3013: Targeted (5 page)

“I can summarize, but there’s some surveillance footage you’re going to want to see for yourself. If you want to call it up, I’ll explain what we’ve found so far. We don’t have the whole picture yet, but we have a better idea of where to look now.”

Brandt sat back in his chair, and T’karra gave herself a moment to take a good look at the other half of the station’s new command team. He was built like most elites she’d met, bigger than an average human with the strength and power of a warrior, but his white-blond hair was something new. Her own, tawny-brown hair was considered to be quite lightly colored by the standards of her species since most Krytos had dark-brown or black hair. Brandt Carver’s hair reminded her of the cold light of the stars glowing outside. His eyes were a brilliant aqua-blue that gleamed with intelligence, but the few, faint lines at the corners of his eyes told her he laughed often.

She plugged the data chip into an open port and activated the files. Within seconds, the air above her desk was shimmering as images of reports, security footage, still photos, and other data was read and displayed. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of information. All I have so far is a one-page summary with half the information redacted and a note at the bottom telling me the rest of the information was need to know.”

He smiled, and T’karra’s heart beat a little faster. It was really unfair of the universe to have sent her another man just as sexy as Hawke. Not that she was going into orbit around that moon again, fuck no. She’d learned her lesson. Handsome or not, the new commanders had a long way to go before she would trust them.

“Now you have everything we’ve been able to pull together so far. From here on in, you will be kept appraised of everything, T’karra. We’ll find the answers faster if we work together.”

She wasn’t going to be so easy to assuage. “Show me what you have, and when you’re done, I’ll tell you if we’re working together on this or not. This report is a good start, but trust is earned.”

“And we’ve not given you much reason to trust us, yet,” he said with a brisk nod.

“Not yet, no. And judging by how little time you and Commander Summers spend on any given assignment, I’m not sure you’ll be around long enough to convince me. You two don’t stay put very long, do you? Four postings in less than three standard years.”

He cocked a pale brow at her. “No, we don’t. Though, that’s been the Alliance’s choice, not ours. And since you’ve only had our names for two hours, I’m admittedly curious how you came by that information.”

She laughed and shook her head. “That’s a conversation for another day. I’m not showing you mine until you’ve shown me yours, Commander.”

He was silent for a single heartbeat, then nodded. “Very well then. Me first. And you don’t need to use my rank unless you prefer to keep things formal.”

“My people don’t often use honorifics or titles, but the Alliance seems fond of both. If you’d rather I dispensed with them, I’d be happy to, Carver.”

“Thank you, T’karra.” Brandt would have preferred she’d called him by his first name, but he’d take what he could get. T’karra was someone he wanted as an ally, and while he couldn’t deny he was attracted to her, he would not make the same mistakes as Hawke. Charging in full-throttle was Hawke’s style, not his. He preferred a more subtle approach, one requiring patience. When it came to getting what he wanted, Brandt could be a very patient man.

She plucked out several video files and expanded them so they dominated the airspace above her desk. “So, what am I looking for? I was told there wasn’t any footage of the mercs leaving their ship carrying weapons or body armor.”

“There isn’t. Though, once again, I’m intrigued to know how you know that. For someone who hasn’t been given more than a partially redacted summary of events, you seem remarkably well-informed. I’m starting to really look forward to the day you…show me yours.” He deliberately paused before uttering the last three words, and he was rewarded with a ghost of a smile, the first true smile she’d offered him.

“When I couldn’t get anywhere through official channels, I may have become frustrated enough to try less orthodox sources,” she said, her tone light, but there was a note of wariness beneath the levity.

“Understandable. If I were in your position, I’d probably have done the same. You have people to protect and a business to run, and you can’t make good decisions without having all the information. It’s the same reason Hawke and I were here early. We needed more to go on than a few, carefully crafted reports.”

She pursed her lips, and he knew he’d pushed his luck about as far as he dared, but he wanted her to consider things from his point of view. He and Hawke had reasons for what they’d done, and while her anger was justified, he hoped it would be short-lived. Her fingers twitched in an impatient gesture, and he decided to move on. “When we arrived today, we’d already been over the reports and footage repeatedly. We didn’t make any progress until we had access to the rest of the information.”

