Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer (26 page)

She surveyed her quarters with a cursory glance. If she never saw the room again, no matter. The vandalized books were the only valuables she’d ever owned, besides the Sterillian blade in the sheath inside her boot. Nothing else of value remained.

Dana put the flight bag aboard
Trader One
; did a mental preflight checklist, then waited for Mackenna and Landers to join her.

“I brought some extra firepower,” Mackenna said, stowing three rifle-style civilian laser weapons in an overhead compartment. Then he came forward and pinned a communicator to Dana’s sleeve. “These are complements of Commander McHale. Wouldn’t do to have a
Lancer
or Star Service logo on our sleeves. They look pretty generic. He also sent down some extra rations for the trip home. With the team aboard, we’re going to be slower. The weight ratio on these shuttles is always a factor.”

He continued on, but Dana heard only bits of it. Her attention was elsewhere — on her empathetic senses.
 

The feeling of foreboding intensified.

“We need to get underway right now,” she said, interrupting Mackenna, and finishing the preflight, “Strap in guys.”

Mackenna fingered the communicator on his sleeve. “Landers? You ready?”

“All gear stowed. All hatches closed. On my way…”

“Good, get strapped. Here we go.”

Dana used the main communications board, “
Lancer
Shuttle Deck,
Trader One
ready for launch.”

In less than a minute, they were underway with Mackenna at the pilot’s controls, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Oh, it’s been too long. I have so missed flying these birds.”

“Cut the chit-chat,” Dana cautioned. “How long till we reach Decker Station, their first possible refueling stop.”

“Ten hours…” Mackenna guessed, “we could do it in less, if we punch up the speed to Level 4…”

“Do it!”

Two hours later, Mackenna slowed from interstellar to thrusters and did a line of sight approach on the small planet, which the star maps listed as a refueling stop, called Decker IV.

He used the main communications speaker, “Decker Station, this is shuttle T77142 requesting refueling stop clearance.”

“T77142 you are clear to pad 61,” came back in a mechanical voice.

“Roger, 6-1.”

Dana let Mackenna handle the flight controls for the landing. Landers came forward to the flight cabin to watch from the observation seat.

Decker Station existed on a piece of rock orbiting a fading yellow sun. The big ships didn’t dare even assume an orbit around the tiny planet. The little trader fell through the atmosphere toward the ground base, through the clouds, skirting a ridge of amber colored mountains on the northern perimeter of the station.

Mackenna flew flawlessly.
 

“Whoa! Look over there!” Landers shouted, pointing to a debris field on their port side. “That’s recent!” He didn’t finish.

All three spotted
Karis
at the same time; her hull breached, and starboard engine little more than mangled metal. She rested a hundred meters short of the nearest landing pad.

“I was afraid of that,” Mackenna muttered. “They hit the ridge…because they were overweight!”

“Fuselage is barely intact,” Dana noted, then groped for the controls. “Mac…”

Their own descent took a dive to port before Mackenna realized. With Dana’s help, he recovered control.

“Downdraft! Jeez!”

With a sigh, they were on the landing pad emblazoned with the number 61.

“Sorry, Commander,” Mackenna said, after shutting down the engines, “I got a little distracted.”

“What a hell of an approach pattern,” Landers commented, as he undid his safety bar and started for the rear compartment. Mackenna made to follow but Dana stopped them.

“The hardest part of our mission is yet to come,” she cautioned.

“I’m ready for anything,” Mackenna said. Landers nodded.

“First we assess the situation. No talk of what awaits when we get back. Understood?”

“You got it, Commander. You lead. The poker game has just begun.”

“I don’t gamble,” Dana countered.
 

“You do now,” he quipped.

“What ever happens, we use first names only! No ranks, no mil talk,” she reminded, “we’re civilians.”

They nodded.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Before leaving
Trader One
, Dana pulled her flight bag from the storage compartment and slung it over her shoulder. Mackenna and Landers did the same, though they had their rifles at hand.

Decker Station welcomed them with little fanfare. In fact, other than a refueling android, not a soul approached the three of them. Maybe too many years in the Star Service had jaded Dana’s perspective, but it seemed damned unusual that they could walk right into the heart of the station unannounced.

“Either they don’t give a damn, or they don’t give a damn,” Mackenna muttered, flanking Dana on the right. Landers walked a little behind and to their left.

“If this is typical of the outer colonies and space ports, any smuggler could waltz right in here with a hold of contraband and not a care.”

They finally came upon two station employees, identifiable only because of a logo on their coveralls.

“That’s a nasty wreck on the approach pattern,” Mackenna began. “Did they walk away from it?”

After a brief silence where all parties assessed the other, one of the men replied, “What’s it to you?”

“We’re empty. If she’s got cargo to go somewhere, we…”

“She’s empty, too, or so they claim,” one of the men scoffed.

“Maybe the crew then,” Dana put in, suddenly suspicious of the two.

“They’re still aboard. Turned down offers of assistance.” Both of the locals walked away without another glance.

