In the Black (8 page)

“Damn it.” She rubbed her forehead. “Didn’t we refund all the money?”

“I did so. But they’re still there.” The AI paused for a second. “Should I call for base security?”

She glanced at the monitor showing the landing bay. The men assigned to do door duty were likely inside, keeping the peace among the annoyed miners. The security force on a mining base like this wasn’t limitless and Huckness could already be spread out pretty thin with the extra coverage.

The last thing they needed was an all-out brawl between the miners and security starting in the hallway and spreading into the landing bay. The guards would be outnumbered in no time and while Belle could easily gas them all if they were on board, it’d be making the situation worse.

She cracked her knuckles.

Nothing she couldn’t handle on her own.

She pushed herself out of the chair and into free-fall. “This is our business, not theirs—not yet anyway. Let me see if I can talk them out of being stupid. Give Trainer and Huckness a heads-up call but tell them I’m going to deal with it, use some sweet talk to turn them around. I don’t want to call the troops on them unless it’s necessary. Tensions are high enough, I don’t want a complaint about us using excessive force to keep them either in or out of the
Belle
.”

She’d be damned if she’d let a bunch of bullies start pounding on the front door and making a ruckus like frat boys looking to crash the nearby girls camp. She might not have been able to keep Halley from dying but she could handle a bunch of punks without bleating for the foreman and security chief like a pup in her first firefight.

Jenny popped out of a hatch, almost slamming into Sam in the small cockpit. “You hear that?”

Sam instinctively reached out to grab the intruder with her left hand, her other fist drawing back for a punch before recognizing the tech. “Fuck.” She pulled in a breath. “You’re damned lucky I didn’t get hold of you. I thought you were locked down.”

“Belle knows me.” Jenny beamed. “And she knows I have to get ’round to make things work. Locking me down don’t get things done, and we need to be ready to cut lines, ’specially now, right? Don’t worry, she’s been watching me.” Her voice rose. “Right?”

“I have been monitoring and recording your movements for future review by law enforcement personnel.” The computer sounded almost apologetic. “While the lockdown of the ship is important, repairs and scheduled maintenance take priority and must be completed on time to ensure the continued safety of the crew.”

“Whatever.” Sam caught the strap. “Just don’t blame me if the marshal wants to interrogate both of you and download every kilobyte of the recordings.”

“What?” Jenny peeped.

“We’re all suspects in Halley’s death.” Sam didn’t try to sugarcoat it. “The marshal’s going to want to know where each one of us was at the time of death. And you swimming around the underbelly doesn’t look good.”

The mechanic frowned. “Me? Kill anyone?” She pointed at herself. “Me?” Her voice rose an octave.

“I didn’t say you did it.” She resisted the urge to pat Jenny on the head. “I’m just saying to be careful. Because if you didn’t do it and I didn’t do it—” She left the sentence unfinished.

“Oh.” Jenny tilted her head to one side. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Listen.” The mechanic touched her hand to the wall. “Close your eyes, do this and listen.”

Sam resisted the urge to sigh, then pressed her palm to the panel, close to Jenny’s. She closed her eyes and waited.

Sure enough there was a faint pounding reverberating through the ship, an uneven pounding. If she hadn’t been told what to listen for she’d have missed it.

There was a reason why Jenny was one of the best mechanics in the Guild. It took a special skill to pick up the odd noises, the wrong noises, in the middle of the living and breathing machine that was the
Bonnie Belle
.

“That’s not nice,” Jenny whispered. “Hitting her like that. That’s wrong.”

Sam ground her teeth.

Not on her ship. Not right after the death of one of her girls.

“We seem to have some dissatisfied customers,” Sam deadpanned. “Or ex-customers, it seems.”

“It’s at the front door. You want I should gas them?” Jenny grinned. “Belle can—”

Sam took hold of the overhead strap. “No, we are not going to gas anyone until it becomes necessary. If you can’t stay still then go and make sure all the repairs are going as fast as possible. If we have to cut and run I don’t want to be trailing cables and crap behind us.”

“What about the marshal?” Jenny asked. “Don’t you want me to stay put?”

“Too late now.” Sam tried to add disapproval into her voice. “You’ve already broken curfew so there’s no use locking you up now.”