“Are you telling me they withheld information from you, too?” she asked.

“Not on purpose, no. The officers here sent everything that was directly related to the case, but as it turned out, that’s not where the answers were. We were trying to figure out how a group of armed men managed to get from their ship to your sanctuary without being seen. The answer is…they didn’t.”

T’karra slapped a hand down on the table. “Like hell they didn’t! No one could find any trace of them on the security feeds. They simply appeared in my bar armed to the fucking teeth and started raising havoc!”

“They appeared in your bar with weapons, yes. But they didn’t openly carry them across the station.”

He tapped the centermost image and the footage started to play.

“What am I looking at?” she asked, leaning in to get a better look.

“This is footage from one of the docking arms. It was recorded a few hours before the attack.”

T’karra’s mind was racing as she viewed the footage of two men loading crates onto a lev-sled. It only took her a few seconds to work out what she was looking at.

“Those are the bastards who shot up my bar. I was told their ship was registered as a trading vessel, but it wasn’t really one. The transponder codes, the registry, everything about it was faked. So why are they offloading cargo?” She took a closer look and uttered a curse. Without another word, she reached into the shimmering displays and tapped on the image, zooming in on the markings. Liquor. Shaulian ale, to be exact.

Son of a…

“Judging by the expression on your face, I’m assuming you know what those markings are, and where those crates ended up. If you could check your inventory and confirm, that would be helpful,” Carver said.

She loosed a savage snarl and sat back in her chair. “It won’t be necessary. I was doing inventory this morning and noticed we were missing several crates worth of Shaulian ale. I thought we had a pilfering problem, but that’s not it, is it?”

Carver’s expression was grim. “We don’t think so, no. We think this is how the mercenaries got the weapons and armor off the ship.”

“It doesn’t make sense, though. Why bring that stuff into my bar? No one knew Sonja was going to be requesting sanctuary, except for a handful of my staff…fuck.” There was only one way the mercs could have known exactly where to find Sonja. Someone had betrayed her. Betrayed all of them.

“I know this isn’t what you expected to hear. You wanted answers, but this…” He lifted his hands to encompass the information still suspended in the air between them.

For the second time that day, T’karra felt her rage build to dangerous levels. She shoved back from the desk and started pacing the length of her office, needing to burn off the surge of energy building beneath her skin. She needed to be thinking clearly, and she couldn’t do that if she shifted.

“I need to check on some records, do some digging,” she muttered, her voice barely more than a growl.

“There’s more.”

Carver’s words stopped her cold. “What else?”

“If the weapons were in your sanctuary, then someone let those men in here to retrieve them. We think that’s why no one saw them anywhere on the station before the attack. They were already here. Hawke tells me the sanctuary’s security is excellent, but we’re concerned about your safety. Yours, and everyone else who calls this place home.”

Her hand fell to the knife at her side, fingering the well-worn hilt. “We will not allow anyone to threaten our home. We protect what is ours, Carver. To the death, if need be.”

She expected him to argue, to remind her the safety of the station and its population was his responsibility, not hers. Instead, he simply nodded.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. It’s my hope we can end this before it comes to bloodshed, but if it can’t, then you have our full support. Only myself and Hawke know about the contents of that report. While you track down your…problem, the two of us will continue setting the station to rights and finding more pieces of this puzzle.”

“When I find out who signed for those crates, I assume you will want them handed over to the Alliance.”

He surprised her when he shook his head. “No. Whoever they are, they violated the laws of your sanctuary. They can answer to your people and your laws. Just try not to kill them until
after
they’ve told you everything they know.”

T’karra released her knife and offered Carver her hand. “You have my word.”

He stood, taking her hand in his, and a sizzle of heat danced up her arm as they touched. “One more thing. You would give your lives to protect your home and your families, but you have to understand something. Hawke and I would give our lives to protect you…or anyone else under our care.” He added the last bit almost as an afterthought, and she sensed he’d said more than he’d intended to. Not that it changed anything.

