Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer (12 page)

Cartwright groaned. “Sir, during my orientation briefing, I was told you wanted log entries to be uniform. Yeoman Warren said she was authorized to…”

He held up his hand to silence her. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I never used the word ‘uniform.’ I said I wanted unity — not uniformity. No wonder all the blasted things sound alike.” Macao started to chuckle and pointed his finger in her direction. “So, that explains it. Your yeoman altered the text.”

He shook his head from side-to-side. “I never meant…”

“Are not the other logs uniform?” Dana wondered.

He shrugged. “I rarely read them. You’re new and…”

She got the picture.

“From here on out, Mister Cartwright, you will submit only your original dictation. I will instruct all command officers to do likewise. The yeomen can transcribe them after I’ve appended my approval. I want the ship logs to be accurate and complete.” He sighed, asking, “Did you keep a copy of your original?”

She responded, “Absolutely, sir.”

“Retrieve it now and meet me on the shuttle deck in ten. I’m going to have a word with Flight Ops.” He hit the release on the control panel, let the lift reach the shuttle deck and stepped out.
 

Dana returned to her quarters on Six. She could have sent her yeoman to fetch it, but still didn’t fully trust Warren. Besides, she had the original recording of her log locked in the security box in the closet and no one was getting that combination.

After quickly making a duplicate for the Captain and returning the original to the safe, Dana headed back down.

The shuttle deck doors were unguarded, so Dana proceeded straight in.

Five security guards and Chief Gordon met her inside, all with weapons drawn. A warning siren blared. Smoke and soot filled the air.

“Fane!”

Chief Gordon motioned with his weapon that she should step forward and show him what she carried.
 

Dana obeyed the unspoken command, letting Gordon inspect the padlet. He quickly handed it back.

From the rear of the shuttle bay there came shouts and loud voices, also the hissing of fire extinguishers. Then the Captain’s raised voice could be distinctly heard, saying, “Good work, Mister Miller. Have your men clear out for a bit.”

Macao walked around the corner and into Dana’s view. Blood was trickling down his left cheek from a gash above his eyebrow, but he seemed unconcerned. His eyes went from Gordon’s weapon to Cartwright’s midriff where it was pointed.

“What’s going on, Gordie?”

“Sir…”

Macao assessed the situation and coughed, “Let her pass. Mister Cartwright is not responsible.” He motioned her forward and took the padlet from her hands.

Dana looked up at him, immediately went to retrieve the first aid kit and returned, preparing to tend the wound upon the Captain’s forehead. As she reached for him, he brushed her hand aside and touched the gash with his fingers. They came away stained with gray-green colored blood.

He swallowed, stooped a bit and let her proceed.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Someone has sabotaged the ship…and the mission.”

Cartwright frowned, glancing toward the little ship. “I’ll take a look,” she offered as she used the two-stage instrument to sanitize the wound and glue the skin layers, leaving only a tan stripe that would slowly fade away in a few hours.

He nodded his thanks.

“Was anyone else injured?” Dana started toward the ship with the kit.
 

“Dana! No… Let the dust settle.”

She screeched to a stop some distance away from the little vessel and the Captain moved to join her.

“Explosives?” She sniffed the air, detecting a peculiar odor.

“I must have triggered something when I went aboard.”

The very idea of it incensed her. “Why?”

“You tell me,” he responded.

She whirled around to face him.

His stare was steady, but not accusingly. “You’re the empath, and the newest member of the crew. Were they trying to frame you? You would be the first and most logical suspect.”
 

He held up his right hand to silence her budding retort and offered sincerely, “I know it wasn’t you. I trust you, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about the rest of my command crew right about now.”

Dana glanced over her shoulder at the security detail still standing with Chief Gordon. Any one of them had access, she bet. “Sir,” she said in a whisper, “I can pull the access records.”

“We already have. Nothing...”

He motioned for her to follow and they headed back toward the lift, though he stopped at a console and called up some data files, while she stowed the med-kit.

Dana sensed that all eyes were watching as she entered the lift and stood at Macao’s side. Some of the men looked envious. Some venomous... She also sensed something more sinister.

