Her frown deepened to a grimace the closer she got to the Captain’s quarters. The lock was set but she easily overrode it as Acting First Officer. The life-star was illumined, glowing in multicolored brilliance.
When she stood before it, tears welled up. They finally broke free and streamed down her cheeks. She sank weakly onto the edge of the bunk, incapable of pulling herself together; the disappointment proved far too incapacitating for her to move.
Janz Macao had to have known. Each jewel upon the life-star shouted out his guilt. That only one hollow place remained confirmed the truth. He knew!
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A half-hour later, McHale entered and stood beside her. “Miller and Nishada are both in detention.”
Cartwright nodded absently.
“I still can’t believe that…Captain Macao would just…” McHale mumbled. “I’ve served with him all these years and…” The thought trailed off. He stared at the life-star.
“What do we do now, Commander?” Dana wondered.
McHale groaned and heaved a sigh. “I’m open to recommendations?”
“Go after them? We can’t let them get away with this,” she decided.
“You mean rescue them? How do you rescue someone who doesn’t want to be rescued? How do you convince them to come back and face…”
“Do we dare put Lancer in that area? I don’t think so,” Dana worried. “They know we won’t.”
“We have orders to rendezvous.”
“We have orders to return to Four,” Dana countered.
McHale swore. “You could go after them with the shuttle.” He frowned, “It’s against regulations to take a shuttle out with the autopilot malfunctioning, but…”
“Mackenna says he can copilot.”
“I was thinking Mansfield, if you drop the assault charges.”
Dana resisted, “I didn’t file them. The Captain did. Only he…” Dana broke off the thought. McHale’s suggestion was the second time a Mansfield supporter had attempted to manipulate her.
“Mansfield deserves his time in detention,” she reminded. And, perhaps, the smugglers on the team deserved their fate, as well.
Was that Kieran’s point? Was it ‘too dangerous’ a mission because these men were not intending to make it back? They were better ‘lost in action’ as heroes than face a court-martial.
McHale had moved to the doorway. He ordered, “We need a briefing. Gather a team.”
She nodded. “How much do we tell them, Commander?”
“Everything they need to know…fifteen minutes, Briefing Room One.”
After McHale exited, she approached the life-star. Dana considered the one small space left unfilled — one small, empty space. She pulled out the stiletto. The ruby on its pommel was just the size to fit.
“So the decision is mine,” Dana told it, lamenting, “Do I buy his freedom with this little gem. Do I save his life, only for him to lose it again? Duty doesn’t mix with love… Duty? Tradition? Freedom?”
The ruby came easily out from the setting.
At the briefing, Dana told the whole story, and then stood back to review the faces. Mackenna was too anxious, in contrast to her own reservations about the rescue mission.
In the third chair, Ensign Landers was captivated, reviewing Mackenna’s handiwork.
McHale sat at the far chair, the captain’s chair. “This mission,” he emphasized, “has one purpose only — to rescue all members of the team and return them to Lancer. No heroics — no try for completion of the original mission. Is that thoroughly understood?”
That last comment was aimed at her, Dana knew, because McHale still believed his mistaken notion that she was SSID. The time to set him straight would come after their return to Four.
“At all times remember, you have only manual controls. Heads up. Eyes open.” McHale stood, “Good luck... Dismissed.”
His gaze touched on her before he left the briefing room, eyes full of mixed emotions. McHale was struggling with his conscience, too.
Dana lingered as the others filed out.
Jay Gordon, Sam Ehrmann, Dan Nichols and Janz Macao…four smugglers out of all the team members.
What about Doctor Grant? Where would his loyalties lie? And wouldn’t Carl Bryant’s go to Janz. He’d served the Captain long enough. And wouldn’t the two security officers side with Gordie?
Dana shut her eyes. What about Kieran? Would he protect his brother? Or would he be a target?
She could imagine his face when she, Mackenna and Landers arrived with the little shuttle. He would not be pleased that she’d risked her life. And, he would not be pleased if she interfered with his mission.
She felt a duty, a sense of right and wrong.
The team members didn’t deserve to die on a forgotten rock far from Republic territory. Yet, they would face court-martial. At least they could tell their side of the story and, perhaps, justify their actions.
Then she dared to wonder, what if… What if they don’t want to come back?
Janz Macao knew her marksmanship record. They might…
Tactics!
Dana remembered how the Captain had charged she was not trained for military tactics…
Well, he didn’t know half of her training. He didn’t know that she had passed the EVA-Stress Evaluation first try, which very few cadets ever managed to do.
Landers ended the simulation and patted Mackenna on the shoulder. “That is one hell of a program. Do you really think we’re going to find them grounded at their first refueling stop?”
Mackenna sighed. “The first time they try for a landing, the whole system will shut down on them. They’re so overweight, they’ll land hard, really hard. It’d be weeks of repairs before she’ll fly again, if at all.”
“Mister Cartwright?” Landers called, shaking Dana out of her planning mode. “You know, I feel partially responsible for this; so I want to thank you for allowing me to be on the rescue team.”
“Ensign,” she nodded in his direction, “just make sure that Trader One is fit to get us all home.”
