Blue shift protocol, p.3
Blue Shift Protocol, page 3
“You prefer I say we had the good fortune to not be in range of an erupting asteroid?”
“I prefer it if you keep quiet.”
“Or what, wrench jockey? Your name shows up on the work orders for half the active ships back at Nexus. Including Kingfisher. With the amount of bullshit that breaks on Nightingale, what if we’re not just talking about bad luck but incompetence or neglect?”
Trenton was off the couch.
Saanvi intercepted him and kept the two men apart. “Cool it, Trent. And Luc? Keep your trap shut.”
Finger waggling, Lucjan laughed. “A little sensitive, old man? Or is that the burn of guilt? Cut some corners trying to rack up extra maintenance shifts? You grease monkeys and your swagger. Everyone is so sick of it.”
Even with Saanvi’s hands on him, Trenton pushed forward. She fell. He stumbled over her and into Lucjan. Caught a knee, a palm of a hand, a slap to his ear as he grabbed the man’s shirt. Hands were on them both as other crew peeled them apart.
XO Isles stormed into the room. “What is going on in here?”
Trenton was breathing too hard to speak.
“He attacked me!” Lucjan said.
“We have eight crew dead on the Kingfisher. Eight families shattered. And you two can’t keep a lid on it? You have anything to say, Trenton?”
“Lucjan and I were working something out. It’s between me and him.”
“If you can’t bottle it up, you get sedated. I need both of you on deck for the mission. We don’t have time for this.”
Trenton gave a palms-up sign of surrender. The XO nodded and the man holding him let go.
Lucjan was likewise released. His face shone bright red. “He needs to be locked away!”
“You’re both professionals and we’re in the middle of an op. Lucjan, go to quarters and stay there. Trenton, you’re in my office.”
XO Isles’ ‘office’ was his minuscule cabin, with barely enough room for two full-sized adults to stand face to face. The room had a nautical theme, with stenciled ropes, knots, and imaginary rigging marking the walls. A tiny captain’s wheel was screwed into the wall next to the doorway. Frosted anchors decorated the light fixtures.
Isles perched on his pop-down seat and grabbed a plastic bottle from a locked drawer.
“Drink?”
“It’ll only put me in a worse mood.”
“Lucjan isn’t going to let this go this time.”
“Fair enough. I’ll take the heat.”
“I know you will. Another mark on the record, and for what? He’s not worth it. Let me guess: you egged him on.”
“It’s between him and me.”
“Obviously, it isn’t anymore. The entire crew is involved on a boat this small. Is there any part of this pep talk we haven’t had before?”
“I don’t mind hearing it again. You do it so well.”
Isles sighed. “I need you here for your expertise, not your knuckles. You may think you keep us running, but there are other warm bodies who can fill your socks.”
“The kids waiting in the wings need an AR network to change a light bulb.”
“They do. But they’ll get it done without breaking anyone’s jaw.”
“And when the network’s offline?”
“Goddammit, you’re not irreplaceable. Get that through your thick skull. Even if Lucjan gets transferred, you’ll find someone else to fight with.”
They shared a silent moment.
The Nightingale was never quiet, with fans pushing air and recycled water gurgling through the pipes. Thermal hull expansion and contraction, as if the ship were a creaky old crone struggling through her most basic tasks. Voices, laughter, and the clipped chatter from Ops on the opposite side of the cabin wall.
Isles drank. Winced as he considered the bottle, as if his hooch offended. “You could manage a station crew, you know.”
“I guess I like it here.”
“Come on. No one does. This place smelled the moment we climbed aboard, and it only got worse. Hours in the rack, days with nothing but routine, and the same faces wearing the tired, stupid look of crew who think a small boost in pay is worth the misery.”
“I get to enjoy your company.”
“Don’t blow steam up my ass. I’m hanging up my spurs the first chance I get. I might have enough points after this op to do just that.”
“And then what?”
