Mission: Mistletoe Read online

  Rhayne tried to remember if a droid—or anyone— had winked at her, but couldn’t think of a single instance. She didn’t know if the wink or the change in accents disturbed her more. First French, now German. What would be next? Centaurian? She watched it walk back to the central workstation and fold itself into the chair. To her further amazement, 58 met her eye across the lab and smirked before wiping its face clean of expression and resuming its work. Rhayne shook her head, wondering at the reason for the droid’s uncharacteristic facial expressions. It was as though 58 was trying to tell her something. Apparently, she needed to be an eSpy-bot to figure out what the message was.

  Another stream pinged into her in-box, drawing her attention back to her comm with Griffin.

  Sure, she responded, her fingers dancing across the keys. I have a few critical measurements left to enter, but I can meet you there. One-thirty?

  Griffin’s response pinged back immediately as if he’d been waiting eagerly for her answer. Great – see you then.

  Chapter 5

  Rhayne stood, rolled the kinks from her shoulders, and walked toward Althea’s office to collect her and head to the Lido galley. The older woman scowled and mouthed a vulgarity at the screen as the portal slid open to allow entrance. Rhayne stifled the laughter bubbling to the surface when Althea looked up and didn’t smile.

  “What’s going on?” Rhayne questioned.

  “Truser insists on having the monthly workflow charts before his two o’clock meeting. That’s a full three days before they’re normally due.” Althea raked her hands through her hair, destroying the orderly bun she’d started with this morning. “You’ll have to meet Griffin by yourself. There’s no way I can go now.”

  “Maybe we should postpone.”

  “Why? It’s just lunch, and you have to eat. You could bring me back some of their potato soup. Best in the universe. Well, maybe just the best thing on the menu.”

  “Are you sure? I can stay to help with the report.”

  Althea sighed. “Thanks anyway. This is a one-woman job. You go meet Griffin and enjoy getting acquainted. He likes you. I can tell.”

  “What?” Rhayne squeaked. Surprise zipped through her. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant. “He doesn’t know me.”

  “He wants to. Did you see the way he looked at you? I told you that dress was going to turn heads. And if it’s my son’s head that’s turned, so much the better. About time he settled down.”

  “Althea! I’ve only just met him. Don’t partner us up too fast. Besides, doesn’t he have a girlfriend? He mentioned a woman from logistics last night.”

  “Bah! She’s married to a transport captain. Even if she wasn’t, that girl’s not for Griffin. He needs a smarter woman to set the pace of a relationship. He might not know it yet, but he’s ready to make a commitment to someone just like you.”

  Rhayne was distracted from answering by a commotion at the lab’s entry where 58 had been putting up artificial evergreens with gold and white bells. She craned her neck toward the interruption and saw the droid trying, unsuccessfully, to bar the entrance of a large Marine.

  “I’m sorry, Commander. You are not on the appointment list for today, therefore, access will be denied,” 58 said, this time with a clipped British accent. He dropped the greenery and placed a restraining hand on the man’s arm. From here, Rhayne saw the droid’s fingers tightening around the soldier’s massive bicep, an action guaranteed to stop an ordinary man. This big bruiser, however, continued to stalk toward Althea’s office, dragging the droid with him.

  Deke Slater stopped abruptly at the door of the office and looked at the robotic hand, then lifted his cold, gray gaze toward the droid’s face. Rhayne watched skeptically while the soldier with the powerful warrior’s body and stony expression attempted to stare down the emotionless lab assistant. Like that was possible. The droid remained implacable.

  “Remove that hand and step away before I rip it, and all its circuits, out of your mainframe,” Slater snarled. “That’s an order, android.”

  The droid’s programming rendered it unable to argue with a direct order. 58 dropped its hand and stepped aside. “I am quite sorry, Dr. Cooper. I did attempt to stop him. He didn’t even stop to sanitize and put on a lab suit. That’s a breach in protocol. Everything would have been compromised if we were running an experiment today.”

