“Hawk left a message that he wanted me to meet him in the lounge near Spacer’s Haven,” Dana told the Rigelian.
“Good place to start,” Fomard said and stalked out.
Sullivan motioned that she follow him, but first she cast a glance over her shoulder in Kieran’s direction and found him smiling.
Hawk blocked the alleyway by stretching his arms out full, as if spreading his wings to swoop for the kill. Another Tresgan, sporting an array of totally illegal and barely legal weapons, stood by to back him up.
Dana stopped, folding her arms and waiting.
“I am deeply offended that Captain Cartwright ignored my messages,” Hawk squawked.
“No offense intended… I,” she emphasized the pronoun, “had another surgery on my leg and just now got your message.”
Hawk’s demeanor changed dramatically. He lowered his arms, even stooping a bit to appear less threatening. “I trust you are well now?”
“Much better,” Dana said, taking a more casual stance, showing him her left leg. “And I’m finally cleared to leave by the Spaceport Commissioner. In fact, he wants me out of here by 0700 tomorrow.”
Hawk let out what sounded like a Tresgan expletive. “I am ordered to leave by 0700 hours, too.”
“Why so soon?” Dana queried, taking a step closer as a friendly gesture.
Hawk said nothing, but his body language betrayed him.
“A little problem with security?” Dana teased, giving the other Tresgan a sidelong glance.
“I introduce Trede, my engineering officer. I find I now need a captain and a navigator. I again offer you the captaincy, Captain Cartwright. I allow you to hire another crew person.”
“What happened to Heskar?” Now, she was intrigued and rather enjoyed watching the Tresgan squirm.
“Heskar and Trail failed in the duel of honor with a Rigelian he angered.”
She tried hard to keep a smile from reaching her lips. “That was some bar fight; was he one of yours? Wow, that is quite a problem,” she said, stalling. “Let’s say I do accept your offer and can find a trustworthy navigator on such short notice, will I have authority over all? Even this one?” She indicated Trede.
“I grant you rank over all but me,” Hawk answered.
They exchanged stares. This time Dana blinked first. “I accept.”
His squawk sounded like, “Good,” but she couldn’t be certain. Maybe it was the damned translator again.
“I will take you to the ship now,” Hawk insisted.
“Later,” she said, starting away. “I need to find us a navigator.”
He called after her, “Bay 95.”
She waved acknowledgment and headed back the way she’d come, checking several times that they made no attempt to follow her. Then, she went straight to Commodore Jai’s suite at Wind-o-mar.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
His ash-blond hair now appeared blue-black, darker than even the Tresgan’s. His clothes were simple in style, dark-charcoal in color, clinging tightly to his muscular frame. She took a long, hard look.
“What do you think of the disguise?” He queried.
“Body looks good,” she said, admiringly, but had to laugh. “You look like an Alphan trying to appear to be a Galaxean.”
“I don’t have the right blood chemistry for that. I’m supposed to be an Enturian, from Luandra Sector.”
“Why not be an Alphan, so we don’t have to lie?”
“Because, my dear, there are only three Alphans who served as navigators in all of the Star Service during the years you served, all telepaths. Hawk would be suspicious. There were thousands of Enturian Exchange Officers. And it is essential that you and I appear to have an existing relationship.”
“Schaffer,” she decided, “you’re trying to impersonate Schaffer, the Enturian Exchange Officer from Navitor.”
She chuckled. “We didn’t really serve together. I met him once, while I was aboard to assist on your surgery. He went missing, you know.”
Kieran nodded, without offering the details of Janz Macao's mission to rescue the sokem. “I know. I thought that made a good cover.”
“Well, his hair would be gray now, and he weighed a lot less.”
“Are you certain? I called up his last Star Service visual.”
“That was nearly ten years ago, when he went missing,” Dana groaned, “however, to look younger, he might dye his hair. Enturians don't normally, but it is possible.”
Kieran sighed, “All right, I’ll go gray.”
