Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer (15 page)

“Galt speaks of the ‘loss of great ones,'” Dana reminded.

He reached across the table and clutched her wrist. “Can you not feel her, right now?” Macao demanded, “She wants to know to whom the Forever Pointe memory belongs.”

Dana shut her eyes, but did not pull away.

Without the N-link, she could feel Macao’s mate. When she reopened her eyes, she could even see the Shonedren Captain, Shalee Raja, standing at Macao’s left.

“Her spirit stands beside you,” Dana whispered, deflecting the question, suddenly realizing with embarrassment that last night, in Macao’s quarters, Shalee Raja was there as well.

“This is troubling,” Dana admitted, but distinctly heard Raja whisper,
Fear not.

“Is she a telepath? I don’t recall Shonedren having that ability.”

“They do not. She has my skills.”

“And your training? I can see and hear your mate.”

“She can sense your memories, only through me…” he began, letting go of Dana’s wrist.

The apparition of his mate vanished.

Dana set her empty tea cup aside with unsteady fingers, looked deeply into Macao’s eyes, seeing him in a far different light.

“You are never alone?”

He nodded.

“Never?”

He nodded.

“What if something should happen to you? Are you both lost?”

Macao threw his napkin down onto the table top, suddenly angry. “Where is this going?”

“Galt wrote…”

“He’s not Alphan,” Macao said, abruptly rising, “however, I suggest you re-read the Theorem and you’ll come to understand. It’s called ‘eternal life’ for a reason”

“Where do you go when you die?” Dana blurted out the question.

Macao declined to answer, deflecting the issue by ordering, “First thing tomorrow, I want you to evaluate
Trader One
. I need to know what will it take to make repairs.” He stared down at Dana silently for a long moment before turning and exiting the lounge.

She regretted bringing up the concept of everlasting life. Many bristled at the unknowable koan. Yet, she puzzled over Macao’s reaction.
 

Actually, he’d brought it up by inspecting the scars on her wrists.
 

I touched a wound
, she thought, taking the tea cup and his coffee carafe and sending them down a recycling chute.
Well, I have a few of those myself.
 

She wondered, chewing her lower lip, what it would be like to never be alone.
 

Is that why SSID wanted agents to have no ‘entanglements’?
It had to be.

Dana glanced again at Miller and Mansfield. The latter glared in her direction, while downing the last of his drink, slammed the empty on the bar, and then stormed out of the galley.

Instincts shouted,
Watch out for him!

Miller merely scowled in her direction, and then turned away.

Watch out for him, too!

She sighed, and headed down the corridor to the Auxiliary Bridge to begin her previously scheduled six-hour shift, turning her attention to
Lancer
.

The ship felt uneasy, just like the command staff.

Dana equated it with, “Being in enemy territory,” though she wasn’t certain why.
 

I’ve never been anywhere near a battle zone, but
Lancer
has that feeling of…tension…raw martial tension.

She thought of the Meeting of the Masters, an olympic-style event for martial arts held every decade, which she had attended on Earth over ten years ago, and realized that was the sensation she was feeling — the tension of a mixed martial arts battle — a battle of wills.

During the boring wait while running a circuitry diagnostic, her thoughts flitted about, going to other long forgotten memories, ending with the memory of Forever Pointe and the man that had given it to her.
 

Kieran loved flying. She wondered if he’d given her the love for flying, too.

Why is Shalee Raja so interested in the memory of flying?
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As ordered by the Captain, Dana enlisted the assistance of two circuitry lieutenants and one of the computer division ensigns, to do an inspection of the damage to
Trader One
.

She’d chosen all three at random from the duty roster, as a precaution against the saboteur having stacked the list with his or her own favorites. Armed with standard recorders and scanners, they trooped off for the shuttle deck to assess the repairs required to make
Trader One
flight worthy.