  “It’s quite all right, 58. Deke simply doesn’t understand the concept of social niceties. And he believes that rules and protocols are not for him,” Althea said, frowning at the intruder. “Why don’t you finish the decorating? From the scowl on Commander Slater’s face, it looks like we need the festive greens more than ever.”

  “Althea, I need to speak to you now,” Slater growled. He stared at Rhayne, smirking a little when he saw her jump. He inclined his graying blond head toward the portal. “Privately. Your co-workers need to leave.”

  Althea exhaled loudly and turned a glare of her own on the big, tough military man.

  “Please,” he added, clearing his throat as if the word choked him. “It’s important.”

  Althea’s smile turned triumphant as she waved Rhayne and 58 out the door. “What’s this about, Deke. I’m on a short deadline. You can have two minutes.”

  “This won’t take that long. I want to warn you about—” His words stopped as the portal slid closed. Rhayne looked back over her shoulder in time to see Slater bend over Althea’s desk and speak intently. A frown spread on the woman’s face.

  * * * *

  The crowd in the Lido galley had thinned by the time Griffin saw Rhayne arrive. Even though she’d probably insist that the lunch was a meeting, it amounted to much more as far as Griffin was concerned. His heart thumped erratically in his chest as she approached where he stood in front of the vegetarian Djinn food dualizer. From the instant he’d met her in the cargo bay, he’d been interested in learning more about her. It was an excellent twist of fate that the intriguing woman worked side-by-side with his mother.

  Titan, when he’d seen her again last night at Ma’Jut, he’d wanted to test her skin with his fingertips to see if it was as silky smooth as it looked. He wanted to remove the crimson garment she’d twined so artistically around her body to reveal every glorious meter of peach and porcelain flesh. He’d found it endearing that he apparently made her nervous, if her stuttering attempts at small talk were to be believed. And she smelled heavenly, like exotic flowers and spices. His breath sped up and his body tightened as she crossed the room to where he stood.

  Focus, he warned sternly. Don’t scare her away with aggressive behavior. Her purpose was to update him on her progress this morning. His task was to make sure his mother didn’t end up in a remote prison colony. Hopefully, Rhayne hadn’t failed to convince Truser of her need to review the reports.

  Remembering the objective would be easier if Rhayne weren’t so damned appealing.

  Rhayne fell in next to him at the Djinn. “Hi, you beat me here.”

  He hardened like crystal steel when she looked at him with a thousand-lumen smile on her face. Her unique scent clouded his mind, rendering his effort to act nonchalant nonexistent. He puffed out a breath. “Hey,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder. Electricity surged up his arm. “I got here early to be sure we’d get a private table. Guess I didn’t need to worry.”

  She glanced around the nearly empty galley, then turned her grin his direction.

  He met her bright gaze. Was that female interest or just simply relief that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard? Rhayne cleared her throat and Griffin realized he still held her shoulder. He dropped his hand to his side as she reached to put her crew card in the optic scanner to order her meal.

  “So, what’s good to eat in deep space today?”

  Griffin laughed. Rhayne grinned. It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it. “Good to eat” and “deep space” didn’t really belong in the same sentence. The station’s very small vegetable patch grew in water instead of di
rt. Recycled carbon dioxide from scrubbers responsible for cleaning the station’s air was pumped into the hydro-pond. Despite the fertilizer reclaimed from the sanitation system and the artificial light created by sun lanterns, the plants barely thrived. The Djinns, the computers that provide sustenance for the crew, were loaded with a macerated nourishment that held no resemblance to what came out of the hydroponic sludge it grew in. And usually smelled like dirty socks. The resulting product was generally an unappealing pile of easily digested, but totally bland, porridge.

  That the vegetarian Djinn they stood in front of was the most popular dispenser came as no surprise to Griffin. What the dualizers did to the preserved beef, chicken, and fish that made it to the remote space station was, in Griffin’s estimation, a heinous crime. It was easier to go straight to the vegetable mash.