“Get to know my teenage son, take up interpretive dance, sit behind a desk and look important.” Another sip, and Isles put the bottle away. “Enjoy better food and drink, that’s for sure. So what’s it going to be, Trent? Am I having Doc Tan drug you up for the duration or can you stay out of Lucjan’s orbit for a couple more weeks?”
“A couple more weeks? We’re slow-boating it back to Nexus?”
“Yeah. But that’s on the QT for now. One: we don’t need to rush back once we finish up here. Two: we have a second mission, depending on what the big brains aboard Dragonfly find.”
“What mission?”
“We’re bringing that rock home.”
Chapter Six
Evening twilight, according to the sky. But the glow of the setting sun and the budding starscape, along with the cool summer breeze, were lies.
Penny wiggled the tension from her fingers as she pressed a thumb against the biometric lock. It ignored her. If she tried a third time and failed, it would draw the attention of station security.
They’d be slow.
Some doughy Chuck with hemorrhoids would try to find the door on the security monitor, only to discover the camera had been disabled.
Jacko, the kid next to her, fidgeted. Oversized shirt sleeves covered his hands and his pants were too short. “Hurry.”
“I told you to go home.”
“I’m helping.”
“Help by being quiet.”
The lifted prints she had from the block’s night janitor weren’t working. The gel thumb she took so much pride in? Useless. Exceeding operational parameters, as her engineering primer would say. She flung the three-month-old fake digit into the shrubs next to the sealed door.
From her cargo shorts, she produced a thin screwdriver. The lock panel popped off with ease. Point of no return. If the Chucks were on the ball, they’d respond to an error from a security door going offline faster than investigating a malfunctioning camera. Should run and come up with another solution. But there were hungry bellies waiting to be filled.
“Jacko? Stopwatch.”
The boy started counting.
Pliers helped her yank the wire from the housing of the sensor plate. With a twist, she crimped the exposed leads together. A fizz and a pop. Something hummed within the door as the magnetic seal powered down. Lock picks next, and the door opened.
Jack scurried into the tunnel behind her as the motion-sensitive lights above glowed to life.
“Forty-five...forty-six...”
They marched through a corridor cramped with floor-cleaning equipment, ladders, plumbing and electrical supplies, and tools. So many tempting things to pocket. But the fastest way to get on the janitorial staff’s bad side was to take their stuff.
Thumping bass and twangy guitars reverberated from the bar above them. Gina’s Oasis, serving tapas, beer, and fun! Open 25/7. Nexus Net reviews gave it 4.1 stars. “The best lunch in Ring Three, hands down. Yummy!”
But to eat there, you needed a work credit ID number.
An access hatch led to a trapdoor. Penny had the lock mechanism memorized. Gentle pressure, a little torque, a flick of the pins with her hook pick, and it glided open.
The club basement was cluttered with supplies. Dishes, glasses, stacked chairs, and crates of ingredients for the food printers. One box would do. Premium red, orange and brown bricks sealed in wax paper. The unique smell of sweet honey and chicken bouillon. Meals for a week for her crew.
“Ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine...do I keep counting?”
“We’re leaving. Stay on my heels.”
Down the hatch and into the corridor. From the entrance, the hiss of the automatic door closer. The sensor lights dimmed as Penny motioned for Jacko to freeze. A blue beam cut through the pockets of gloom. Someone was coming.
The deeper reaches of the access tunnel led past multiple doors to better-secured shops. There was also another security motion detector and a second camera she hadn’t disabled. No helping it now.
She threw on her hood. Jacko followed suit as they scurried to a set of stairs.
“Hey! Stop!”
Running now, taking two steps at a time. She smashed through the fire exit and paused long enough to ensure Jacko made it through. Main concourse? The lobby of the food court? Both were nightmares of surveillance.
The third option? Recycling and waste disposal breezeway. It meant cutting across the open landscaping. They sprinted over the grass in the bland afternoon sunlight.
