Jordan Summers - [Dead World 01] (7 page)

"Rita, you need to wait here," she said,
placing it in
the drawer.

"I cannot assist you if you are not wearing
me."   

Without her, Red felt naked. "You can't assist me
period when you're broken," she said, rubbing her empty wrist.

"That
is a valid point, but—"

"I'll
put
in a call for repairs. Be
back in a few." Red
slammed her chocolate-free drawer shut, cutting off
Rita's rebuttal, and began to type in a repair order.
She didn't need to put in any details, just her name.
The tech team would know what it was about the sec
ond they
received the request.

The comlink earpiece clicked on. She heard a deep
intake of breath and knew who it was before her grandfather spoke.
"I
want
you to come to my office
immediately. We
have to talk." His clipped voice
left no room for argument.

Red weighed her options. She could sneak out and
I
claim
exhaustion. She was truly beat, so it wouldn't be a total lie. She stood,
eyeing the distance to the nearest exit. Maybe if she moved fast enough she'd
make it.

"Don't bother trying to slip away, Gina. I know
you're at your desk and I know you can hear me." Humor softened his tone.

The man must be psychic.

Red rested her hands on the keyboard and closed her
eyes. She wasn't prepared to discuss the case with her grandfather. He would
only agree with Ban-non. And she wasn't ready to hear that right now. She
opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

"That's an order, young lady."

She groaned and blew out an exaggerated breath.
The officers around her looked up and then
quickly away as Red made eye contact. What did they think?
That if they stared at her too long she would turn
them
to stone like a raven-haired
Medusa'.' If she had that
kind of
power, Bannon would already be the new cen
terpiece for the lobby, peeing out recycled water.

"Right this minute!" the voice in her
earpiece barked.

She jumped. So much for putting off the in-evitable.

Red rounded the corner of the long hall that led to
her grandfather's office and froze, her gaze locking on the
dark-haired man shaking Bannon's hand. Was that
Roark
Montgomery?
The
Roark Montgomery? What was
h
e doing here?
It must be important if he took
time out of
his busy campaigning schedule to drop in to
IPTT. She took a deep breath
to steady her nerves and stood
a little straighten She didn't want to get caught
slouching. It wasn't every day you encountered a liv
ing
legend .

One of the best marksmen to ever
grace the halls of
the
tactical team,
Roark had single-handedly changed the
training system so its members could become the most
elite team in
the world. His accuracy record re
mained
unbroken. A terrific speaker with charisma enough
for ten men.
Roark had parlayed that success, using
his strength and natural leadership to move into
politics. Rumor had it that he was trying to unite the
republics.

Roark's
dark head dipped toward Bannon as the men
shared a private joke. The laugh he expelled rumbled
like a sonic boom of pure energy. If anyone could
bring
the republics together, it would be him. Montgomery
certainly had her vote.

Red tilted her chin higher and
squared her shoulders
before continuing
down the hall toward her grandfather's
office. The two men hadn't
noticed her yet.

"You have my support,"
Bannon said, releasing the
politician as
Red neared.

"I appreciate it,
Lieutenant. The continuation of the tactical
team
is a top priority for me. I
won't forget you
when I unite the republics. I can always use a man like
you as
extra security."

'Thank you, sir." Bannon grinned, his eyes flashing
with the myriad of possibilities his new position could bring.

Power-hungry bastard.

Red's stomach clenched as
something close to envy wound its way into her system. She walked down the
lead-encased corridor, her
footfalls whispering softly
on the
ancient marble floor.

Roark Montgomery looked up and smiled at her. "Lieutenant,"
he said in greeting before dropping his gaze to her feet. "Nice
booties."

Red flushed. She'd forgotten all about her shoes. So
much for making a good impression. She contin
ued
on without a word, wishing that the floor would
open up and swallow her.

A set of wooden doors marked the end of the hall. Her
grandfather often spoke of how prevalent wood was back in the
old
days,
before the thinning ozone coupled with the last war all but annihilated outdoor
forests and the oxygen generating machines became a necessity.

She ran her hand over the smooth surface, the intriguing
sensation both familiar and foreign at the
same
time. What had the dead world looked like cov
ered with trees? She
closed her eyes a moment and
tried to
imagine. All that lovely green must have been
a remarkable sight.

Red straightened her black uniform, then raised her
hand to knock on the door. A camera popped out
of the wood in front of her face before she made con
tact and
scanned her retina.

"Come in, Gina."

The door swung open with a barely audible swish. The
harsh mint scent from the A.I. system fell away, unable to cling to her
as Red stepped into the spacious old-world room. She glanced around the
commander's office,
admiring the holographs of the long extinct animals
lining
the
walls. So many colors, so many s
pecies.
Such a waste.

Floor-to-ceiling
bookshelves held volumes of rare work,
tomes made of paper and bindings. Nothing like
the e-books she grew up reading. Red loved the
smell
of this room. Modern, yet ancient in origin. It was
like a living, breathing extension of her grandfather.