  He looked forward to the Solstice celebration. He’d already inventoried the seasonings that would spice up the normally blah cuisine, as well as fresh fruit, flash-frozen sweets, and delicacies appropriate for the festivities. It had all arrived on the transport ship with Rhayne.

  Even the worst goo in the universe tasted better when served with a side of sexy like Rhayne. Griffin selected the least unappealing option available, the lentil dumpling soup, and led Rhayne to a secluded corner. Here they could speak quietly and keep an eye on anyone who might be curious. Griffin smiled as he took a seat facing the festively decorated room. Pendant lighting crowned each table. Suspended from the fixture was a sprig of mistletoe. Her eyes widened when he pointed it out. Damn, he’d made her nervous again.

  Rhayne shifted around on her chair, as if trying to get comfortable. She avoided his eyes, concentrating on spreading a napkin on her lap. “Have you met 58? The tech-admin droid in the lab?” Rhayne asked. “When I met it, it greeted me with a French accent. Today, it spoke with a German and British accent. And it winked at me.”

  “Winked?” Griffin sputtered and started laughing. “As in intentionally closing one eye for the purpose of establishing…what? Camaraderie?”

  “I don’t know. It’s as if the French was supposed to impress me, and the German came out when it brought my tea. Just a little bit ago, when Slater showed up in the lab, it got all business-like and clipped with very stuffy aristocratic English. It’s almost as if 58 thinks it’s human. Can that kind of autonomy be programmed?”

  “Got me. But 58 isn’t like any other droid I’ve met.” He spooned up a bite from his service container and frowned. He’d like to blame the unappetizing aroma for the upset in his stomach, but he’d never lied to himself before. The idea that the Marine had called on his mother was responsible for the way his gut twisted. “What was Slater doing there?”

  “Don’t know. I heard him say he wanted to warn Althea, but the portal closed and cut his words off.”

  “It can’t be good news.” Griffin scowled and dropped his spoon to the table and changed the subject. “Did you have a chance to review any of the files you wanted to see?”

  Rhayne’s gaze flashed to his before she did a quick scan of their fellow diners. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It’s the oddest thing. They had a promising path two years ago. I spent the morning scanning lab reports from all the experiments they ran around that time frame and saw the answer immediately. What I can’t figure out is why they didn’t pursue the hypothesis.”

  Griffin wasn’t a scientist, but the lack of follow through on the findings of the earlier study seemed criminal.

  “My mind has been churning, trying to understand the breach in protocol I discovered.” She pushed her bowl away. “Two years ago would have been too late to save my father, but it might have saved countless other lives of people with the genetic predisposition to the illness that took his life.”

  “Your dad died from this? I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what to say next so he picked up his spoon and twirled it through the brownish-gray soup. He waited for her to continue.

  She twisted her fingers together and hunched her shoulders. “I’ve discovered an emerging trend that is disturbing. According to statistics noted, people with neoplastic disease are dying faster. What used to take years to kill a person is now taking months, and in a few cases, mere weeks. With those statistics, why stop exploring the most promising avenue of research they’d discovered in recent years? It makes no sense.”

  Griffin leaned forward, bringing his face within inches of Rhayne’s. Anyone looking at them might have thought they were about to take advantage of the mistletoe hanging over their heads. He fought the urge to render that perception true. He could barely drag his eyes away from her lush lips. “With the access Truser gave you, will you be able to review the official documentation of the process? Or is it just the lab notes?”

  “That’s a good question. Unfortunately, I don’t know if my clearance covers upper level communications. I’m half afraid to attempt to access it because Truser will know for sure I’m digging for more than past lab reports. I could try once and pass it off as an error if he asks.”

  The husky quality of her voice seemed a sure sign she was as affected by their proximity as him. He searched her gaze, looking for permission to lay his lips along hers and sink into a deep kiss.

  His mom dropped unexpectedly into the seat across from Rhayne. Griffin dragged his gaze away from Rhayne’s hypnotic brown eyes. As usual, his mother had impeccable timing.

