Dana could only smile. “Well, that’s quite a dream.”
“It was very vivid. Your brother gave you to Kieran.”
“Which brother?” Dana asked, intrigued.
“Not sure…since they look alike…Novem probably…” Prince Korwin shrugged. “I had El on my shoulder. Micah stood beside you. I think she was pushing you, the way Kieran pushed his brother off of the cliff at Forever Pointe.”
They both laughed.
“She kept me from running away then,” Dana had to grin.
“DD? Life is too short,” Korwin said, lifting up his empty cup in salute. “Don’t let it slip away.”
“Life is complicated,” Dana reminded.
“It is that.” Korwin’s face showed an expression Dana hadn’t seen since they were in academy together.
“PK?”
“It could happen. There’s more, but I won’t go into the details.” Korwin played with the cup in silence, deliberating a refill.
Dana changed the subject. “Have you ever delivered a baby?”
“Just one…Have you?”
She held up two fingers. “One naturally, one surgically. We don’t have the facilities aboard.”
“That’s why we’re heading home to Centauri Prime with plenty of time.”
“Micah shouldn’t have traveled so far this late in the pregnancy,” Dana counseled.
“I’d be dead if she hadn’t come. That bomb was intended…” He broke off.
“What’s wrong, Korwin?”
“I’ve been — well, offered is not the correct term — I’ve been urged to seek the presidency.”
Dana’s eyebrows shot upward. “Presidency of the Republic?” She deliberated just a moment. “You’d make a good one.”
“No Alphan has ever...” Korwin put the mug down carefully on the bar. “They blinded Cray, killed my father. DD, that bomb was intended for me.”
“To silence you? Probably. Your views are not so radical, PK. You vote with Galaxea and Enturize and most of the greater members. Why would they target you?”
“The Elect.”
“Oh,” Dana sobered.
“I’d need a very good security detail, and a pilot I trust.” Korwin’s eyes focused on hers.
Dana had to grin. “Well, now, that might easily be resolved.”
Korwin hid a chuckle with his left hand.
“You have friends in high places,” Dana said with a wink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Xalier slid his tunic off over his head, handing it along to a yeoman. The Colonel ran his left paw over his left ear, absently scratching a spot while waiting for the gunnery sergeant to double-check the rifle for him. He took it, slid the strap up over his head and across his back, so it would be secure when down on all fours and the action began.
Janz Macao watched from the MAT console as the team assembled on the pads.
“Wishing you were coming?”
Xal’s tone tormented.
Macao limped closer and shook the Felidae’s paw, then offered his help to one of the younger security officers with a stubborn rifle strap. “Yell if you need back up,” Janz offered.
The Felidae softened some, purring a thanks, then melted down to a quadruped ready pose, eager for the mission to commence. “We’re wearing full-constant, you can monitor the COM from the bridge.”
Macao nodded. “I was going to pay March a visit.”
“Good idea… If you learn anything of value…” Xalier blinked his tiger-eyes.
“Will do.”
Once Alpha team vanished and the second assembled, Macao pointed to one of the men with a similar body build to his own. “I’m relieving you, Lieutenant. Help me suit up.”
Not willing to create a scene, the young lieutenant stepped out of his armor, and fitted Macao with the voice-badge and weapon, while instructing on rehearsed signals and names. “I listened in during the briefing. I’m Bravo-Four then,” Janz repeated.
“Roger.”
Commander Dade — Bravo-One — nodded to him. “Are you sure you can keep up, sir?”
“Watch me,” Janz gave a perfunctory nod, just glad the Commander didn’t require approval from someone higher up in the food chain, like Captain McHale, or the Commodore — since both would quickly veto the idea.
Dade offered a sincere, “Glad to have you along, Bravo-Four.”
Macao knew the words were a reminder of who was in charge. He gave Dade a thumbs up and assured, “It’s your show.”
Dade ushered them onto the MAT pads and gave the order to energize.
