Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Toxin and Terrier

Sevenday 32, Day 2

B ran’s eyes opened in the dim chamber. Set to brighten slowly, the chamber mimicked dawn, the light not yet bright enough to wake Adriana. She had fallen asleep curled on his chest, but sometime in the night moved away. Facedown on the pillows, she had kicked free of the bedding, the graceful line of her back begging for his lips, the plump mounds of her ass tempting him to nip.

A bruise near her hip caught his attention, the purple smudge marring the tawny expanse. From the color, it had occurred in the crash or soon after.

Her sleepy voice asked, “What are you looking at?”

“You.” He lifted his gaze to meet sleepy dark eyes. “You are so very lovely.”

She yawned and rolled onto her back, with a wry expression. “Flatterer.”

She was correct, lovely was a weak compliment at best.

“I regret I have no gift with words.” He racked his brain. “Exquisite?”

She ducked her head, her voice small. “I am not tall and slender and elegant.”

What says she? He could think of but one woman who met that description, his wife. “Odette?”

She shrugged, reaching to pull up the covers.

It would be easy to let it go. More comfortable for him but not fair to her. He rolled toward her, catching her shoulders to spoon her against him. “Her family disapproved of me.”

***

Surrounded by Bran’s warmth, Adrian tried to make sense of his words. She had been a fool to mention Odette, but instead of turning taciturn, Bran was sharing his past. She placed her hand over his. “Why would they disapprove of you?”

“She was well-educated, and I was an itinerant freighter pilot scrambling for each new contract. They wanted someone who could offer her more security.”

Turning, she searched his expression, relaxing when she found serenity mixed with a hint of amusement at remembered conflict. “How did you meet?”

“At a gallery. I was lured within by a painting, and it turned out to be one of hers.” He turned on his back, pulling her with him. “I was but thirty and she was in her twenties. We were both so young.

“It started as a sevenday flirtation. I had a contract that took me away for a season. She sent alerts every day. By the time I returned, I could not imagine life without her. Her family protested, but they could not stop her. If I had been a little older, I might have understood her parents’ concerns, but I was convinced I would find a way to prove myself.”

She recalled his mention of joining Raleigh. “You were proved correct. You joined Captain Raleigh and invented the DOP-C.”

“She believed I could do anything, so I did too.” His fingers played with hers. “There was also my determination to prove her parents mistaken.”

She tried to imagine him two decades gone, young, talented, and so very driven. “What of your family?”

“I had lost my parents by then and have little contact with my few cousins.” He sighed. “She was a vibrant spirit. Her energy filled all the empty spaces.”

She sounded wonderful—and nothing like Adriana’s contained, analytical temperament. “You still love her.”

“She will always have a place in my heart.” His arm tightened on her waist. “But it was a long time ago. In the words of an Eleventh System poet, ‘The past is a lesson. The future is a hope. Only the moment is real.’”

He released her fingers to lift her chin. “In the past decade, only one woman has stirred me, and she is in my arms.”

He was remarkable. The Matahorn dossier had included minimal data on his early years. She had assumed that as Raliegh’s partner in Phoenix Enterprises and well-regarded by Monsignor Lucius and his consort, Bran had come from the upper levels of the free-trader systems. Instead, he had forged a path through trial with skill, determination, and honor. It had taken courage for Bran to share so much. She would do no less. “I joined the Nightingale fleeing humiliation, certain that the First System was the pinnacle of our society. In a year, you have shattered a lifetime of bias. You are the most remarkable man I have ever known, and I would rather be in this moment with you than in the finest spire in the First System.”

His eyes darkened, and he captured her mouth. Twining her legs with his, she gave herself over to the wonder of his embrace.

***

Bran did not consider pride one of his failings, but Adriana’s words left him feeling capable of legendary feats. Seeking the object of his desire, he found her in the sitting area.

Flushed with embarrassment, Adriana shook the throw over the waste-disposal unit, attempting to dislodge the clinging white hairs. “Bran, I beg your pardon. I should have thought.”

