The Tracker's Dilemma: (A Mandrake Company Science Fiction Romance) (7 page)

Captain Mandrake’s gaze flicked toward Tick.

“There’s been absolutely no testing done to confirm your hypothesis about anyone developing ESP,” Lauren said. “I can’t even fathom how you’re so certain about that just from looking at brain scans.”

“I hope you’ll allow me to explain further and to run some tests,” Hailey said. “While we’re on the way to Sturm. What makes a long voyage more fun than playing with Zener cards?”

“It’s not that long of a voyage,” Striker said, then whispered to Sergeant Hazel, “What’s a Zener card?”

She shrugged back at him.

“Something from Old Earth,” Lauren said, struggling not to pinch the bridge of her nose. She felt a headache developing. “The captain hasn’t agreed to be your guide and protector yet,” she pointed out, half hoping Mandrake would stop this before it started.

Oh sure, Hailey would find another way if she was truly determined, but Lauren didn’t see what she could do without the microflora. She fully expected Hailey to try to get a sample by bribing Ankari, or perhaps by even sketchier methods. All Lauren knew for sure was that Hailey couldn’t offer to sleep with Ankari in exchange for access. Well, technically she
could
. Lauren just didn’t think it would work. Ankari seemed enamored with all of Mandrake’s big manly muscles.

“I’m certain he will.” Hailey removed her tablet from the table and whispered something to it to pull up another display. This one she kept in privacy mode so Lauren couldn’t read it. Hailey walked to Mandrake’s side and showed it to him. “My offer, Captain.”

His expression did not change, but he did admit, “That’s a lot of money for what you’re asking. Either you expect more trouble than you’re hinting at, or—”

“I highly value you.” She smiled at him.

“Please,” Ankari muttered.

Lauren sighed, not surprised her sister had found rich backers. After all, a finance lord had put a huge bounty on Lauren’s head when he’d learned of her research. ESP notwithstanding, the health, longevity, and improved physical and mental aptitude that the alien microflora promised were enough to entice many people.

Mandrake looked around the room, meeting the eyes of his department heads. “Any objections to the mission?”

“No complaints from the engine room,” Borage said. “Doesn’t sound like the
Albatross
is likely to see much trouble. You’ll go down to the moon in shuttles, right?”

“Likely,” Mandrake said.

“Sounds less expensive than a war,” Garland said with a shrug.

“Agreed.” Mandrake didn’t sound that happy. He liked to shoot things. Maybe he would have preferred a war.

“I’m always ready to fly, sir,” Commander Thatcher said, his fingers threaded together on the table, his posture perfect, his clothing pressed and tidy, a distinct difference from the slouching Commander Borage next to him, whose rumpled shirt held engine grease and coffee stains. Apparently, Borage wasn’t a fan of material with Gar-zymes threaded in.

“Tick?” Mandrake asked.

“Sir?” Tick sounded surprised to have been called upon.

“Think you can track some technodruids?”

“I can track anything, Cap’n. You know that.”

The two men gazed at each other for a long moment, Tick looking faintly confused, Mandrake looking… assessing. Lauren recalled that Tick had mentioned the captain witnessing his prescient moments.

“Just want to make sure you’re comfortable doing so,” Mandrake said.

Tick hesitated. “Sure, Cap’n. Always comfortable doing my job. It’s what you’ve got me here for, isn’t it?”

“Nobody’s going to ask me and Hazel if we’re comfortable doing our jobs?” Striker asked.

“Aren’t you always comfortable blowing things up?” Mandrake asked.

“Of course. Will there be things to blow up?” Striker smiled brightly at Hailey.

She spread her hands. “Perhaps?”

“If nothing else, those raptors live down there,” Ankari murmured.

Lauren shuddered. Maybe she would be able to get some quality research done while the company was down tramping around on the moon. Hailey’s new interest in the technodruids also had Lauren wanting to research them specifically. What had her contact told her about their history? What databases had she found to access that had specific information regarding Grenavinian genetic engineering of the past?

“Will you and Dr. Keys come along?” Mandrake asked Ankari quietly.

A surge of alarm ran through Lauren. What? Why should
she
have to go?

“Yes,” Ankari said at the same time as Lauren blurted, “No.”

Ankari frowned at her. “Yes.”