The door slid closed, but the Captain did not reach to the controls to enter a destination.

“Someone has deliberately sabotaged
Trader One
and the mission. That someone might be there on the deck watching. Yet I sensed nothing. I walked into a trap.” Macao frowned and repeated, “I sensed nothing.”

Dana remained silent.

“Are you wearing an N-link still?”

“No, sir.”

“I can’t… I can’t even sense you.” He scowled, “Why?”

Dana shrugged. “Maybe Doctor Patel should evaluate you.”

He scowled at the suggestion, still mulling over the situation.

“Even on the Bridge today, just as you arrived, I sensed nothing. It’s as if my psi abilities are dampened somehow — like everyone is wearing an N-link.”

“Do you trust Doctor Patel?” She blurted it out before realizing how accusatory her tone made it sound.

The Captain shrugged. “I have always trusted him.
 
He was aboard
Lancer
long before I received my commission. Obviously, you don’t trust him.”

“He and I had words,” Dana admitted, “after my pre-mission physical.”

Macao realized he no longer had the padlet with her fitness approval, nor the recording of her log. “I have to go back. I left everything…”

“The doctor can record a new one, sir. I’ll make another duplicate of my original log. I think you should visit Doctor Patel and ask if he detects any reason why your senses seem not to be functioning.”
 

The Captain conceded and ordered the lift to rise to the infirmary level. “You do nice work.” He touched the wound area on his temple gingerly. “I like the idea of having a doctor — a surgeon — along on the mission, even if you are reluctant to use those skills.
 
They could prove valuable.”

Dana looked up into his eyes. She had no trouble empathetically sensing his admiration and something beyond…affection.

“You could have entered the Star Service as a physician.”

“I got tired of seeing blood and guts, sir.” As an after thought, she added, “My adoptive-father wanted me to teach at the science academy. I wanted to fly. He disapproved, of course; wasn’t even there when I graduated, and died not long after I accepted my appointment to the small craft hangar at Earth-Station One.”
 

“Are you to blame?” Macao wondered.
 

“I disowned him years before,” she mumbled self-consciously. “It’s a long story.”

The lift had stopped and the doors parted, but Janz Macao was in no hurry to step out. “Join me for dinner tonight. Informal… I’d like to learn a bit more about your possible mentor.”

“I know very little,” she responded.

“Your shift ends at 1700…” Macao insisted, “Join me in my quarters.”

Dana stayed inside the lift and watched as he turned the corner toward the infirmary. He didn’t glance back.
 

She decided on making a quick trip up to the Main Bridge to take a look around. From her console, she could run a security scan, with the highest level of clearances, to see who of the members of the command staff had access to the shuttle bay since the Captain’s last visit.
 

It took much longer than expected.

Miller, Ehrmann, McHale and Mansfield all had accessed the shuttle deck. Kulak and Gordon were the only two, however, that could alter the record presented to the Captain Macao.

The facts were…disturbing.
 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dana returned to her quarters for a shower before she would take the news to the Captain during their dinner meeting. After dressing in a fresh uniform, she put the new recording of her log in a pocket, and returned the original to the secure box in the storage closet for safe keeping.

The idea of needing such precautions was unsettling. In all her years in the Star Service, she had never, ever, had to resort to subterfuge. However, aboard
Lancer
, she trusted no one, not even Janz Macao.

Before dinner, she stopped again at the Main Bridge, for another surprise visit. The Captain wasn’t there.

Lt. Commander Nishada offered, “He’s in his quarters, Mister Cartwright, as I understand, dealing with a nasty headache.”

Dana nodded and retreated back to the lift, without commenting. Everything seemed subdued. No animosity…no strong emotion… However, First Officer Nichols was not there.
 

At the door to the Captain’s quarters, Dana had second thoughts about disturbing him if he was resting. It was difficult to envision Macao complaining of a terrible headache to one of his command officers. Would he share such a comment with Jay Gordon? Perhaps…but not with Nishada…it seemed out of character.