Arkares reminded Macao of the outpost at Decker Station where Karis crash-landed. Shalee even reacted as Bravo team began their prowl.
Alpha team’s six blue dots showed on the tracking screen Commander Dade carried, as being in the landing bay. Six green lamps indicated Bravo team. A number of alien life forms registered as red and amber, humanoid and not.
“Bravi,” Dade whispered, “fan out by two’s.”
Macao followed Bravo-Three to the left; the short but quick Asian cut him no slack. With the adrenaline of a live mission kicking in, Janz felt no pain and had no trouble keeping pace.
They waited at the entry to a hangar bay where Thresher detected a Hale Star Yards yacht with no registry beacon. They peered in a viewport. Macao scowled. Telepathically he called to Dana Cartwright, thankful for the link via Shalee.
Kal-King appeared to be prepping for departure. Three of the Tresgan, hawkish crewmen were on the ramp with a scrawny human male.
Dana?
She responded with a question. How can I help?
Give me the details on the Kal-King crew. I’m seeing three of those bird creatures.
She sent him mental images and memories of those who’d been aboard. Kell, Dran and Presk matched up to the Tresgans, and Halpin, to the human slave.
Kell is the most dangerous of them. Janz? Where are you?
Arkares…
Be careful! Tresgans fight to the death.
Now you tell me.
Dana paused. In hand-to-hand, go for their knees. That’s their most vulnerable spot.
Janz spoke into his COM. “Bravo-One? We have visual on the Kal-King. Three Tresgans and one humanoid appear to be readying for departure.”
Bravo-One responded, “Copy. Showing three more blips forward and above you. Weapons on stun. Secure the vessel and disable all. Five and Six are on a similar mission. Check in post.”
“Roger,” Janz responded, turning to his buddy, expecting a go signal. Instead, he got a glare.
“Sorry, captain’s prerogative...”
The Asian lieutenant shifted his rifle to the ready position. “Setting to stun.”
Macao copied the movement, biting back a retort. Giving orders came naturally after nearly fifteen years in the Star Service, but these marine types didn’t much care for having brass along. He felt the same, way back when. Three would get over it.
Janz shouldered his weapon and led along the wall. They burst in, firing at will, dropping the quartet.
Then the fun started, because even with a strong stun, the three Tresgans didn’t stay down.
“Bravo team, stun doesn’t work on Tresgans,” Three moaned.
“Go for the legs,” Janz told the lieutenant, aiming a taekwondo kick at Presk’s knee even as the Tresgan was wrapping his claws around the rifle strap and trying to strangle him.
The Asian landed a two-footer on Kell, rolling to ready for the third. That Tresgan, Dran, retreated into the hold of the ship.
Three followed him, abandoning Macao, a no-no for a mission such as this. Janz scrambled up the loading ramp onto the lowest deck of the craft, into a yawning, dimly lit storage compartment in the belly of the ship.
His eyes took a long time to adjust, but his ears tracked Three and the Tresgan. Dran just didn’t seem to care that he made noise. He was intent on reaching the inner hatch. If he made it before they caught him, he could shut the hold doors, essentially t
rapping them in the storage compartment, and then could shut down the air flow — suffocating them.
Three launched and connected a boot to the Tresgan’s midriff just as Dran clawed for the controls. They both rolled, recovered, and re-engaged. The Tresgan let out a grating squawk, while the Asian rivaled with a martial artist’s grunt.
Macao added his back pain bellow as he climbed to get to that hatchway before the others.
It slid open on its own. Macao didn’t hesitate. He opened fire, realizing a split second too late that a woman stood there. She sagged to the deck halfway in, her body blocking the hatch from closing.
He stepped past her and dragged her by the left arm back inside. Then, rifle at the ready, Janz proceeded up, knowing two more targets remained.
Prowling deck six, engineering, he sabotaged the key system so Kal-King could not take off, even if they wanted to.
Three caught up on deck five, circuitry, just as a human male aimed a weapon at them and ordered, “Halt right there.”
