Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer (29 page)

Done!

Will you fit in the air ducts?

Should…

Get back down here…

She went to the air duct, pulled off the grill and set it inside. She pushed all the weapons down the shaft, jumped up and secured the grill back over the opening so no one would ever know…Not that they’d get through the crash doors.

From the memorized basic ship design diagrams, she chose a direction and began to move, turning on the wrist beacon to get her bearings. Sliding the merc rifles along made too much noise, so she abandoned two of them near a grill at the rotunda and continued on down to the crew cabin level.

She froze, hearing shouts and a scuffle from deep down in the hold, and both felt and heard an agonizing scream.

K!

Dana sank back against the metal ducting, realizing she’d violated the number one rule of combat: rescue the hostages first.

Except, like the EVA-Stress Scenario — that left the top secret technology on the bridge at risk.

Janz Macao growled, telepathically,
Get down here! Don’t second guess! Hurry! I need a weapon!

Dana slid quickly along the level ducting, then down until reaching the big main cabin where she’d done the surgery.

Janz already had the grill off. He’d recovered some movement, was dressed now in civilian clothes, though somewhat haphazardly.
 

“They’re searching room-to-room for…”

She handed down two weapons.

Just as she prepared to slide down, the cabin door burst open.

Macao fired twice, stunning one merc, killing the other.
 

Without remorse, Dana finished off the first with a carefully placed shot and prepared to jump down.

No! Go down to the hold. We’ll trap them between us.

Twelve…
She reminded, and resumed her downward progress as Macao replaced the grill.

More shouts came from below. Dana used stealth, continuing through the ventilation ducts in the dark so the light from the beacon could not be detected.

Someone gruffly demanded of Kieran, “How many of your friends?”

The voice echoed through the shaft.

“One…”
 

Kieran moaned from a blow to the gut.

“You lie!”

“Four,” Kieran screamed in anguish.

Dana cringed, but continued, feeling her way, steeling herself for further combat.

Janz Macao sent,
Nine…

She blinked, seeing light ahead, feeling cold air on her face.

Fane!

The duct ahead was crushed inward with a jagged edge, collapsed and too narrow for her to pass. After assessing the damage, and realizing without boots she could do nothing to expand the shaft, and not having a medical laser to cut a path, she retreated, crawling backwards to the last junction to take a different route.

It put her much farther away from the main cargo bay than she wanted, and into a smaller holding area heavily damaged during the landing.

She quietly removed the grill, slid it aside, then jumped down from the duct, weapon at the ready.

Her feet touched down ankle deep in murky water. With the beacon, she took a careful scan to get her bearings before slowly wading forward, doing her best to not make a splashing noise.

Where are you?
Macao demanded.

Reluctantly, she admitted,
Trapped. Have to back track
.

Ahead, blocking the way were several beams and a major bulkhead panel. There was no way to get to the hatch.

Dana shut her eyes, reviewing from memory the diagrams of that level. Although never having visited the hold before, she recalled on the diagrams that four separate storage compartments adjoined the main hold. Retreating once again to the ducts, she scrambled farther along and this time even before reaching the grill, she heard voices speaking Castellan and another language she could not comprehend.

Her gut seized, both with fear and loathing, as she recalled Janz Macao’s story of his and McHale’s encounter with surgically altered Castellans.

Macao telepathically responded calmly,
Be careful
!

From her position, four men were visible, all wearing full body armor. Three of the four were tall, stocky figures. The fourth seemed oddly small — almost boyish — not much taller than she. Only he had a weapon at the ready. The others were busy checking crates.

No sign of Kieran
, she told Macao, using the telepathic link.
I can take down these. What’s your sit?

He responded roughly,
Hold for my signal.

She did her best to calm her breathing, until the pounding of her heart seemed nearly back to normal, but waiting was not her forte.

Just when she felt calm, all hell broke loose. She peered through the grill. From just beyond the hatchway came weapons fire and shouts intermingled. The mercs in the storage hold reacted, bringing weapons up, fully alert.

Dana waited and waited.
Sir?
She mentally demanded an answer.