She was adorable, and he had no desire to see her upset. “Peace, woman. Blue may be an ancients’ genetic miracle, but she is yet a dog. They shed. I should have thought to remove the throw, but for truth, I was preoccupied by far more important matters. “

Approaching her back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. “Well worth it. And it launders without difficulty.”

With a final shake of the throw, she leaned into his caress. “I knew I erred to let her onto my bed. We will never keep her off the furniture, now.”

He delighted in the scent of his cleansing products on her skin. “You sound as if you wish to keep her on the Nightingale .”

She sighed and turned to face him. “It is foolish. Somehow, I keep forgetting she is native to Bright Star Deuce.”

Bran did not think her foolish and was about to voice it when his slate chimed. “That is the captain.” With regret, he released her to grasp his slate. “Sinead’s stealth!”

Adriana was at his side. “What is it?”

Struggling between horror and excitement, he turned the slate. “The chief medic demands your presence.”

She scanned the alert and shook her head. “It is impossible. We know it was a plant-based toxin that killed the samples. If the mechanic died of similar symptoms, she did not catch a disease from Blue.”

He grabbed his satchel. “Or she died of the same poison. That mechanic was training to maintain the DOP-Cs.”

***

Chief Medic Imogen was a handsome woman in her mid-fifties. Distant kin to Monsignor Horatio, she and Adriana enjoyed a cordial professional relationship, and pleasant, if cool, personal acquaintance. A woman of serene competence, her expression held uncharacteristic displeasure. Her dark eyes were hard, her olive-toned cheeks flushed. “I have been waiting most of a period. Have you no notion of urgency?”

When Raleigh followed Adriana and Bran into the medic’s office, Imogen’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, thank you for joining us. If what I suspect is true, I will need to institute a quarantine.”

Adriana shook her head. “It is not what you think. A plant toxin killed my samples. And probably the mechanic. There is no unknown disease leaping from the indigenous species to our people.”

Raleigh dropped into the nearest chair. “I am responsible for the delay. We needed time to determine how much contact you had with the murder victim.”

“Murder?” The medic echoed, fixing her gaze on the captain. “Contact? You suspected me?”

“We needed to be certain. We have a saboteur aboard and they killed the mechanic.”

“What say you? How? You say it was a toxin, but I found naught.”

Bran motioned Adriana into the other chair. “Adriana, if you would?”

Pulling out her slate, Adriana provided the results of her tests and evidence that the toxin was plant-based. Frowning, Imogen turned to her techno array. “A moment. That toxin may have killed your samples, but the similar symptoms do not mean it killed our mechanic. If this is present in our dead mechanic, it is murder.”

Bran made a soft sound. “Scientists and certainty.”

Imogen ignored him, her fingers flitting over the controls. “Adriana, join me if you please.”

It did not take long. The same toxin Adriana found in the snake was present in the dead woman. “What do you think? When was she poisoned?”

Imogen pursued her lips. “No later than seventh bell last eve. Mayhap as early as midday.” She turned from the techno array as Adriana returned to her chair. “It had to be someone from your team, mine, or the botanists.”

The medic was sharp. Her kinship ties with the Margovian preeminence may have aided her assignment to the Nightingale , but she was well-qualified for the role.

Adriana looked at Raleigh. “Everyone on my team has been to the planet’s surface and could have sourced a poisonous plant. It would not be that difficult to smuggle it on board.”

Imogen nodded. “As with mine.”

Bran made a sound of disagreement. “We should start with the mechanic. Either the saboteur arranged for her to damage the DOP-C, or they spent sufficient time with her to elicit the information.”

Imogen’s eyes narrowed. “That is why you needed to know how much contact I had with her. I have the skills to make poison, but not sabotage a DOP-C. Do you think she was a dupe or complicit?”

Bran shrugged. “Either way, she became a liability.”

Adriana’s heart lurched. “Blue. If I had not brought Blue aboard, they might not have used the poison.”

Bran shook his head. “The mechanic would still be dead, only by other means. As it is, they have given us our first real lead. It had to be someone well known to the dead woman, with the ability to identify and conceal poisonous plants.”

Imogen’s lips twisted. “Where is Security Chief Lochan in this? Why is he not in this chamber?”

“We can trust no one.”

