Dana Cartwright Mission 3: Kal-King (19 page)

“Shower is all yours,” he urged and pointed to the cup and fresh clothing.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she stretched and slid out of bed. “Lights fifty percent.”

While she undressed and showered, he settled down at the small desk and called up on the viewer an SSID security update.

“Well, that’s good, the Enturian delegation finally arrived. They brought Major Gage so he could be reunited with his son.”

When Dana didn’t respond, he glanced her way, catching a Lady Godiva glimpse as she combed the coconut oil through her hip-length hair with her fingers. The ginger strands darkened to cinnamon and glistened attractively.

For a brief instant, he felt what it would be like to be mated to her. And he liked it, smiling so broadly he could not contain the feeling.
I love you, Dana January, with all my heart.

She smiled in his direction, but held back a response, instead dressing in the tunic and slacks, and then sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on her boots. “March stole the stiletto.”

Kieran sighed, “I’ll get another.”

Dana nodded. “I don’t trust him…and I don’t trust August.”

Kieran couldn’t resist watching how she mechanically separated her hair into three strands to braid it. All he felt was love, deep down inside.

Though he could not clearly sense her thoughts or emotions, he did note she seemed unsettled.

“When this is over, Dana, can we…” Her expression stopped him cold. “Dana?”

She stared past him — seeing what, he wasn’t sure. He bolted across the room, catching her up in his arms. Her mismatched eyes crossed and all color drained from her complexion as she sagged against him.

He tapped the voice-badge on his collar. “Medical emergency! Two to sickbay!”
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Doctor Serge’s eyebrows rose; he pointed the Commodore to lay Dana on the diagnostic bed beside Janz Macao, demanding gruffly, “What happened?”

“She just collapsed. Had a sonic shower, dressed, no food or drink since last night.”

Serge began to run diagnostics. Kieran backed away, bumping into his brother’s bed.

“Stroke?” Janz guessed, “From the stress?”

“I’m not so sure,” Kieran muttered. “She gave no indication of pain…perhaps, just fainted.”

Serge handed him the N-Link taken from about Dana’s neck. “Hold onto this.” Then, the doctor called for an android-nurse. “Let’s get her into a C-FIIN.” He began to push the diagnostic table into the next room. “Quarantine protocols, Commodore. Don’t leave sickbay until I test you.”

“Quarantine!” Kieran gasped. “Oh, no!” He tapped his voice-badge. “Bridge? McHale?”

When the Captain answered, Kieran continued, “Dana just collapsed. Doctor Serge ordered Quarantine Protocols! Alert Conference security!”

“That’s premature,” Janz growled, grasping at his brother’s arm.

“Fane! She was aboard King’s ship. They may have done something…”

“Would he harm his own sister?” Janz answered his own question. “Augustus Kaelin King might do anything.” He sighed, “Better warn Prince Korwin and Princess Micah!”

“And Ambassador Solon and… Oh, no! They could all potentially be exposed, if it’s a contagion!”

Captain McHale stared at the image on the forward view screen. Under normal circumstances, he’d be admiring the Blade Class and Dagger Class ships. All the Alphan built ambassadorial shuttles were graceful, sleek crafts.

Now, however, he eyed these ships with suspicion — as intruders — and worried about their motives. As Captain of the Star Service’s second largest cruiser, he knew firepower wasn’t an issue. What mattered more was cunning.

“Mister Coe? Can we listen in on their internal chatter?”

Well, of course they could;
Thresher
had all sorts of advanced technology. That was not the intent of his query.

“Under the circumstances, sir, I would say we have the moral and ethical duty to do so.”

McHale turned to the COM station Chief. “Picking up anything?”

Lt. Sharov’s face held a professional, natural smile. “The two ships have chatted with each other, sir. I suspect some code words in the exchange and analyzed them. Initial chatter aboard the Tresgan ship is limited to impatient squawks of irritation. Aboard the Dagger Class,
Kalis
, however, there have been some loud and rather heated arguments.”

“Play one for me,” McHale ordered, shifting in the command chair, favoring his bad leg, which ached more than usual.

“Aye, sir.”

The audio began, “‘You trust? I do not…You hate, I do not. Bah! You hate, half-breed. You hate as I hate. Not as you do. The plan cannot and should not… I must and it will. I will see it done.’”
 

