Degrees of Wrong

by Anna Scarlett

  “You will not manhandle me,” I spat.

  He laughed again. His darkened armpits and neck evidenced his exertion,

  and I hoped he was wearing himself out. Because…

  Pressure points had a downfall. You had to be very close to your opponent. I

  didn’t know if I had the courage to let him come that close. My attack had to be

  precise or it wouldn’t work—there would be no second chances today.

  Lt. Frank Horan was an expert at hand-to-hand combat. He only toyed with

  me to increase my anxiety, and therefore, his pleasure. I couldn’t outmaneuver

  him, didn’t have the strength to hold him down, and he probably already

  expected me to go for the groin. I decided to use his confidence against him.

  Planting my feet on the hard rubber matting, I moved fists to hips. “Enough!” I

  roared like a mouse.

  He stopped.

  “If you come near me, I’ll be forced to kick your testicles up your throat,” I

  warned, cringing at the vulgarity. Still, I needed to provoke him. I hoped my

  threat would make him protect his groin area—I needed access to the pressure

  points around his neck and head. The one on his forehead would be ideal, but I

  doubted he’d let me near his face. The second-best option—the one located on

  the muscle line between his neck and his shoulder—seemed the most probable

  for success.

  “I don’t think so, worm.” He took an infant step forward, calling my bluff.

  Whispers tore from the halo of cadets—I swear I heard Stanley snicker.

  Satisfied I’d stay put, he lunged, leaning low and at an angle to protect his

  privates, just as I’d hoped.

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  The blazing fire in my stomach all but iced over as this mammoth threw the

  weight of his body at me. For the slightest of seconds, I thought my knees would

  buckle from the anticipation of it—that, or from the pure terror I felt as his

  outstretched arms reached for my neck.

  His big hands entwined around my throat, the length of them enclosing it.

  Do it, I commanded my arm.

  Without another thought, my arm raised and my fist pummeled the pressure

  point between his neck and shoulder blade. Lt. Frank Horan slumped to the floor

  in an unconscious, muscled heap.

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  Chapter Seven

  I may have struck him too hard. With a glancing blow at the precise point, it

  was only supposed to incapacitate long enough to flee. I had punched Lt. Horan’s.

  I stared down at him now, as did our audience. For several tense seconds, no

  one moved. And then everyone did.

  The ring of cadets rushed in to horde around us as I dropped to my knees

  and checked his vitals. To my relief, he breathed steadily and his wrist pulsed in good rhythm. I laid his arm beside him and sat on my heels, eyeing my victim.

  “My God. Call for Dr. Folsom,” someone said.

  “She is a doctor,” Ebony whispered.

  I peered up at her. “He’ll be fine. He’s just unconscious.”

  I clutched my throat where he’d grabbed me. He sprawled before me in a

  sweaty pile, but it felt like he still had possession of my neck.

  And I was panicking. The adrenaline my body had produced made it

  impossible to calm down, to steady my heart rate. My body was now equipped

  to run for hours, fight off a crocodile attack or swim through a rip current. Next stop, migraine central.

  I vaguely heard the horrified whispers around me. The room reeled and

  whirled, and I tried not to pass out. I wished it were me on the floor sleeping

  contentedly, with no worries, no cares.

  Because as it stood right now, I was in deep trouble.

  “Well, if she’s a doctor, then why isn’t she an officer?” a girl jeered.

  Anna Scarlett

  Her question stopped the room from spinning. My head snapped toward her

  as I stood. She stepped back.

  “What did you just say?” I demanded, pointing at her. Distress filled my

  cheeks with blood, the tiny fingers of a heated blush reaching all the way to my

  ears.

  “I-I was just wondering why you’re not an officer. If you’re a doctor, a real

  doctor, then they would’ve had to recruit you as an officer.”

  I pushed past her, throwing my shoulder into the wall of cadets, breaking

  into a full run for the elevator. Behind me I heard pandemonium.

  “She’s escaping! Shouldn’t we go after her?”

  Another man said, “Sure, Lewis, be my guest. Then we’ll just put your body

  next to Lt. Horan’s.”

  Creating scenes must be my specialty. “Captain Marek’s office,” I screeched.

  The elevator launched me forward, and I tried again to calm my erratic heart

  rate. I wiped the sweat from my forehead—the sweat of anxiety rather than

  exertion. The perspiration felt cold in comparison to my flushed skin. I danced

  around the tiny space to burn off some adrenaline before reaching his office.

  The doors opened, and I lurched out as if someone had pushed me from

  behind.

  Announcing myself to the alarm for the second time today, I scrambled

  through the office door. Someone would come searching for me soon, and I

  needed to get to Captain Marek before they did.

  He sat on the edge of his desk, using his finger to scroll down the screen on

  the small device in his hand. He appeared perplexed—and magnificent.

  Idiot, you don’t have time for admiration—or formalities. “I need you to promote me. Immediately,” I blurted, glancing behind me for pursuers.

