Page 62 of Pets in Space 10

The computer hardware, with its RyoGenomica logo, was an older standalone model.

Her nonprofit had ended up with similar donated hardware, designed for rugged settings.

It was a good choice, considering the dust. She was surprised to see the hexagonal, floor-to-ceiling emergency communications nexus crammed next to it, then guessed the computer was a later addition. She pointed it out to Gaerynx.

“The nexus is independently powered,” she murmured. “According to the safety briefing, even if the ship is dead in the void, the nexus will broadcast calls for help until its thousand-year battery runs down.”

“Er, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Pavrel promptly demonstrated how filthy the floor was by hopping onto the awkwardly placed work surface and leaving a trail of dusty pawprints across its surface.

After Gaerynx encouraged him to jump down, Amalena set Merix’s carrier on the desk and apologized to her cat for the earlier bump.

Grumpy Merix looked out at her, clearly resigned to his terrible fate.

She was going to owe him an interstellar freighter’s worth of tuna treats.

From the side pocket of the carrier, she pulled out her company tablet and docked it.

After the passage of glacially slow seconds, the computer and tablet established a connection.

“I’m in,” she whispered. A moment later, she added, “It’s the full hypercube, with decades of archives and everything. ”

They’d already agreed she’d be faster at finding the records. As she dove into the archives, she saw Gaerynx examining the comms nexus, then opening the two mismatched supply cabinets in the corner. They looked like giant versions of her junk drawer at home.

Her focus narrowed. The complete set of records for the original project was all there, neatly organized under the Yagimiruku identifier.

She started a certified copy process for all of them, sending the packet to her tablet.

While that was processing, she chased down the external reviews, department evaluations, and, with some trouble, the records documenting the decision to shelve the project.

She couldn’t resist taking a moment to read the executive summary, which confirmed her worst fears.

The theoretical compound’s kinetic effects would almost certainly be destructively addictive with long-term use.

When she beckoned Gaerynx over to read the summary, she saw he’d been busy extracting treasures from the junk cabinets.

His prize was a working high-capacity memory cube styled to look like a holiday ornament version of a Galaxy-class warship.

They’d planned to copy the records to his personal datapad as a backup, but the cube was a far better option.

She docked it next to her tablet and started the copy process.

He glanced at the nexus unit, which periodically wheezed like a coldbox with a leaking coil. Maybe that was why the whole room was so frelling cold. “Can the comms nexus be used to send data?”

His mind worked in wonderful, unexpected ways. She guessed was thinking of the message they wanted to send to Rhys. Sending all the data would be even better.

He continued, his voice low and urgent. “Assuming Rhys gets the message and the records in time, he could take them to the board meeting. It starts in two hours.”

The reminder of their deadline was a jolt of ice water.

She’d been lost in the records. Now she worried that the security team or a crew member would catch them any second.

“The safety manual only said ‘broadcast.’ But it would make sense if it pings the intergalactic net, too, so any distress calls would get wider distribution. Maybe check its onboard manual. The safety briefing implied that even the missing ship’s janitor should be able to figure it out. ”

“Or,” Gaerynx said, his eyes bright, “maybe we can send it straight to Consuelo Margoth herself.”

“How?” Amalena asked. “Sadly, I’m not on her Happy Solstice Day greetings list.”

“Me, either, but Rhys is. Search for her personal pingref in the message records for the last couple of years. Use Rhys’s pingref as a filter, because I know they have private, out-of-office discussions. I bet it’s there in a copy-to field somewhere. He’s done it to me more than once.”

She nodded and started the search while Gaerynx maneuvered past the desk to activate and swipe at items on the nexus unit’s main display.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Pavrel, apparently bored by the whole affair, had sprawled across the bottom shelf of one of the open cabinets.

A cleaning bot lay in pieces on the floor nearby.

She hoped it was already broken, and not helped along to its final demise by curious kulak claws.

Feeling anxious, Amalena murmured, “Merix, keep an ear out for anyone coming near the door,” then concentrated on finding Margoth’s pingref. It was a long shot, but it was the best one they had.

A moment later, Gaerynx reported his findings.

“The nexus will send data packets to multiple pingrefs as well as broadcast, but I’ll need your tablet or the memory cube as the source.

It’s not connected to the company hardware.

” He pointed at the main control panel on the hexagonal column.

“It’s also semi-offline. Remember Okonye wanting Betero to ‘press the red glowing button’?

According to the manual, this should be it.

” He indicated the large red button, which was clearly not glowing.

