Dana Cartwright Mission 3: Kal-King (13 page)

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 spinal 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?”

“I wish it so.”

“Course calculated. Helm, are you ready to jump to interstellar?”

Kell squawked, “I am.”

“Engage…” She wanted to see what the ship could do, ordering, “Speed: Level 4.”

Kell didn’t blink a beady eye.

Over the intercom, Dana called, “Secure from departure stations. Enjoy your flight.”

Hawk turned and descended the ramp. A humanoid woman replaced him.

“Cap?”

Dana eyed the woman, noting the slave torque about her slender neck, lash-length, platinum-blonde hair, almost masculine size and features of the lime-green, hybrid human, but couldn’t be certain what DNA mix could combine to create her.

“You like chocolay? Lita will bring you some.”

“Please,” Dana responded, returning her attention to the ship.

Kal-King
purred. She rather liked the melodic tones.
 

Maybe not so bad after all…

Kieran responded telepathically,
We’re tracking you. Arkares? Smugglers’ den of the galaxy — odd choice for your first outing with Hawk. I’m aboard
Kaiden
.
 

Dana sulked.

Mad at me?

She ran some quick diagnostics on the ship, ignoring him.

I love you.

You’re distracting me, Kieran. Go deal with your emergency or something.

D?

If this is what it is like to be mated, it sucks.

Lita brought a mug of steaming chocolay, offering, “I take over, Cap, if you like.” Dana accepted both, getting up from the navigations station.