With two against one, Macao rolled his eyes, pressing the trigger. The man’s weapon and the body hit the deck simultaneously.
“One to go,” Three offered, passing him, taking the ramp up to deck Four. “What’s up here?”
Macao pointed to the Master Cabin with the rifle tip, while using a bulkhead to support his back. “Deck four is owner’s cabin and sickbay. Three is crew and guest. Two galley and Captain’s quarters. One is the bridge.”
“Are you a gambler, Captain?” Three’s eyes gleamed.
Macao scowled. “Better if you take the bridge. It’s farther.”
Three grumbled under his breath, heading up. Macao gave him a head start before he burst into the master cabin.
He’d guessed right.
Hawk squawked a Tresgan expletive, while pointing a small, square box at him.
Macao uttered, “Fane!” as he squeezed his trigger finger.
Nothing happened.
The Tresgan’s eyes — those avian, hawkish eyes — drilled him. “What are you?”
“Alphan,” Janz answered, matching stares.
Hawk squawked.
“I’m Dana Cartwright’s friend. Give up. Your crew have been disarmed.”
That made the Tresgan issue a double squawk. He lowered the disrupter.
“We’re not after you, just King.”
“My Master is not here.”
“Yet,” Macao added, letting the muzzle of his useless rifle drop. He touched his COM button. “Kal-King secure.”
“Roger, Bravo-Four. Any injured?”
“Four.”
“Five,” Bravo-Three corrected.
“Hold position.”
Three came down a few minutes later. “Ah, Captain, you might want to see this.”
Macao motioned Hawk toward the ramp, and they returned to the bridge. He knew his way around Blade Class shuttles, but not the Hale Star Yards relic.
Dana? What am I seeing? He focused on a very strange console.
She gasped. Get the hell out of there. They have a fleet incoming!
Macao punched the emergency MAT button. He, Hawk and Three were quickly engulfed by a pod and dematerialized.
Aboard Thresher, he let Three disarm the prisoner, handed over his rifle to the chief and stormed out, heading up to the bridge.
Captain McHale and Commodore Jai already had the incoming fleet on the tactical display.
“Fane! He’s got twenty ships with him,” Kieran growled. “No way Thresher can take him on.”
“They’re slavers…maybe mercs. They won’t make a move without King’s orders.”
“You said we have the disrupter code,” Macao reminded, looking to Captain McHale.
Coe announced, “Four Cutlass, two Dagger and the rest are simple cargo ships without armament.”
“Don’t count on it,” Janz groaned, holding onto the inner deck railing, watching them. “Kal-King was modified; and so was the merc ship Kieran and I took back on Decker Station. They had wraith devices…”
“They appear to be the ships we trapped on the mining asteroid,” Coe amended. “Lots of life signs. Maybe they evacuated the slaves.”
Janz guessed, “A lot of those slaves were well-armed.”
“Like Dec,” Kieran frowned. “Try diplomacy. Alpha Team has one ship to go. Bravo has two.”
McHale fingered the COM switch. “Running out of time, Alpha and Bravo teams. We’ve got incoming.”
Macao did an about face and returned to the MAT station.
“Three, is your prisoner secure?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Return to the MAT station. We’re going back down.”
Three rushed in a few minutes later, as Macao paced on the pad.
“Ready,” Janz ordered, and they were returned to the planet.
“Bravo-One?”
No answer.
Macao pointed to a stairwell, indicating they should go up to the observation level, overlooking the bay. Inching their heads over the railing, they spotted Bravo-One sprawled on the deck beside a Cutlass Class ship. No sign of his buddy. The tracking scanner was still there in the Commander’s hands.
Macao looked to Three and gave a thumbs up. Three shook his head and gave a down.
“Bravo-Five this is Bravo-Three, do you copy?”
“Roger.”
“Bravo-One is down.”
“No kidding. Where the hell have you been?”
“There’s a whole fleet incoming.”
