by Cara Bristol
“You said the last time you saw her was about four days after you boarded the Crimson Hawk?” he asked, recalling she’d reported several disappearances, which Lieutenant Commander Brack had rebutted.
“Yes—when Sparky scared her.” She glanced at the K9-500. It was sitting on the table, its access panel open, still connected via cable to the code reader.
He tapped his commlink.
“Yes, captain?” his chief medical officer responded.
“We have a ninety-four in the robotics lab.”
“A crew member is dead?”
“No, a colonist.”
“Accident?”
“Homicide.” How the hell had this happened on his ship? Insects did not exist in space, but when a person died, his or her own bacteria and enzymes broke down the body. Judging from the progression of decay, Althea had been dead for a while—but for how long? Had she been alive or dead at the last roll call?
“Homicide?” Shock reverberated through his medical officer’s voice.
“The body appears to have been partially disemboweled,” Dante said grimly. “I want a full postmortem. Get me much information as you can, as quickly as possible.”
“I’m on my way.”
Next, he notified security, ordered a full investigation, placed the Crimson Hawk on yellow alert, and had additional guards placed in the New Utopian area. Then he contacted Lieutenant Commander Brack. “Get Mr. Ochoa and meet me in my consult room, stat.”
“Is there a problem, captain?”
“A New Utopian has been murdered.”
“Which one?” the first officer asked calmly.
“Althea Withers.”
After he disconnected, he hugged Miranda. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”
He couldn’t fathom that a crewmember could be involved. More likely, the victim had had a run-in with another New Utopian. He and his crew knew next to nothing about any of the colonists. They’d conducted a bio scan to verify species and check for communicable contaminants, but there hadn’t been time to vet their backgrounds. They were refugees, survivors of a massacre. Just because the New Utopians were pacifists didn’t mean their group didn’t have a few sociopaths. Perhaps the killer had been imprisoned and got released during the invasion.
Dante knelt beside the body. Intestines spilled out of the abdominal cavity. He was no doctor, no anatomist, but it appeared organs were missing. Althea had no other marks. No photon blaster burns, no cuts across the throat, no bashing to the skull. He hoped he was wrong, but he had a horrible hunch the horrific wounds had been inflicted premortem. The killer had chosen a little-used laboratory area, cleaned out a storage locker, and stuffed the body inside.
That’s why the first two lockers had been jam-packed.
If he hadn’t tried to work on the K9-500, there was no telling how much time would have passed before anyone discovered the body. Lockers were sealed airtight, so odor wouldn’t have permeated the lab.
Miranda had reported multiple colonists as missing. A bad premonition settled in his stomach as he eyed the other cabinets. Dante rose to his feet. “You may not want to see this,” he said to her.
The handle of the fourth unit turned easily enough, but as soon as he cracked the door, the decay hit his nose. He froze.
“Another body?” Miranda pulled her tunic up and over her nose and mouth.
“It appears so.” He eased open the door and let the gassy corpse slump to the floor. The final cabinet yielded another body. Not nearly as bloated, it appeared fresher. A more recent death.
Dante compressed his lips. “You said nine colonists had disappeared?”
“At the time I reported it, yes. I haven’t counted, but think there are more now.”
He’d brought the New Utopians on board to save their lives, and now it appeared a serial killer had targeted them. The perpetrator was probably one of them, but he’d failed to deliver the safety he’d promised.
He turned to Miranda. “I would like you to be there when I meet with Lieutenant Commander Brack and the liaison to review and update your missing-person list. We need to begin a search and a roll call.”
“Of course.” She moved to the table where the K9-500 sat quietly. She disconnected the cable, closed its access panel, and reached for the on/off switch. “I’ll shut him down.”
“No, don’t,” he said. “Leave him activated.”