Maybe, just as with his order about ‘unity’ being mistaken as being ‘uniformity’ this instance was being taken out of context.

She touched the call button.

His “Come in” spoken at half volume, as if in a whisper or absentmindedly, even sleepily, came in response. She stepped inside when the door slid open and let it close behind her.

The room seemed morbidly quiet. The only light came from the left wall, where a meter high, five-pointed star hung suspended in midair. A most impressive decoration, it glistened with jeweled stones fitting like mosaic pieces upon the transparent surface. Illumination from behind, through the gems, cast kaleidoscope rays of rainbow-colored light to all corners of the room.

Janz Macao sat upon the bed facing the star, bare legs folded lotus fashion and bare chest exposed to the light. His posture and facial expression indicated his meditative state, eyes trance-like. He acknowledged her presence and spoke softly. “You may leave the log, Mister Cartwright. I’ll attend to it later.”

“As you wish, Captain,” Dana responded, leaving the recording at his work station, quietly preparing to leave without causing further disturbance. “I guess dinner is…”

“Oh!” He called her back, “I completely forgot.” He untangled his legs and stood beside the bunk, stretching and flexing his shoulder and leg muscles to restore full circulation.

He wore only the standard Star Service fitness briefs. She could not help but notice the lines and shape of his sculpted physique like that of classic Renaissance statuary. Dana even dared to compare his anatomy with the renown sculpture of ‘David’ by the Italian master, Michelangelo. The loose fitting day uniforms, which he generally wore, did little justice, concealing the perfection.

As quickly as she realized she was staring, she turned away in embarrassment and cast her eyes again upon the illumined star.

Macao didn’t miss the gesture; neither did he comment upon it. Instead, he spoke to her back.

“I’ve just had a lecture from Doctor Patel regarding you.”

At the mention of her nemesis, she turned again to face the Captain. “He gave me a similar lecture regarding you,” she said.

Macao’s eyes sparkled in the colored light and a wry smile crossed his face. “Do we need a third party to come between us?”

“If we did, Patel would be my last choice,” Dana returned.

“He meant well,” Macao chided, “but he lacks information.”

“Agreed.”

The Captain nodded to seal the bargain. “He told me you’re the reason my telepathic senses are not functioning.”

Dana blinked. “Me?”

“He blamed it on sexual attraction.”

She laughed. “I…ah, I don’t know what to say to that.”

Macao chuckled, “He’s full of it, of course.”

She couldn’t help but snicker.

The Captain took advantage of the moment to steer the conversation to the star. “Have you ever… No, you probably would never have had opportunity to see a life-star. I note your curiosity. Have a seat and I’ll explain.”
 

He patted the bed and sat again at the foot of the bunk, staring at the multicolored, gem-studded, star.

She took the seat at the workstation, rather than sitting beside him, which seemed a little too informal. “Actually, I am quite familiar with a freedom star.”

“On Alpha, it is always called a life-star. When a son of a prominent family breaks tradition and leaves his studies, he takes a vow that for each of thirty years he will store up a portion of his wealth and return his life-star to his family and heirs on Alpha, to assert his freedom.”

“Like buying your way out of slavery,” Dana commented, studying his face intently, seeing both tension and sadness.

“Tradition is a form of slavery. It binds with invisible tethers. My parents had designs for my life, just as your adoptive-father had for yours. I rebelled, of course. Are you familiar with the Shonedren race?”

She nodded. “Nomadic…rather than amassing possessions and property, they wear their wealth upon their person; life jewels, I believe they are called. Upon their death, the jewels are distributed to all of their heirs.”

Macao seemed surprised that she knew such details. He revealed a secret. “My life-mate is a Shonedren captain.”

Dana masked her surprise at the personal revelation. “Oh…”

Janz stared at the life-star. “Alphans mate for life with only one partner. You know that, of course.”

“Yes,” she answered, nervously.

“Shalee Raja Macao was a Shuttle Captain, and a protector for the Shonedren Ambassador to Alpha. She died much too young.” He seemed lost in memories, some very long ago and far away.