Commander Robert Santiago sat behind a large
maple desk, his silver-haired head buried in the
syn
thetic documents clenched in his hands. He inhaled and
his chest
widened.

Red watched, smiling to herself. The man gave the best
hugs.
Not that he was free with his affection
while
on duty. Quite the contrary. He regarded her as
he
did
any other tactical team member. If anything, he
held
Red to a
higher standard than the others.

She stared at his face. A mole the color of his
alabaster
skin dotted his right cheek, giving him a per
petual tilt to his mouth. When he laughed, the co
ntagious sound electrified the air. You couldn't
help but
join in. Red would carry that joyful sound with her
forever.

 He looked up as she strolled closer. "Where's Rita?"
he asked, using the name she'd given the unit.

"I left her in my drawer."

"Why?"

"She's currently malfunctioning."

"Again?" Robert arched a brow. "When
are you going to get a new A.I. unit? You've had that one for nearly twenty
years. I'd be happy to have another one designed for you."

Red stiffened. "I like Rita. She'll be fine after
a few minor repairs." Or at least Red hoped she would.

"Sometimes I wonder if that
navcom knows you
better
than I do," he said, his eyes warming with affec
tion. "Is there anything else you'd like to
mention?"

"No, sir," Red said, knowing she wasn't
going to get away with that answer.

He frowned as he glanced at her blue-bootie-covered
feet. "Where are your combat boots?"

Red shrugged.

"Gina, not again. Do you know how many pairs this
makes?"

She shook her head. Rita would know the answer.

"I'm going to have to dock your pay if you keep
this up. Have them sanitized next time."

She pointed at the door and
changed the subject. "I passed Roark Montgomery in the hall. What was he
doing here?"

"Looking for support, like every other
politician."

"He's better than most." Red smiled.
"At least he supports the continuation of the tactical team. That's more
than I can say for the other guy."

"Yes, he certainly backs our job. No surprise
there seeing as though he used to be one of us, but I still couldn't in good
conscience endorse him," he said, avoiding her gaze.

"What? Why? Roark is trying to unite everyone.
He's the best thing that's come out of the republics in years. Surely you can
see that."

"I'm well aware of his credentials." Robert
Santiago
released
an exaggerated breath. "But I have my
reasons."

"I don't understand. The tactical team's backing
would practically ensure his victory. How can you withhold that? The other guy
wants to shut us down and leave law enforcement solely to the republics. It
would be chaos."

"We're done talking about this, Lieutenant. You
won't change my mind."

"But?"

"That's an order," he barked.

Red debated whether to argue, but then caught sight
of his
expression.
Gone was her grandfather, in his
place sat the commander.
"Yes, sir." she said, biting
her tongue.

He dropped some of the synth-papers he held onto the
desk.
"I've been reading Bannon's UID report. He
seems to differ with your
account."

"My account of what? I haven't finished my report
ye
t." She shifted. "Besides,
Bannon has an overactive im
agination."

"As I recall, the same
could be said about you." He arched a bushy white brow, his gaze growing
distant. "I
remember when you were five and were convinced that a
dragon lived under your rest pad. I told you I wo
uld slay it. Your
little
lip
trembled as you stopped me
and said you'd take care of it yourself." He chuck-led, shaking
his head. "Some things never change."

"Grandpa..."

"Please take a seat, Gina."

Red sat in the burgundy monstrosity her grandfather
called a chair. She sank two inches the second
her body made contact with the cushions. Her bootie-
covered feet
dangled above the area rug, making her feel like a child. The same child who'd
been frightened of the dragon under her bed.

The chair's thickness reminded Red of her rest pad and
it took concerted effort not to doze off while he spoke. It had been a long day
and it wasn't like she'd
gotten any sleep
after she awoke last night covered in
blood.

Red shuddered, pushing the
memory aside, when
every
fiber demanded that she report the incident. She loved her grandfather and
normally shared everything,
but relaying
this bit of info was out of the question.
The
team already considered her an explosive about to detonate. The last thing she
needed was to add fuel to
their fears.

"Are you listening?"

Red jerked at the sound of his voice. "I'm
getting
ready to submit my report
now," she said as she sat a
little straighter and prayed that's
what her grandfather had been discussing.

"Could you explain what
occurred out in the field
before you file your
permanent
report? I want to make
sure your thoughts are concise. The review board looks
at every duty-related item in an officer's background before promoting them to
commander."

"You're not going anywhere for a long time,
Grandpa."

"I can't run this place forever," he said,
suddenly looking much older than his seventy-five years.

Red knew he warned her out of love, out of his need to
protect. Couldn't he simply trust her judgment?

Robert Santiago had been grooming her since childhood
to eventually take over his position. He'd pu
shed,
cajoled, and fought for her when it came time to
make the team. Red had pushed herself to the
limits in
order to please the only person she could call family.
He had always told her that once their dreams c
ame true and she became commander that Red would
be safe and in
charge of her future.