“Wait,” she said, her heart thumping. “Don’t turn it on until we’re ready. I bet it’s hooked into half a dozen shipcomp systems, and the crew will notice right away. It’s our last move. We’d better have everything else we need before we make it.”

She refocused on her tablet. “Got it,” she breathed, finding a message thread from Rhys that included a copy-to field with an unlisted alphanumeric string.

It had to be Margoth’s private pingref. She read it out loud to Gaerynx so he could enter it on the nexux’s console.

The progress bar for the certified copy on her tablet finally flashed green. “My copy complete.”

Just as she was about to pull the tablet from the dock, a low rumble came from Merix. He shifted in his carrier, the movement rattling it on the desk. She’d been so absorbed she’d nearly forgotten he was there. Just nerves, buddy, she thought, her focus on the tablet. We’re almost done.

The memory cube finished its copy seconds later. She pointed. “It’s ready.”

Gaerynx snatched the warship-shaped ornament from the dock.

Before he could take two steps toward the nexus, a voice boomed from the corridor, amplified by the metal walls. “Open the damn door and come out. Now!”

Toldt. Amalena’s blood went cold. Merix’s rumbling hadn’t been nerves; it had been a warning. She should have listened.

Gaerynx didn’t hesitate. He lunged for the nexus, shoving the memory cube into its data port.

Amalena reached for her tablet, but her fingers were clumsy with shock. She fumbled it, and it slid off the dock, bounced off the stool with a clatter, and landed face down on the grimy floor. Near the cabinet, Pavrel flattened himself to the ground and issued a low, guttural hiss.

The partially open door slid the rest of the way open with a groan.

But it wasn’t Toldt or his team standing there.

It was Betero, the navigator, his face a mask of supreme annoyance.

He swept a disdainful look over them, the security team crowding the hall behind him, the cats, and the chaotic room.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit,” he snarled.

“All of you, get the fuck off my deck.” He turned on his heel and stalked away down the corridor without a backward glance.

The brief moment of confusion evaporated as Sypher, Pivada, and Toldt stormed into the room, their expressions grim.

Sypher pointed a stunner at Gaerynx. “Put your hands in the air and get the fuck away from that equipment. Come here, nice and easy.”

Gaerynx froze, his hand hovering over the nexus controls. Pavrel’s hiss escalated into a threatening snarl. Sypher swiveled the weapon’s barrel toward the kulak. “Wanna find out what stunners do to cats?”

The threat, so casually cruel, sent a white-hot spear of rage through Amalena’s fear. Gaerynx’s expression went wooden as he slowly raised his hands and stepped away from the nexus, then edged around the computer hardware to stand near her.

“Kirilov,” Pivada barked, pointing at the floor. “Pick that up and hand it over.”

Amalena moved the stool and crouched to retrieve her tablet. As she did, she felt it — a faint, crackling brush across her senses, a rising sensation of strained power. Gaerynx. He was trying to use his teke talent to press the button.

Her mind raced. It was their last chance, their only move. Pretending to lose her balance as she straightened up, she stumbled forward, her hand flying out. She grabbed Gaerynx’s wrist.

The moment her skin touched his, she unleashed her own talent, pushing all her energy into his. The flicker of his talent flared like a jet.

The big red button on the nexus glowed with sudden, brilliant light.

Then chaos erupted. Every light and display in the room strobed like a newborn pulsar, blindingly bright.

The access panel on the wall sparked violently, and the door slammed shut and opened again.

Acrid smoke billowed from the overhead ventilation grate as alarms shrieked a deafening warning.

Pavrel, terrified, scrambled for cover inside the open cabinet.

A calm synth voice cut through the din. “Fire suppression system activating in ten, nine, eight…”

Gaerynx broke the spell, yanking his hand from hers to drag a terrified Pavrel out from under the shelf. Cradling the tense kulak against his chest, he shouldered his way out the door. Amalena slung her carrier’s strap across her body, clutched her tablet, and scrambled after him into the corridor.

The security team, momentarily stunned, recovered quickly. They forced them down the hall toward the central lifts, their hands clamped on Amalena’s and Gaerynx’s arms. “Deck Five conference room,” Toldt bit out. “For your safety.”

Amalena’s body trembled with an adrenaline crash so profound her teeth chattered.

Gaerynx wouldn’t meet her eye, his face pale and set.

She couldn’t blame him. She’d hidden her talent, used him without his consent, and in the process, probably flatlined both their careers.

Merix was an unbalanced, shifting weight in the carrier against her hip.

She had no idea if the nexus had sent anything before the power surge, and she hadn’t dared look to see if the memory cube had survived.

They were in such deep shit.