“There’s more, sir, but rather mindless.”

“The plan?” McHale mulled over that. “Have you analyzed the voice prints?”

“They are virtually identical, sir,” Sharov reported.

“Mister Coe?” McHale swiveled the command chair towards the Science station. “Would clones have nearly identical voice prints?”

“It is certainly possible; however, due to vocal cavity dimensions and characteristics, identical is not always possible. There are often articulation differences, and unique signatures in everyone’s voice.” He spent a moment, then announced. “Voice one is unreadable. Voice two, however, has patterns of articulation unique to Galaxeans.”

“Compare Dana Cartwright’s voice print to these.”

Coe brought a padlet as he stepped down to stand beside the Captain, using it to indicate the voice comparison. “I removed the gender variant, and some of the unique inflection patterns.”

“So these are quite probably March and August,” McHale pointed to the first two.
 

“A logical conclusion, since Doctor March Garcia spent a good deal of time on Galaxea.”

McHale nodded rather wearily, and handed back the padlet. “Notify SSID of our findings. We have a potential security breech.”

Janz Macao shut his eyes tightly, pushing the pain away, calling to his life-mate.
 

Shalee? We have to help Dana.

His life partner responded impatiently,
There is little we can do, unless you re-establish the telepathic link, or use mastery techniques to call her into the ethers.

Janz sighed, reminding,
I’m under the influence. Don’t think I can pull it off without physical contact.
He tried breathing techniques and the like, but still could not reach that level of calm.

Shalee whispered softly, but still he shrugged.

Perhaps Princess Micah can. Let me...
 

His life-mate went silent.

Shalee?

Shh…

Dana felt no physical discomfort, nestled in the pliable foam of the mobile infirmary nodule, cushioned completely. Her distress was entirely emotional.

A ghostly figure hovered near her head, peering down at her, but she didn’t feel fear, monitoring the cadaverous illusion with curiosity.

DD?

She nearly laughed,
PK?

Worried about you
, the Prince whispered, his ghostly form leaning closer.

She blinked.
What happened?

Medical says they can’t find a reason, but you collapsed in your quarters.

I don’t remember,
she offered.
Took a shower, braided my hair, and then…
Dana scowled, recalling that Kieran had been speaking to her, but she did not hear.

Korwin rested his etheric hands on the clear cover of the coffin.
Dana, your brothers did something to you — they inserted something into your neck. It’s glowing.

She guessed,
I had an SSID tracking chip. March said he removed it. Maybe he replaced it with another type of unit.

Dana? Your aura is fading.

She heard the words, but didn’t understand. He seemed so far away.

Dana!

Her eyelids fluttered, heart rate dropping rapidly.

The coffin alarm sounded, alerting the doctors the patient was in distress. Serge began procedures to administer meds.

Prince Korwin and Princess Micah rushed in, pushing him aside. Korwin slammed his fist to release the C-FIIN controls. The top began to open. Princess Micah reached into the gap, sliding her mitten hand under Dana’s neck.

Doctor Serge watched, mesmerized, as the Princess withdrew her mitten, holding in the palm a tracking implant. She handed it to her life-mate, and then rested that glowing palm on Dana Cartwright’s forehead, while closing her eyes to concentrate.

Dana awoke with a start, eyes wide. “Your Highness!”

Princess Micah removed her mitten hand, secreting it in the folds of her robe until the glow faded. “Welcome back, Doctor Cartwright.
 
All better?”

Prince Korwin took some readings, and motioned Serge aside. “My love, let the AN’s do their job.” He patted Dana’s shoulder. “We’ll be outside until you’re dressed.”

He ordered the disconnection of all coffin systems, led Serge and Micah into the adjoining room, where Janz and Kieran waited.

Kieran inspected the implant, deciding, “Not one of ours.”

The android-nurses soon pushed the diagnostic bed alongside Macao’s. Dana stirred, pushing aside the blanket, dressed now in a plain tunic. After trying to focus on their faces, and though still very disoriented, she asked, “What’d I miss?”

Kieran held up the device.

She nodded. “March removed the SSID chip and crushed it, but must have inserted this.”

