—23—

"I'm just not buying it."

Damon paced. He was never the type of man to think the worst of people, neither did he view them as all good. People never lived on the extremes; they sort of spread out within the middle. In his time, he known people to be capable of just about anything. They could display acts of extraordinary kindness and commit some of the most gruesome acts. Even the worst of people could show an act of kindness, whereas a so-called good man could unleash a torrent of violence. Damon only knew that he resided in the grey area of the extremes. Where Aaron fell was a mystery to him, because at first glance, it seemed he only saw the worst in people. Maybe it was the cop in him, the experiences he'd had, or some other reason that Damon didn't care to evaluate. If there was one person that was a model citizen among them, it was Donna. She was no saint, and she'd be the first to admit that, but she had an unbreakable code that rivaled the most dedicated soldiers in the UNSC. To suggest otherwise was baseless.

"What possible cause would motivate Donna to assist our intruder?"

Aaron looked beyond irritated, wagging his head with pursed lips and vanishing patience. Naive was the first word to come to his mind. Damon was young, probably between 26 or 28, he guessed. The war with the Covenant was older than he was. "We don't know the cause, which is why we have to investigate. For starters, you need to subtract emotion out of this. I'm not saying Donna is a suspect; what I'm saying is that we need to look at everyone, whether it's comfortable or not."

"And what is it about Donna that we need to look at?" Damon pulled up a chair and sat. His legs were tired and the day was dragging longer than he intended. Diaz hadn't said anything yet. She just continued to lean against the wall next to the door, arms folded with an unamused look on her face. "She's a veteran nurse, takes care of her only son, and looks out for everyone. She's solid."

"I don't doubt that," Aaron concurred. "But you actually highlight my next point. Let's reexamine this: we know that X procured medical supplies that aren't simple to access. The antibiotics, syringes, painkillers—those are locked up and can only be accessed by select personnel. Captain Anderton, Dr. Mathison, DEV, and Donna. We can rule out the captain because there is no motive or interest. DEV only has access when given permission from either Rey or Dr. Mathison to override the lock. For obvious reasons, Dr. Mathison has unlimited access to care for his patients. He's also a walking vault, so getting anything from him is a tough sell. Lastly, that leaves Donna. She's a senior member of Mathison's staff and the only person given access outside UNSC personnel. It's a known fact that some are treated for injuries and conditions outside of the clinic, so who's to say that she wasn't approached by X and coerced to provide medical assistance? This is all speculative, because we don't know if our intruder is prone to violence."

Speculative was the right word, Damon thought. Irrelevant came next. "It makes no sense to focus on this now. We know meds were taken, so what sense does it make to suspect Donna of anything? We need to start canvassing, as you once suggested. We're wasting enough time as it is."

"I don't think we are." Naomi ended her silence. She shifted her weight against the wall, leaning against her left shoulder to face them. "Because I would rather not sniff around this entire camp looking for a flea on an elephant's culo. To get into the med case, you need a key card and a four digit code. Each of the names Aaron mentioned should have one, except for DEV. Each one of those cards have trackers inside. It's for security, to make sure staff doesn't steal meds and take 'em home. We track Donna's card and I bet we get the last place our guest was hold up. We start there."

Aaron was perplexed. Diaz was just one surprise after another. A regular renaissance woman for the insurgents. He imagined she charged a hefty price for her services; more than he could ever afford. "Jeez, how the hell do you know all that?"

Naomi unfolded her arms and walked over to the table, sitting on the edge across from where Damon was sitting. "It's a long story. Let's just say I found out the hard way. If we know anything about our intruder is that he's a crafty one. He—and I'm just assuming gender—lifted the keys from the food staff and I'm sure the same thing occurred with Donna." She looked at Damon. "You need to get down to the clinic and talk to her… but we need a little bit of evidence first."

"Like what?"

"Punch records," she said. "Each time she swipes her card, the system keeps track of it. Get a list of her most recent punches; I'd say in the last 30 days. That fits the time frame of how long X has been here, at least. DEV should have it."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Aaron held his hands up and took a few steps back. "Let's not get DEV involved in this. We're under the cloak of discretion. No one else needs to know."

Naomi looked at him long enough to get her point across, rolling over his concerns as if they didn't exist. "All we need is the punch list, nothing more. He won't ask questions."

"He's inquisitive," Aaron added.

