Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer (21 page)

“That won’t be difficult,” Dana sulked.
 

“There’s only ten more hours before the mission starts,” he reminded. “Is
Karis
ready?”

“Yes, the preflight is in my jacket pocket.” She reached in and handed it over.

Macao held the recording. “Report to the infirmary.”

“But…”

“Tell them you were practicing some hand-to-hand combat; that’s not too far from the truth.” Macao looked for her reaction.

She looked skeptical. “If Patel asks with whom, what do I say.”

Macao smiled wryly. “Say it was with me.”

“Lie?”

“Do you want me to wrestle you to the floor right now, Mister Cartwright? Or would you rather tumble on that bunk?”
 

She realized he was teasing — no, taunting — but the idea didn’t repulse her at all this time.
 

He offered a smile. “It might be fun.”

She shook her head.
 

“Do you love Kieran as much as I think you do?”

She glanced at the deck.
 
“More…”

“Yet you haven’t mated with him?”

“Sir, now is not the time to...”

“Forever Pointe?” Macao sank down at his desk and leaned way back in the chair.
 
“All those images of Forever Pointe that I sense when you are near, they’re Kieran’s.”

“I have never been there,” she assured. “He gave that memory to me when he was trapped in the wreckage of the shuttle,
Stiletto
, and I was the doctor that tended him.”

“You did his back surgery?”

She nodded.
 
“I assisted on the hand surgeries as well.”

Janz shut his eyes and stretched his neck, wincing from the stiffness.
 
“It all makes sense now.”

Dana got up to leave.
 
“I didn’t know you were brothers.
 
I would have…” She broke off without finishing.

“Pretend that we wrestled,” he ordered. “Patel knows I ‘play’ rough.”

She turned to go, remembered herself and asked, “Permission to leave, sir?”

“Dismissed.”

She looked back just before stepping out into the corridor. He’d gotten up from the chair and crossed to activate the backlight on the life-star and stood staring into the center.
 

Dana noted something different about it; however, at first she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Only when she was outside the door of the infirmary did she realize, of the two blank spaces she’d noted last visit, only one remained.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Thankfully, Doctor Patel wasn’t in the infirmary. An assistant checked over her bruises, used a sonic healing device, confirmed no damage was done, and wrote up the report as an accidental injury during exercise workout.
 

No special compensation…No big deal…

After leaving the infirmary, she sought sanctuary in her quarters. While showering, Dana had the distinct feeling that Macao’s eyes were still upon her. She found the sensation troubling, and hoped it would wear off as she read from the padlet and reviewed the mission file. The welts from Mansfield’s assault would also fade; her thoughts about the incident would not.

As she stood before the mirror, wrapped in a towel, she wondered, “Why did I let him do this?” Her reflection taunted, “I could have decked him…in a heart beat. I had the advantage. I’m smaller and more agile. I let him bully me. Why?”

She stared at the woman in the mirror, demanding, “Are you a squeamish female?”

The answer troubled. “Of course, you are…and always will be.”

The voice was DOC Cartwright’s, the intent to scold her. All the martial arts training in the universe meant nothing. “Toughen up, Dana!”
 

She gritted her teeth. “Next time, fight back. You could deck Mansfield. You could deck the Captain, though at what cost?”

Her blue eye twinkled, as she recalled the intoxicating joy of Kieran’s touch. “Oh, how I long for him to hold me again.” However, the word ‘entanglements’ kept resurfacing.

She sighed, ordered herself to get some sleep and slid, between the sheets.
 

Warning klaxons sounded. Red alert!

Dana tumbled from her bunk, realizing quickly it was but a vivid dream. Yet, her heart pounded like thunder.
 

In it, she manned the helm of a small, survey ship facing a massive anomaly. It looked like a wall, blotting out all the stars. She guessed it was The Van Corey Belt…so the scene had to be from the
Calvary
…with Franklin Shepherd at the helm…and from his point-of-view.
 

What does it mean?
 