A security officer was right behind them. Black ball cap, gray shirt, charcoal slacks, and a star on his chest. Red scruffy sideburns and a shaved chin.
“You two! Hold it!”
The Chuck was running after them. More of a gallop, really, as he barely made the center path by the time Penny and Jacko ducked into the breezeway. Dumpsters of waste waiting for shredding, blending, and recycling.
The aroma of fruity rot made Penny queasy. And it was only going to get worse.
The hatch with the busted lock led to a ladder down into the sewer system. Skid row, she thought wryly as she descended to the narrow catwalk. From here, Jacko took the lead, scurrying past several junctions before choosing another ladder up.
Penny adjusted her grip on the box. She was winded and trying to hold her breath against the stench. The ladder up took them to a service corridor. From there, they emerged onto a walkway between buildings near the university.
As it ran the circumference of the school, the paved path was empty of students and staff. From there, they made it to the faculty housing. Each small townhouse had a tiny yard. They slipped through a gate and into an unlocked door.
Three children near Jacko’s age were gathered around a handheld game console on the dining space table. When she entered, they swarmed her.
She set down her package and gave them hugs.
“Was there trouble?”
“A little. But the Chucks were slow, as always.”
“When do we eat?”
“Soon. I’ll start dinner now. You’re doing your lessons?”
Nods from the three. “All finished.”
“Good. I’ll check your work after we do the dishes.”
She took her time unboxing the foodstuffs. Colored bricks that, once cut and measured, would keep the printer on the counter chugging. Bellies would be full tonight without having to brave the general commissary.
Now what to make? Something with noodles was always a winner. Tetrazzini? Mac casserole? Carbonara sounded yummy.
She removed the last brick from the box when she found the tracker.
Chapter Seven
How long before the Chucks zeroed in on the hideout house? They’d be fast if the bar owner set the alert to go off once the tracker inside the food box was moved.
A trap, and she had stumbled into it like a sprog. Should have found other places to steal from. It meant journeying further out, with more checkpoints, cameras, and security.
They had been eating food printer recipes made from green and blue bricks for weeks. Even Penny was sick of lentils, zucchini loaf, and soggy soy tacos.
She pocketed the tracker.
“I’ll be back. Don’t touch the printer.”
She jogged out of the yard gate and chose a path leading to the student dorms. Risky. She had done enough pilfering there before deciding not to do crimes near home base.
From here, she could head in a dozen directions. Plus, there were enough students and staff crowding the common areas near the cafeteria.
A Chuck headed her way. Silver shades. The uniformed deputy adjusted her belt rig and tapped her collar mike. Despite the silly glasses, it was obvious the cop saw her.
Penny darted between a group of girls sitting on the grass and shoved past the people emerging from the cafeteria with plates loaded with sandwiches, fries, and fat burritos.
Swipe Uni Card Before Entry, according to the sign.
She sprinted towards a side entrance but skidded to a stop. Another deputy appeared on the opposite side of the glass doors.
Her heart hammered as she vaulted the service counter. A kitchen worker shouted at her as Penny navigated the stoves and dishwashing stations. The back door led to a recycling unit and a jumbo air purifier. The gate leading out took precious seconds as the simple latch stuck when she first turned it.
“Station security! Stop!”
A third cop. The big guy with the red sideburns. Her panicked mind blanked all options except running. The woman with the shades appeared in her path, her arms wide as if ready to embrace.
“That’s far enough.”
No one had drawn their baton or stunner. But with three—scratch that, four—Chucks around her, she raised her hands.
Penny knew the Chuck with the shades. Deputy Ballard. Ballard wielded a blackjack and stood poised to use it. Almost looked disappointed when Penny allowed herself to be zip-tied.
A stern woman in a breezy black pantsuit held a device in her raised hand. “What are you doing to her?”
Ballard stiffened. “Keep back, ma’am. We’re apprehending a thief.”