“
No
.”

“You can stay in the shuttle and work in the lab in there. If you’re worried about the raptors, I’m sure we can take some tranquilizer guns with us. Viktor, don’t you even have some aerosol tranquilizers in your armory? No aim required?”

“
Some
aim is required,” Mandrake said dryly. “And those are expensive. They’re for subduing enemy mercs without killing them.”

“We can use them for subduing enemy raptors,” Ankari said brightly, gripping Lauren’s shoulder.

Mandrake’s lips flattened, but he did not object.

Lauren didn’t care. She didn’t want to see those raptors, subdued or not.

“There’s no reason why I should go,” she whispered, aware of all the eyes in the room upon her. “You know I hate field work.” And she hated—
loathed
—that damned jungle. The night she had spent down there with Jamie and Ankari had been the most terrifying in her life. She still woke up from nightmares about those raptors and falling out of the trees and nearly being killed by kidnappers.

“We may need your expertise,” Ankari said, “and it won’t be like last time. We’ll have strong soldiers to protect us.”

“I’ll be happy to protect you, Doc,” Striker said and wriggled his eyebrows at Lauren.

That did nothing to reassure her. Lauren slumped back in her chair, feeling defeated.

“
We’ll
protect you,” Tick said firmly, giving her a nod.

She couldn’t manage a smile or a return nod for him, not with this bleakness washing over her. She hated the field, and she knew her sister was up to something. This would not go well, not at all.

Chapter 5

Tick sat in the back of the shuttle that Microbacteriotherapy, Inc. had leased from Mandrake Company. Unlike the rest of the sleek gray and deadly combat shuttles in the outfit’s bay, this one was painted pink. The interior was afflicted with fuzzy, spotted seat covers, and the curtain that separated a small lab from the bank of seats along the wall sported pink and purple polka dots.

Most of the mercenaries going down to the moon had jostled for spots in the other two shuttles, leaving empty seats and more space in this one. Tick had never felt manly riding in the pink craft, but privately admitted that it was more comfortable than the rest of the shuttles. A coffeepot burbled happily, filling the air with its pleasant aroma as Jamie Flipkens piloted the shuttle toward the vibrant green foliage of Sturm.

Hailey and Ankari sat up front near Jamie while Lauren puttered in the lab. Corporal Hemlock and Sergeant Striker rode in the back with Tick, Hemlock fiddling with a dice game and Striker waving his fingers in the air over his tablet doing who knew what. Navigating his porn collection, perhaps. Tick and the other men were along to defend the women if their craft ended up split off from the other Mandrake Company shuttles. Tick doubted that would happen—despite some inhospitable wildlife on this side of the moon, Sturm was controlled by a relatively stable government run by a collection of corporations, and the only people who flew around down here were usually miners and loggers. Still, he didn’t mind riding along with Lauren, unmanly pink shuttle notwithstanding. He figured that if his brain went on the fritz, she would be the most likely to be able to help him. Besides, he felt more of a kinship toward her now that he knew that she had lost most of her family too. Aside from him, only his sister had been off-world when Grenavine had been destroyed, and while he wouldn’t consider his relationship with her cantankerous, she was a determined and reckless woman who was always off on adventures and rarely had time for him.

Tick wondered if Lauren would mind if he slipped behind the curtain and offered her his company. Even if she wasn’t interested in sex, it was nice talking to women once in a while and not always—

An elbow found its way into Tick’s ribs as Striker leaned over. He waved his tablet. “Want to see the comic I’m working on this week? The panels are coming out great. I’m getting better at virtual art.” He wriggled his fingers.

“Does that mean your strange alien women now have three distinct breasts rather than that strange oblong mono-boob?” Tick asked.

“All of my breasts are excellent.”

Lauren walked through her curtain in time to hear that comment. She cocked an eyebrow, glancing at Striker’s chest. He proceeded to tastelessly look at her chest and give her a lurid wink. Ignoring him, she strode to the front to speak to Ankari about something.

“She’s so frigid,” Striker said. “You better give up on that one.”

“She’s
not
frigid,” Tick said.

“You’ve made progress with her?”

Tick did not acknowledge the comment. He had no interest in discussing his progress—or lack thereof—nor the fact that in light of Lauren’s recent revelations, he lamented that there would never be progress. Instead, he bent over his own tablet, bringing to life the novel he’d been reading.

