Dana Cartwright Mission 1: Stiletto (29 page)

“Captain Syzek was the first.”

Dana chuckled. “It’s a psychological trail more than a test. Bet the Galaxean twins will find a way to circumvent it.”

Quayle winked. “I wonder how you will do.”

“I’m not signed up for it,” Dana answered. “I’m only registered for flight school certification.”

Quayle smiled.

“We should take it and get it over with,” Korwin decided.

“First-year cadets rarely score better than a satisfactory,” Quayle said. “I’m guessing you two will do better than that.”

Korwin grinned. “I like your attitude.”

Dana shrugged. “Well, I’m off to dojo.”

Quayle gave her an appreciative nod. “That will certainly be helpful.”

“See you later,” Korwin called, as she started away, swinging her tote to exercise and strengthen her arm muscles.

But during the walk across campus, she wondered about the EVA scenario — affectionately called the no-way scenario — and how to beat it.

Not sure why, exactly, but thinking on it made her think of Kieran for a second time. She toyed with the idea of an impostor — a fake — to make the enemy think you are doing one thing while you attempt another. Subterfuge…sleight of hand….hmm.

Of course, the EVA scenario was rigged. And then she wondered, “Was
The
Calvary
Incident
a real life EVA?”

The thought brought her full circle, back to the chronicle of
The
Calvary
Incident
written by Doctor Kris Tracy of the GCE. The moment she reached the dojo, even before changing into her gi, she took out her padlet and loaded the text to her reading list.

That done, she changed and joined her class in warm-up exercises and began to calm and focus her energy and attention on the form.

 
After the class was dismissed, she lingered, pleading for a moment. “Sensei? How does one deal with a no-win scenario?”

Nishada bowed to her. “Every day we make decisions. True?”

She nodded.

“Most are inconsequential. They do not truly matter.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“When a life-or-death decision comes to us, there are consequences. True?”

She agreed.

“Many cannot cope with the consequences. A no-win scenario tests one’s ability to command others — even when death may result.”

She understood all that, but asked, “Sensei, does it not all come down to one question? Do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one?”

“Explain?”

“Do you risk one thousand lives — and a very costly ship — to save a single life?”

“If you are so ordered, and it is your duty.”

Dana nodded and sighed.

“Does your duty to obey orders overshadow your decision — overrule logic?”

Members of the next class began to arrive, so he cut his answer short. “This is a timeless and ageless question. And only you can answer it — for yourself.”

He bowed.

She responded by bowing, too, and gathered up her tote with her gear, transferring home to the lobby and pondering the answer as she rode the lift.

Korwin was out on his balcony.

She left everything and went out to join him.

“You look happy,” Dana observed.

“The most amazing thing happened. I met my father at The Viewery. He stared into my eyes as if seeing me — the real me — for the first time. I told him about my dream to become an eye surgeon and he listened and agreed; though he wants me to finish my coursework here at the academy first.” Korwin grinned, “He said to thank you.”

She smiled. “Glad it worked out,” however, she sensed something more. “Are you afraid?”

“Not exactly afraid, but I am a little apprehensive.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a big step. It’s been my dream for so long. What happens when I accomplish it?”

Dana chuckled. “You find another even bigger dream. That’s what I did.”

He joined in, laughing. “Yes! You’re right.”

She announced, “I’m going to sign up for the EVA-Stress Evaluation Module. Sensei and I talked about it.”

He nodded.
 

“If it is a no-win scenario and you don’t win — you have won.”

Korwin roared with laughter. “So, it’s a koan.”

“Exactly,” Dana returned. “So, I’m signing up for it.”

“No fear,” Korwin grinned. “I will, too.”

They spent a few minutes more just looking out at the moon and the stars.

“Korwin? What does duty mean to you?”

He shrugged. “Duty means doing what you promised to do. I promised, as a Prince of the Elect, to always be respectful of life, to honor the elders, and to conduct myself in an honorable way.”

“And if the Star Service gives you an order that contradicts that duty? What then?”

He took a long time responding, but ended up shrugging.
 