“He might react—”
“Keep him with you at all times.” He hated to scare her, but in truth, he would feel better if she had a little extra protection. He didn’t know if the killer had chosen his victims for a reason or if he had taken advantage of whatever opportunity had come his way. If he’d caught Miranda alone, she could have ended up a body in the locker. The robot’s protective programming may have saved her life.
Miranda set him on the floor. Metal nails clicking, the bot padded to Althea’s body, tilted his head back and howled. A chill traveled up Dante’s spine. It was almost as if Sparky knew Althea was dead—and cared. A bot’s programming allowed it to differentiate between organic and AI, between living and dead, but it didn’t develop feelings.
“Althea used to play with him,” she said. “He always reacted positively to her—until he tried to bite her.” She motioned to the bot. “Come here.” The dog trotted to her side and sat.
The medical officer and two security team members rushed into the lab. Miranda tightened the leash around her hand.
“Good galaxy!” the doctor gasped. “I thought there was only one body.”
Sparky’s ears shot up, and he eyed the medical officer, but he remained at Miranda’s side, quiet and still.
“At the time I notified you—I did too,” Dante replied. “Unfortunately, I suspect there are more victims. To begin with, I want to know time of death and the weapon used. Don’t wait for a full report to update me.”
He addressed the security chief. “Up the warning status from yellow to orange. Run a ship-wide bio scan. Get an exact headcount—and search the ship for bodies. Check every duct, every conduit, every locker, every nook and cranny.”
“Aye, captain,” the security chief replied.
“I’ll be in my consult room with Lieutenant Commander Brack and the liaison. Keep me informed.”
He beckoned to Miranda. He cupped her elbow, and with her leading the K9-500 bot, they left the lab.
Chapter Six
Miranda waited off to the side as Dante drummed his fingers. She had a hunch Brack couldn’t locate Ochoa because he was dead. She’d told them were people were missing!
She didn’t blame Dante, though. He hadn’t believed her—but he had given her the benefit of the doubt by ordering his first officer to check on it. If she knew one thing about the captain, he didn’t abide sloppy, haphazard work. If he considered Brack first officer material, then she was. So how had she missed so many people?
Three dead. Probably more. The viciousness of the murders would be etched on her brain forever, along with the tortures perpetuated on Verde Omega. Malevolence existed everywhere, it seemed. She hoped her roommate at least had died quickly—but feared the opposite.
Don’t think about that.
She rocked and hugged Sparky’s fuzzy, still body. Upon arriving in the consult room, he’d acted like a typical dog, running around the room sniffing everything and wanting to play. She was glad he seemed to be restored to his previous state, but this was a serious situation. Dante didn’t need the distractions of a K9-500 bot poking his realistically wet nose into his crotch while trying to conduct a murder investigation. So she switched Sparky to off for the duration of the meeting.
Which had yet to occur.
With each passing minute, Dante’s impatience rose, as evidenced by his darkening scowl.
“Captain?” The medical officer’s voice wafted through the commlink. “I have some preliminary test results.”
“Proceed.�
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“The earliest death, Althea Withers’s, occurred more than two weeks ago. Another one last week, and the third, three days ago.”
All before the roll call. They couldn’t have been counted!
Dante’s expression turned fierce. “Go on.”
“A scan has revealed traces of an unusual protein in the wounds of all three victims.”
“What kind of protein?” he asked.
Miranda hugged Sparky and rocked. Poor Althea. She’d been dead two weeks—
How could that be? She’d seen her a week ago when she’d come to the cabin…
“I’m running the protein through the analyzer for verification, but I believe it is nonhuman.”
She stopped rocking.
Dante snapped his head back. “You’re saying, alien?”
“I believe so. The victims’ livers are missing,” the doctor said. “And there’s something else. The nature of the wounds suggests they were not inflicted with a bladed object, but by claws.”
Claw marks. Missing livers. Alien protein. The blood drained from Miranda’s face.
Dante swore and leaped to his feet. With the commlink to the medical officer still live, he opened a channel to security. “Threat level red! There’s a Tyranian on board.”