"He's an AI," Naomi countered. "He's only allowed to think what's been programmed to think. As long as we don't give him a reason, then we're fine." She turned aside from Aaron and faced Damon again. "Make the call. This is our best lead."

Damon sighed, feeling sandwiched between the Aaron and Diaz's feud. He didn't want to involve Donna or DEV. They were two individuals that felt out of place, irrelevant in the scheme of things concerning this. Yes, there was a compelling argument, but if it ended up being a dead end, then it would've been a colossal waste of time they could've spent elsewhere. It was a slippery slope to tread, but all roads led to Donna and he would just have to get over it and so would Aaron. It was his theory in the first place.

He stood up from the chair and pressed his finger over his earpiece. "DEV, come in. Do you read?"

It was a moment of gentle static before the AI's voice replied to him. "Go for DEV, corporal Vasher."

"I have a request. I need you isolate nurse practitioner Donna Stratton's key card. Give me a workup of her punches within the last 30 days… 24 hour segments, please; not the moon's cycles. When you have them, send it to my TACPAD."

"Affirmative, corporal Vasher. Wait one."

Damon's TACPAD vibrated on his wrist-mounted holder. An icon blinked, awaiting his action. He tabbed the screen and the icon expanded into the blank page with a list of Donna's punches, including the date and time.

"Medical punches for NP Stratton has been delivered, Corporal. Is there anything else you need?"

"Yeah, do you have a location for NP Stratton?"

"Affirmative. She's currently located in medical."

"Thanks, DEV. That's all I need."

"Of course, Corporal. You should also be aware that Captain Anderton has an open inquiry of your whereabouts."

Damon swore under his breath. It was only a matter of time before Rey would wonder where he was and what the hell he was doing all this time. This wasn't an ideal time for a face to face. The captain would have to wait. "Uh, tell him I'm dealing with a developing situation and I'll meet up with him as soon as I can."

"Copy that, corporal Vasher. DEV out."

The radio link went silent and Damon stood there in place for a moment. He didn't know how much time that would buy them, but they would have to work within the limited time they had. If Donna knew anything of substance, it had the potential to be the catalyst to see where this road ended. He doubted DEV would tell Rey anything outside of what they'd discussed. The AI always operated within his parameters, save for his flip mouth that grated his nerves. If anything, maybe it would unintentionally stall the captain until they had something concrete to report. As of now, they had no answers for the potential questions Rey might ask.

"I'll head over to medical and ask Donna about this." Damon checked the time. "Okay, meet me in the mess hall at 1300. I should be back by then. See you then."

Medical was packed.

Damon had never seen so many people crammed into the limited space. Pale and sweaty colonists were stretched out on beds, hooked up to bags of saline and appeared terribly miserable. His view was suddenly impaired by a pair of waving hands in his face followed by a mild shove backwards. A man stood in front of him, his face mostly obscured by a surgical mask; but Damon could see his eyes—wide, brown irises that appeared black from his expanded pupils. His eyes read aggression, acute surprise, and a hint of something else that Damon couldn't detect. Fear? Anxiety?

"Whoa, whoa, back up! This is an infected area! No one is allowed inside without following protocol."

Damon tilted his head. "Protocol?"

"Orders from Captain Anderton." The man reached into the strapped bag that hung across his chest, removing a bottle of sanitizer. "Extend your hands, palms up."

Damon did just so as the man squirted a modest amount of the transparent gel into his palms. He rubbed his hands together thoroughly, a procedure that Donna required him to perform so many times that he was surprised it wasn't muscle memory by now. A pair of latex gloves, a mask, and shoe covers were pulled from the man's bag next. His tone was demanding, firm.

"Put these on and do not remove them. Are you symptomatic?"

"No, I'm here to see NP Stratton."

The man seemed to dismiss the request without acknowledgment. "We may need to run some tests to make sure you're not a carrier."

"I'm not sick." Damon was losing patience. He hadn't a clue that the small illness that he'd heard about had grown to the extent that it was now. And despite being MIA, it appeared that Rey was on top of the situation. How the man could remain detached while simultaneously connected to everything was a trait that went beyond his understanding. Maybe it was an officer thing, some hidden talent that only commissioned personnel knew. Nevertheless, Donna was his objective and he wasn't leaving until he saw her.

Damon shoved the gloves, ask, and shoe covers back into the man's chest and pointed over his shoulder toward the closed doors of the clinic. "I need to speak to nurse Stratton. It's urgent. You can either get her for me or I can go inside and find her myself. Which do you prefer? And from the looks of things, you don't want more sick people."