Hold!
Macao again ordered.

She picked up a number.
Seven…
guessing it meant seven remained.

So she waited.

And waited.

Her wet feet ached from the cold, stomach felt tied in knots, and she forcefully willed her breathing to be of a calm cadence.

She heard movement down in the bay and dared a look, puzzling,
Sir? They’re moving crates, tagging them for transport, beaming them away.

Stealing…
Janz retorted.

She spotted Kieran’s motionless body atop one they moved out to the center area. “Oh, no!” She reacted, kicking out the grill, firing in quick succession. Three fell, but the fourth returned fire, scorching the duct where her head had been.

Dana listened, shutting her eyes, tracking the merc with her senses, her finger on the trigger.

“I will kill this one if you do not surrender your weapons,” the merc shouted up at her.

Dana’s heart ached.

Sir?
She pleaded to Macao for guidance.

Stall,
he responded.
I’m close. Three more here…

She inched closer to the gaping hole and dared a peek. The merc hovered over Kieran’s prone body — over the coffin-like crate — with a weapon pointed downward.
 

Her resolve weakened as she wondered,
Can I out gun him?

Stall!
Macao ordered.
Do I have to repeat every blasted order?

Chastised by the Captain’s tone, Dana slid closer to the hole.

“Okay…I’m throwing down my weapon,” she told the merc. She reached out so he could see it, before letting it drop down to the deck.

“Good…now, come out, slowly.”

There was no graceful way to do it. She went out head first, tumbled, and planted her feet on the freezing cold deck, with both hands up. Not a perfect ‘ten’ gymnastic dismount by any means.

The merc roared with laughter. “A wo-man… A tiny wo-man…”

She shook her head defiantly. The N-link dislodged from her braid, falling with a clatter to the deck some distance away.

The merc’s aim shifted to her midriff. “What is that?”

“A communicator,” she lied, steeling her gaze, unable to see his eyes through the visor on the helmet, but sensing empathetically his nervousness and something else.

“Tell your companions to surrender,” he ordered.

Dana stalled. “You just did. Doubt they will. Only three of your men left.”

“How many of you?” He demanded.

“Five,” she told him.

“You lie!” He aimed again at Kieran, but kept his gaze on her. “How many?”

She detected movement. Kieran’s left hand slid gradually downward to his boot.

Dana shifted and paced, holding the man’s attention.

“Five…Why would I lie,” she countered. “You’re outnumbered. You should surrender now and live. You won’t if you harm me in any way.”

The bluff shouldn’t work — but her orders were to stall.

And then, an overwhelming empathetic impression struck her. “You’re Enturian!” She stared at the man — he was the smallest of the four.

The merc froze. “What are you?” he demanded, weapon pointed down, but aimed away from Kieran. “Come closer — come into the light.”

She took a few shaky steps.

“Your eyes!” He stared, momentarily distracted. “They are mismatched!”

She saw the blade tip as Kieran jammed it upward, into the merc’s side, while grasping the man’s right hand, wrenching the weapon free.

The merc reacted by tagging Kieran with a transport patch.

Dana screamed, “No!” as Kieran vanished. She rolled clear, retrieved her hand weapon and aimed as the hatch opened, expecting more mercenaries.

“Hold!” Janz Macao shouted, rushing in, wrestling the merc to the deck, collapsing with the man’s body atop himself, too weak to do much more.

Dana waited two-seconds, and then raced forward to help.
 
Macao shrugged off her ministrations.

“He tagged Kieran!” She gasped, tugging the merc aside, retrieving the Sterillian blade from the man’s limp body.

“Fane!” Macao responded, struggling to get to his feet. “Are there more?”

“He’s the last here! No doubt there are more aboard their ship.” Dana knelt beside the mercenary’s body and tugged off the man’s helmet as greenish blood oozed out from the knife wound. “He’s Enturian!”

The Captain scowled.

“Still alive,” she grumbled, feeling for a pulse — not in the usual human artery — but where it would be on an Enturian and announced, “if he were human, he’d be dead.”
 