“Great Jupiter!” the security officer gasped through the mic.
“Find the alien!” Dante said.
A second later a siren blasted through the ship. “Threat level red. Threat level red,” the ship’s computer announced.
Rusty fear closed her throat. Not again. Please, not again.
Lieutenant Commander Brack burst into the consult room. “Captain, what’s going on?”
“There’s a Tyranian on the Crimson Hawk. It must have sneaked aboard when we picked up the New Utopians,” Dante said.
Events of the massacre flooded Miranda in a wave. The huge alien ship hovering in the sky. An armada of pods floating to the planet’s surface. The attack. The screams. The bodies. So many bodies. The alien confronting her in the greenhouse. Its nauseating odor—even worse than the smell of decay from its victims.
The remembered stench was so real, she could smell traces now.
“Impossible, sir.” Brack shook her head. “I led the ground crew performing the rescue. I ran the bio scan myself, screening every single passenger before he or she boarded the ship.”
“You also reported all were accounted for after a second scan. At least three were dead at the time. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Where is the liaison?” Dante asked.
“I was unable to locate him.”
Because he was dead. Miranda was certain.
Dante raked a hand through his hair. “There could be more than one Tyranian!”
Oh universe, it was happening all over again. Here in this room she was as safe as she could possibly be, but once they left, she wouldn’t be able to trust Dante was Dante.
“How could something like this happen?” He paced.
“Perhaps the scanners are malfunctioning,” Brack suggested.
Fear constricted her throat, and her mouth dried. The captain and the lieutenant commander didn’t know. Nobody had until the invasion had occurred, and they’d seen it with their own eyes. “T-they shift,” she croaked.
Dante whipped around. “What did you say?”
“They shift.” She slid her fingers under the dog’s collar. Her hand shook so much, she couldn’t find the on/off switch. Sparky had saved her on Verde Omega. With aliens on board, she wanted him active. “The aliens can transform themselves and assume the shape of other species.”
“Absurd.” Brack shook her head.
After the invasion had begun, the colonists had learned they couldn’t even trust each other—because their neighbor, their friend, their spouse might not be human. Unable to trust anyone, you were on your own. Divide and conquer became the alien’s strategy to defeat the colonists who’d survived the initial onslaught.
She’d hidden in the greenhouse on Omega Verde with a fellow colonist she’d known well—only to watch in horror as he shifted into a Tyranian.
“No.” The commander shook her head vehemently. “We have no data to support your claim.”
“I’ve seen it!” Miranda finally found the on/off switch and depressed it.
With a little jerk, the dog animated, his eyes popping open.
A snarl erupted from his throat, and he launched himself at Brack, clamping onto her forearm as she threw up her hands.
“No! Sparky stop!” Miranda sprang up as Dante charged from across the room.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Brack bashed the K9-500 against the wall, but the bot hung on, growling ferociously.
A spreading green stain darkened the lieutenant commander’s sleeve. Miranda’s gaze flew upwards to meet rheumy red eyes. She screamed.
Dante thumped his commlink. “Security! Code 14! Consult! Stat!”
It all happened so fast. Too fast.
Lucille Brack’s forehead and cheeks undulated as if something crawled beneath her skin. Then her flesh peeled away to reveal a scaly, fanged Tyranian.
It hissed and slammed the dog against the wall so hard it dented the mental and dislodged the bot. Legs crumpled, Sparky fell to the floor where he continued to snap even though he couldn’t walk.
The alien lunged. Dante shoved Miranda out of the way. She landed next to a disabled, snarling Sparky. A red streak slashed across Dante’s chest as he took the blow intended for her. The alien whirled, swiping with its talons, growling and gnashing its teeth.
“Run! Get out!” Dante dodged, but a long barb raked across his shoulder. He landed a powerful kick in the alien’s abdomen, throwing it backwards into the door.
Exit blocked. She wasn’t going to get out that way.