“Something to ponder. Like you, I took an oath as a physician to do no harm. If my orders conflict with that, I must decide which path I can live with,” Dana said.

“I shall need to resolve that issue, too, as a physician, as an Alphan, and as a Prince of the Elect.”

Dana cautioned, “Duty can be an entanglement. They have a way of cropping up.” Her thoughts were of Kieran Jai.

“So, better to have none?” Korwin wondered.

“Aye,” she said with a sigh.

Korwin sensed her apprehension but did not probe further. “Good night, Doctor Dana.”

“Good night, Prince Korwin.”

Dana retired to the sofa with her padlet and began reading Doctor Tracy’s account in
The
Calvary
Incident
. The mention of then Commander Gage and Commander Brandenberg aboard the GCE
Cruiser Jericho
and
Cruiser Circassian
kept her entertained.

She could almost hear Doctor Tracy telling the story. The portrayal of Newman and Shepherd of the Republic ship piqued her interest, Commander Franklin Shepherd especially.

She called up his Star Service profile and stared, dumbfounded. “I have his eyes! His mismatched eyes!” Dana saw beyond the image, empathically
 
reaching out, feeling the soul stirring of an empathic connection.

She quickly did a search, finding Commander Shepherd listed as a resident of Capitol City, Earth. Dana recognized the location.

Though the hour was late and she still wore her gi, she requested a MAT transfer to the Star Service TLC residence for the infirm, not more than a brisk walk from her childhood home at DOC Cartwright’s house.

The night staff bobbed their heads above their viewers. The only human nurse popped up from her chair and dared to ask, “May I help you?”

“Doctor Dana Cartwright, here to visit Commander Franklin Shepherd.”

After Dana signed a log, the nurse led her down a long, quiet corridor to a patient room on the first floor where a man lay in a transport chair - a form of the ancient wheelchairs that hovered rather than roll - staring out the curtained window into the dark night.

Dana’s heart skipped a beat and a tear trickled down her cheek as she moved closer.
 
She knelt at his right side.

“Commander?” she whispered, fighting down emotions.

Shepherd gave no indication he was even aware he had a visitor.
 
His eyes, unseeing, were identical to hers; left blue, right brown.

“Father?” She closed her eyes, wept uncontrollably, and buried her face into his shoulder. “No wonder they sealed the records,” she muttered, taking up his frail hand in hers, and pressing it against her cheek.

His hair was shaggy, long, pulled back into a tail, beard long and equally unkempt. His mismatched eyes, though unfocused and vacant,
 
perfectly matched her own.

She felt for one empathic moment a strong connection to his life force, to the depths of his soul.

He was younger than DOC, barely in his late fifties, pale and gaunt, receiving sustenance through tubes; much the way patients in the C-FIIN’s were sustained.

“Father?” She caressed his grizzled cheek, wanting to know his story. “Does Tracy know?”

His eyelids sank closed and he snored as if asleep.

The nurse reappeared at her elbow.

Dana rose and took a critical look about the drab room, shaking her head. “How long has he been in a coma?”

“Twenty-five years, I believe,” the nurse answered, handing her a face cloth to dry her eyes.
 
“I’ve only been here three.”

“Does anyone visit?” Dana wondered.

“Oh, yes.
 
Several retired Star Service officers come, every week, without fail.”

Dana dared to ask, “Who?”

“Sorry, Doctor, I work night shift so I don’t know. Their names would be in the logs.”

Dana asked to see, but was told she would have to request clearance. A cadet didn’t rate access. “The records are sealed, I bet. Who’s his doctor?” she demanded.

“Ankara, Doctor Jake Ankara,” the nurse told her that much.

Dana nodded, making the connection. “Thank you.”
 

She patted Shepherd upon the shoulder ever so gently, and then walked back to the lobby to request a MAT transfer back home.

Though tempted to contact Ankara, she settled down again with Doctor Tracy’s history, finishing well after midnight local.

Though the chronicle of
The
Calvary
Incident
seemed incomplete, she found a whole new respect for Kris Tracy and Terrin Hale, the Master Captain of the GCE during that encounter.

