“They’re fine,” Brack had replied.
“No more incidents with the woman with the bot?” He’d told his first officer what had happened with canine AI, and that he’d allowed Miranda Lowell to keep it.
“No.”
Normally he appreciated a succinct answer, but her brevity on this matter frustrated him. He was forced to drop the subject for fear of arousing curiosity or a perception of impropriety. The captain should not take a personal interest in a specific passenger.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about Miranda, couldn’t forget her flashing eyes, her scowl, and her obvious affection for, and fierce defense of, the canine robot. She treated it like a pet. As a boy, he’d had a real dog once. He’d loved that animal so much. The K9 500 had looked and acted so lifelike, it had him fooled until she had revealed it was a robot—seconds before it sank its titanium teeth into his ankle. Since his legs were titanium overlaid with skin and regrown muscle, no permanent harm had been done, but the electrified bite had hurt like hell. He wondered if she’d obeyed his edict and kept the robot deactivated. He had a hunch she’d flouted his order.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured Miranda healthy and glowing, her curves filled out, her face serene and relaxed, and an ache filled him. How inappropriate would it look if he paid her a visit? As captain, he was responsible for every single person on the ship. He could seek her out and inquire about the other colonists.
Almost as if longing had conjured her presence, her reflection appeared in the observation lounge window. Dante spun around to find Miranda standing there, clutching a computer tablet.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said. “May I speak with you?”
His heart raced as pleasure rushed through him. He hadn’t had such a reaction to a woman since before the transformation to cyborg. He scanned the near empty room. No colonists were present, and the few crewmembers were on the other side of the lounge. Once the colonists had been medically cleared, the crew had been allowed to use the observation deck again.
The colonists had their own mess hall, so the observation deck was the only area where crew and refugees could mingle. Not that they did. He’d noticed the New Utopians rarely used the lounge, and when they did, they avoided the crew and kept to themselves.
He’d never encountered Miranda here, although hadn’t he secretly hoped? Wasn’t that why he’d started coming? Two weeks had begun to fill out the hollows in her cheeks and erase the dark smudges from beneath her eyes. She was still far too slender, but she looked healthier than the last time he’d seen her.
“I’m glad I ran into you. I’d asked to see you, but I was told it wouldn’t be appropriate,” she said.
No it wasn’t, but his heart thudded anyway. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
“Some New Utopians are missing.”
Of course she hadn’t sought him out because she desired his company. Why would she? He was a cyborg. Half man. Half machine. And they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. He’d threatened to airlock the K9 unit, the one thing she cared about. He straightened. “Missing, how? What do you mean?”
“They’re gone. I haven’t seen them in days.”
“There are 212 of you. It would be easy to overlook someone.”
She shook her head and waved the tablet. “I thought so, too, at first. But I got a manifest and went through it name by name, checking off everyone I’d seen. If I had trouble finding someone, I asked people they were close to, so I’m sure I’ve accounted for everyone.”
“And you did this, why?”
“My cabin mate has disappeared. Althea Withers and I shared quarters, but after a few days, she vanished. She returned briefly, but now she’s been gone for more than a week. I asked about her, but no one has seen her lately, and people have reported others missing. I knew I would need proof, so I obtained the manifest.”
Dante gestured to a seating area. “Why don’t we sit down?” he said. With the quarantine in effect, it was unlikely colonists could have strayed—although it was possible. If they had managed to venture outside of their assigned section, then his crew had been derelict in their duty, and disciplinary action needed to be taken. Civilians couldn’t be allowed to wander on a warbird.
Most likely Miranda had miscounted or her fellow colonists’ observations weren’t accurate. Human memory was notoriously faulty. Just because you couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen someone didn’t mean he or she had vanished. The “missing” colonists were probably still in their section.
He and Miranda sat on hard metal stools.
She bit her lip. “I’m worried. What could have happened to them?”
“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for why you haven’t seen them around,” he said carefully. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t care or wasn’t giving her concerns consideration—but the colonists couldn’t have vanished. “With respect to your roommate, for instance, she probably just wanted time to herself. You said she’d left once before and then came back.”
“No.” Brown curls bounced with a vehement shake. “Althea is gone. The first time she’d left for only two days. She came back, but then ran away and I haven’t seen her since. Neither has anyone else.”
“She ran away? Why?”
She flushed and twisted her hands. “Uh, I had activated Sparky. He…uh…tried to bite her. She got scared and ran—I haven’t switched him on since that happened.”
He sighed. “I must insist you keep the bot powered down,” he rebuked gently. “So the unit scared your roommate, she fled and never returned. Did you report her disappearance to the liaison?”
“Warren Ochoa is missing, too.”
“What?”
“He’s not in his office or his quarters. No one has seen him in days. He hasn’t been to the mess hall.”
He eyed the tablet computer she’d set on the table. “If you haven’t seen the liaison, how did you obtain the passenger manifest?”
She flushed guiltily. “His office was open. I’m an archivist. Accessing records is what I do. I, uh, used his terminal and sent a copy of the manifest to a handheld.”
This was unacceptable. Dante pressed his lips together. He wasn’t mad at Miranda. The liaison was supposed to represent the colonists, act as go-between them and Lieutenant Brack. If he’d made himself so scarce that no one could find him and had left his terminal unsecured thus allowing a passenger to access the ship’s records, he had violated security protocols.
“I know I probably broke the rules but—”
He arched his brows. “Probably?”
“I didn’t know what else to do! People have disappeared!”
“How many?”
“Nine at least.” She tapped her tablet’s screen before sliding the device across the table. “Here are the names.”
He scanned the list. With the exception of the liaison and the roommate, the names didn’t mean anything to him, but the individuals had to be accounted for. Security needed to be tightened, a more responsible liaison needed to be appointed, and Dante intended to have a word with his first officer. Why wasn’t she dealing with this issue?