“Aye, sir, no jury-rigging this time.”
He and Mackenna started for the door.
“Ma’am?”
This time Mackenna spoke up. “Thanks for getting me out of the yeomen’s pool.”
“Hope you can say that after this is over,” Dana said. She didn’t laugh, but forced a smile. “Carry on.”
Too much seemed left to chance, yet Dana felt a growing confidence that all would end well. Still, she headed down to the infirmary to procure the medical instruments and supplies she hoped she would not need. After her last meeting with Doctor Patel, this had the feel of camaraderie. He repeated his wish to go with them, but since he was not, he offered a med-kit nearly as complete as those she’d hefted as an EMT. It brought back memories of her time at Medical Center East.
Patel wished her luck and sent her on her way.
Dana returned to her quarters to add a few more things to her flight bag. Mackenna had procured civilian clothing for them all, simple flight suits, like the one she’d worn as a Mech-Tech at Four before she came aboard.
She surveyed her quarters with a cursory glance. If she never saw the room again, no matter. The vandalized books were the only valuables she’d ever owned, besides the Sterillian blade in the sheath inside her boot. Nothing else of value remained.
Dana put the flight bag aboard Trader One; did a mental preflight checklist, then waited for Mackenna and Landers to join her.
“I brought some extra firepower,” Mackenna said, stowing three rifle-style civilian laser weapons in an overhead compartment. Then he came forward and pinned a communicator to Dana’s sleeve. “These are complements of Commander McHale. Wouldn’t do to have a Lancer or Star Service logo on our sleeves. They look pretty generic. He also sent down some extra rations for the trip home. With the team aboard, we’re going to be slower. The weight ratio on these shuttles is always a factor.”
He
continued on, but Dana heard only bits of it. Her attention was elsewhere — on her empathetic senses.
The feeling of foreboding intensified.
“We need to get underway right now,” she said, interrupting Mackenna, and finishing the preflight, “Strap in guys.”
Mackenna fingered the communicator on his sleeve. “Landers? You ready?”
“All gear stowed. All hatches closed. On my way…”
“Good, get strapped. Here we go.”
Dana used the main communications board, “Lancer Shuttle Deck, Trader One ready for launch.”
In less than a minute, they were underway with Mackenna at the pilot’s controls, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Oh, it’s been too long. I have so missed flying these birds.”
“Cut the chit-chat,” Dana cautioned. “How long till we reach Decker Station, their first possible refueling stop.”
“Ten hours…” Mackenna guessed, “we could do it in less, if we punch up the speed to Level 4…”
“Do it!”
Two hours later, Mackenna slowed from interstellar to thrusters and did a line of sight approach on the small planet, which the star maps listed as a refueling stop, called Decker IV.
He used the main communications speaker, “Decker Station, this is shuttle T77142 requesting refueling stop clearance.”
“T77142 you are clear to pad 61,” came back in a mechanical voice.
“Roger, 6-1.”
Dana let Mackenna handle the flight controls for the landing. Landers came forward to the flight cabin to watch from the observation seat.
Decker Station existed on a piece of rock orbiting a fading yellow sun. The big ships didn’t dare even assume an orbit around the tiny planet. The little trader fell through the atmosphere toward the ground base, through the clouds, skirting a ridge of amber colored mountains on the northern perimeter of the station.
Mackenna flew flawlessly.
“Whoa! Look over there!” Landers shouted, pointing to a debris field on their port side. “That’s recent!” He didn’t finish.
All three spotted Karis at the same time; her hull breached, and starboard engine little more than mangled metal. She rested a hundred meters short of the nearest landing pad.
“I was afraid of that,” Mackenna muttered. “They hit the ridge…because they were overweight!”
“Fuselage is barely intact,” Dana noted, then groped for the controls. “Mac…”
Their own descent took a dive to port before Mackenna realized. With Dana’s help, he recovered control.
“Downdraft! Jeez!”
With a sigh, they were on the landing pad emblazoned with the number 61.
“Sorry, Commander,” Mackenna said, after shutting down the engines, “I got a little distracted.”
“What a hell of an approach pattern,” Landers commented, as he undid his safety bar and started for the rear compartment. Mackenna made to follow but Dana stopped them.
“The hardest part of our mission is yet to come,” she cautioned.
“I’m ready for anything,” Mackenna said. Landers nodded.
“First we assess the situation. No talk of what awaits when we get back. Understood?”
“You got it, Commander. You lead. The poker game has just begun.”
“I don’t gamble,” Dana countered.
“You do now,” he quipped.
“What ever happens, we use first names only! No ranks, no mil talk,” she reminded, “we’re civilians.”
They nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Before leaving Trader One, Dana pulled her flight bag from the storage compartment and slung it over her shoulder. Mackenna and Landers did the same, though they had their rifles at hand.
Decker Station welcomed them with little fanfare. In fact, other than a refueling android, not a soul approached the three of them. Maybe too many years in the Star Service had jaded Dana’s perspective, but it seemed damned unusual that they could walk right into the heart of the station unannounced.
“Either they don’t give a damn, or they don’t give a damn,” Mackenna muttered, flanking Dana on the right. Landers walked a little behind and to their left.