Dana decided, “I have to meet her!”

As she readied to change into a sleeping gown, she noticed one of Shepherd’s hairs on her white gi and hatched a plan.

In the morning, when the alarm went off, she dressed in civilian clothing and took the stray, gray hair over to the DNA center where her DNA had been reviewed. They alone could give her a confirmation of paternity.

Korwin tapped on the patio door, gave up, and turned back to his apartment. Dana obviously wasn’t up. He wrestled with the idea of waking her, deciding instead to send a message via his viewer, recording and sending, “Dana, you’ll be late for class.”

He collected his padlet and started down to the shuttle, forgetting to check that his security detail got on the same tram.

The upperclassman that had made remarks about the President’s visit sat beside him.

Korwin did his best to ignore the man.

“Where’s your sidekick?”

Korwin shrugged.

“You were right,” the cadet mumbled.

Korwin shrugged again.
 
He didn’t feel up to carrying on a conversation.

He took his usual seat up front for the class, with Dana’s chair beside him vacant. Professor Para glanced his way but said nothing about her absence, droning on and on, nearly word-for-word from chapter seven of the text. Korwin read ahead four chapters by the time the professor came up for air and started the questions and answers.

One of the Galaxean twins, Lora - or was it Lara - asked a very tedious, convoluted question that Korwin could have answered with a single, “No.” The professor, however, used it to finish out the rest of the class.

Korwin rolled his eyes, though the transplanted one pained a bit.

He MAT’d straight home, took the lift from the lobby, and set his padlet down next to the viewer, eagerly checking his messages. Then he went out to the balcony, finding Dana, wrapped in a blanket throw, staring out at the landscape.

He sank down onto the chaise lounge beside her, whispering, “Are you okay?” and then waited for a response.

She moaned, “No,” showing him a lab sample case and telling the story.

“I found my father. Something Doctor Tracy said in his recounting of
The
Calvary
Incident
made me track down Commander Franklin Shepherd. He was the navigator aboard The
Calvary
, and one of the first Re/files/15/51/96/f155196/public/GCE Exchange Officers. Korwin! He has mismatched eyes.”

She stifled a sob. “For twenty-five years he’s been a resident/patient at the Star Service care home less than a kilometer from DOC Cartwright’s house. Shepherd was poisoned while on duty in the GCE. He’s comatose. I took this hair sample to a DNA expert. It’s a match. Franklin Shepherd is my birth father.”
 

Dana covered her face, sobbing. “I went back to the care center; they said he died in his sleep last night.”

Fresh tears poured down her cheeks. “Twenty-five years he was there, and I finally found him. Now, he’s gone. He’s gone!”

Korwin blinked. “Oh, Dana, I’m so sorry.”

She swallowed, and brushed away the river of
 
tears. “I thought last night that I sensed a flicker of hope. A connection…”

“Empathically?” Korwin wondered.

She nodded. “Just a flicker…”

“Were you wearing the N-link?”

She nodded, and then realized, “Oh? Did it prevent a full connection?”

“Probably,” Korwin nodded.

“Oh,” Dana sniffled, sighing. “So, they lied to me.
 
For twenty-five years, he was right there. They lied to me, thinking they were protecting me.”

Korwin shook his head. “No, Dana. They lied to protect HIM. Don’t you see? He was poisoned. It was to protect him.”

Her jaw fell open. “Oh! Oh, Korwin, you’re right!”

He reached for the lab sample case and stared at the hair. Then he took off his N-link and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, his expression had changed. “Let’s go flying!”

He jumped up, took up the N-link, slipping it back around his neck. “Hurry! Let’s transfer up to the space docks.”

Dana started to protest but he reached out to help her up. She was in civvies.

“I’d better change to civilian, too. Be ready in five!” He ducked inside his apartment.

“Korwin?”

“Trust me!” he called.

They MAT transferred to the space dock, with Korwin hurriedly leading down to the private births. “My father brought back
Trident
, a Blade Class shuttle identical to
Stiletto
. He said we can take it out any time we wish.”

Dana sensed this was neither the time, nor his reason for the visit to the spaceport.