Stowaway (7 page)

“You look tired,” Gracie said.

“Didn’t sleep well last night.” He hadn’t, worrying about today. Worrying he’d forgotten something. He’d made a list—on paper, not in his Link in case Raine went poking around. He’d checked and double-checked it. Everything was in place. He’d be off the ship by lunchtime.

“Get some coffee in you,” she advised. “It will be a long busy day. In fact, about three long busy days in a row.”

“Good idea.” He took two of the mugs from the tray and headed to the coffee urns. “So these ore workers. Fun guys? Like to party?”

“Too much. We stay away from them. They’re kind of rough, most of them. Not exactly polite to women. They aren’t allowed anywhere in the crew sections, but there’re always some who’ll try it. Then there’s the pilfering.”

“Pilfering?”

“Their food isn’t as good as ours. They get plenty of it but nothing exciting. So sometimes they’ll sneak into our food container and swipe stuff.”

“Cheeky,” he said, handing her a mug.

“Keep away from them, I’m telling you.”

I plan to
. Kit’s Link beeped in his pocket, and he slipped it out.

“Love letter?” Gracie asked.

“Yes. The captain is proposing marriage to me.”

She giggled. Damn, he’d miss Gracie. And he couldn’t even say good-bye to her.

“It’s from Raine.”

“Oh, so it
is
a love letter.”

“He says they’re all much too busy in Security today to waste their precious time on asking me about all the exciting stuff I did yesterday, so I don’t have to check in this morning.”

“That’s pretty much an ‘I love you’ from the chief.”

“I consider us engaged.” He slipped the Link back into his pocket. So he wouldn’t get to say good-bye to Raine either. Shame. He’d have liked to see the big lug again before he left. Knowing that Raine and his people were supervising the loading and unloading of cargo crates and covering all the exits worried Kit. They might foil his plan. The squad was good—he had to give Raine kudos for training his people well—so Kit had to get his timing right.

“Once breakfast cleanup is over, I’ll head straight down to pick up the supplies,” he said.

“Want me to come with?”

“I can manage. Gracie…thanks.” He smiled at her when she looked at him questioningly. “Just kind of realized I hadn’t said it, but you’ve been really good to me since I arrived. It’s been fun working with you.”

She smiled and looked away. “Oh, look at me; you’re making me blush. Come on,” she said as a couple of people came into the dining room. “Back to work.”

* * *

Raine dropped into his office later that morning to check a couple of things and grab a coffee. He sank into his chair with a sigh. This day was already too long. This time spent docked at the station while they collected the ore containers and the workers was always the busiest part of the whole trip. After they left, things usually settled back into a routine, though certainly a busier one than they’d had so far. Kit’s appearance had been the most excitement they’d had during the first leg of the trip in a long time.

Where was Kit now? He checked the tracker program. Down in the storage containers. Raine glanced at the time. About right. On days he collected supplies, he went down there after breakfast cleanup.

He closed the program. Finally he’d started to gain some control over his ridiculous physical reaction to Kit—mostly by not seeing him. He’d let Warner handle the check-in interviews for the last few days, and his life had been more tranquil for it. He didn’t have to spend an hour getting his emotions back under control after Kit left.

He’d do his best to keep on avoiding him for the rest of the voyage. They’d run into each other sometimes, but he could avoid being alone with him in this office. Even with the door open, Kit seemed to fill and dominate the intimate space. How, exactly, Raine didn’t know. He took up less space than Raine. It must be the scent of him, calling to Raine on some unconscious level. And there was the constant provocation. Yes, that could fill the room too, fighting for space with Raine’s mixed-up anger and desire.

Did they even need the check-ins anymore? Kit was following the rules. He hadn’t gone anywhere off-limits. Yes, they could probably discontinue the check-ins. He could spring a spot-check on him every so often, and obviously, if anything suspicious showed up, he’d question Kit.