Imogen bristled. “You would question Lochan’s honor? His loyalty?”

Raleigh held up a hand. “For truth, I find it difficult to believe he is another Sadico, but he is in the ideal position to orchestrate this mess. Until we have incontrovertible evidence of his innocence, I dare not trust him.”

The medic opened her mouth and the door pinged. It opened to reveal the man under discussion. In his mid-forties, Lochan was average height, and lean in the manner of one who is all sinew and muscle. He kept his swarthy head shaved but maintained a tightly trimmed black beard. His dark gray eyes were sharp under heavy brows. “It appears our mechanic was murdered.”

Raleigh’s eyebrows lifted and Lochan made a scoffing sound. “If she had died from some unknown pathogen brought from the planet by that dog, you would not be sitting in chamber with two potential carriers.” He looked around. “Where is the animal?”

Bran answered, “Sealed in my quarters. But how did you make the leap from it not being Blue to murder?”

Lochan’s jaw hardened. “I am not a lackwit. There is a saboteur on the Nightingale .”

Raleigh sighed. “And while unlikely, that saboteur could be you.”

The security chief went rigid.

“Incontrovertible proof?” Imogen interrupted. “We may have that. We know the mechanic was poisoned between midday and seventh bell. Lochan, can you prove you were nowhere near the woman?”

“I can.”

Bran sighed. “That does not rule out Lochan having someone else administer the poison.”

Imogen snorted. “How many confederates do you think are involved? For Lochan to be behind this, he needed to suborn someone with knowledge of poisons, seduce this poor mechanic, have someone tamper with medical equipment, and who knows what else. And if he is killing off his loose ends, we should be knee-deep in bodies.”

Raleigh barked a laugh. “You are right. Lochan, my apologies. I have allowed paranoia to cloud my judgment.”

Lochan’s shoulders softened and he shook his head. “I had Bran on the suspect list until the DOP-C crash.” He moved to the desk and propped himself on the edge. “So far, we are certain that someone has been sabotaging our efforts and that they are escalating. First the DOP-C, and now murder by poison. That suggests someone from the medical, botany, or zoology teams. What else do you know?”

It was not much, and after a few pointed questions, Lochan concluded, “Whoever it is needs someplace to store and refine an uncatalogued plant.”

Bran’s eyes narrowed. “Or miscataloged as indigestible rather than toxic.”

Startled, Adriana asked, “How do you know about Clarence and the river snails?”

“I reviewed his records. I can account for his movements during several incidents, so he is not our saboteur, but you are correct; he is incompetent. He will be dismissed as soon as we can put him on a militia transport bound for Fortuna.”

Lochan made an impatient gesture. “Explain. Why is this important?”

Imogen answered, “The river snails? First, it could have as readily been miscataloged as consumable, and death could have resulted. Second, toxins often have medical uses. Classing it as indigestible would have put it at the bottom of the list of items for medical review.”

He looked at Bran. “You have ruled out Lt. Clarence but think someone else might have deliberately miscataloged a poisonous plant to keep it hidden?”

“Rimon’s dungeons!” The words were out before Adriana thought. At the shocked stares, she ran nervous fingers through her curls. “I know why the DOP-C crashed. It was about me. Or rather something I was about to do. Clarence is incompetent, but we are all working long bells to make up for lost time. After the snail incident, zoology increased validation checks. We caught two other errors. I was going to propose that all departments implement similar protocols.”

Bran scowled. “Who knew about this?”

“I mentioned it to my team,” Adriana replied, beginning to feel like a lackwit. “Clarence is enamored of the Serengeti botanist.”

Lochan snorted. “She is among the most pursued females on the Nightingale . What would she see in Clarence?”

“I was surprised she seemed to encourage his interest, but since he was so well connected within Blooded Dagger . . .” Adriana trailed off with an embarrassed shrug. Had she not been so biased, she might have seen through Clarence months ago.

Lochan frowned. “Demon scat. She is manipulating him.”

Raleigh’s expression hardened. “Mayhap not only him. Had she much contact with our murdered maintenance tech?”

