Whenever a scientist—a certain kind of scientist— “misplaces” something important, I get a call. This time it came to my DC studio apartment at midnight. Instantly awake, I sat up and reached for a light switch. “Give me the details.”
“Yaeger, it’s Mitchell. I need you to find two adult woolly mammoths, hopefully alive.
I leaned against the fence, my jaw hanging open. Am I dreaming or drunk? “Dr. Conley, you said you needed a sheepdog for your flock.”
He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Exactly. From what I’ve heard, Mr. Ferguson, that border collie of yours is the best in the business.
“Your testimony is unfinished, Ensign Duffy. Sit.”
Duffy’s knees, already wobbly from stress, buckled, dumping him back down in the witness chair. He faced the unblinking Commodore Brice and her investigative panel.
This isn’t a trial. They promised me I wouldn’t be on trial. Which was true. Besides, I haven’t done anything wrong.
While I’ve faced plenty of crises aboard the spaceship Oceania, I’d never been charged by a rhino before.
Seconds from impact, I dodged the furious beast’s horn, lunged, and scooped her into my arms. “Take it easy,” I murmured, scratching behind Rhino One’s ears.
The Oceania was transporting a dozen Sumatran rhinos…
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