But it appeared he could be trusted. Maybe there had been some kind of mistake or frame-up as he claimed. There could be a perfectly good explanation, even for the money they’d found in Kit’s hiding place. If Kit was innocent and he came to trust the crew of the
Dawn
, he might open up about what happened. If he was being railroaded, they could help him. The captain would do her best for him if he kept on being a good crew member. She rewarded hard work and loyalty. Even so, Raine should stay away from Kit—for the sake of his peace of mind.

Okay, he thought, glancing at the clock, coffee break over. Back to work. He stood up, dumped his mug by the door to take back to the galley later, and then hesitated. It might be better to take it when he knew Kit was still down in the storage container and they wouldn’t run into each other.

An alarm sounded from both his terminal and his Link. He grabbed the Link from his pocket, knowing the alarm, denying it in his mind, wanting to be wrong. He wasn’t.

The computer had lost the signal from Kit’s tracker.

* * *

It took Raine six minutes to get from his office to the place they last had a signal from the tracker. Raine had frozen in his office doorway for a few seconds, waiting, hoping. Sometimes the signal dropped out for a couple of seconds if Kit passed too close to something that could block or interfere with it. But this time it hadn’t reappeared, and Raine had broken out of his freeze and run.

He might be panicking about nothing. It could have malfunctioned, even broken down entirely. Or it had been destroyed. By Kit or by something happening to Kit. That last part occurred to him as he left the elevator on the floor giving access to the containers, and it spurred him into a sprint. There could have been an accident. The containers held heavy crates, some stacked high. They were supposed to be secure, but things broke free.

He felt sick.

But he found no evidence of a horrible accident when he reached the location. Just crates and the cart Kit and Gracie used to carry supplies. It held a full load of boxes and packets.

“Miller!” Raine called, his voice echoing in the cavernous interior of the container. “Can you hear me?”

No answer. No sound of anyone close by moving around. He checked the nearest aisles of crates, but he knew he couldn’t cover this place alone. What if Kit lay hurt and unable to respond?

“Warner,” he said into his comms, “I need a search party down here stat.”

“Everyone is already on duty.”

The whole squad was busy supervising the loading of cargo and the embarkation of the ore workers. A distant
clang
sounded, and the deck shuddered beneath his feet for an instant. They must have just attached one of the ore containers. They’d attach several over the next couple of days, clamped right to the hull of the ship, straight under the processing plant itself. Then they hauled up the ore, and the finished product went back into an empty container.

He came back to his starting point to try to figure out a search pattern. “Are there any sensors down here?” he asked Warner, knowing the answer already. “Thermal?”

“No. We’ve got some portable thermal scanners.”

“That might work.” Raine noticed a list lying on top of the boxes of supplies on the cart and walked over there. The items were all checked off, and at the bottom, words in Kit’s handwriting.

Gracie, you’re a bright light out here in the deep dark. Love you, babe. Sorry I can’t say good-bye. Kit.

Shit. Raine could no longer deny it with stories about accidents and malfunctions. Kit had destroyed the tracker and was trying to escape. He could be off the ship already. Or could he? He had to go out a door, but the doors were all guarded while the
Dawn
was docked. Kit couldn’t simply walk off the ship.

“Warner, Miller’s trying to get off the ship. Check the cameras at every exit.”

“Checking. Is that
every
exit?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Including the airlocks opening into vacuum? He could try to get into a pressure suit.”

Raine’s stomach plunged as he pounded back up the metal steps. Did Kit know how to use a pressure suit? Or operate safely in vacuum and zero G? This close to the station, with all these ships around, with force fields…
Oh hell, no, don’t let him go do something so stupid.

“Seal all the airlocks opening to vacuum. Captain’s override only on them.” He reached the door and ran out.

“Done,” she said. “Chief, I’m checking the records for everyone and everything leaving the ship. The dockers picked up some supplies for the station from the place we lost the signal. Exact same time too.”

“Goddamit! He’s trying to get smuggled off in a crate. Which exit did they use?”

“Lock ten. The last batch of crates went out four minutes ago.”

“I’m on my way.”

As he reached lock ten, Warner’s voice came back.

“Panic’s over, Chief. Station security have got him.”

Raine’s steps faltered only for a moment. “Where?”

“Their HQ. You know where it is?”