She had a traitor to catch, and a sanctuary full of people to protect. This wasn’t the time for temptations, especially not when those temptations came in the form of two arrogant, human elites she hadn’t forgiven for lying to her.

“I’ll leave you to go over the reports then. If you have any questions, or you find out anything you even think might be relevant, then please contact me. I took the liberty of including both mine and Hawke’s private comm-link codes in the report.”

“If I find anything, I’ll contact
you
.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile. “Somehow, I thought you’d feel that way, which is why I listed my code first.”

“You’re a smart man, Commander Carver.”

“Not really. I’ve simply been friends with Commander Summers long enough to know his usual effect on females. I will be in touch, T’karra. Stay safe.”

“You, too.”

Once Carver was gone, she howled with rage, giving voice to the maelstrom of emotions tearing through her.
Betrayed
. The word soured her soul. Someone she knew had violated the laws of their home. When she found out who it was, she was going to kill them.

Slowly.

***

CHAPTER FIVE

In the days since their somewhat disastrous first meeting, Brandt had made an effort to touch base with T’karra every day. They would exchange information, update each other on what they’d learned or eliminated as a possibility, and had slowly gotten to  know each other a little better.

When he walked into the Black Hole, no one glowered at him, and Verak even gave him a nod of welcome as Brandt took a seat at the end of the bar.

“Business or pleasure?” Verak asked.

“Business.”

Verak shook his head as he set down a mug of Brandt’s preferred drink in front of him. “You work almost as much as my sister. It’s disturbing. Speaking of her, I buzzed her office when I saw you come in, she’ll be along shortly.”

“Thanks. And thanks for the drink.”

“Blue beer. I don’t know about you, Carver.”

Brandt smiled. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“One day you’re going to tell me the story of how a human managed to acquire a taste for that stuff. I’ve only ever seen Reema drink it.”

“It’s classified,” Brandt joked and settled in to enjoy his moment of respite.

T’karra appeared before he’d taken more than a few sips of his drink, but her smile of greeting did more to improve his mood than any amount of liquor could. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. These days, all it took to make his day was to hear her voice or see her face.

“Hello, Carver. Good day?” she asked.

He stood up and turned to greet her. “Hello, T’karra. My day wasn’t as informative as I would have liked.”

She nodded, a smile twitching the corners of her lips. It looked like she had news for him. “I had a call from a friend today. Let’s grab one of the back tables and I’ll fill you in.”

He picked up his drink and followed T’karra through the crowd, trying not to let his gaze linger on her swaying hips. Her body was as enticing as her mind was fascinating, a deadly combination he hadn’t been able to resist.

T’karra had to admit, she was enjoying these meetings with the commander. He had a calm, centered, energy that put her at ease despite their rough beginning. He’d been direct and open in all their conversations, keeping her updated of any new information as it came available, but it was more than his honesty that had caught her attention, it was all of him. She found herself looking forward to his visits to the sanctuary, and even a vid-call or message sent via her wrist-unit was enough to make her smile.

There was an attraction between them, as strong as what she’d felt for Hawke, but different from her feelings for the other commander. She wasn’t ready to forgive Hawke just yet, but as the days past, she was coming to understand why he’d done what he had. In the meantime, Brandt was becoming someone she enjoyed spending time with.

She picked a table at random and sat down, her eyes scanning over the room as she waited for Brandt to get settled across from her. The bar was busy enough, but there were still plenty of empty tables for the moment. As the evening wore on, the place would fill to up.

“You were going to tell me about your friend’s news,” Brandt prompted as soon as he was seated.

“It was something from the reports you sent me. The merc my brother killed during the attack here had a distinctive tattoo.”

“The scorpion?” Brandt asked.

“Yes. I asked a few of my more…colorful associates if they’d come across anyone with that tattoo before, and today one of them confirmed they had. There’s a crime syndicate in the Shaula colonies that call themselves the
Scorpii
. No one knows much about them, other than they’re dangerous, violent, and rapidly expanding into new territory.