She couldn’t be certain, though a hint of a smile crossed her face as she thought of her human father. The N-link remained on the desk, near the Shakespeare books, so with both eyes closed, she could feel a comfortable empathetic connection to him.
 

Thank you for the gift…Commander Brandt tried to deliver it.

What came back in return puzzled her.

April.

Before she could ponder the meaning, the intercom sounded and Janz Macao snapped, “I need you on the bridge, Mister Cartwright!”

“On my way, sir…”
 

She scrambled into a clean, crisp tunic uniform and hurriedly tugged on boots. As an afterthought, Dana went to the book collection, took up volume two, of the richly bound books, titled,
Macbeth,
released the clasp, and opened the cover. The center of all the pages was hollowed out. A heavy black cloth covered an object. She stripped away the cloth and held a sleek, highly polished sheath protecting the Sterillian blade.

“My trusted friend,” she whispered, secreting the dagger in her left boot. If ever there was a time to be armed, it was now.

When she stepped off the lift and onto the Bridge, still in the process of braiding her hair, the Captain pointed her to her station. He then came to hover at her elbow.

“Take a look at this energy signature…” He pointed to the left of the screen and whispered, “Play along.”

Playing wasn’t her forte…neither was acting.

She frowned at the readings. “Not good,” Dana commented, looking up into his frown. Her left eye narrowed. “That is not one of ours.”
 

“Indeed…we have uninvited company, and this time, there’s no cat to come along and save the cheese.”

Dana scowled at the reference to their cat-and-mouse game played with the Blade Class shuttle to lure in
Karis
, clearly a ruse by SSID as cover for Kieran Jai to bring a replacement ship so that the mission could proceed.
 

This seemed different. “If they see
Karis
in our shadow…”
 

“Exactly what I feared.” Macao started away, calling to other bridge officers. “Mister Nichols? You’re with me. Mister Cartwright, you have the con. Keep a close eye on our intruder.”

Dana sank back into the station chair, mumbling,
 
“Aye, I have the con.”

The twosome quickly headed for the lift. She focused again on the scanner…on the uninvited company, all the while wondering Macao’s intentions and what the effect wold be on the mission timing.

The elusive ship surely indicated the presence of
 
mercenaries; detecting them much sooner than the Captain had intended.

Dana heaved a sigh. Sam Ehrmann’s mission odds just quadrupled.
 

McHale arrived on the Main Bridge to relieve her. The Captain never returned. Dana made her way to the
 
Deck Six galley, craving coffee. All the corridors seemed deserted, and only one man was there having a snack.
 

Sam Ehrmann called to her. “You look eager to get underway.” He offered a grin, guessing, “Must be on the team, too. I bet you would be.”

“Won your bet then,” Dana answered, ordering a coffee and taking it. “May I join you?”

He beamed, “Absolutely,” and pointed to the chair beside him, facing the door. “You look a little shaken. Everything okay?”

“Scans have detected some ‘uninvited company’ in the area.”

“Probably mercs…exactly as the mission file predicted.” Ehrmann patted her upper arm, offering a
 
wink and a nod, “Time for some action. Let the fun begin.”
 

That did little to cheer her.
 

“Come on, Dana, cheer up. This isn’t your first time, is it?”

“I have…reservations.” She didn’t dare tell him the truth, or her fears.

“Not to worry, you’ve got the Captain…and me…on your team.”

“That leaves about a dozen enemies,” she quipped.

“No, not enemies. Take McHale, for instance. He’s very impressed that you ordered the circuitry in engineering to be rewired rather than jury-rigged. And Chief Miller said you rank among the best pilots he’s ever seen.”

“Really? He said that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dana felt marginally better. “I guess I got off on the wrong foot with Nichols and Mansfield.”

“Those two are always walking around in a stew,” Sam mumbled, “Forget ‘em. There’s no pleasing their ilk.”

“You’ve been aboard
Lancer
a long time,” Dana commented. “I guess you should know.”

He winked, “I like the action around here. Some ships can be awfully boring. At least Captain Macao recognizes my other — how should we say — talents. Makes up for the rest.”

