Tropical Storm - DK1 by Melissa Good Read Free Book Online Page A

what questions to start asking. To prove it, she’d shot off a list of ten of them to Cruella, her pet name for the overbearing and obnoxious Dar Roberts.
    “Nice surprise for her in the morning, huh?” she commented to the panda, who was sitting with his arms outstretched on the second of two stuffed chairs in the small living room. The rest of the space was taken up by a cloth couch, a small table that seated four people, two large bookcases overflowing with books, and a small desk that held her computer. The room was bright and cheerful. Pastel fabrics and Indian-style throw rugs brought in a touch of color, and the walls were hung with scenes of her subtropical surroundings. Her favorite, a sunset over Key West, was above the TV stand, and was flanked by two small embroideries: a dolphin her aunt had made her and a teddy bear from an old friend of her mother’s.
    “Oh…heck.” She sighed, remembering she’d forgotten to send mail to the staff regarding the visits by procedures people the next day. She walked over and flipped on her PC again, flopping down in her desk chair and pulling one leg up under her as she waited for it to boot. After her desktop was presented, she went into mail, composed a quick note to the staff, telling them to cooperate nicely with the people coming in, and told the system to send the mail.
    It dialed up and connected to their office mail server, and she watched as the message transferred, then blinked in surprise as the system indicated it was downloading a message. “What idiot is up at this time of the morning, sending mail?” she wondered. The message finished downloading, and popped into her inbox.
    Sent by: Dar Roberts
    Subject: re: Your Questions
    Time: 2:55 AM

    Tropical Storm 23
    “Oh. That idiot,” she muttered, hesitating before she clicked on the message, surprised at the nervousness she felt. “Well, that explains things. It’s obvious she’s an alien who never sleeps, and who has a port in her head she plugs things into,” she decided, then took a breath and opened the mail. She read through the sections, noting that the executive hadn’t bothered responding to the admittedly snarky comments in her note. “Well, okay. I think she’s wrong there, but…” She found another item. “Oh! I hadn’t thought of that.”
    Dar’s writing was strong and to the point; she could almost hear the words coming from the older woman, and surprisingly, they were lacking the condescension she’d half expected. Her final point answered, she let her eyes drop to the sign-off and blinked. “What?” She read it again.
    Corporate policy states that all personnel achieve a reasonable amount of sleep in every twenty-four hour period. Please adhere to the regulations from now on.
    DR
    “What’s that supposed to mean? What is she, some kind of lunatic? She gives me a crazy deadline of one stupid week to do something in, then says to make sure I sleep?” Kerry let out a vexed sigh, then set up a reply and cut most of the message out, except the header and the last line. “Okay, Ms. Wise Guy Alien from Mars, take that.” She highlighted the time on Dar’s header and made it boldface, then dropped down below the executive’s last line and typed in a comment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    With a smirk, she sent the message, then turned off her monitor and trudged over to the lamp, shutting it off and heading into her bedroom. It featured a neatly made double-sized bed covered with a striped comforter in southwestern colors against one wall under the small window, a five-drawer dresser against one wall, and a long, three-drawer dresser with a half-height mirror, all in white wood. The carpet was a pale blue pile, and she wriggled her toes into its softness with a contented sigh as she crossed the floor, then climbed into bed and got under the covers.
    She could see the stars from there, and she watched them twinkle, trying to dispel the awful feeling of doom that had sat on her