“Looks like a scared young woman to me, deputy.
She went to each cop and recorded their faces. “You know station security isn’t authorized to be on campus except for emergencies.”
“We were justified in pursuit of our suspect. She’s guilty of property crimes, trespassing into restricted areas, and stealing critical supplies.”
“Did she hurt anybody?”
“No, ma’am. But she’s known to us for a string of similar crimes.”
“All nonviolent, am I right? Your aggressive chase violates more than a dozen statutes. I won’t bore you with the details. I’ve summoned the university police and you can hash it out with them. In the meantime, please remove those restraints.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, we’ve been after her for too long just to cut her loose.”
“What’s your proof that she’s your master thief responsible for this rampant crime wave?”
“There’s a tracker on her from a stolen crate of foodstuffs.”
“Indeed? Show me?”
Penny trembled as Officer Ballard waved her smart glove across her body. Repeated the action. Ballard checked her device. “She must have discarded it back in the cafeteria.”
“Then let’s find that smoking gun, shall we?” To Penny, she asked, “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Penny.”
“A pleasure. I’m Professor Eames, but you can call me Moira.”
Deputy Ballard went to the cafeteria’s side entrance. Paused. She turned about, her device in hand, before hurrying back.
“Problem, deputy?” Professor Eames asked.
“The tracker’s on the move.”
“So perhaps your suspect is still out there. It’s easy to get confused. Campus security is in that office down past the junipers. You can share your tracker link with them and they’ll take over. Now let’s snip these plastic cuffs, shall we?”
“We’ll consult with university personnel before doing that.”
Just in time, a campus cop joined the group. He and Ballard spoke for a couple of minutes before Ballard approached Penny.
Her hands were freed. The university’s security guard was a plump man in a sweater and a backward ball cap. He and the station guards continued their chat, which grew pointed, with Ballard’s face turning red.
“Off we pop,” Eames whispered to Penny.
“Can’t they still arrest me?”
“Only if you tarry.”
They hurried off. A slight figure waved at them from the doorway of the closest dorm. Jacko, and he had the tracker in hand as if holding a prize.
Professor Eames put out a hand and he gave it to her. “Clever boy.” She kissed him on the head.
“You were supposed to stay home,” Penny chided.
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t?”
On their way home, Eames flicked the tracker into a fountain. “You two look hungry. What do you say we get you and the kids something to eat?”
PROFESSOR EAMES DIDN’T know her way around a food printer. Spent forever scrolling through the menus, unable to make a decision. She hadn’t gone through the cupboards to see the fresh bricks of ingredients.
“Gumbo? We had chili last week, didn’t we?”
Penny spun a cup on the table. “We did. You already asked about that.”
The other children had piled onto the couch to watch cartoons on the vid screen. A blue dragon argued with a supercilious owl over whether to purchase a massive marine anchor.
“But it’s on sale,” the dragon pled.
Eames tsked. “We’re back to the gumbo. I can make that one.”
“I told you the printer makes it too mushy,” Penny said.
The professor placed a hand on the countertop to steady herself. Hit Home on the printer’s menu and was back to the start.
“Apple pie?” she asked. “No, I guess we can’t.”
Penny scowled. “This is dinner, Professor. We can make pie after because I have brown food blocks to make a dessert.”
“Where’d you get brown? I thought we were all out. How about...”
Eames swooned. Penny caught her by the elbow as she nearly fell. She led her to the couch, where the kids made room.
“Sit. I’ll take care of supper.”
Eames nodded, her face slack. Then she stared at the dragon flying with the owl on screen, and her face lit up. Jacko plopped an arm around her shoulder. Gave Penny a look as if to say, “I got this.”
“Food will be up in twenty minutes.”
She set the printer to spaghetti and meatballs before heading for the upstairs bathroom. A bottle of pills sat on the vanity. The glue on the forged label was peeling. She took a moment to find the adhesive stick so she could reattach it. The bottle went back into the medicine cabinet.
