“Revising our course and speed for an earlier ETA.”
“You’re always a step ahead of me.” Korwin grinned, “Just like the old days.”
Kieran skidded on the deck, landing just short of the Cutlass. He dove for cover, as its engines roared to life. The ship quickly rose to hover level just above his head, and the under-side gear retracted. He caught a glimpse of his brother at the controls, put up his weapon, straining to telepathically communicate with Janz. What are you doing?
No choice, came back.
Where are you going?
Hostage...to rendezvous with King, I think. Tell Thresher to let us through.
Kieran scowled. He tapped his voice-badge and demanded of Thresher’s MAT technican, “Grab me.”
McHale sat on his right hand to keep from making a fist, wanting to shake it at the Commodore, but he had an even harder time keeping the anger from his voice. “What is he thinking!”
“Fane! I don’t know. He wasn’t even cleared for the mission team; just took it upon himself to tag along.” Kieran sobered, “Where’s Xalier?”
Commander Coe joined them at the command chair. “Sorry to report, sir, but his link went silent just as you beamed down. I tried to stop you.”
Both Commodore and Captain hissed in response.
At that moment, the COM sounded. “Alpha Team to Thresher; objectives accomplished. Bring us home.”
McHale looked to Coe but demanded, “What about Bravo team?”
When no response came, McHale ordered, “You don’t come back until Bravo team reports secure.”
A disappointed “aye, sir,” followed.
McHale shifted his focus back to the armada on the forward screen. “What are they doing?”
“Waiting,” Kieran guessed.
“Well, so will we.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Dana checked the ETA a fourth time, just before Carlton relieved Baker — seven more hours to Centauri Prime. If Katana could go any faster, she’d push it.
Korwin appeared in the hatchway. “DD?”
They all turned, hearing the distress in his voice.
“Contractions have started.”
“Regular? Four-one-one rule?”
“No, not yet.”
Dana reviewed options. “We could detour to One. That would cut our arrival by roughly two hours.”
“No. Our son must be born on Centauri,” Korwin insisted, “but if you can, get us there sooner.”
Dana sighed. “Maybe if we shut down all non-essential systems, and I re-route power to the engines, I can boost our speed by five percent.”
“Do it.”
She swiveled back to the console to run a quick computer check. Shutting down duplicators, lighting, and aft shields, eked out just over six percent. She verified the course correction, and nudged the speed up accordingly. Then she took a serious scan of local traffic. Not a single major cruiser with a medical department appeared anywhere closer than Earth.
Fane!
She checked the new ETA, nodded to Baker, released the safety bar, and went below.
Korwin was holding Micah’s right paw; his eyes were closed as he meditated and breathed with her through the contraction.
Dana hated to interrupt until he was ready.
“DD?”
“Five point two hours.”
Micah smiled. “Our son is eager.”
“There are no ships close enough to offer assistance.”
Korwin reached for Dana’s hand, and guided it to Micah’s belly in time to feel a forceful kick.
She felt lower. “He’s well positioned. When the contractions are four minutes apart and last one minute or longer we’ll…” She didn’t want to use the word “worry,” but it was implied.
Dana?
She blinked. Janz?
Tell me about Doctor Russet?
Russet? She struggled to visualize the man, while attending the Princess.
Can you?
Janz, Princess Micah’s in labor; we’re racing to Centauri trying to…
Oh. He didn’t apologize, but went silent.
She shut her eyes. Russet is albino, born off-world.
A slave?
Hawk’s slave. He’s rather odd.
Is he a good shot?
I have no idea. Why?
Janz paused and sent her an image, like a freeze-frame snapshot. She involuntarily retreated as if the barrel of the weapon were mere inches from her nose.
Oh, Janz! At that range, a projectile weapon can be fatal.
He groaned. If he misses and it breaches the hull it would be, too. I have two options: try something now or wait until we’re aboard King’s ship. I’m inclined to…
Wait!
Why?
Dana was about to respond when Korwin interrupted.
“Two-minute warning.”
He handed Dana a medical scanner.
“We’re not going to make it to Centauri,” Micah announced rather apologetically.
Dana ran a quick check, and then set aside the scanner. “I’ll get some things ready. Never done this in the field...”
She guessed towels, bed sheets, and hot water for sanitizing their hands.
Baker called from the bridge, “Um…we’ve got a warning alarm up here.”
Dana moved to go, but Micah reached for her. “Let Korwin go.”
He seemed reluctant.
“Please, my dear one,” Micah placed a kiss upon his cheek. “You go.”
Korwin got up from her bedside, gave Dana a nod, and then left the suite.
Dana locked stares with the Princess, hearing a calm and melodious whispered, “Dearest, I am not human. You know that. This form is not my real form, but a host body. This child is not my real child, yet he will have my essence and Korwin’s DNA.”
Princess Micah’s body shimmered. An energy cloud surrounded her form. Her mitten hands reached inside the womb; she lifted up a beautiful, baby boy with the cord already tied. No blood, no fluids, no pushing, no labor…
Dana blinked at the impossibility.