Jenny pouted for a second then slipped down into darkness. “Right. I’m down under. Call me if you need me.”

Sam glanced down the venting shaft, hearing a giggle bounce off the metal.

She swam halfway down the corridor toward the galley before stopping and changing her route, retracing her steps. A short stop at her personal quarters and she was ready to deal with the unwelcome visitors.

After all, when it came down to it, running a Mercy ship was about keeping up appearances.

Chapter Three

She walked through the landing bay and approached the main hatch at a leisurely pace, listening to the pounding and various curses in different languages—all of which she understood and knew appropriate replies to, including paternity and maternity questions.

The miners huddled in one corner glared at her as she strode by. No one asked how long they’d be stuck in lockdown, no one let out a wolf whistle or proposition. She didn’t look to see if the pup still wearing her lipstick print was among them.

This wasn’t entertainment.

This was cold, hard business. The type she could sink her teeth into and enjoy.

The security squad originally assigned to the
Belle’s
entrance watched Sam, and the corporal gave her a cautious look.

“You want us to deal with this?” he asked, gesturing at the closed hatch.

“Let me talk to them first.” She gave him a wide smile. “Apply a little lube first before we start going hard, hmm?”

That earned her a chuckle and red faces among the squad.

She twisted the circular lock and swung it outward as fast as she could.

A squeal and a series of yelps. She’d accomplished her first task—“accidentally” pushing a few of the rowdier idiots against the corridor wall. They squeezed free a second later, rubbing various parts of their anatomy that had been pinched, and staggered through the crowd in a stumbled retreat.

It was a good start.

“I understand you boys have a problem.” She stepped through and let them see the business side of the captain of the
Bonnie Belle
.

Playtime was over. No leather jumpsuit, no deadly black stilettos, no smiles and winks. The old combat pants and leather jacket over a ripped ancient olive green T-shirt might not have been sexy, but they weren’t supposed to be. Her sidearm lay low on her hips, the regulation pistol in the holster securely tied to her thigh.

The heavy mag-boots added a final touch to the image, keeping her feet securely on the ground. Sam knew how to fight in near-zero gravity but there was no point in doing so if there was no need. Unfortunately the majority of the men at the front had the same idea, their stained, dirty mag-boots holding them securely in place with only those in the back of the mob floating in free-fall.

She could smell the sex in the air. The thick, musky scent of men who’d had their fantasies all lined up, toys and all, and were now denied.

This wasn’t going to be solved by a flirtatious kiss on some rookie’s scalp.

Sam stood and waited, hands on hips. Her fingers itched to slide down to the leather holster, maybe give it a gentle caress.

She held back. All in good time.

“You know who I am.” She eyed the group. “I realize you’re upset at your appointments being canceled but we’ll make it up to you. We’ve got a situation that needs to be dealt with and we can’t have any more customers on the
Belle
right now.”

Her tone was something between what she’d stroke the rookies with when they were fresh out of boot camp and what she’d whip them with a few weeks later when she needed them to dig down and get the job done.

In other words—don’t fuck with her.

The first thug to speak was a thick-necked punk at the front of the line, a blue vein on his forehead bulging out like the mark of Cain. He grated out the words, “Look, I paid for a good time and I’m gonna get it before I have to go back to work.” His right hand grabbed his crotch as he thrust his hips forward. “Let me get to those bitches.”

Sam smiled. “You got your money back. You all did.” She let her voice rise up over the mumbling of the crowd. “I don’t know what you boys are going on about. We’re on lockdown. You know the drill. You know the rules.”

The punk shook his head. “Don’t know, don’t care. I made my appointment and I want my time with one of your women.” He strode forward. “Now get the fuck out of my way or I’ll start having my fun with your sweet ass.”

A second later he floated nearby, his arms flapping out from his sides, unconscious from being clipped under the jaw with Sam’s right hook. His mag-boots kept him anchored to the deck, making for a somewhat comical scene.

“Anyone else want to start something?” She glared at the mob. “Anyone?”

The men moved back as one. Sam stepped forward, around the KO’d miner. “You’ve all gotten your refunds. Now unless you want me to put you on the blacklist, get out of here.”