“Now the sister,” Striker said, “she’s not frigid. I bet you could make some progress with her. Or
I
could.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“Maybe later, if we end up spending the night down here. You know there’s a bed in that clinic, right?” Striker gave him another elbow nudge.

Tick sighed.

“He really creates art?” Hemlock asked, glancing at Striker.

“It’s not
art
,” Tick said. “He glorifies himself and his weapons in picture books.”

“My comics are definitely art. And I’ve glorified you too.”

“You made me your sidekick.”

“It’s a vital role. Someone has to hold the hero’s weapons while he reloads. Look, in the newest one—”

Tick held up a hand, pushing the tablet away. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for megalomaniacal mad scientists taking over the ship right now.”

Striker lowered the tablet and stared at Tick. “How did you know?”

“What?”

“How did you know about the plot? I just started drawing this volume.”

“You must have told me,” Tick said, though a hint of uncertainty crept into his mind. His brain wasn’t being odd again, was it?

“I didn’t. I just thought it up this morning while I was in the shower. Thinking about scientists.” Striker winked.

Tick shrugged, hoping Striker would dismiss it. He remained casual, staring down at the page floating in the air over his tablet, but he barely saw the words.

“You’re not as fun as you used to be, Tick.” Striker pushed himself to his feet and wandered up to visit the women.

Tick let out a slow breath. He could settle for being called un-fun. He hoped to avoid accusations of being a freak.

Hemlock was still rattling his dice around in a cup, but his gaze shifted toward Tick.

“I heard you’ve got symptoms too,” he said.

“Symptoms?” Tick asked carefully.

Hemlock shrugged. “Not sure what you’d call it. New and interesting powers?”

Powers? Tick thought the word symptoms sounded more accurate. Or maybe side effects. Alarming side effects.

“Can you do this?” Hemlock set a couple of dice on the seat next to his thigh, then lifted his hand, making a point to show that his fingers weren’t anywhere near them. A look of concentration—or perhaps constipation—took over his face.

The dice fell on the floor.

Tick jumped—or he would have, if he hadn’t been seated and strapped into his harness.

“How’d you do that?” he asked. “You must have bumped the seat with your foot.”

Yes, he knew Hemlock was also in Lauren’s study, but he had just started. Lauren had told him that he’d just received the first dose last week. Strange things hadn’t started happening to Tick until a few days ago, after several doses. And he couldn’t make dice flip over. Of course, he hadn’t tried. He swallowed. He didn’t
want
to try.

“You know that’s not it,” Hemlock said, giving him a steady, knowing look. His gaze lowered to the deck, and the dice tumbled a few times, each one landing with a single dot up.

“Have you told Dr. Keys about your new abilities?” Tick asked.

“I mentioned it, but I think her sister is more interested.” Hemlock held his arm out, his palm facing downward toward the dice. They lifted from the deck, and he plucked them from the air, then dumped them back into the cup. “Wish I’d had some powers like this when I was a bounty hunter.”

Powers. There was that word again. As if he considered himself some superhero from one of Striker’s comics.

“Fewer of those bastards who blew up our world might have escaped,” Hemlock said, his hand curling around the dice cup, his green-eyed gaze growing intense.

“Is that who you were hunting?” Tick asked. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Spent the last ten years at it. Sometimes for pay, sometimes not. There weren’t a lot of wealthy Grenavinians who were off-world when it happened. I took other jobs on the side, to keep fuel in my tank and my ship in the air, but mostly, I was researching the assholes responsible and avenging our people whenever I could.” His fingers tightened around the dice cup. “Didn’t you ever want to do the same?”

“Sure,” Tick said. “After it happened, I was more pissed than a tiger dumped in a river with his legs tied together. Didn’t know who was responsible, though, other than the military. A big organization to target.”

“There were key players in the military and the government. I had someone helping me do the research, until she—” His grip loosened on the cup. “Lost her last year in a fight with Fleet. Lost my ship too. Never lost my desire to avenge the deaths of our people, but it was harder after that. I couldn’t get the money together to find another ship, and I wasn’t as good at research. It was hard to find someone else who was, someone else who still cared.” He closed his mouth, his jaw tightening noticeably.