“Yes, I know. I’m going down there. Tell the captain what happened and that I’m off ship.” He stepped out of the airlock onto the station. Two of his people, Celani and Sim, were guarding the lock. He briefly thought about yelling at them for not stopping the crates, but they were there only to supervise the people going in and out, not check the cargo.

“Sim, come with me,” he ordered. “Celani, you can manage alone for a few minutes.”

He strode off, and Sim followed. He didn’t question why Raine wanted him. Good thing too, as Raine wasn’t sure he could speak without letting the rage show in his voice.

I’d started to trust you, dammit. I’d started to trust you.

* * *

Well, fuck.

That had been a great plan for ten fucking minutes. Kit thought he’d be free and clear if he got off the
Dawn
. He knew he might be stuck in the crate for a while until it was safe enough to get out, but he hadn’t anticipated that five minutes after the crate left the ship the lid would be ripped off and he’d find himself looking up at a bunch of ugly bastards pointing guns at him.

Actual guns! Jackasses. Raine’s people never waved guns at him.

“He’s in here.” The voice of one of the rent-a-pig station security men. Kit took his head out of his hands and looked up to see the speaker come into the cell block with Raine at his side, Raine scowling so hard Kit was grateful for the bars between them. Still, he gave a defiant glare back, standing up as the station security man unlocked the cell. “Customs picked him up as soon as they did the routine scan of the supplies.”

Customs inspection. He should have expected they’d have such procedures. What a numbskull. A station like this where a lot of ships came and went would be the ideal place for people to try to smuggle contraband.

“A stowaway, eh? Sure we can’t take him off your hands?”

“No,” Raine snapped. He had Kit’s duffel bag in his hand. “He’s our prisoner. My captain decides what happens to him.”

“Okay. If he decides to, you can drop the prisoner off with us.”

“She,” Kit said. The security officer looked at him. “The captain is a woman.”

The man snorted. “No wonder she’s soft on the likes of you, then. Okay, Mr. Raine. He’s all yours.”

Kit walked out of the cell, and when he stopped in front of him, Raine reached out suddenly. Kit flinched until Raine touched his hair and pushed it back, revealing a couple of bruises already darkening on the side of Kit’s face.

“How did he get these?”

“I fell down the stairs,” Kit said.

Raine gave him a
be quiet
glare and turned to the security man. “How did he get the bruises?”

“He put up a fight when we caught him. Dirtiest fighter I’ve seen in a while,” he added with a tone of some admiration. “And believe me, we see some dirty fighting on this station. You want me to cuff him?”

“Not necessary.”

Kit learned why when they went out into the office to find Big Sim out there waiting. He tried a wan smile on Sim, but the big man appeared more carved out of stone than usual. Raine took Kit’s arm in one gloved hand and steered him out of the door.

“Behave yourself,” Raine said when they were outside in the busy thoroughfare. “Or else I’ll have Sim carry you over his shoulder again.”

“I’ll behave,” Kit said quietly. He had no intention of misbehaving. He’d rather be back on the
Dawn
—civilization—than stuck here with the rent-a-pigs and the crowds. The place teemed with what must be ore plant workers, having a last drink or ten before the voyage got underway. They were raucous and rather frightening.

Raine let go of his arm, though he remained tense as they began to walk back to the ship, Sim following. The tension radiating from Raine was as intense as the heat from the galley’s bread ovens. It must come from holding in his rage. Kit had humiliated him in the eyes of station security and the other officers on the
Light of Dawn
. When they got back aboard, he’d release the rage—on Kit.

Chapter Six

Raine dumped the contents of Kit’s duffel bag onto his desk. The broken tracker landed on its side and rolled toward the edge of the desk, but Raine slapped it down flat. The locking catch and the area with the electronics in it were burned through.

“How did you do this?” he demanded of Kit, who’d thrown himself into a chair, where he sat glowering at Raine. Kit didn’t speak, just nodded at another item on the desk. Raine picked it up and recognized it as a handheld medical laser.

“You stole this from the infirmary?”

“I was going to sell it. I needed cash—since you took mine.”

“Yours? You mean the money you stole?”