr. Truser, I was hired because of my ability to determine patterns and sequences other researchers have missed. Without full access to all the reports, my hands are tied. I can’t do my job. I’d like to follow up on a theory I have.” There, she told the truth—sort of. She did want to follow up on a theory. Just not the one she’d suggested to the director.

  He finally lifted his eyes, pinning her with a steely, suspicious gaze. “Where are you going with this, Dr. Drake?”

  “The hologram notes I’ve been able to view allude to a promising lead using the plant’s Hex-C DNA strand. But access is denied when I try to view the findings. It’s quite frustrating, as I’m sure you’d understand.”

  “It appeared early on it could have been the right avenue, but the hex strand led to a dead end. That documentation isn’t important to the project’s current stage,” Truser explained blandly.

  “Nevertheless, I’d like to review the notes. Perhaps the researcher at the time missed something. I’d appreciate it if you’d expand the permissions on my passcode. Just temporarily. Please let me do my job, Dr. Truser. I think this aspect of the research could be vitally important to the portion of the project I’m charged with.”

  Truser leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his pointy chin. “Did Dr. Cooper put you up to this?”

  Rhayne struggled not to display her sudden panic at his question. She widened her eyes and leaned her weight onto on leg. “What? No. What possible reason would she have to do that?”

  “Cooper hasn’t hidden the fact she thinks I shouldn’t interfere with the Mistletoe Project. But I do have to follow directives from the coalition. They didn’t like her progress, and she doesn’t like my rules. Dr. Cooper is mistaken in her thinking that hers is a better way to accomplish the goal.” He shook his head, then averted his eyes. “I’m afraid if I open permissions up, security will become too lax. This project is vital to universal progress and profitability. Lax security could lead to stolen information. I’m sure you understand we can’t risk that.”

  He was hiding something. Her suspicion about Truser’s real motive took a solid leap forward, leaving her stomach wallowing behind.

  Rhayne pushed as much sincerity into her voice as she could manage without choking. “I don’t know about that. I’ve never played lab politics before. And I certainly don’t wish to start now. I do understand about security protocols and how to protect information. My security clearance is the BC’s highest level on the universal scale. Granting me lab and record access shouldn’t be an issue. At the end of the day, I’m a thorough researcher and I only want what I need to do my job well.”

  Ignoring her, Truser inspected the top of his workstation for a long moment before he finally leaned forward to pin Rhayne with a hard stare. She battled the urge to squirm, curling her toes inside the lab issued footwear and tightening her abdominal muscles to hold herself steady.

  “I can’t argue with your dedication, Dr. Drake. If I expand your permissions, how long would you need to review everything you’d need? A week? Two?”

  Rhayne folded her arms across her chest and pinched her sides to contain her smile. “A week should be sufficient depending on how organized the original researcher’s notes are. I’ll need time to dig through all the reports on the various hex-DNA tests to rule out any strands other than C. My theory is the researcher missed a step in the synthesis process.” Shut up, Rhayne. Now would be a good time to stop talking.

  “Very well.” Truser shifted forward in his chair and moved his fingers over his touchnet terminal. He paused and gazed up at her. His eyes were distant and distrustful. “I’ll grant you access for one week. If you need more, ask. I want to be kept informed of your progress and any findings you develop. Now, get back to work.”

  “Certainly. Thank you, sir.” Rhayne turned to leave the office, ducking her head to hide the triumphant smile on her face. She pulled up short when the doors didn’t automatically slide open. Rhayne paused and looked back to face the director.

  “Dr. Drake?” He spoke in a cold, stentorian tone, like an oracle on high. “Don’t make me regret this decision.”

  “No, sir. I won’t.”

  Rhayne waited for the hydraulic portal to slide open and exited the office. She walked back to her work terminus, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other to avoid darting a glance toward Althea. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her lab partner furiously tapping on a virtual keyboard. Her own comm-sys pinged with an incoming message as she slid onto her ergo-stool and adjusted the height of her chair before tweaking the screen brightness to make reading the journals and notes from the past two years easier. She tapped the comm-line link to open Althea’s stream.

  Everything okay?

  Rhayne risked a glance at Althea and allowed a grin to dance on her face for a moment before wiping it away. She thought about how to answer, knowing that lab protocol monitored all message streams. Yes. I asked Dr. Truser for access to old research I came across this morning. I found a potentially productive avenue from two years back. He told me to pursue it.

  She watched Althea read the incoming message and knew the instant the hidden meaning became clear. A deep frown creased Althea’s brow. Rhayne knew the woman had just comprehended how far back this conspiracy went. Rhayne sent a frantic mental message to her new friend to wipe the expression from her face. Both women glanced toward Truser’s office then back to each other. Rhayne’s comm-sys pinged again. She glanced down and saw an incoming stream from Griffin.

&nb
sp; Morning. Mom is meeting me for lunch in the Lido employee galley on Level 7. Care to join us?

  This was an opportunity to get both Coopers up to speed on what she’d discovered so far. But the invitation, coming from the most intriguing man she’d met in a very long time, made her heart skitter.

  Rhayne shut down her thoughts. This was business only, nothing more. He only wanted to protect his mother. She’d do well to remember it. Griffin Cooper was unbearably attractive. From his smooth, sexy head to his long, solid legs—there wasn’t anything about him that didn’t appeal. Unfortunately, whenever he was near, her intellect interfered agonizingly with her ability to string more than two thoughts together coherently. It should have been the other way around. Her intelligence should have made it easier. But most men were more interested in learning her astrological sign than hearing about her current research project. She had little time or patience for social amenities. She had work to do.

  Last night, she’d found Griffin easy to talk to, but they’d been discussing business. Hers. She didn’t learn anything about him as a man. And as much as she’d like to know how his hands would feel running over her body, and believed he desired that particular knowledge as much as she did, Rhayne couldn’t allow the distraction. There were lives to save.

  Rhayne had poised her fingers over the keypad to respond when 58, with garlands draped around its neck, approached her workstation and set down a cup of Athene Tea in an antique china cup and saucer, complete with Endorian biscuit on the side. A sharp, woodsy aroma wafted up from the porcelain cup, making her mouth water. She glanced up and smiled at the sight of the droid masquerading as a solstice tree. “How in the world did you know I’d love a cup of tea?’

  “It’s my job to know, Dr. Drake. You don’t have to be an eSpy-bot to know a strong cup of tea is always welcome.” 58 spoke with a German accent as it pushed the cup closer. “I believe you’ll find the biscuits a special treat, too.” The droid winked and turned to leave.

 

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