“I prefer it if you keep quiet.”
“Or what, wrench jockey? Your name shows up on the work orders for half the active ships back at Nexus. Including Kingfisher. With the amount of bullshit that breaks on Nightingale, what if we’re not just talking about bad luck but incompetence or neglect?”
Trenton was off the couch.
Saanvi intercepted him and kept the two men apart. “Cool it, Trent. And Luc? Keep your trap shut.”
Finger waggling, Lucjan laughed. “A little sensitive, old man? Or is that the burn of guilt? Cut some corners trying to rack up extra maintenance shifts? You grease monkeys and your swagger. Everyone is so sick of it.”
Even with Saanvi’s hands on him, Trenton pushed forward. She fell. He stumbled over her and into Lucjan. Caught a knee, a palm of a hand, a slap to his ear as he grabbed the man’s shirt. Hands were on them both as other crew peeled them apart.
XO Isles stormed into the room. “What is going on in here?”
Trenton was breathing too hard to speak.
“He attacked me!” Lucjan said.
“We have eight crew dead on the Kingfisher. Eight families shattered. And you two can’t keep a lid on it? You have anything to say, Trenton?”
“Lucjan and I were working something out. It’s between me and him.”
“If you can’t bottle it up, you get sedated. I need both of you on deck for the mission. We don’t have time for this.”
Trenton gave a palms-up sign of surrender. The XO nodded and the man holding him let go.
Lucjan was likewise released. His face shone bright red. “He needs to be locked away!”
“You’re both professionals and we’re in the middle of an op. Lucjan, go to quarters and stay there. Trenton, you’re in my office.”
XO Isles’ ‘office’ was his minuscule cabin, with barely enough room for two full-sized adults to stand face to face. The room had a nautical theme, with stenciled ropes, knots, and imaginary rigging marking the walls. A tiny captain’s wheel was screwed into the wall next to the doorway. Frosted anchors decorated the light fixtures.
Isles perched on his pop-down seat and grabbed a plastic bottle from a locked drawer.
“Drink?”
“It’ll only put me in a worse mood.”
“Lucjan isn’t going to let this go this time.”
“Fair enough. I’ll take the heat.”
“I know you will. Another mark on the record, and for what? He’s not worth it. Let me guess: you egged him on.”
“It’s between him and me.”
“Obviously, it isn’t anymore. The entire crew is involved on a boat this small. Is there any part of this pep talk we haven’t had before?”
“I don’t mind hearing it again. You do it so well.”
Isles sighed. “I need you here for your expertise, not your knuckles. You may think you keep us running, but there are other warm bodies who can fill your socks.”
“The kids waiting in the wings need an AR network to change a light bulb.”
“They do. But they’ll get it done without breaking anyone’s jaw.”
“And when the network’s offline?”
“Goddammit, you’re not irreplaceable. Get that through your thick skull. Even if Lucjan gets transferred, you’ll find someone else to fight with.”
They shared a silent moment.
The Nightingale was never quiet, with fans pushing air and recycled water gurgling through the pipes. Thermal hull expansion and contraction, as if the ship were a creaky old crone struggling through her most basic tasks. Voices, laughter, and the clipped chatter from Ops on the opposite side of the cabin wall.
Isles drank. Winced as he considered the bottle, as if his hooch offended. “You could manage a station crew, you know.”
“I guess I like it here.”
“Come on. No one does. This place smelled the moment we climbed aboard, and it only got worse. Hours in the rack, days with nothing but routine, and the same faces wearing the tired, stupid look of crew who think a small boost in pay is worth the misery.”
“I get to enjoy your company.”
“Don’t blow steam up my ass. I’m hanging up my spurs the first chance I get. I might have enough points after this op to do just that.”
“And then what?”