He vanished into the bathroom, but didn’t close the door. “You’d better take the blade. I’ve exchanged the wardrobe I bought for some things more your style. They’re already packed.”
She hefted the dagger for a brief moment, not daring to ask how he'd gotten the Sterillian blade back from the Commissioner. Kieran had ways.
Dana secured the sheath inside her left boot and practiced with the blade, until able to insert and retrieve smoothly. Then, she picked through the rest of the items on the bed.
“My profile is on the link-reader,” Kieran told her. “You’ll want to review it.”
She started to memorize the details. Their relationship appeared to be quite intimate. “You take many liberties with my reputation,” she called.
“You’ve been to all those places and so has Kent Schaffer. The time frame was slightly off, but only by a year, so we tweaked the record.”
Kieran reappeared, now having a predominance of gray amid the strands of black hair. “Better?”
“You look quite distinguished,” she commented, then carried the link-reader to the bed and stretched out while reviewing the data.
“You know, the whole reason I signed up with SSID was the disguises,” Kieran said, checking his “look” in the mirror.
“You make this sound like a game.”
“It is, Dana; a game called survival. The stakes are quite high — higher than most would care to imagine.”
He pulled on a pair of silver boots like those worn by Enturian Star Service officers, then displayed a matching pair of gloves, explaining, “I’m going to have to wear these much of the time.”
“To hide the scars?”
“No, unfortunately, to hide my Alphan skin spots. I got too much sun; and Enturian’s don’t turn burnished bronze. You redden like humans native to the North American continent on Earth. And I’ve only just started treatment. It’ll take some time to erase them all.”
She set aside the link-reader and took a long, hard look at Kieran Jai. When he was thirty-three, he was the most fascinating man she’d ever met. The bravest? Certainly... The most handsome? Yes, he was that, too. And not many, in the years since, could challenge his wit and charm.
“Do you always think of everything?” She wondered, watching him as he poured over the weapons and devices before packing them. Then he came to her with an injector.
“There are times when something goes wrong, like on the Lancer mission. I’ve been fortunate. Most end better than expected. This is an experimental mind-link and locator device.” He finished telepathically. It allows SSID to track you. I have one, also, paired to yours.
Dana immediately noticed the change, hearing his thought directed at her.
Can SSID hear our exchanges? She wondered.
No, they can only track the device.
He checked his chronograph for the local time. “We have a few hours and you haven’t eaten. I found a great place for Terran steak.”
Dana got to her feet. “Enturians are vegans,” she reminded.
He frowned, leading the way, “Not this one, and not tonight!”
By the time Prince Korwin and his two man security detail rescued the threesome from the cavern, Macao was curled up in agony. Xalier and Schaffer were helpless.
“An anti-inflammatory medication mixed with a sedative should help,” the Prince offered, taking readings after administering the injection. “It appears you have injured your spine again, just above the spi
nal weaves. Who did the first two surgeries?”
“Dana Cartwright, Your Highness...”
“Ah, my dear friend and academy teammate; she’s an incredibly gifted surgeon,” Prince Korwin sighed. “I, however, am not certified to perform a spinal weave and, in any event, we have no device, nor a C-FIIN to transport you. I can keep you sedated until we rendezvous with Thresher, but…”
“Don’t worry about me, sir. How’s Schaffer?”
“My wife is feeding the lieutenant and the colonel right now. Are you hungry? You appear dehydrated.”
Macao sighed. “Hated the taste of that lithium water…” His lids were heavy. “What I need is sleep. Thank you, Your Highness, for answering my plea. I begged my brother, but he wouldn’t come.”
Prince Korwin whispered softly, “One day you will understand why.”
“He told me he killed Jad; that he had no choice. He was protecting Ambassador Kord, your father.” Janz heaved a sigh. “Kieran is such a liar.”