“Take him.” Micah handed the baby to Dana, to swaddle in a towel. “Bundle up some sheets and dispose of them as you would for a normal delivery. Now you know why I could not give birth to our son at Centauri.”
Dana couldn’t help but stare. “How can you keep this from him? You are mated.”
“Only Alphan-to-Alphan mating opens all the gateways,” the Princess advised.
Dana didn’t understand, so Micah telepathically gave her the secret.
“This means I could mate with Kieran, without fear of…” Dana realized.
Micah nodded, coaxing Dana to hurry, while cooing over her son. “Oh, Eloren, you are so beautiful.”
Korwin returned as Dana stepped away. “He’s here.”
“He was in a big hurry, my love.” Micah’s eyes twinkled, “Isn’t he perfect?”
Dana stood behind them, as Korwin brought baby Eloren to his shoulder.
“He is!”
“What was the warning?” Micah asked.
“Oh, just a message that we’ve reverted to back up batteries. Nothing to worry about.” Korwin smiled at his son’s tiny cries. “Did you know Eloren means ‘gift of the gods’?”
Dana nodded. “Shall I slow us down?”
Micah assured, “I’m fine, no rush now.”
“Let’s resume our normal speed and arrival,” Korwin said, snuggling with his wife and son. “We need the rest.”
“We also need the duplicators back online for baby necessities,” Dana teased.
She left them, going to the bridge, sinking down into the pilot chair. Neglecting the safety bar, she reprogrammed the navigation computer and sighed, telling Baker, “Prince Eloren has arrived. No rush now.”
She changed all the programs, slowed their speed, restored systems, and set the back-up batteries to recharge.
As she stared forward at the star field, Janz Macao’s mate whispered, How wonderful,
a boy.
Aye.
Shalee? Dana sent. Tell Janz to be careful.
You tell him. If I do so, he ignores me.
Dana chuckled.
Shalee, where are you now?
Still aboard the small ship.
No, you? Where are you? Inside Janz’s head? In his heart? I don’t understand how…
Every living thing has an energy field. When I mated with Janz, our energy fields became one. When my body died, my energy field remained merged with his.
You’re not Alphan. He is.
That is so.
If he had died, would his spirit remain with you?
No.
What would happen to his spirit, if you had not mated?
It would cease. Just as mine would have.
And if he dies, you die with him?
No.
No?
A mated Alphan is reborn.
Dana shut her eyes. I don’t understand.
Baby Eloren has the spirit of an Alphan reborn; and a very strong one at that.
I don’t understand.
You will, one day. Uh oh…
Shalee?
We’re docking with King’s ship now.
Dana’s eyes snapped open.
I wish I could be there.
You are, my friend, you are.
Janz paid careful attention to the weapon, as Russet slammed the airlock hatch mechanism. While deliberating if he could disarm and disable the man before the door slid open, his life-mate cautioned, Wait.
So, he did.
The small, Cutlass Class Alphan ships were designed specifically to dock with Dagger Class, the largest of the personal yachts. Though Macao had been aboard the larger style vessels many times, he only vaguely recalled the deck plans. He thought the dock put them on level four, right at the rotunda, and into a clump of five mercenaries in full body armor. He expected to be led up to the bridge. Instead, they took him down to the storage hold, pushed him into a wire cage with a dozen roughly-humanoid males, opposite a cage with some extremely exotic-looking females.
Russet, with his projectile weapon, remained behind at the rotunda. As the mercs left, and the lights dimmed, Macao had other things to worry about.
This is not good, Shalee, he told his life-mate.
Patience, my dearest…
As the newest addition, he observed about half of the men cowering and staying away. The other half dared to inch closer. Janz ignored the stench, but not the threat. He puffed up his chest and lifted up his hands in a martial pose. Thanks to the body armor, he appeared a giant to the inmates. They retreated.
He slowly eased his pose to normal, back aching, glad the mercs hadn’t stripped him, nor searched him. He had Hawk’s disrupter secreted in the right body plate. Against a projectile weapon it was useless; against a laser rifle it might prove valuable.
The lights dimmed even more, since the motion-detecting sensor registered very little movement. Even when the doors parted and shut, seemingly without reason, the lights remained on minimum.
And then a scream rose up from the women’s cage, and a distinctive hiss sounded.
Janz clawed the bars of the cage near the locked gate. “Xal?”
The Felidae purred in the dark.
“Thank the stars.” Janz whispered, “Have you got a plan?”
Janz pulled away as a tongue licked his knuckles, and the Colonel’s cat eyes opened wide right before him.
“What are these?”
“Slaves.”
“Hmm.” Xalier’s nose twitched as he sniffed and, in disapproval, bared his incisors.
“How’d you get aboard?” Macao watched the claws on Xalier’s right paw as they probed the locking mechanism.
“I hid aboard the ship just before Russet cornered you. Rats! I can’t. I’m sorry.” He gave up on the lock. “Who has the key?”
“The shortest merc...”
“Make a ruckus. Lure them in.”
“What if all five come? Or more?”
Xal just purred, vanishing behind some crates and boxes. His movements triggered the motion sensors and the lights came on.