“Get to know my teenage son, take up interpretive dance, sit behind a desk and look important.” Another sip, and Isles put the bottle away. “Enjoy better food and drink, that’s for sure. So what’s it going to be, Trent? Am I having Doc Tan drug you up for the duration or can you stay out of Lucjan’s orbit for a couple more weeks?”
“A couple more weeks? We’re slow-boating it back to Nexus?”
“Yeah. But that’s on the QT for now. One: we don’t need to rush back once we finish up here. Two: we have a second mission, depending on what the big brains aboard Dragonfly find.”
“What mission?”
“We’re bringing that rock home.”
Chapter Six
Evening twilight, according to the sky. But the glow of the setting sun and the budding starscape, along with the cool summer breeze, were lies.
Penny wiggled the tension from her fingers as she pressed a thumb against the biometric lock. It ignored her. If she tried a third time and failed, it would draw the attention of station security.
They’d be slow.
Some doughy Chuck with hemorrhoids would try to find the door on the security monitor, only to discover the camera had been disabled.
Jacko, the kid next to her, fidgeted. Oversized shirt sleeves covered his hands and his pants were too short. “Hurry.”
“I told you to go home.”
“I’m helping.”
“Help by being quiet.”
The lifted prints she had from the block’s night janitor weren’t working. The gel thumb she took so much pride in? Useless. Exceeding operational parameters, as her engineering primer would say. She flung the three-month-old fake digit into the shrubs next to the sealed door.
From her cargo shorts, she produced a thin screwdriver. The lock panel popped off with ease. Point of no return. If the Chucks were on the ball, they’d respond to an error from a security door going offline faster than investigating a malfunctioning camera. Should run and come up with another solution. But there were hungry bellies waiting to be filled.
“Jacko? Stopwatch.”
The boy started counting.
Pliers helped her yank the wire from the housing of the sensor plate. With a twist, she crimped the exposed leads together. A fizz and a pop. Something hummed within the door as the magnetic seal powered down. Lock picks next, and the door opened.
Jack scurried into the tunnel behind her as the motion-sensitive lights above glowed to life.
“Forty-five...forty-six...”
They marched through a corridor cramped with floor-cleaning equipment, ladders, plumbing and electrical supplies, and tools. So many tempting things to pocket. But the fastest way to get on the janitorial staff’s bad side was to take their stuff.
Thumping bass and twangy guitars reverberated from the bar above them. Gina’s Oasis, serving tapas, beer, and fun! Open 25/7. Nexus Net reviews gave it 4.1 stars. “The best lunch in Ring Three, hands down. Yummy!”
But to eat there, you needed a work credit ID number.
An access hatch led to a trapdoor. Penny had the lock mechanism memorized. Gentle pressure, a little torque, a flick of the pins with her hook pick, and it glided open.
The club basement was cluttered with supplies. Dishes, glasses, stacked chairs, and crates of ingredients for the food printers. One box would do. Premium red, orange and brown bricks sealed in wax paper. The unique smell of sweet honey and chicken bouillon. Meals for a week for her crew.
“Ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine...do I keep counting?”
“We’re leaving. Stay on my heels.”
Down the hatch and into the corridor. From the entrance, the hiss of the automatic door closer. The sensor lights dimmed as Penny motioned for Jacko to freeze. A blue beam cut through the pockets of gloom. Someone was coming.
The deeper reaches of the access tunnel led past multiple doors to better-secured shops. There was also another security motion detector and a second camera she hadn’t disabled. No helping it now.
She threw on her hood. Jacko followed suit as they scurried to a set of stairs.
“Hey! Stop!”
Running now, taking two steps at a time. She smashed through the fire exit and paused long enough to ensure Jacko made it through. Main concourse? The lobby of the food court? Both were nightmares of surveillance.
The third option? Recycling and waste disposal breezeway. It meant cutting across the open landscaping. They sprinted over the grass in the bland afternoon sunlight.