Macao jumped in. “We’ve got to hurry. We’ll get to Bravo-One. You take out that other ship.” He tagged Three on the shoulder and led. They headed for a cargo scissor lift that would drop them down about half-way to where the Commander lay.
As the archaic device began to inch lower, they took fire. Three pulled Macao prone onto the metal deck and began to return fire.
“Fane!” Janz growled. “Cover me.” He slid off the back edge of the lift, where the guts of the device would give him cover.
Three showered the attacker’s position with an impressive and accurate shower of return fire.
Janz got to the commander, tapped Dade’s voice-badge and ordered, “Computer? Emergency MAT to sickbay!”
He then dove away for cover, kicking the commander’s tracker into the niche ahead of him, as Dade dematerialized.
“Bravo-Six, you got two foxes closing on your rear.”
He heard weapons fire from beside the ship up to the left, but his focus remained on the device as Three took aim and did the honors.
“Thanks Three,” came over the COM.
Janz stared at the display, seeing Alpha Team in serious trouble. “Bravi — Alpha team needs assistance. Move forward.”
He test fired his rifle, growled that it failed due to the disrupter. He grabbed Dade’s by the strap, and hurried to catch up with the others.
Janz showed them the tracker, and pointed to Three and himself then at another ship. That left three of them to assist Alpha team. He indicated a potential sniper.
“Roger,” came back from the threesome and they moved out.
Three started away, reaching a secluded wall near the Cutlass Class before realizing Macao wasn’t behind him.
“Bravo-Four, do you copy?”
He waited. “Bravo team, anyone have a visual on Four?”
“Negative, no sign of him.”
After deliberating for two-seconds, Three continued with his assigned task, doing a solo run.
Kieran launched from the lift and demanded of the MAT technician, “Put me down right where Commander Dade had been.” He had a hand laser in his left, and a tracker device in the right, as he stepped onto the pad.
“Commodore, sir?”
“Just do it!”
“Aye, sir.”
That tone got it done.
Kieran materialized in the bay beside an abandoned rifle. He did a quick three-sixty turn, but saw only one green blip inside a Cutlass Class and started for it, sensing immediate
ly it was Janz.
Macao watched the barrel of the projectile weapon and not the man crushing his COM link device under a boot heel. Archaic as such weapons were, their kill rate rivaled a laser rifle, mostly because you bled to death before help could get to you.
“Who are you?” The human male demanded.
Janz stared. “I’m a Star Service captain. Put the weapon down.”
“Can you pilot this ship?”
Janz nodded.
The man motioned him away from the hatch and hit the mechanism, sealing them in. He then pointed up the ramp to the bridge.
Cutlass Class had only three decks: lower, central and bridge. Simple and efficient but not very practical for long trips. The space dock at Centauri Prime built so few that the model had been discontinued.
A solo pilot could easily handle the ship. A projectile weapon, however, could seriously imperil cabin integrity.
Macao worried that the man might do something rash. He needed a plan to stall — or, some reason to stay within the base — without getting himself killed.
Prince Korwin tapped Dana’s shoulder, and then fell into the copilot’s chair, stifling a yawn. “You look distracted.”
She glanced his direction before returning her focus forward. “Janz Macao is in trouble.”
“You want to detour?”
She shook her head. “No, there’s nothing I could do.”
“Nothing ‘we’ can do,” Korwin corrected.
She looked down at the console, watching the distance to Centauri Prime shrinking by the minute.
“We have a more important mission,” she admitted.
“Micah is resting comfortably.” He chuckled, “You’re even more of a worry-wort than I am.”
“What’s a worry wort?”
“A person who…not like you to worry, DD.”
Dana shrugged. “So much has happened — is happening — I think we have reason to worry.”
Prince Korwin lounged back, stretched his arms up toward the ceiling and his legs out. “I feel it, too,” he admitted. “Just tension…like right before the EVA-Stress Evaluation, remember that?” He waited for her to comment, but none came. She was busy at the navigation computer. “What are you doing?”
Dana Cartwright Mission 3: Kal-King Page 19