Security Chief Gordon and three of his men were at the door, but made no move this time to stop her from entering the bay. In fact, Gordie generously offered his assistance. Though the Captain trusted him, Dana did not; she would have kept him away. She suggested he let her crew do their job, but he could watch.

The clean-up Mech-Techs had done a fine job of vacuuming up the chalky, ammonium phosphate, powder from the fire extinguishers. At first glance, there appeared to be targeted damage to the craft. As Dana and her team took readings, the situation became clearer. The saboteur focused on the autopilot and guidance systems. Both pilot and copilot stations of the command console were charred and damaged, but not irreparably. What’s more, the saboteur had tampered with the systems from below, using the fuselage access panels and not the interior.

Inspection of the circuitry readily indicated the extent of the repairs necessary. Unfortunately, as Chief Gordon quickly pointed out,
Lancer
didn’t have the spare parts nor the facilities to make major repairs.

Cartwright frowned, both disappointed and dismayed. She sent her assistants away and confided in Chief Gordon, “I can make limited repairs. However, this ship will only fly under manual control. The Captain will have to pilot it on the mission.”

“Major violation of regulations…I don’t think he’ll go for it,” Gordon continued, “and I bet the saboteur knew that.”

She agreed, but decided, “Then I must fly. I’ll find a loophole and a way to convince him. In the meantime, let’s maintain before the other officers that this ship is going nowhere. Our culprit may feel secure enough to make a mistake and give himself away.”

Gordon nodded, then changed the subject, “About that incident yesterday, just doing my job.”

“I understand perfectly,” she returned, adding, “I also understand that as the newest member of the command staff, I might be suspect, though I will adamantly profess my innocence.”

“The Captain seems to trust you,” Gordie answered with a Cheshire grin.

She chuckled. “Seems? The Captain and I have reached an understanding, Mister Gordon. He knows two very important things about me. First, I wanted to be on this mission more than any other officer aboard this ship; and secondly, somebody else doesn’t want me along and is willing to risk other people’s lives to ensure I don’t go.”

The black man’s grin faded, “I can think of a third, Mister Cartwright. Someone doesn’t want this mission to succeed at all.”

Dana concurred, offering, “We will find the saboteur and he’ll be very sorry he tangled with me.”

“Is that a threat?”

Gordie seemed to be scoffing, looking down and possibly judging from her petite form that she was hardly a threat.

Dana took up her recorder and left the shuttle deck without responding.

Before she even considered taking the damage report to Captain Macao, Dana went to her quarters to make a duplicate for her records. She also decided on a shower and a fresh uniform, which gave some much needed time to think.

Much as she loathed the idea, Dana decided to be very unpredictable and cautious. That included taking additional precautions of duplicating not just her log entries, but all of her other work and correspondence. She would start a handwritten diary, with the intent of documenting all of her suspicions and investigations.

Someone on
Lance
r’s command staff was an enemy, and she had no one to watch her back, so she needed to be more careful.

Doctor Patel’s name went on her list of least likely suspects. He had neither the knowledge of explosives nor the technical background with circuitry to do
Trader One
such selective damage. He might be antagonistic, but she didn’t consider him a threat to the mission.

Next on her list of least likely suspects was Sam Ehrmann. The MAT-SYS Chief was quite friendly at the briefing and during their chat in the galley. Though he had some knowledge about the circuitry and explosives, what weighed in his favor was his gambler’s attitude. A sure bet to be on the mission would not likely to want to disrupt it.

Lt. Commander Kulak, on the other hand, was not likely to be on the mission team, nor would he be particularly disappointed. Service and supply supervisors tended not to see much action and generally liked it that way.
 

Jay Gordon was above suspicion only because of Janz Macao’s trust in him. She put a question mark next to his name because she was still uncertain about him.

Communications Chief Nishada was a very likable, oriental man, that remained both professional and aloof. Nothing to date that he had said or done could be interpreted as even mildly offensive. He was also unlikely to be on the mission, since
Lancer
needed him on the Bridge.