***

Cyclops piss. Bran opened and closed his fists, attempting to release his frustration. From his expression, Lochan was no happier with the unsuccessful search. Nothing had been found in the botanist’s quarters that implicated her in the sabotage, and no trace of poison.

Imogen’s review revealed the botanist had miscataloged poison. When dried, the small yellow berries darkened to brown. Crushed, three or four berries were sufficient to kill an adult, and with a mild enough taste to be introduced to food without detection.

Locating it in her quarters was a low-probability play, but it would have provided the evidence needed for interrogation.

Sealing the door, Lochan said, “Reviewing the monitor records will be tedious. I propose we start with the most serious incidents.”

“Agreed. A day on either side? If there is no sign of Clarence or the botanist, move on?”

Lochan thought for a moment and then nodded. “If we find naught, we can each take a suspect and work backward.”

***

Adriana sent the wadded cleansing cloth sliding across the floor. Ears and tail up, Blue chased the improvised ball, pouncing before it disappeared beneath the desk. It had required a quarter period before Blue understood the game, but now she was all in. Her faux prey between her teeth, Blue pranced across the floor and dropped it by Adriana’s knees. It was not the level of exercise the terrier needed, but it was better than naught. Picking it up, she tossed it in an arc. Blue leaped, snatching it out of the air.

“Good girl!”

Blue brought it back, crouching in anticipation of the next toss. With a flick of her wrist, Adriana sent it flying toward the cabinets. A chime punctuated her movement. Knowing it could be Bran or Lochan, she rose and reached for her slate.

With an apologetic smile, she looked down at the dog. “So much for playtime, Blue.”

Blue’s hopeful gaze followed Adriana as she settled behind her techno array. With a sigh, Blue settled in a corner, resting her muzzle on the improvised toy.

With no evidence against the botanist, Adriana would need to review the zoology monitor records in search of the poisoner. She was all but certain it was Clarence. If they could find proof, they could use it to force him to implicate his confederate. It would not take much. Imogen had located the record where the botanist had misclassified the poison. If they could find evidence of Clarence using it as a poison, the botanist could not claim misclassification was a mistake.

Three separate monitors recorded the area where the snake remains were stored. A full dozen covered the live specimen area, and there were another four where the specimens' food was prepared. With a few taps, she had the images of the first animal to die.

***

Bran understood why many found the botanist attractive. She could have served as model for a Sinead effigy with her sculpted cheekbones, long straight nose, deep-set eyes, full lips, and tall, well-toned build. The woman had never moved him. Had some deep instinct recognized her lack of honor? Her callous disregard for any needs but her own?

Bran started reviewing the periods before he entered the sabotaged DOP-C. Free-traders were not prone to warrior paranoia and did not activate monitors unless the DOP-C was in flight. From the maintenance record, the mechanic had accessed the craft the day before it crashed. Tracing her movements backward, he found her exiting the botanist’s quarters.

A review of what occurred in those quarters proved that the tech was enamored of the botanist but provided no evidence of collusion. With a sigh, he continued to trace the mechanic's movements.

***

Adriana leaned back in her chair and scowled at the reviewer screen. She had two records of Clarence feeding the live specimens the day before they died. In both, he managed to keep his hands hidden. Given his attitude, and refusal to perform mundane tasks, she should have been suspicious when he did not balk at feeding the animals. At the time, she had been pleased, thinking his affection for the animals indicated he was not as objectional as she believed.

The door chimed. Glancing over, she saw Clarence’s face in the window. It was the third time in the past period. He was going to harass her until he had what he wanted.

Deciding it was better to deal with him, she released the door lock. As soon as it started to open, she realized her reviewer displayed the monitor record of Clarence feeding the animals. Turning her back to him, she blocked the screen while hiding her work.

“What is it you require,” she asked, pivoting the chair to face him across the desk.

He held two cups in his hands and offered one to her. “Tea?”

Even without knowing that he was enamored of a poisoner, she would have wondered at his sudden desire to seek her approval. Taking the cup, she lifted the lid and blew on the liquid. “It is a little hot.”

She set it down and leaned back. She did not know what Clarence was about, but she was certain Bran should know he was here. “Do you have the report on the specimen movements?”