“My father? No…Captain, it was me he had to protect. For most of my life, Jad Arthur, your brother, served on the security detail for my father; and even for me on occasion when I attended academy and medical school on Earth. I trusted Jad completely. He turned on me, after I married Princess Micah of the Fet-Kah Nation, because she is not Alphan.”
Macao opened his eyes, with sadness studying Prince Korwin’s face, knowing the statement was true.
“I almost refused your plea, fearing I could not trust you. However, Micah remembered your mate, Shalee Raja, and assured me you are honorable.”
“My deepest thanks to Princess Micah.”
Prince Korwin nodded his head and got up to leave the bedside.
“Your Highness? When we were in the realm, did you catch a glimpse of another master? A dark mage?”
“I did not,” Prince Korwin answered, “but will test for one, if you feel that is necessary.”
“Please do so, before the rendezvous with Thresher, Your Highness, if I may be so bold. I’m too weak to be of assistance to you.”
“You may be so bold and I shall. Rest now,” Prince Korwin ordered, dimming the lights before slipping quietly out of the cabin.
Shalee’s melodious voice brought a smile to Macao’s face when she whispered in his mind.
My Beloved, I know what the darkness was.
Janz sighed. You know?
It is the dark anger you hold for your brother. Enter the realm and dispel it; banish it or it will return and consume you.
Let me rest, Janz snapped and shut his weary eyes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Two hours later, at nearly sunrise, Dana and Kieran returned to the suite for their packs, bid Tonnertown a less than tearful goodbye, and took a robo-cab to the nearest rotunda for Bay 95. Dana led first to the viewport at Bay 17, stopping to peer out at the early morning scene.
“It’s 95,” Kieran reminded.
She shook her head, but for a reverent moment gave the wind and sand-beaten remains of Ambassador Taurian’s shuttle, Seraph, a last look. Kieran watched in silence as Dana drew in the air with her fingertip a triangle. “Golightly,” she whispered.
“What does that mean, exactly?” He remembered seeing the gesture performed once before.
“It’s the Tritian way to honor the dead. You’d better brush up on your language studies.”
“Alphans have different beliefs,” he reminded. “Janz was the master of languages. Alphan Masters of the Elect do have a telepathic way of honoring the non-mated dying. Once the life force is extinguished, the body is no longer mourned.”
“Un-mated?” She frowned, “I once had a…discussion with Janz. He quoted Galt of Galaxea to me."
"He liked all that stuff," Kieran said with a chuckle. "I'm not much interested in philosophy.”
"Do you believe in eternal life?"
Kieran sighed, changing the subject. “In all my travels throughout the galaxy, I’ve run across many wise and some rather awful customs with relation to the dead. So, the Tritian term for it — golightly — the word of remembrance…go-lightly…that’s very nice.” He whispered in Dana’s ear, “We’re late, almost 0630.”
She gave Bay 17 one last look before they continued on to the outer most ring, to Bay 95, peering through a viewport.
At the sight of the Kal-King, she froze with a mixture of shock and awe upon her face. Dana pressed her nose against the viewport, staring, mouth gaping. “Oh, no! That has to be oldest Hale Star Yards ship I’ve ever seen! What have we gotten into?”
Steady, Dana J, Kieran cautioned, sensing her turmoil.
It’s a relic…almost as old as I am! Can it even fly?
“Looks are often deceiving,” he reminded her, but the age-old phrase sounded like a lame excuse when he really agreed with her assessment wholeheartedly. “It got him here.”
“That ship has seen a lot of interstellar jumps.”
Before Kieran could respond, something in his tote bag began to beep. He set down their gear bags to dig for it, scowling.
Dana frowned, watching him pull out a link-reader, reading the screen as he did.
The message: Emergency at the conference! You must come!
She knew what that meant.
Fane! He used some other Alphan swear words not in her vocabulary, hesitating to respond to the message.
Their eyes met. She knew the situation without him saying a word.
Kieran pressed his forehead against hers. I don’t want you to go aboard that ship alone.