The merc opened his eyelids, training his mismatched irises upon hers. He weakly reached up with a gloved hand. “Who?”

She blinked, knowing exactly why he asked. “I’m January.”

He winced. “You are the January! The first of the twelve…”

She frowned. “Who are you? Are you March?”

He shuddered, gasping, “Novem…November. You…You are the most perfect…” His eyes glazed over and his head lolled to the side.

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Dana groaned. “November…He’s eleven of twelve…”
 

Janz Macao demanded, “What did he mean? Most perfect?”

“I need my med-kit to be sure.” Dana pulled off more of the man’s armor, exposing gnarled hands and a somewhat deformed upper body, using a glove to press against the wound to stop the bleeding. “Without doing a DNA scan to be certain, I’m going to say, this man and I have common parentage. He’s a tribrid.”

“Can you save him?” Macao asked.

“I’m going to try…”

The Captain sank down beside the mercenary’s body, and reached out to hold the glove in place. “Go get your kit. I’ll…”

She wasted little time scrambling to her feet, racing up to the main cabin, returning as Macao was struggling to strip off the armor from one of the other, taller men, while still holding the glove in place over Novem’s wound.

“Sir?”

He watched as she tended the merc, using a device to stop the bleeding and to seal the wound, just as she had done to the gash on his forehead.

When she was finished, he ordered, “Help me into this armor!”

“Sir, you need to rest!”

“Damn it, Mister Cartwright! Follow orders!” He stripped off his civilian jacket and struggled into the merc’s armor.

Dana obeyed, helping him into the ill fitting gear, offering over the weapon and the helmet.

“Give me something for the pain,” he pleaded.

She quickly programmed a digital injector, adding, “I’ve added more anti-inflammatory.” She bit back further protests that he should rest. “Be careful!” She warned, “Your spine is very fragile right now. You could cause permanent damage.”

“The body armor will help,” he retorted. “While I’m gone, sedate this one. Run DNA scans on all the others. Then get up to the bridge and scrub the computers. Wipe them clean! Understood!”

She nodded.
 

“Tag me for transport…” He had the Sterillian blade in one hand and the merc weapon in the other.

She took up a roll of the tags, slapped one on Macao’s chest and stood back as it activated and MAT’d him away an instant later.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Dana waited until the strange transport effect faded before moving back to Novem’s side, taking more readings. “November…” she mumbled, amazed at the man’s words. “He’s eleven of twelve…I’m first...”

She had to push all emotions over the situation aside, focusing on completing her assigned tasks.
 

As the Captain ordered, she administered a sedative to Novem, then began taking DNA samples from the men there in the hold, the dead out in the corridor and in the rotunda. She retrieved the two weapons she’d left in the duct near the grill, taking them with her to the bridge crash doors, setting them against the bulkhead while she struggled to get the hatch open. It got stuck with just enough room for her to slip through.

She ignored the three she’d felled on the bridge; ignoring the smell of blood and death commingled, muttering, “Need the air circulation system…”
 

Her first task was to scrub the computers. She worked methodically, quickly erasing every system and every backup.

By the time Dana finished
Karis
’s computer was wiped clean. The ship would never fly again. That gave her a strong feeling of melancholy.
Would have been fun to fly this…

Just as she got up, declaring her task finished, the overhead lighting failed, leaving her in total darkness.
 

Eerie noises and vibrations echoed throughout the ship. Maybe it was the wind, but it certainly seemed scary.

I’ve wiped the computers,
she told Macao telepathically.
There were seven Castellan-human hybrids, one Enturian-Galaxean-human tribrid, and twelve humanoids of an unidentified race.

He didn’t respond immediately.

Dana crept cautiously back down to the rotunda level, one weapon at the ready, the other slung over her shoulder. Silence and the glow of a single hand beacon greeted her on the crew cabin level. In the dim light, she gathered up her medical instruments into her gear bag, retrieved two blankets from a closet and the bunk in the cabin next door, then returned to the storage hold. She wrapped one blanket about her patient’s torso and used the other about her freezing feet.