CHAPTER SIXTEEN

                                    

                                          
Abriel sat at the out-of-the-way desk she'd been assigned for her light duty stint, cursing. De Goa had given her the task of maintaining the weekly duty roster—a necessary but thankless chore. Each squad had to be rotated through the various placements—Crescent floor, High Pass lab, directional perimeter sweep—as well as given downtime. Normally, the computer spit out the results and ensured the work was divided equally. But with the reduction in squads, the computer kept making errors and manual intervention was required. As a result, no one was happy and the scheduler became the most despised person in headquarters. Namely, her.
            Tilting back her chair to get more comfortable, Abriel swept up the computer output and went over the list. Again.
            "Keko, tell me if I missed anything," Abriel sent, then read off the squad placements she'd slotted.
            The shepherd listened until she finished. "Better than last time. At least everything's covered, although I think third squad might be pissed."
            Abriel shrugged. "Hazina hates me anyway, so this is my payback. Besides, my brain is fried right now. I just need to print, post, and I'm done for the day."
            "Good," was the reply, then a long pause. "The native is getting restless. We're ready to go, but Porter can't go anywhere until you sign for him and assume custody."
            Abriel sighed and rubbed a hand across her forehead, as if she could rub the extra presence from her mind at the same time. "I'll be there within the hour."
            She printed the final schedule, claimed it from the output, then wandered down the hall to the scheduling board. It was outside the Captain's office and in a high-traffic area so everyone could see it. Today she'd caught a break—the hallway was deserted, meaning she could tear down last week's schedule and replace it without witnesses. There was nothing worse than scouts milling around for the new schedule then complaining about the rotation. Most complaints were half-hearted and she didn't mind, but right now she felt fragile and emotionally whipped. All because of him.
            She peeked into the Captain's office with the intention of telling de Goa she was leaving. It was empty. Odd, but not unusual. In truth, odd was that the hallway and all the off-shooting rooms were empty. Then again, she'd tried to finish scheduling when she knew the least number of people would be present. All the better to hide the end results. Still, it was unsettling to think she might be the only person left in headquarters.
            Abriel hurried down the hall on her nicely healing ankle, anxious to see another face. That didn't happen until she reached the main reception area. The greeting desk was manned by a civie she didn't recognize but knew was associated with the Minster-general's office. He was so nondescript and unremarkable, she had to look twice to make sure she hadn't imagined him.
            "Quiet day, huh?" she said as she passed.
            "Very," he agreed, not turning from the computer screen. "It's a nice change for once."
            That almost sounded like an accusation, but she let it slide. She felt so frazzled, everything sounded like criticism.
            As for the Crescent, it was its normal, chaotic self with everyone scurrying about on their normal day-to-day routines. With that, plus all the rubble and destruction from the moleboy incursions, it made getting around time-consuming. It was over an hour later by the time she reached Medical Intensive and the room where Keko waited.
Entering gave her a horrible, double shock. Minster Chelsen was there, as well as Kaven van Andel. Between them, looking uncomfortable where he sat on a hard plastic chair, was Porter with Keko at his side. Porter's hand stroked Keko's fur. For no good reason, the gesture enraged her. Keko was hers, damn it! He had no right to—