A security officer was right behind them. Black ball cap, gray shirt, charcoal slacks, and a star on his chest. Red scruffy sideburns and a shaved chin.
“You two! Hold it!”
The Chuck was running after them. More of a gallop, really, as he barely made the center path by the time Penny and Jacko ducked into the breezeway. Dumpsters of waste waiting for shredding, blending, and recycling.
The aroma of fruity rot made Penny queasy. And it was only going to get worse.
The hatch with the busted lock led to a ladder down into the sewer system. Skid row, she thought wryly as she descended to the narrow catwalk. From here, Jacko took the lead, scurrying past several junctions before choosing another ladder up.
Penny adjusted her grip on the box. She was winded and trying to hold her breath against the stench. The ladder up took them to a service corridor. From there, they emerged onto a walkway between buildings near the university.
As it ran the circumference of the school, the paved path was empty of students and staff. From there, they made it to the faculty housing. Each small townhouse had a tiny yard. They slipped through a gate and into an unlocked door.
Three children near Jacko’s age were gathered around a handheld game console on the dining space table. When she entered, they swarmed her.
She set down her package and gave them hugs.
“Was there trouble?”
“A little. But the Chucks were slow, as always.”
“When do we eat?”
“Soon. I’ll start dinner now. You’re doing your lessons?”
Nods from the three. “All finished.”
“Good. I’ll check your work after we do the dishes.”
She took her time unboxing the foodstuffs. Colored bricks that, once cut and measured, would keep the printer on the counter chugging. Bellies would be full tonight without having to brave the general commissary.
Now what to make? Something with noodles was always a winner. Tetrazzini? Mac casserole? Carbonara sounded yummy.
She removed the last brick from the box when she found the tracker.
Chapter Seven
How long before the Chucks zeroed in on the hideout house? They’d be fast if the bar owner set the alert to go off once the tracker inside the food box was moved.
A trap, and she had stumbled into it like a sprog. Should have found other places to steal from. It meant journeying further out, with more checkpoints, cameras, and security.
They had been eating food printer recipes made from green and blue bricks for weeks. Even Penny was sick of lentils, zucchini loaf, and soggy soy tacos.
She pocketed the tracker.
“I’ll be back. Don’t touch the printer.”
She jogged out of the yard gate and chose a path leading to the student dorms. Risky. She had done enough pilfering there before deciding not to do crimes near home base.
From here, she could head in a dozen directions. Plus, there were enough students and staff crowding the common areas near the cafeteria.
A Chuck headed her way. Silver shades. The uniformed deputy adjusted her belt rig and tapped her collar mike. Despite the silly glasses, it was obvious the cop saw her.
Penny darted between a group of girls sitting on the grass and shoved past the people emerging from the cafeteria with plates loaded with sandwiches, fries, and fat burritos.
Swipe Uni Card Before Entry, according to the sign.
She sprinted towards a side entrance but skidded to a stop. Another deputy appeared on the opposite side of the glass doors.
Her heart hammered as she vaulted the service counter. A kitchen worker shouted at her as Penny navigated the stoves and dishwashing stations. The back door led to a recycling unit and a jumbo air purifier. The gate leading out took precious seconds as the simple latch stuck when she first turned it.
“Station security! Stop!”
A third cop. The big guy with the red sideburns. Her panicked mind blanked all options except running. The woman with the shades appeared in her path, her arms wide as if ready to embrace.
“That’s far enough.”
No one had drawn their baton or stunner. But with three—scratch that, four—Chucks around her, she raised her hands.
Penny knew the Chuck with the shades. Deputy Ballard. Ballard wielded a blackjack and stood poised to use it. Almost looked disappointed when Penny allowed herself to be zip-tied.
A stern woman in a breezy black pantsuit held a device in her raised hand. “What are you doing to her?”
Ballard stiffened. “Keep back, ma’am. We’re apprehending a thief.”
“Looks like a scared young woman to me, deputy.