Janz gave him a five-count before he began banging and rattling the cage door, noisily shouting for help. He almost laughed.
One of the oldest tricks in the book. It made him think of Dana.
Be careful! She cautioned.
Glad we’re linked… Wish you were here.
I am, in spirit.
A lone merc stepped through the hatchway. It wasn’t the short one with the key.
“Fane! Get me out of here,” Janz pleaded.
The merc, still in battle armor, didn’t come closer.
“You are slave. Shut up.”
“No, I am not a slave. I am a Republic captain, and this is kidnapping. Get me out of here!”
That gained no response.
“Tell King, I am his sister’s friend.”
“Tell King yourself; he hears.”
Macao groaned, worrying that August could have heard the exchange with Xalier.
Dana? Do Dagger Class have full surveillance cameras in the cargo area? Dana?
I’m checking.
Hurry.
Dana pulled up the specs on Katana, did some quick computer checks, testing the surveillance system. Yes. Full surveillance. Janz?
Fane!
The camera controls are on deck eight.
Can you hear, too?
Yes! She assured. It can be disabled from the level above, deck seven; the panel is in the air duct that controls the…
Dana heard telepathically a scream. It wasn’t from Janz.
Sir?
Not to worry. Xal just took out a guard. Now, where is that panel exactly?
She reviewed the blueprints and specified, to the meter, exactly where and how to disable the cameras.
You won’t fit though, Dana cautioned. The air ducts are smaller than in the older style ships. Not sure even if I would fit.
The link went silent.
Janz? Shalee?
Shh…
McHale paced by the tactical station. “Mister Coe?”
“Sorry, sir, I saw three life-signs aboard the Cutlass. Now there are none.”
“COM? Get King,” McHale ordered.
The communication’s officer scowled, “No response, sir.”
Thresher’s Captain returned to pacing. “Where’s the Commodore?”
When no one responded within the first two seconds, McHale growled, “Come on, people! Lives are at stake here!”
Coe resisted a retort because Commodore Jai burst onto the bridge with perfect timing.
“Janz is aboard King’s ship. There are hostages.”
“Rats!”
McHale dove for his chair. “What’s the sit with the teams?”
“All back aboard. The only ship that got away was the Cutlass,” Kieran assured.
“Who’d we lose?”
“Xal.”
“No, sir.” Coe countered. He pointed to King’s flagship, the Dagger Class. “The Colonel is aboard Kalis.”
McHale scowled. “You holding out on me, Coe?”
“Sorry, sir, I just realized the third signature aboard that Cutlass matched a Felidae not a human.”
“COM, send this. August, we know you have slaves aboard and we have March and Hawk. Let’s deal.”
McHale signaled to end the message, clenching his fist. “I hate freaking waiting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
August circled the bridge, bouncing off obstacles with his robo-chair, repeating monotonously, “I warned Hawk.” He mimicked the Tresgan’s squawk, as he fumed and schemed.
“How do I… Why should I?” King pounded the arms of his chair. “Trade?” He came to a stop a hair’s breadth from the merc captain’s feet. “We trade the Republic captain for Hawk.”
“And March?”
“Pfft. He’s a fool.” August hissed, “All my brothers are. Only January is perfect.”
“The doctor…”
“I know…” August snarled, like a cat. He drove the robo-chair to the communications station. “Thresher, I will consider your offer.”
Xalier sniffed the air duct before hooking his forepaw claw on the grate and tugging.
Sniff. Sniff.
The scent triggered a memory; a mix between Novem, Dec and March. It had to be their clone brother, August.
In the dim light, he assessed the size of the duct. His head fit. So his body would, too. There would be no turning back and, damn it, no retreat.
After a few seconds deliberation, he decided, “No.”
He returned to Macao. “A trap. Too tight. Call more mercs.”
He leapt away, and assumed a pounce position above and to the right of the entry, just an instant before the hatch slid open.
Three mercs marched in, heading straight for the cage, hand weapons at the ready.
All the bay lights came on. The blood on the deck formed a sticky brown puddle right where they should have stopped.
Macao grinned, feeling mischievous. “I couldn’t hold it.”
Two backed away a step, while the short one produced the key. “King will see you.”
Macao allowed them to push him along, resisting the urge to glance up at Xalier. That would only give the Felidae’s position away.
They might have taken out the three mercs, if there was time to plot it. However, the door slid closed, and the laser against his back nudged.
As they climbed the ramp to deck seven, he spotted the exact location Dana had described, just short of a grate. Too bad Xal didn’t try for it; he’d be right there.
By the time they reached deck one, the bridge, Macao’s back pain tormented until he couldn’t bear the agony. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes moaning.
August groaned, “Put him in a chair.”
One merc nudged Janz toward the pilot’s seat.
“NOT THAT ONE!” King screeched, using the robo-chair to block their path. “Get out! Leave us!”
He’s sharp, Dana reminded.
Macao stifled a snicker. Glad you’re still with me… How the hell do I get out of this one?
Dana Cartwright Mission 3: Kal-King Page 20