One young man looked at his buddy, obviously confused.

“Blacklist?” he whispered.

Sam jumped in, grabbing the opportunity to strike fear into the miners. “
Blacklist
, as in I pass your name on to the Guild and you don’t get anything, anywhere, ever from anyone or anything associated with the Guild. No videos, no books, no visitors.” She let that sink in. “Even the Charity ships won’t see you.”

The miner who had asked the question chewed on his bottom lip. She knew what he was thinking: a lifetime of nothing other than the working day grind. No entertainment other than what you stole or traded for. They’d be at the mercy of the black marketers, who would double and triple their prices for anyone on that list.

“Now, you really want to risk that?” She looked from face to face, watching the eyes drop away from her intense scrutiny. “Do you?”

The mob shifted, broke apart and then fell together again into small groups, each moving backward out of the corridor. Some disappeared down side passageways into the dimly lit recesses of the base. The tension in the air evaporated as the anger dissipated and dribbled away.

A pair of men shuffled forward, eyeing Sam carefully. One pointed at the groggy miner behind her with a dutiful lowering of his chin, acknowledging her superior status.

She nodded her approval. They came forward and grabbed the arms of the half-conscious miner. He mumbled something incoherent, blood from his cut lower lip dribbling down his chin. They dragged him away from her, turning down the nearest corridor. His boots made a
rat-ta-tat
sound as they tripped along the metal tiles.

That was how you made a statement. Without tear-gassing the lot.

She advanced down the hallway. Technically her authority ended at the
Belle’s
hatch, but she hadn’t had so much fun in months.

She spotted the tail end of the crowd limping along, splitting off into smaller and smaller groups going down side corridors as they made their way away from the
Belle
and into the mining camp itself.

She paused, weighing her options.

Odds were, base security would be showing up soon, reacting to what they’d seen on their monitors. It was a good time to retreat to the
Belle
before she had to field the inevitable questioning about her handling of the situation. Much better to have this talk back in the cockpit through speakers and a screen rather than in person with the chief, another vet who might sympathize with her actions but sure as hell wouldn’t condone them—not on his watch.

She couldn’t complain. She’d react the same way if she were in his boots.

Huckness would rant at her but she wasn’t going to sit back and let these thugs have their way with the
Belle
. Not now, not ever.

A hand landed on Sam’s shoulder from behind, a heavy-handed grab with fingers digging into the fabric.

Not a friend.

Without turning she jabbed her right elbow back and followed up with a kick. Her mag-boot smashed into something hard, probably a shin bone.

A painful grunt accompanied a meaty arm wrapping around her waist, tight against her skin. She felt hot air against the back of her neck, heavy breathing tinged with anger.

Sam bent forward, preparing for a brawl. Her right hand brushed against her leather holster, feeling the bulge from the enclosed weapon.

No.

She wasn’t going to be responsible for another innocent’s death.

Emerson hadn’t been innocent, not in the true sense of the word. But he’d been one of her men, one of her soldiers and she’d failed him and the rest of her squad.

She flashed back to the present.

If Sam Keller couldn’t handle a single angry, horny miner without shooting him, she’d eat her dress uniform with a bottle of hot sauce.

She kicked back again, this time with the left foot, curling her leg up as high as she could. The resounding crunch told her she’d hit something better than before.

The grip around her waist lessened and then disappeared as the arm retracted.

Sam spun around to face the thug.

He snarled at her, one hand pressed to his left knee. His bald head gleamed in the dim corridor lighting as he put his fists up, most of his weight on his right foot.

“Bitch,” he yelped. “You broke my knee.”

“You wanna go?” Sam whispered. “You wanna go?” Her pulse was racing. She felt a bead of sweat run down her back, pooling at the base of her spine. This wasn’t some kid fresh off the boat. This was an old-timer with impressive biceps straining the sleeves of his dirty jumpsuit. That was okay. She had energy to spare. And it’d been a while since she’d gotten physical with anyone.

It wasn’t sex, but it’d do for the moment.

“You feeling lucky?” she said, waiting for him to make the first move. She motioned him forward.

Something shot by her left ear.

She froze.