“Do I want to know why your friend knows this information?” he asked.

“Probably not,” she said. “You have your sources, Carver. I have mine.”

“I’m fairly certain mine are a lot less shady than yours, but since yours are the ones providing us with information, I’m not going to protest.”

“Very wise of you.”

Brandt raised his mug in salute. “I have my moments.”

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a string of curses in several languages, including a few words his translator couldn’t make heads or tails of. T’karra was on her feet in a split second, and she looked anything but pleased as the same, angry, fair-haired, Krytos female he’d nearly run into in the sanctuary corridor barreled out of the kitchen. She was tearing off her apron as she stormed through the bar, still cursing.

Danor caught her before she’d made it more than a few strides. Without a word he tossed the snarling female over his shoulder and headed toward the doors that lead to the Krytos living quarters. T’karra stayed on her feet until the doors closed behind her brother.

“Was that Nina?” Brandt asked, recalling the name from their last encounter.

“It was. She is young and only half Krytos, her human side is having trouble coping with the beast side of her nature. I take it you’ve met with her before?”

“I did, and the outcome of that meeting was Danor assigning her to work in the dish pit.”

“My brother didn’t mention you were the one Nina mouthed off to. She arrived here six months or so ago, adrift and angry. She has no family and raised herself on the streets of one of the human colonies. We offered her sanctuary and work, but she hasn’t made much of an effort to fit in.” T’karra sighed sadly. “Whatever happened in her past, she allows it to rule her present. So far, none of us have been able to help her move forward, but we keep trying. She’s young, there’s still hope for her.”

“If you’re going to let her keep working, you might want to start ordering more dishes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She smiled and then inclined her head toward the kitchen. “I should go check up on things. Will you be here for a while yet?”

Brandt glanced down at his drink and decided he’d done enough work for today. “I’m here until I reach the bottom of this glass. If you can slip away again, I’d enjoy the company.”

“Then I will be back shortly,” T’karra said. There might not be any more information for them to share regarding the investigation, but she wanted to enjoy his company a little longer. These meetings were one of the highlights of her day.

* * * *

Hawke’s frustration was reaching critical levels, affecting his ability to focus. Hell, he’d stopped being able to even sit still two hours ago, which was why he was currently jogging the length and breadth of the station in the middle of the fucking night. They’d been at this for a week now, and they still didn’t have the answers they needed. Between the investigation, reorganizing the station, and T’karra’s ongoing mission to completely freeze him out of her life, running himself to the brink of exhaustion was the only way he was going to get any sleep tonight.

The majority of the station’s population was asleep already, the corridors near silent except for the hum of machinery and the steady beat of his own footsteps. The silence was soothing, and as he completed his second lap of the station, Hawke was finally able to think clearly again. A new report had arrived a few hours ago, and it had not been good news. The two mercenaries who had survived the attack on the Black Hole had finally recovered sufficiently to be questioned by one of the Alliance’s interrogation teams. Unfortunately, the mercs didn’t know much more than they’d already confessed to.

They operated out of the Shaula colonies, but they hadn’t been home in several months. The mercenaries got their assignments via their commander, who was the only one to have direct contact with the next level of authority. The commander’s throat had been ripped out by Verak Ryvern, so he was no longer available for questioning. So far the Burrows-Grekov family, the ones who had hired the mercenaries to return their missing daughter back to Earth, had used their significant wealth and influence to avoid undergoing full interrogation. That was about to change. They had answers the Alliance needed, and there wasn’t enough money on the planet to save the formerly powerful trio.

Hawke lengthened his stride as he reached the end of one of the five docking arms and turned back toward the station’s center again. The two mercenaries had confirmed one thing, though. They’d had inside help. The weapons and armor had been smuggled into the Black Hole earlier, just as they had suspected, and someone had left one of the loading doors open, allowing the mercs to gain entry without being seen.