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  He looked up, startled, but recovered with a smile. “Ah, Dr. Morgan. Just the

  person I wanted to see.” He glanced at the device again, and the baffled

  expression returned. “It says here you’ve placed an order for fifteen pounds of

  chocolate. Must be some sort of typo.” He tore his gaze from the screen. I could

  tell my demand just registered. “I’m sorry? What did you just say?”

  “I said I need you to promote me. Right now. I’ve done something bad. Very

  bad.” I tried to keep my voice calm, shoving hands in pockets to stop them from

  shaking. I could’ve prepared a better opening argument, even with the brief time

  I had in the elevator.

  Nonetheless, he seemed to consider my request. After a long, nerve-fringing

  moment, he said, “You can see where I might find your reasoning a bit flawed.”

  “If you care at all if I live to see tomorrow, you’ll sign off on it right now.

  Anyway, it shouldn’t be too difficult, since I’m a doctor. Aren’t all doctors

  supposed to be officers?” I asked in a pitch bordering on delirium.

  He ran a hand through his black hair in obvious exasperation. “What exactly

  did you do?” He narrowed his eyes, finally interpreting the seriousness of the

  matter.

  “I…can…explain,” I breathed between constrictions. Get it together. Someone would give chase, any minute, any second, and I stood here murdering my

  chances at a fair hearing.

  He placed the device on his desk, motioned me to come to him. I almost

  barreled into him.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” He grabbed my shoulders as if to steady me,


  but he shook me instead. The exasperation turned to concern as he appraised

  every inch of me, looking for an injury. Clutching my chin, he lifted my face to

  his, his eyes arresting mine. “For God’s sake, what happened? Are you hurt?”

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  I opened my mouth to answer but couldn’t form the words. And then it was

  too late.

  “Captain Marek, permission to speak freely, sir,” a feminine voice said from

  behind us.

  The captain released me instantly, and I whirled around. Lt. Sheldon, in all

  her beauty, saluted in the doorway. She glared at me with unrestrained threat,

  and I knew she knew.

  “Actually, Lt. Sheldon, I was in the middle of a private meeting with

  Morgan. Can this wait?” He had regained his professional tone.

  She winced at the small rejection but squared her shoulders and glided

  across the room to us. “No, sir, it cannot. I’ve come to arrest Cadet Morgan,” she informed us both.

  “What?” I gasped, as he said, “I’m sorry?” I couldn’t think of a single

  instance where I’d heard of someone being arrested while already in captivity.

  “Permission to speak freely, sir,” she requested again.

  He looked from her to me and back to her. I saw this out of the corner of my

  peripheral—I couldn’t pry my scrutiny from her stunning face. A bloody nose

  would mar it nicely, which was what she’d get if she laid a hand on me. Calm

  down.

  “Permission granted.” He scowled. “Why do you want to arrest Morgan?”

  She wouldn’t look at me. “Insubordination, sir. When Lt. Horan tried to

  restrain her, she assaulted him.”

  “That’s a lie,” I spat, enraged.

  She turned on me then, and I began to consider her pressure points. It would

  be my pleasure to strike the one on the temporal, I decided.

  “How dare you speak to me. I haven’t addressed you directly. You will

  respect your superiors,” she said with authority.

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  My fists balled—I wasn’t quite sure what they planned to do next.

  “Please control yourself, Morgan.” Captain Marek glanced with meaning at

  my hands.

  I straightened my fingers, held them open so they didn’t touch each other,

  hoping to prevent the conspiracy of their balling together again.

  “How did she assault him?” I was grateful for Captain Marek’s judicial

  tone—for now, at least.

  “She apparently used some sort of tactical maneuver to render him

  unconscious. We can’t wake him up.” The pretty lieutenant stood rigid with

  animosity.

  “Permission to speak freely as well, sir,” I requested through gritted teeth. I

  also resolved to work on my temper. Later.

  “Of course.” He raised a brow at my tone. “You’re entitled to defend

  yourself.”

  “Which is what I did when Lt. Horan attacked me. I’m afraid Lt. Sheldon is relying on secondhand information, as she wasn’t there herself.”

  “Is this true, Sheldon?” he asked, playing diplomat.

  “Yes, sir,” she conceded. “But my source is reliable.”

  “The only other people in the room were cadets, Lt. Sheldon, which means

  your source is a cadet. Therefore, it’s one cadet’s word against another, which

  brings us to an impasse, without other corroborating witnesses. Is that correct,

  Captain?” I said.

  That any of those nitwits had the imagination—or the gall—to tell such a

  convoluted story irritated me. I determined to ferret out her source. My gut told me to start with a redheaded snippet.

  Lt. Sheldon opened her mouth but clamped it shut again. I almost giggled at

  the registration of confusion on her lovely face—almost.