Sam Ehrmann emptied his coffee in one swallow and crushed the cup by making a fist. “You have other talents, too, or so I hear,” he commented.

Dana merely nodded, uncertain exactly what he meant.

“Don’t be modest, lady. Flaunt them. Promotions only come if you take a chance and put yourself in the right place at the right time. You’re quite a marksman.”

She shook her head. “I’m just not a gambler.”

He shrugged and got up to go.

“Sam? One last question…”

“Shoot.”

“Is this one dangerous?”

He chuckled softly. “Put it this way, keep your weapon handy.” He did a quick flick of the wrist as though quick drawing a weapon and threw the smashed coffee cup at the trash chute door clear across the room, hitting his target square on.

“Nice shot!” Dana complemented. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Hey, advice is cheap; the side action is where I make my profit.” Ehrmann signaled two thumbs up and headed out the door.

She wondered at his meaning.
Side action? Could Sam Ehrmann also be suspect?

Mansfield entered, going to get coffee and a breakfast roll.

Dana stiffened, watching and following his every movement with her eyes. The last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation.

He spotted her, and appeared to be itching for one.

“I hear the Captain wants to see me again,” he grumbled, “Did you go crying to him?”

Dana looked down into her coffee. She could play this two ways — tough or meek. Much as she hated the thought, the latter appeared the better choice. “Sorry to disappoint you again, Mister Mansfield. The Captain has already chewed me out. He wants us to form a truce in the best interest of morale.”

“Truce?” Mansfield sneered at first, then gloated, “Nothing short of your transfer will suffice.”

She shrugged off the statement, which incensed him completely.

“Listen, you little bitch,” he shouted, grabbing her wrist, spilling his hot coffee all over her clean uniform in the process, “Until you came aboard,
Lancer
’s bridge morale was just fine!”

“Let go!” Dana insisted, squirming in his grip. She tugged and twisted, wanting to get her left hand free so she could reach the dagger in her boot.
 

He merely gloated and tightened his fingers about her wrists. The table limited her response, else she’d have thrown him across the room.

Janz Macao stepped into the lounge just then. Mansfield’s back was to him, but it didn’t take the Captain long to assess the situation.

Macao pushed the weapons officer aside, slamming Mansfield face down against a table with his left arm pinned behind his back in a quick wrestling hold. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on her again, Mister!” The Captain hissed angrily.

Mansfield managed a martial arts movement to get free, but that put him face-to-face with the Captain. He realized his error instantly, and snapped to attention with a sinking look upon his face.

“Are you all right, Dana?” Macao asked, worriedly, seeing the scalding coffee dripping down her jacket.

“I’m fine, sir.” She mopped up the spill with a cloth napkin that Sam Ehrmann had abandoned on the table.

“Mister Mansfield?”

“Sir, it’s not what you…”

“Silence! Assaulting an officer is a court-martial offense. Lt. Cmdr. Cartwright has refused to press charges for your past behavior. I will. Mister Mansfield, you have endangered this mission, assaulted an officer, and disobeyed a direct order. That makes for a good charge of insubordination. Do you wish to make a statement now, or wait until the hearing?”

Mansfield returned formally, “I’ll wait, sir.”

“Fine!” The Captain used his voice-badge to summon security.

Jay Gordon arrived with two of his lieutenants.
 

“Mister Mansfield is confined to quarters under full guard, until a preliminary hearing is convened upon my return; or when
Lancer
returns to Station Four, whichever comes first,” Macao ordered.

Gordon accepted the order calmly, but it was clear to Dana that the Security Chief was wondering the nature of the charges. She also wondered what Mansfield would tell him when they reached the corridor.

“Dismissed,” the Captain called, watching them leave. He reached for her right hand, inspecting it carefully. “Are you sure you are all right? That was scalding hot.”

“I’m fine,” she assured, though her voice betrayed
 
how shaken and distressed she was.

He brought her a fresh cup of chocolay from the duplicator, and helped her out of her wet jacket, draping it on the back of his chair. Then he fetched another cup for himself and sank into the chair beside her, facing the door.