The alien sprang at Dante. Two more swipes shredded his shirt and the flesh underneath. He aimed a punch at the creature’s throat, but it jerked out of the way, and the blow grazed off its skin. It roared and sank its razored teeth into Dante’s left shoulder while clawing at him.
He beat at the alien’s scull. It reared its head back, but before it could bite again, he drove his fist into its eye. The orb exploded, spraying green mucous. The Tyranian shrieked.
Sparky snarled, jerking his body, trying to rise on crumpled legs folded up like accordions.
Enraged, the alien struck out with a powerful blow that caught Dante in the chest. He reeled, crashed into the wall and slumped. Oh universe, had the alien killed him?
The Tyranian advanced on Miranda. Green fluid seeped from the busted eye socket. The other eye glowed red. Disgusting breath fouled the air.
She screamed. So did the alien as the dog snapped his jaws around its sticklike ankle. Miranda scrambled backwards, but the alien advanced, dragging the bot.
She backed into the wall. Tears streamed down her face. “Please, don’t. Please.”
Reaching out, it burned a gash down her cheek with one talon. It jabbered, then drew back its clawed hand for the killing blow.
A uniformed forearm hooked around the Tyranian’s throat. The good eye bulged, and then its neck popped as Dante snapped it. He threw the body to the floor.
Blood covered his torso, and his uniform hung in tatters, revealing angry, gaping wounds, but he gathered Miranda’s shuddering body in his arms and rocked her.
“It’s okay, now. It’s okay.” He rubbed her back.
She buried her face against his wet, sticky shirt and cried. “I th-thought you were d-d-dead.”
He stroked her hair. “I’m a cyborg. I’m too stubborn to die.”
“You’re hurt bad,” she said.
“Not so bad,” he denied.
Keeping his good arm around her, he reached for the commlink with his injured one. She felt him wince. He tapped it. “Security! Where the hell—”
“Here, captain!” A petty officer bounded into the
room with a security team.
Medical appeared next, swarming over her and Dante, who issued orders and shook off the doctor’s attentions.
His furry muzzle stained green, Sparky continued to gnaw on the alien’s ankle. They had to deactivate him to get him to let go so they could remove the body.
“Take her to sick bay.” Dante handed Miranda off to the medical officer. “Put two bodyguards on her until we’re certain the ship is safe.” He looked at Sparky. “The K9-500 was damaged in the attack. Get an AI repair tech on it.”
“What about you?” Miranda asked. “You’re hurt too!” The doctor pressed a soothing compress to her burning cheek. Blood ran down her neck and chest.
“I don’t have time for treatment. I have a ship to secure. My nanos will heal me.”
“You should let me take a look at you,” the doctor said.
“Not now. And that’s an order.”
They started to lead her away. She hated to go, didn’t want to leave him, but she had to. He had to see to the safety of the crew, passengers, and the ship, and she would only get in the way.
“Miranda?”
She met his gaze, dark and serious.
“We’ll talk later. I promise,” he said.
Chapter Seven
“Who is it?” Miranda’s hesitant voice inquired.
“It’s me,” Dante said outside her quarters. His heart thudded. He couldn’t wait to see her. To hold her. To present his proposition. Would she agree? It would be a big step.
Woof, added the repaired K9-500, held in his arms.
The door opened.
“Sparky! I missed you so much!” She reached for her dog.
He handed him to her.
Woof. Woof, the bot barked as she kissed it.
“Captain.” She nodded at him.
She’d called him Dante before. Kissed him heatedly. Cried in his arms. Now she called him captain and gave him a nod. Uncertainty skittered through him. Had he waited too long to approach her? A week had passed since the attack. They’d dock at SSO15 tomorrow afternoon. He’d been tied up in meetings with the admiral and had personally overseen the sweep for aliens and the identification of every crew member and New Utopian. Though Miranda had been ever-present on his mind, he hadn’t had a spare moment to go her, and what he wanted to say required more than a moment.