“If this is typical of the outer colonies and space ports, any smuggler could waltz right in here with a hold of contraband and not a care.”
They finally came upon two station employees, identifiable only because of a logo on their coveralls.
“That’s a nasty wreck on the approach pattern,” Mackenna began. “Did they walk away from it?”
After a brief silence where all parties assessed the other, one of the men replied, “What’s it to you?”
“We’re empty. If she’s got cargo to go somewhere, we…”
“She’s empty, too, or so they claim,” one of the men scoffed.
“Maybe the crew then,” Dana put in, suddenly suspicious of the two.
“They’re still aboard. Turned down offers of assistance.” Both of the locals walked away without another glance.
Dana breathed a sigh. “Let’s go. It’s quite a trek through the desert. See if we can get a local… Or a rental.”
Their pace quickened toward the station lobby area where a dozen or more ground transportation vehicles waited in vain for passengers. Mackenna led to the second vehicle, a heavy duty terrain crawler and opened the door for her and Landers. He dickered with the pilot then fell into the driver’s seat himself. “I have a phobia about taking the lead car,” he snickered, gunning the engine.
“With reason, I assume?”
He laughed. “Yeah, it’s a long story. I’ll save it for the trip home.”
“How much did this cost?” Landers wondered.
“Oh, these are courtesy vehicles.”
On the short trip across the tundra, Dana silently mulled over how easily the mission had progressed so far. Her fears mounted as the all-terrain crawler drew closer to Karis.
“Lots of damage,” Mackenna said.
“Be ready for anything,” Dana ordered.
She psyched herself up to do the same. DOC Cartwright would call it ‘rolling with the punches’ or some such antiquated phrase. That’s how he’d lived his life before he’d adopted her. Some of that spirit rubbed off; but, mostly, she liked to play it safe. She called up all the courage she could muster to face this one.
“If you’re correct, Mac, they’ve got four tons of contraband down in the hold. The first chance you get, take a look-see down there, and find a covert way to get the message to me.”
“Right…”
“Not a word to anyone about the situation waiting back aboard Lancer,” she reminded them.
They nodded agreement.
Landers led out of the crawler; Mackenna brought up the rear. At the lower hatch, at about the trader’s middle section, Dana touched the control and entered a security override.
The door fell open. Inside, two security officers were on their feet, waiting, weapons at the ready.
Kieran Jai yelled, “Hold!”
Dana, Mackenna and Landers hurried in. Kieran hit the retraction mechanism to close the hatch, turned and glared.
“Well, I’ve had warmer welcomes,” Dana said, staring at the security officers.
“Dana? What in hell are you doing here?” Kieran snapped.
She let his demand pass without comment, asking her own questions. “How bad?”
“We came down like a lead brick. Four dead… Four injured…Janz has the most serious injury. Grant’s incapacitated and can’t do surgery…” Kieran scowled at Mackenna and Landers. “How did you find us?”
Dan Nichols appeared in the adjoining hatchway, his own left arm held hard to his side in obvious discomfort. “What a sad excuse for a rescue team?”
“Where are the others?” Dana retorted, ignoring the jibe as she set out the medical kit and began to work on his elbow.
“Gordie? Sam?”
“Both injured,” Kieran volunteered.
Nichols scowled.
“What’s going on? How’d you get here?”
“McHale sent us.” She glanced back towards Mackenna and Landers who remained by the hatch, in defensive positions. “We uncovered some evidence that Karis — like the little trader — had been sabotaged, in an attempt to delay the mission.”
“That’s crazy!” Nichols yelped as she tugged on his elbow.
Mackenna volunteered, “I ran a computer simulation. There was no doubt that your first landing would be your last.”
“We were set up? From the beginning?” Nichols wondered.
Dana resisted blurting out the details. “You need to rest your arm, Dan.”
He tried to flex it and she scolded, “Rest it!”
He obeyed.
“Mac and Tim can help you take any gear you want transferred to the trader. You just point and they’ll handle it.”
For the first time in their relationship, Dan Nichols accepted orders from her.
She turned to Kieran. “Okay, next patient.”
Kieran led her down the ramp from the rotunda reception area to the crew cabins one level below.
Doctor Grant blocked the door to what should have been the Captain’s quarters. He looked like hell, with a patch over one eye and a nasty laceration down the side of his cheek, jaw, and neck below it.
“Is Patel with you?” Grant demanded.
“No,” Dana shook her head. “How bad is it?”
“The Captain...It’s a spinal injury.” Grant held up his bandaged hands. “I can’t…”
Dana ran a scan on Grant’s fingers. “There’s not much more I can do for you in the field. Mac will take you back to Lancer. I’ll see to the Captain.”
He glared. “Mister Cartwright? You can’t…It’s bad, I’m telling you. I administered a sedative and an anti-inflammatory. We need a C-FIIN and a spine specialist.”
“Trust me, I’ve done spinal weaves before,” she assured, coaxing him aside. “Did the instruments survive?”
Kieran nodded, promising Grant, “She can handle it, Doctor.”
Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer Page 20