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  “Actually, that isn’t correct,” Captain Marek said, surprising us both. I was

  sure I’d read that in one of the volumes the admiral lent me. Anger swayed a bit

  toward apprehension again. “You see, Lt. Sheldon, I’m afraid there’s been a

  misunderstanding as to Morgan’s rank. She was mistakenly processed as a cadet,

  but as she’s a medical doctor, she should’ve been processed as a lieutenant. She’s been very patient with us while we worked to resolve the issue, but just this

  afternoon I received her recommendations as an officer. That’s why I called her

  to my office. So, as Lt. Horan is her equal in rank, I don’t see any need to arrest her at all. Unless you have something else to charge her with?”

  If Lt. Sheldon was speechless before, she graduated to permanent mute now.

  My own jaw ached with the angle at which it hung open—his deception was

  flawless. He said it as if commenting on the size of the ship or its capacity for passengers.

  To her credit, Lt. Sheldon recovered first. “She did attack an officer, sir.” The shock of being at odds with the captain shone clear on her face.

  Captain Marek shrugged. “That remains to be seen. You didn’t witness the

  act, and the only officer who did is unconscious, at present. We’ll wait for Lt.

  Horan’s written statement before we proceed. I can only hope that statement will

  include an apology. We’ve tested Dr. Morgan’s patience long enough.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her shoulders rounded in defeat.

  “Will that be all?” he asked. Again, she winced.

  “Yes, sir,” we replied in unison.

  “Dismissed,” he said.

  We headed for the door. For her safety, I resolved to wait for the second

  elevator. I’d never spoken to this woman before today, so her insistence on

  throwing me in a locked cell left me a bit aggravated with her.

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  “Not you, Dr. Morgan,” he called after us. “We have a few more things to

  discuss.”

  Lt. Sheldon huffed before exiting the room alone. I’d made an enemy out of

  her today. I tried to care. It didn’t work.

  I turned back to the captain. “Yes?”

  “What happened?” He grinned. It took a moment to compose a rational

  thought.

  “Uh… May I sit down, please?”

  “Of course.” He motioned to one of the huge chairs. He sat on his desk,

  crossed his muscled arms.

  “Lt. Horan sent for me while I was at lunch. He concocted some story about

  my volunteering to be his assistant in the hand-to-hand combat class.”

  “His guinea pig.” He smirked. “I thought you’d been excused from that

  class.”

  “I was. I am. He was upset about this morning, when I smiled at him. He’s

  such a poor sport,” I grumbled. “Anyway, I went to the training room to resolve the issue, but he wouldn’t let me leave. And then he started to come after me.”

  “Come after you?”

  “Yes, Captain. He tried to grab me, lunge at me, what have you. I had to

  defend myself.”

  “You’ve had tactical training? I wouldn’t think that’d be on the course

  itinerary for an aspiring doctor at The University,” he mused, enjoying himself.

  “No, I cannot fight, if that’s what you’re asking.” Exhaustion set in, and true

  to my prediction, my head throbbed. I yawned wide.

&n
bsp; “Better get on with the story before you succumb and I have to carry you to

  your quarters.” He laughed.

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  The thought of him carrying me anywhere set something to flight in my

  stomach, but butterflies were too delicate a culprit to describe it. And now I had to talk again.

  “Yes, well, like I said, I can’t fight. So I decided to go for his brachial plexus.”

  “His pressure point.”

  “Yes. Are you familiar with pressure points? I forgot you’re a genius of some

  sort.” I’d been prepared to explain that one.

  He shrugged. “Enough to know that a small amount of pressure wouldn’t

  render him unconscious.” He raised a brow.

  I made a face. “I panicked. I accidentally punched him.”

  “You punched his pressure point?”

  “Oops?”

  “Are you sure he’s okay?”

  “I checked his vitals myself. Maybe he’s in a coma.” One could only hope.

  Captain Marek laughed again.

  “It’s really not that funny. He could’ve hurt me. He had his hands around

  my neck already.” My substantial yawn negated the seriousness of the situation.

  My limbs felt heavy, my body too comfortable in this chair. The high from my

  adrenaline struck gravity. I had little time left before I wouldn’t be leaving of my own accord.

  He grinned. “I suppose you’d like to go to your quarters and get some rest.”

  I stood when he did, nodding eagerly. I turned to leave but stopped myself.

  Something had been left unsaid, and it needed to be addressed now.

  “Captain Marek, I—wanted to thank you for what you did today. That could

  have gone much worse without your intervention.”

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  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have let her arrest you. I couldn’t explain to my

  superiors…” he smiled with the reminder, “…why I allowed their precious cargo

  to be in that situation in the first place. You actually gave me the way out.”

  “Why couldn’t I have been an officer the whole time? You knew I was a

  doctor the first day I boarded.” I tried to keep resentment out of my tone.

  “You had already boarded as a cadet, and I was under the impression you

  were here for witness protection, as you may recall. And then

  you…complicated…things by confronting Frank. It was out of my hands at that