  Rhayne greeted her with a half-smile. “Hey, what’s going on? I thought you had to pull that report.”

  Mom grabbed the roll off his plate and broke off a piece. “58 offered to do it, so I let it. This is more important, especially given what Deke just told me.”

  Tension tightened in Griffin’s back, drawing him up in his seat. Trepidation slithered across his shoulders like a Silpudian caterpillar. “What happened?”

  “There has been increased frequency of communication between Truser and Claymont. Each one with high-level encryption from WIT. There has also been more scrutiny than normal of work terminal operations for the Mistletoe lab.”

  “Did he say what they were looking for?” Rhayne asked.

  “He said the security force techs had been instructed by the Integrity Office to search for any keystrokes that formed specific words.”

  Rhayne’s mouth dropped open, and she pressed her hand against her chest. “Are they looking for chimera?”

  Surprise flitted over his mother’s face. “How did you ever guess that?”

  “I was right! The research I scanned this morning is the answer.”

  Mom gasped. “Titan, that was fast. The last research project about that was three or four years ago. It would have been buried pretty deep in chronological record. How on earth did you find it already?”

  Rhayne glanced at Griffin and took pity on his confusion. She explained, “I’m a fast reader. Works nicely with the near photographic memory I mentioned last night. When I first arrived on the station, I started reviewing records from the beginning of the study. There was a potentially promising research thread that had studied mutation during cellular division. It appeared they were trying to create two distinct genotypes in the plant meristem.”

  Mom’s breath hissed out her pursed lips in a low whistle of admiration. “That is pure genius. But I never heard of this division of research in the lab. Why would Truser keep this from me? Had they reached the grafting stage?”

  Griffin hated when he didn’t understand things he probably should have learned at some point in his educational years. Griffin held up a hand, interrupting before Rhayne answered. “Can someone explain what a chimera is…for those among us not blessed with the science gene? Please?”

  Mom leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Chimera comes from the ancient Archaeo-Greek period. It’s a reference to a monstrous mythical beast made up of different animals—lions, snakes, and goats. The creature was typically depicted as a fire breather. In this instance, what we’re talking about is one plant composed of geneticall
y different types of plants.”

  Griffin scowled. That didn’t sound like something he’d like to run into.

  Mom laughed at him. “I can see you’re still confused. I told you to pay attention in school. Let’s try a different explanation. Do you remember the orchard behind Uncle Guido’s house on Earth?”

  Griffin smiled. He had fond memories of the summer days spent with his uncle. “Yeah, I used to climb those trees all the time when we visited.”

  “One year, Guido grafted a branch from a pear tree onto one of his apple trees. Do you remember how proud he was to show you the pear growing right next to apples on that branch? That’s a form of chimerism. Both species grew on the same tree, but were genetically distinct.”

  Griffin still recalled the sweet juice of that piece of fruit. He finally understood the concept. “I do remember that. He gave me a bite of the pear. It kind of tasted like an apple, but the texture was wrong.”

  His mom nodded and continued. “The cells of the apple mutated during reproduction, or fertilization. The seeds from that particular pear, when planted, would produce trees that might be apple wood but pear leaves. And the fruit would always taste like the piece you ate in Guido’s orchard. It’s basic genetics, just like the monks in Ancient Earth history taught us.”

  “Except in this case, the researcher created a hybrid form of mistletoe,” Rhayne added. “Althea, have you ever seen any plants with variegated leaves?”

  “Never. In fact, this is the first I’m hearing of any research along these lines. Who was the lead scientist?”

  “A fellow named Greg Chase. Do you know him?”

  “I did. He was a replacement researcher,” Mom said. Distress shadowed her eyes. “Did you say the avenue of research you found was from two years ago? Greg was only here briefly. I remember him spending a lot of time in the lab, and more in Truser’s office.”

  He tipped his head to the side, thinking. “I remember him I think. Quiet guy, a lot nerdy. He came into Ma’jut once or twice. Always left a big tip. Wasn’t he the researcher who died on Saturn’s surface?”