Kieran nodded. “What if Novem and Dec have these?” He tapped his voice-badge. “Captain McHale? Have sensors recorded any frequency changes emanating from either of the Crown Enterprises ships?”

McHale’s voice sounded confident. “Aye, sir. We’ve been analyzing several emanations, aimed at us and at
Katana
.”

“You must check Novem and Dec for implants,” Dana cried.

Prince Korwin patted her shoulder. “We’ll take care of it. Rest.” When she started to protest, he cautioned, “Doctor’s orders!” He led Princess Micah to the exit door.

Janz urged his brother, “Go with them, K. I’ll watch over Dana.”

Kieran leaned over her, kissing her cheek, then rushed to follow the Alphan Ambassador and Princess Micah.

Doctor Serge remained, running several additional scans, staring at Dana’s neck. “I don’t understand how Princess Micah removed that device.”

Cartwright held back a response. In the ether, she’d watched the procedure, but even she could not be certain exactly how Princess Micah had done the surgery.

When the doctor was satisfied with the diagnostic readings, he commented cautiously, “Everything seems stable. Please remain in sickbay for observation.” He then left them.

Janz glanced over, seeing how she wanted to get up and cautioned, “Dana, you need to rest.”

She chuckled at the role reversal, relented, and then changed the angle for the upper portion of the diagnostic bed so she could sit up. “I will if you will.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured.

She shut her eyes and sighed. “Sir?”

“No need for formalities. We’re friends, remember.”

“Janz? Tell me about the Masters of the Elect. Can you?”

He spoke in a whisper. “My father and his father were masters. They studied and practiced all the telepathic techniques, even scrying, which is what is often called global viewing. All Alphan ambassadors are trained in mastery techniques, especially those to block probes.”

Dana frowned. “Can you teach me? When I wear the N-Link, I feel safe. However, without it, even using the Galaxean and Eridani techniques, I feel…vulnerable.”

“You’re mostly Enturian,” he reminded.

“Not exactly.”

“What I mean is, your mother and father would need to teach you. It’s hereditary training.”

“And what are the odds Terrin Hale knows such techniques? Enturians frown upon such things.”

“Hale was trained on Galaxea,” Janz reminded. Then his eyebrows shot upward. “The Master Captain is your mother! Oh, that explains everything.”

“It does?”

“Your mentor — high in the Star Service — can you get much higher than a Master Captain?”

“Former Master Captain,” Dana cautioned.

“Still,” Macao exclaimed, “once a Master, always a master. She’s subject to call-back at any moment. In fact, I’ll bet she’s here with the Enturian delegation.”

Dana tossed aside the blanket, and slid off the diagnostic bed, bare feet touching the deck, totally forgetting her promise to rest. “I’ll bet she is!”
 

“Dana!” Macao called after her, but she was already out the door.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Captain McHale did a double-take. “Captain Cartwright?”

“Captain McHale, may I have a word with you?” Dana totally forgot to request permission to enter the Main Bridge.

McHale bolted up from the command chair. “Mister Coe, you have the con.” He then led Dana to the ready room, his private office, at the rear of the bridge level.

She followed, declining his offer of a chair to sit, instead standing near enough to be heard at a whisper. “Sir? I need to know the names of the members of the Enturian delegation.”

McHale’s eyes narrowed. “Purely for personal reasons?”

“Aye.”

He mulled over the request and heaved a sigh. “Only on one condition…”

“And that would be?” Dana wondered.

“That you do not reveal your relationship to anyone on the list, to anyone beyond this room.”

She nodded readily. “Many already suspect a relationship.”

McHale frowned, turning to his desk viewer, leaning over it, and touching the screen with his middle finger. “Well, let’s see.”

Dana nodded, craning her neck, reading the list of names, memorizing them. They meant nothing to her. “Who are these people?”

“The next generation,” he quipped. “
LoStar
’s crew, of course, is not listed. Major Gage is with them, because of his son being found among the sokem,” McHale shut down the viewer.

“Is Major Brandenberg?”

“I believe so.”

“It would be good to see them,” Dana said with a sigh.

“Well, I’ll gladly pass on a request for you. Can’t let you transfer over to the conference center without security clearance from the Commodore. I hope the quarantine protocols have been lifted.”