"I'm just following orders, sir."

"Then follow this one." He leaned closer to the man's face. "Get. Nurse. Stratton."

The man shook his eyes, rolling his eyes as hard as it possibly could before turning around a disappearing behind the double doors. Donna came out within ten minutes, decked in full scrubs. The frown lines on her forehead seemed more pronounced today then they ever were. She located Damon at the end of hall and marched toward him with a gait that said I-don't-have-time-for-this. Damon braced.

Donna pulled down her mask. "What's this about, Damon? We're in the middle of moving these people around and we don't have enough hands as it is."

Damon didn't mince words. "I need to talk to you about your key card, the one you use to access meds."

"What about it?" Donna removed her gloves and threw them in a nearby receptacle.

"Has anyone strange ever approached you, asking you to treat an injury they might have sustained recently? Like a laceration, for example."

"I don't treat patients outside of the clinic. It's dangerous. You risk infections and more. Some of the aids do it, but it's mostly for medication distribution and follow-ups. All serious procedures are performed here." Donna swept a few sweaty strains of her hair from her face, periodically looking over her shoulder. "Damon, what's this really about? I have to get back to work."

"When you don't have your key card, where do you keep it?"

Her tone edged into irritation. "In my locker. We're not advised to take it with us."

"And no one has access to your locker?"

"Damon, has someone been stealing meds?" Donna caught on. "Because if you're saying that I..."

Damon held his hand up. "I'm not saying that. I never would." He angled his Tacpad in front of Donna, accessing the data that DEV had retrieved for him earlier. "I just need to know if you can recount each punch that you see here."

Donna's lips had practically disappeared at that point, folded tight within her mouth. Being so close, she smelled of some type of generic disinfectant, latex, and whatever she was using to wash her hair. Within the realms of her dwindling patience, she scanned the screen that listed all of her punches in the month. To her recollection, she didn't realize they still kept accurate records. What was the use? If they ever returned home, what sensible person would bring her or the staff up on charges for something petty? She silenced her never ending thoughts and kept looking.

Damon was beginning to think this was truly a waste of time. Maybe the meds were stolen via another method. It could've been a dozen ways perhaps. Instead, he was standing next to a woman that didn't have an unethical bone in her body waiting for her to tell him what he probably already knew. There were other avenues they could've checked, because what—

"Wait." Donna took his arm, pulling the screen closer to her eyes. Her expression read as if she'd been stumped on a problem and didn't know the solution. The frown lines in her face tightened and her lips reappeared. "Here, on the 16th. It says I used my card, but that's not possible."

Damon froze. "How so?"

"Because I was laid flat on my back that week, probably with a precursor of what's floating around now. It was sick for the following week as well. Ethan had to fill in for me."

"Yeah, I remember. Can you recall where your access card might've been?"

Donna stepped back, suddenly oblivious to her current responsibilities. Her irritation faded and was replaced with disquieting thoughts. She rubbed her hands together as if she was washing them, pinching the tips of each one of her fingers. "I leave my card in my locker after each shift. I never take it back with me. I must've—Oh, God." She paused. Her eyes closed as she placed her hand over her forehead.

"What?" Damon knew what that gesture meant, and it was unmistakable. She'd made a mistake.

"I had it with me." Donna looked visibly disgusted. "I know because when I finally returned to the clinic, I couldn't find my card in my locker. I looked everywhere until I found it in my jacket pocket. For two weeks, I had it with me and didn't realize it. I must've been really out of it." The realization hit her and she grabbed Damon's arm. "Dear God, someone could've stolen it and I wouldn't have known. How could I be so irresponsible?"

Damon shook his head and gently touched her shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure everything is fine. I've taken too much of your time as it is. I'll let you get back to work. You've been very helpful. Thank you, Donna."

"Will you tell me if any medication was taken? I need to know. Please."

Damon reassured her and told her that he was positive that nothing was wrong. She seemed to accept the best way she could, but he imagined she would kick herself for the rest of the day about it. Good ole' Donna. Always by the book. They needed more like her. Damon hated lying to her, because the reality was that her error in judgment led to the theft of meds they couldn't replace. He wouldn't fault her for that, but now it was time to track this instruder down. It only took one mistake, and Damon hoped this was the one.