Too late now, Dana decided, grasping her backpack and tote from the deck and pounding the hatch release.
Dana! Be careful!
My middle name…
She squared her shoulders, confidently crossing the broiling expanse between the bay door and the ship. Every part of her empathetically screamed, but she kept walking. No fear!
The hatch on Kal-King dropped open, forming an entry ramp. A Tresgan stood framed in the hatchway of the yacht, in a defensive stance with a weapon drawn.
Dana bravely took two steps forward. “Put the weapon away, Trede. Hawk is expecting me.”
For a frozen second, the Tresgan glared. Then, he let out a belligerent squawk in frustration and retreated into the heart of the ship, leaving the path clear.
The hatchway opened on a combination lounge and observation bay midship, with meager appointments and well-worn flooring.
Had the hatch not closed automatically, Dana might have retreated back to the drab Tonnertown Spacer’s Haven; a life of prostitution sounded about as appealing as serving this Tresgan.
Hawk stretched to full-height, hovering in the rotunda. “I see no navigator?”
“He looked at this rust bucket and declined to come,” Dana lied, dropping her gear bags on the deck, taking another reluctant step into the room. Looking about, she indicated a ramp. “I’ll have to double as navigator. Is this the way to the bridge?”
“I shall show you to quarters,” Hawk insisted.
“Forget quarters, I want to know if this relic can fly before I make any further commitment,” Dana snapped. “It’s nearly 0700.”
Hawk hissed something unintelligible, but indicated the ramp upward.
Dana rushed up to the circular bridge.
While the exterior of the ship failed to impress, Kal-King’s bridge had quite the opposite effect. No expense had been spared. The ship boasted the very latest in equipment, comfortable appointments, overly large station chairs, and spotless cleanliness, even in the galley area behind the captain’s chair.
Dana wandered about, assessing and familiarizing herself with instrumentation. Kal-King satisfied her completely; she declared it a splendid specimen of a cruiser. “Can’t wait to get underway.” She stabbed an intercom button, calling, “Attention all hands, ready for immediate departure. Report to stations. Lap restraints on.”
She ignored the “big chair,” settling in at the navigator’s console, fastening the lap restraint, recalling from her
memory all the technical specs for the ship, and commenting, “Very impressive,” while already immersing herself in a preflight.
Two members of the crew reported for duty. Kell, a seven-foot Tresgan with harsh, chiseled features such as Hawk’s, took the helmsman’s chair; and a scrawny, humanoid, barely twenty-five years old, moved to the communications console.
Dana picked up a headset. “Shuttle Control, this is Kal-King requesting engine start-up and departure clearances?”
Jordan croaked, “Cap, Gus Jordan, call me Gee, I can handle that for you.”
Dana quickly sized up the hybrid and snapped, “Gee, ask Hawk for a destination.”
A cargo hatch clanged shut. Kal-King shuddered, and then the air circulation systems began to whine.
“And have engineering make it cooler up here,” Dana added.
“Aye, Cap,” Gee answered, quickly calling over his headset, “Trede - minus two on the air temp for the bridge.”
Dana heard Shuttle Control’s approval before Gee relayed it.
“Helm, ready?”
Kell nodded, initiating the power on sequences. “I am ready.”
“Logging departure, 0650,” Dana announced, “with ten minutes to spare.”
Kal-King easily drifted upward.
Through the forward viewport, Dana watched as they floated up and over the spaceport and she got a last look at the expansive, desert oasis of Tonnertown.
“Gee? Destination?”
The man didn’t answer. She glanced over there, spotting Hawk standing at the top of the ramp.
“I am here,” the Tresgan called.
“You should be strapped in, with a lap restraint, for departure.”
“I trust the Captain finds the ship worthy?”
She ignored his query. “Where are we going?”
“I will visit…Arkares.”
Her heart rhythm increased. “Arkares it is.” She began course calculations. “Direct route?”
Dana Cartwright Mission 3: Kal-King Page 10