The miner watched her with widening eyes, rooted in place. A trickle of drool began rolling out of the left side of his mouth. His eyes rolled up showing only the whites.

He passed out. His arms rose in front of him, giving him a movie monster look. All he needed was to start roaring and goose-stepping forward.

Sam spotted the tiny dart in his chest, the small, dark green tufted needle almost invisible against the dirty oil-stained shirt.

“You seem to have an interesting effect on men.”

The low voice behind her brought Sam back around, automatically assuming a combat stance with her hands up, fingers balled into fists.

He stood there, two fingers on his right hand up to his forehead in a mocking salute. The other hand held the standard law-enforcement weapon of choice, the P-112 pistol. Her mind went through the identification process. Official issue for the military or the Marshal Service, not something handed out to station security. The lightweight weapon fired either tranqs or bullets, and she’d just seen the tranq side of it.

“He’ll be awake in an hour or so. United Nations Service Marshal Daniel LeClair at your service, ma’am.” The leather jacket, dotted with UNS patches from various bases and a set of identification pips on the lapels, was snug on his broad shoulders, and tight jeans hung low on his hips. A white T-shirt finished off the informal uniform, matching his short white hair.

He smiled at her, a sheepish twist to his lips. The only thing missing to make the cowboy image complete would be a hat perched at a rakish angle on his head.

“Family trait. My father had a full head of white hair by the time he hit twenty,” he replied to the unasked question. “You must be Sam Keller.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped back.

He holstered his weapon and stepped toward her, his smile dissolving into a confused grin. “Helping.”

Sam punched the miner in the ribs, not hard enough to break them but enough to leave a reminder for when he woke up. “This is my ship and those people are under my protection. I don’t need your help to take out the trash. I can deal with these idiots.”

LeClair put up his hands and stopped. “Whoa there. I just figured—”

“You figured you’d save a damsel in distress.” Sam walked up to him and jabbed her index finger into his chest. “First lesson of working with me is that I’m as tough as you are, Marshal.” She eyed him. “Probably tougher. So don’t think I can’t handle myself or get the job done.”

LeClair grinned. “I think I’d like to see you handling yourself.”

The angry words fell away from Sam’s mind, leaving a black hole. She stared at the lawman, uncertain what she’d just heard.

He didn’t look away, not giving an inch.

Two could play that game. Not bothering to be subtle, she mentally undressed him, exposing rock-hard abs and a body built for action. All-night action like one of the heroes in those detective novels she’d been devouring.

God
,
I’ve lost it.
I’m getting hot for a damned cop.

She took a deep breath. It must be the damned stink in the air. The frustrated sexual energy from the miners.

Among others.

Another deep breath.

Cool, collected, professional. That’s what she needed to be right now.

“Okay, let’s try this again.” She rubbed her cheeks. “You’ll have to excuse my temper. I’m a little wound up.”

Daniel nodded. “Totally understandable, given the circumstances.”

“No kidding.” She glanced over at the miner. “Idiot.”

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Huckness stood in a nearby doorway, flanked by a pair of security guards. He growled at Sam. “What are you doing?”

“He did it.” She jerked a thumb at Daniel, a wry smile on her face. She wasn’t above handing him over to the security chief’s tender ministrations.

“Marshal LeClair.” Daniel didn’t extend his hand. “Your man here was about to bushwhack the good captain from behind.”

Sam blinked. Bushwhack? What sort of a word was that? Who still used it?

Huckness shook his head. “Sorry, Marshal. I know you’re here to deal with a murder and I appreciate your fast response, but I can’t have the captain going around brawling with my men and you shooting them down like we’re in the Wild West.” He locked eyes with Sam. “I saw you on the monitors. You cleared them out from the entrance but then you came down here, spoiling for a fight.” His tone dropped. “You know better than this.”

She paused, her gut churning. It was like being chewed out by her old drill sergeant.

He was right.

Sort of.

“I figured I could clear away the jerks myself. After all, they were on my doorstep.” She wasn’t going to give Huckness the victory without at least an attempt at a defense. “I figured I’d make sure they were actually leaving and not regrouping in one of the side corridors. I didn’t know Stupid here was going to try and grab me from behind.”