“As it happens, I wished to discuss my assignment queue.” He took a long sip of tea. “It seems cool enough.”

She was not drinking that tea. Trying for casual, she replied, “Let me take a look.”

Two taps would have Bran on the way.

Clarence’s arm flew across the desk, hitting her shoulder and knocking her chair into the wall. Stunned, she had struggled free of the chair, determined to reach the door into the lab. With far more strength than she could have imagined, he grabbed her from behind and wrapped his forearm around her throat.

***

At Lochan’s sharp humming sound, Bran looked up from his reviewer. “Did you find something?”

“Remember that incident where meteorology lost half a month of data from a device failure?”

Excitement fizzed in his veins. “And?”

Lochan turned his reviewer. “Our botanist visiting the meteorology lab.”

On the screen, one of the meteorologists was sprawled in a chair braced against the equipment console. His tunic was open, and their suspect was riding his lap in an unmistakable and carnal manner. One of her hands pawed the console.

Lochan tapped his console and the image enlarged to show a slender metal rod in her fingers. It flashed white for a second and the console flickered. Lochan hummed again. “Power surge device. Disrupted the technologistics and fried a section of data storage.”

“Sinead’s spite! It is a pest pulsar.”

Lochan’s attention snapped onto him. “You recognize the device?”

“Each DOP-C has two. They produce a high-frequency tone that clears small animals from ten paces around a campsite.” He could feel his teeth grind. “It also uses a short, low-power burst of electromagnetic energy to discourage reptiles and insects.”

“Dangerous camping device that can disrupt systems.”

“It does not. But it would not be difficult to modify it for that purpose. That burst of light indicates it was altered.”

“A change that a DOP-C mechanic could accomplish?”

“Any competent mechanic as well as any of the Nightingale engineers.” He rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. “Adriana can change out a vistrite controller.”

Lochan huffed. “Not that it matters. We have the monitor record of the botanist employing it to destroy meteorological data. More than enough to incarcerate and question her.”

“I should have Adriana look for her in the zoology records.” He picked up his slate. “It could be she used the device for the equipment malfunction that turned that set of genetic samples to goop.”

“The more evidence the better.” He stopped tapping instructions and rose. “I will report to the captain.”

Bran frowned at this slate. “Adriana is not responding.”

“Could be in the freshener.” Lochan leaned back over his console. “Odd, the monitor in her office is off.”

“She has had it on command lockout since we returned.”

Lochan straightened and turned to the weapons vault. “Not locked. Off .”

Bran crossed the chamber in two strides, reaching past the pistols for a rifle.

Lochan’s hand landed on his forearm. “Too dangerous.”

The Nightingale ’s hull could survive multiple blasts, but a missed shot could destroy sensitive equipment with a glancing hit. Bran shook him off. “I hit my targets.”

***

Adriana fought the iron-hard forearm cutting off her breath. Her fingers dug for purchase against the durable uniform fabric. She kicked against his shins. Clarence tightened his grip, throwing her against the desk, pinning her facedown. His voice hissed in her ear. “You will drink the tea if I must force it down your throat.”

Her lungs burning, and vision dimming, she groped around the desk, seeking a weapon.

Clarence screamed and released her. Scrabbling away, she fell to the floor, Clarence shrieking behind her. With hands and knees, she propelled herself toward the door, reaching it as it recessed. Booted feet appeared and then strong hands lifted her. Bran’s voice rumbled. “Are you injured? What did he do?”

Gasping, she clung to him, burying her face in his chest. Forcing words past her aching throat, she croaked, “Poison. Tea.”

The screaming had turned to moans. Turning in Bran’s arms she could see Lochan bent over behind the desk, but nothing of Clarence. A white form leaped onto the desk. Blue turned her bloody muzzle toward Adriana.

Behind her, she heard Govind gasp. “Five Warriors protect us.”

Lochan looked over his shoulder at the man. “Send for the medics.”

Swallowing shock, Adriana attempted to see over Lochan. “What did Blue do?”

Bran pulled her back. “Savaged his shoulder and an ear. I am surprised she did not tear out his throat.”

“Had me in a choke hold. She could not reach.”

Bran’s arms tightened. “Good dog.”