Sciences Lt. Commander Grant — Doctor Grant — was merely a face Dana recalled from the briefing. In her opinion, he lacked the technical skills to do such targeted damage, though he did have some expertise with chemistry. She put a question mark next to his name, as well.

Dana had succeeded in narrowing down the twelve suspects to six possibilities: Nichols, Mansfield, Bryant, Destry, McHale, and Miller.
 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Dana glanced up from the padlet when the Captain entered Starboard-Seven. Her empathetic senses detected something deep and dark in his psyche. Since their recent dinner together, and the brief encounter in the galley, a connection had opened up, allowing her to feel even the subtlest of his mood shifts.

He glanced about at a female lieutenant from engineering sipping something exotic looking, while standing at the bar, and at a lieutenant from supply nursing a beer; otherwise, the place was deserted.
 

The sensation Dana felt, however, came directly from Janz Macao.

The Captain looked worried, and now could not hide it from her. He deliberately crossed the room, sat opposite her and sank back without a word.

After a few minutes of silence passed, she picked up his telepathic message. Without the N-link it reached her with ease.
 

I have another headache. It won’t go away.

She stared back at him, offering silently,
How can I help?

He held out his left hand. She clasped it tightly.
 

To a casual observer, it would appear to be a platonic handshake, albeit, with the wrong hand. She pinched the pressure point between the thumb and first finger until he winced then let go.

He nodded and sighed. “Have you eaten?”

“I just finished some vegan soup and green tea.”

He wrinkled his nose at both, leaned over the menu and tapped a few items then hit ‘send’ to place his order.

After a few minutes of silence, a yeoman brought his food, setting out a cup of coffee and a bowl of stew on the table, with napkins and utensils, then retreated.

Macao took up a spoon and tasted the gravy laden beef stew. Dana watched while sipping her tea.

Finally, the Captain sighed and paused, admitting, “I hate being out run.”

She sensed more — much more — that he wouldn’t acknowledge. He had that same look in his eyes, the same set of his jaw, as when they’d first met on the shuttle deck at Four. Deep down inside he was seething. She expected him to explode.

“I also hate not knowing who we’re dealing with.”

She nodded agreement.

“Are you sure the wraith device signature was one of ours?”

“Quite sure, sir. That doesn’t mean the ship is one of ours. The technology may have been stolen. Or…”

Macao threw down the spoon onto the table, then made an angry fist, pounding the arm of his chair. “Fane! Half the galaxy now knows we’re in this sector.” He kept the volume low and the tone of voice controlled, but his anger bled through.

Dana lifted her eyes to meet his, calmly offering, “Half the galaxy probably knew before we ever left Four.”

The implication did nothing to mollify him.
 

Dana waited until a group of three female lieutenants that had just entered the lounge took seats out of earshot before adding, “It is a well known, though generally undocumented, fact that the most successful smugglers have spies within the fleet passing information to them.”

“And you are suggesting we have spies aboard
Lancer
, too?”
 

She nodded.

“Why haven’t they acted before?” He demanded, “I don’t mean to cast aspersions on your assessment, but…”

“Someone sabotaged the shuttle,” Dana reminded.

He scowled and pounded his fist against the arm of the chair a few dozen more times. “Is that your report?” He pointed to the padlet.

She nodded, moving it across the table to a position near his right hand before continuing, “Maybe your other missions didn’t threaten their territory.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, it’s a member of the command staff? Someone who was at the mission briefing?”

Dana did not dare a response, though she suspected as much. “I have no proof…yet.”
 

Macao held his anger in check as he glanced about the lounge.

Four more officers came in. Miller and Ehrmann took a table in the far corner, and focused intently upon a padlet the MAT-SYS Chief held between them. Mister Bryant’s attention focused on two female lieutenants from the science lab, both showing too much skin between boot tops and hems.

The Captain locked eyes with Dana. She returned his stare, while quietly sipping the remainder of her tea. He reached for her free hand.
What do you sense?