"What? Nothing was stolen? And every ship can be matched to its owner?"
About three minutes later, Carol received Agent Brand's report, and it clearly made her doubt her earlier judgment.
The light of the stars outside the window streamed into the cabin, casting a faint blue glow over her blonde hair. The gold trim on the chest of her red-and-blue uniform seemed somewhat dimmer now.
"Yes, Director. We have checked all cargo entry and exit records and reviewed all available surveillance footage." The woman's voice over the communicator was certain. She also sent Carol a written memo. "Every ship currently docked has an owner, and they are all alive."
"Then were there people left behind on ships that passed through earlier?"
Carol tilted her head and sat back down on the sofa, beside Deathstroke, who was petting the cat.
Slade was probably a genuine cat lover. The Orange Cat was so comfortable under his skilled hands that it had exposed its belly and lay on its back, using its paws to grab his hand and place it under its chin.
"No, Director. To prevent anyone from hiding aboard the space station, we activated biological scanning equipment at the docks long ago. According to the current data, the number of arrivals matches the number of departures. Facial recognition is still underway, but there should not be any problems. All our employees are also at their posts."
The sound of high heels echoed from Brand's end of the line. She seemed to be handling something in the command center while speaking.
"That shouldn't be possible. We didn't detect any spatial fluctuations earlier, so that human bomb couldn't have been teleported in."
Carol raised a hand and rubbed her face, poured herself a glass of water, and gulped it down. She felt