Brandt had been having regular meetings with T’karra, keeping her updated on the progress of their investigation, but she wouldn’t speak to Hawke. Being cut out of the beautiful Krytos’ life was bad enough, but having to watch his best friend answer her calls and speak with her every day was pure torture. He could see there was something growing between them day by day, but at the moment, he was still on T’karra’s shit list with no reprieve in sight.

T’karra had provided them with everything she’d come up with in her own investigation, but so far she was having no luck tracking down the insider who had betrayed the pack. Whoever it was, they’d covered their tracks carefully. That was the only real clue the Krytos had. Their traitor was someone with enough authority they’d been able to erase all traces of what they’d done. It had cut the list down to a handful of suspects, but all of them were well-known and trusted implicitly. Hell, some of them were members of her own family. Hawke knew it had to be causing T’karra and her brothers a great deal of pain, but they were determined to find out who had put them all in jeopardy. Hawke wanted to help her, or at least offer her his support, but she wanted nothing to do with him.

Being cut out of her life was killing him.

His circuit took him across the main concourse, the high arc of the domed ceiling curving high overhead. The flags and banners denoting the Alliance ships and units stationed on X2 hung in the open air, the station so still and quiet they barely stirred. The brightest light source was the crimson and black sign marking the entrance to the Black Hole, the red letters bathing the area around the door in an eerie glow.

As Hawke reached the halfway mark, the sound of music grew louder, spilling out of the bar’s door as it opened. He slowed down to watch as several late night revelers staggered into sight. Two of them were helping to support a third man, and none of them were within a light year of sobriety. When one of them straightened to his full height, Brandt realized the trio wasn’t human, they were D’Aire. What was strange was D’Aire were immune to the effects of alcohol…so what had them so messed up?

The middle one stumbled and groaned loud enough Hawke could hear him halfway across the concourse. They were going to need some assistance to make it back to their ship. He started jogging toward them, intending to offer his help, when more figures appeared in the doorway. This group were definitely human, but something about the way they moved had Hawke’s instincts screaming something bad was about to happen.

He broke into a run, but he’d only taken two steps before it all went nova.

The five humans were on the D’Aire before they left the bar, and Hawke knew that meant he was looking at a group of dead men. Fighting in the sanctuary was strictly forbidden, and with everyone wound so tight after the last attack, there would be no leniency. He heard the sound of fabric tearing as one of the D’Aire unfurled his wings and took to the air, his intoxicated companion held tight in his arms.

“Get help!” Hawke bellowed. The alien overhead glanced down, and despite the distance between them, Hawke could see the iridescent blue gleam of the D’Aire’s eyes as he met his gaze, then gave an affirmative nod before soaring higher. The third D’Aire was doing an impressive job of holding off his attackers. Blood soaked through his shirt at the shoulder, but despite his injury he was still keeping the men at bay using nothing but his fists and his wits. The species humans had nicknamed
Angels
were an ancient and powerful race, and while they preferred to live in peace, they were more than capable of defending themselves when it was necessary. The humans who had gone after them while still in the sanctuary had to be suicidal.

Hawke was only a few strides away from the brawl when two more figures came tearing through the doors of the bar, their glowing red eyes and vicious howls broadcasting their identity. The Krytos had joined the fight. Watching them, it was easy to understand how their early visits to Earth had sparked the werewolf legends. To the humans who had yet to even contemplate life on other worlds, the Krytos would have been terrifying monsters. For the second time in as many days, Hawke found himself up close with a
beast
in full battle form, and he couldn’t help but be thankful this time, their fury was directed at someone else.

Claws slashed through cloth and flesh, and soon there were agonized screams blending with the howls and snarls. Hawke threw himself into the middle of the fray with a battle cry one part reflex and two parts joy at finally having an outlet for all his pent up frustration. He knew the Krytos didn’t need his help, but the D’Aire was injured, so Hawke made his way to him, blocking blows and throwing punches the whole way. While he was deflecting one strike, one of the other attackers landed a punch to the side of his face, and for several seconds there were more stars dancing in Hawke’s vision than there were in the cosmos outside.