Trial and Temptation (Mandrake Company) by Ruby Lionsdrake Page B

the console until departure.”
    Val touched her purse. She hadn’t been that enthused about wandering around on the smarmy base before, and the idea of doing so without weapons enthused her even less. “Should we disobey?”
    “The announcement promises there are scanners at the airlocks to ensure compliance. One might assume it’s a safety precaution since the planet below is engaged in war, but this alert was recently issued. Less than twelve hours ago.”
    “Maybe our missing admiral has been taken by the station authorities, such as they are, and those authorities don’t want anyone trying to break him out.”
    “Perhaps.” Thatcher removed his pistol and laser knife and tucked them in a storage compartment. “Or perhaps someone paid the station authorities to issue this alert.”
    Val stuck her firearms back into her duffel and headed for the airlock with only her knife on her belt. Maybe Thatcher would consider hiring some brawny bodyguards to trail them around. A real mercenary might be too embarrassed to go for something like that, but she wouldn’t be.
    An unmanned scanner at the end of the tube flashed red, then green as they walked out, their weapons check, presumably. They must have passed, because no squad of security guards or robots descended upon them.
    Despite this being the hind teat of the system, there were over a dozen other ships docked, and numerous people walked through the concourse inside or slumped in the rows of rickety chairs. The scent of cinnamon pastries being baked wafted through the area, improving the usual smell of recycled air mixed with the scents of bodies of varying degrees of cleanliness. Thatcher stopped at an auto-pay station near the airlock tube entrance, held up his palm so the scanner could read the tiny chip inserted beneath the skin, then nodded that they could continue. Not the kind of station where parking was complimentary, it appeared.
    “Any idea where to start looking?” Val started walking toward the main aisle, though she already had her eye on a bar on the other side of the concourse. That seemed as likely a place to get the station gossip as any.
    “I have memorized a map of the facility and compiled a list of probable places where one might hide a hostage without drawing attention.” Thatcher unfolded his tablet, and his map and a list appeared in the air above it.
    “That sounds like a no.”
    He gave her a curious look. “I’ve narrowed countless options down to a mere thirty-two likely prospects.”
    “How about we hold that for Plan B?” Val pointed at the bar. “Those who have been here a while may have heard something about someone important being held somewhere.”
    “I hardly think we should be questioning strangers. Not only is it unlikely that they would share valuable information with us, but it may attract attention we would be wise to avoid.”
    “I’ve done this sort of thing before.” She had been questioning random people on a station not two months earlier, trying to figure out why and how her brother had disappeared down a black hole. “Trust me. I won’t be obvious about it. And I think you’ll find that I can use my charms to get men to divulge information without feeling as if they’re being interrogated.”
    “Your charms?”
    He couldn’t truly be so dense—or so naive—to not understand what she meant, could he? Or did he simply not believe she had such talents?
    “Yes, my charms. My left and right charms.” Val pointed at the individual breasts for emphasis before deciding that wasn’t an appropriate thing to emphasize with a commanding officer. Had she been out of the military for too long to go back to being the obedient—and respectful—cadet?
    Thatcher looked at her chest, then back up to her eyes. “Very well, Calendula. We will attempt to narrow down the list by employing… your charms.”
    He started toward the bar entrance with her, but she stopped him with a hand. “I’ll have better luck