She went to each cop and recorded their faces. “You know station security isn’t authorized to be on campus except for emergencies.”
“We were justified in pursuit of our suspect. She’s guilty of property crimes, trespassing into restricted areas, and stealing critical supplies.”
“Did she hurt anybody?”
“No, ma’am. But she’s known to us for a string of similar crimes.”
“All nonviolent, am I right? Your aggressive chase violates more than a dozen statutes. I won’t bore you with the details. I’ve summoned the university police and you can hash it out with them. In the meantime, please remove those restraints.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, we’ve been after her for too long just to cut her loose.”
“What’s your proof that she’s your master thief responsible for this rampant crime wave?”
“There’s a tracker on her from a stolen crate of foodstuffs.”
“Indeed? Show me?”
Penny trembled as Officer Ballard waved her smart glove across her body. Repeated the action. Ballard checked her device. “She must have discarded it back in the cafeteria.”
“Then let’s find that smoking gun, shall we?” To Penny, she asked, “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Penny.”
“A pleasure. I’m Professor Eames, but you can call me Moira.”
Deputy Ballard went to the cafeteria’s side entrance. Paused. She turned about, her device in hand, before hurrying back.
“Problem, deputy?” Professor Eames asked.
“The tracker’s on the move.”
“So perhaps your suspect is still out there. It’s easy to get confused. Campus security is in that office down past the junipers. You can share your tracker link with them and they’ll take over. Now let’s snip these plastic cuffs, shall we?”
“We’ll consult with university personnel before doing that.”
Just in time, a campus cop joined the group. He and Ballard spoke for a couple of minutes before Ballard approached Penny.
Her hands were freed. The university’s security guard was a plump man in a sweater and a backward ball cap. He and the station guards continued their chat, which grew pointed, with Ballard’s face turning red.
“Off we pop,” Eames whispered to Penny.
“Can’t they still arrest me?”
“Only if you tarry.”
They hurried off. A slight figure waved at them from the doorway of the closest dorm. Jacko, and he had the tracker in hand as if holding a prize.
Professor Eames put out a hand and he gave it to her. “Clever boy.” She kissed him on the head.
“You were supposed to stay home,” Penny chided.
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t?”
On their way home, Eames flicked the tracker into a fountain. “You two look hungry. What do you say we get you and the kids something to eat?”
PROFESSOR EAMES DIDN’T know her way around a food printer. Spent forever scrolling through the menus, unable to make a decision. She hadn’t gone through the cupboards to see the fresh bricks of ingredients.
“Gumbo? We had chili last week, didn’t we?”
Penny spun a cup on the table. “We did. You already asked about that.”
The other children had piled onto the couch to watch cartoons on the vid screen. A blue dragon argued with a supercilious owl over whether to purchase a massive marine anchor.
“But it’s on sale,” the dragon pled.
Eames tsked. “We’re back to the gumbo. I can make that one.”
“I told you the printer makes it too mushy,” Penny said.
The professor placed a hand on the countertop to steady herself. Hit Home on the printer’s menu and was back to the start.
“Apple pie?” she asked. “No, I guess we can’t.”
Penny scowled. “This is dinner, Professor. We can make pie after because I have brown food blocks to make a dessert.”
“Where’d you get brown? I thought we were all out. How about...”
Eames swooned. Penny caught her by the elbow as she nearly fell. She led her to the couch, where the kids made room.
“Sit. I’ll take care of supper.”
Eames nodded, her face slack. Then she stared at the dragon flying with the owl on screen, and her face lit up. Jacko plopped an arm around her shoulder. Gave Penny a look as if to say, “I got this.”
“Food will be up in twenty minutes.”
She set the printer to spaghetti and meatballs before heading for the upstairs bathroom. A bottle of pills sat on the vanity. The glue on the forged label was peeling. She took a moment to find the adhesive stick so she could reattach it. The bottle went back into the medicine cabinet.