Dana breathed a sigh. “Let’s go. It’s quite a trek through the desert. See if we can get a local… Or a rental.”

Their pace quickened toward the station lobby area where a dozen or more ground transportation vehicles waited in vain for passengers. Mackenna led to the second vehicle, a heavy duty terrain crawler and opened the door for her and Landers. He dickered with the pilot then fell into the driver’s seat himself. “I have a phobia about taking the lead car,” he snickered, gunning the engine.

“With reason, I assume?”

He laughed. “Yeah, it’s a long story. I’ll save it for the trip home.”

“How much did this cost?” Landers wondered.

“Oh, these are courtesy vehicles.”

On the short trip across the tundra, Dana silently mulled over how easily the mission had progressed so far. Her fears mounted as the all-terrain crawler drew closer to
Karis
.
 

“Lots of damage,” Mackenna said.

“Be ready for anything,” Dana ordered.
 

She psyched herself up to do the same. DOC Cartwright would call it ‘rolling with the punches’ or some such antiquated phrase. That’s how he’d lived his life before he’d adopted her. Some of that spirit rubbed off; but, mostly, she liked to play it safe. She called up all the courage she could muster to face this one.

“If you’re correct, Mac, they’ve got four tons of contraband down in the hold. The first chance you get, take a look-see down there, and find a covert way to get the message to me.”

“Right…”

“Not a word to anyone about the situation waiting back aboard
Lancer
,” she reminded them.

They nodded agreement.

Landers led out of the crawler; Mackenna brought up the rear. At the lower hatch, at about the trader’s middle section, Dana touched the control and entered a security override.
 

The door fell open. Inside, two security officers were on their feet, waiting, weapons at the ready.
 

Kieran Jai yelled, “Hold!”

Dana, Mackenna and Landers hurried in. Kieran hit the retraction mechanism to close the hatch, turned and glared.

“Well, I’ve had warmer welcomes,” Dana said, staring at the security officers.

“Dana? What in hell are you doing here?” Kieran snapped.
 

She let his demand pass without comment, asking her own questions. “How bad?”

“We came down like a lead brick. Four dead… Four injured…Janz has the most serious injury. Grant’s incapacitated and can’t do surgery…” Kieran scowled at Mackenna and Landers. “How did you find us?”

Dan Nichols appeared in the adjoining hatchway, his own left arm held hard to his side in obvious discomfort. “What a sad excuse for a rescue team?”

“Where are the others?” Dana retorted, ignoring the jibe as she set out the medical kit and began to work on his elbow.

“Gordie? Sam?”

“Both injured,” Kieran volunteered.

Nichols scowled. “What’s going on? How’d you get here?”

“McHale sent us.” She glanced back towards Mackenna and Landers who remained by the hatch, in defensive positions. “We uncovered some evidence that
Karis
— like the little trader — had been sabotaged, in an attempt to delay the mission.”

“That’s crazy!” Nichols yelped as she tugged on his elbow.

Mackenna volunteered, “I ran a computer simulation. There was no doubt that your first landing would be your last.”

“We were set up? From the beginning?” Nichols wondered.

Dana resisted blurting out the details. “You need to rest your arm, Dan.”

He tried to flex it and she scolded, “Rest it!”

He obeyed.

“Mac and Tim can help you take any gear you want transferred to the trader. You just point and they’ll handle it.”
 

For the first time in their relationship, Dan Nichols accepted orders from her.

She turned to Kieran. “Okay, next patient.”

Kieran led her down the ramp from the rotunda reception area to the crew cabins one level below.
 

Doctor Grant blocked the door to what should have been the Captain’s quarters. He looked like hell, with a patch over one eye and a nasty laceration down the side of his cheek, jaw, and neck below it.
 

“Is Patel with you?” Grant demanded.

“No,” Dana shook her head. “How bad is it?”

“The Captain...It’s a spinal injury.” Grant held up his bandaged hands. “I can’t…”

Dana ran a scan on Grant’s fingers. “There’s not much more I can do for you in the field. Mac will take you back to
Lancer
. I’ll see to the Captain.”

He glared. “Mister Cartwright? You can’t…It’s bad, I’m telling you. I administered a sedative and an anti-inflammatory. We need a C-FIIN and a spine specialist.”

“Trust me, I’ve done spinal weaves before,” she assured, coaxing him aside. “Did the instruments survive?”

Kieran nodded, promising Grant, “She can handle it, Doctor.”

Grant scowled, “And how would you know?”

Dana shot a glance over her shoulder as Kieran led the reluctant doctor up the ramp.
 

She slipped inside the Captain’s quarters, steeling herself for what she might find.

Janz Macao moaned, “Who’s there?” from his bunk, his voice muffled because his face was buried into a pillow. The overhead lighting flickered and she fretted that it might fail right in the middle of things.

Dana dropped her gear bag onto a counter near the door and spread out some medical instruments before going to the bunk and throwing back the covers to expose the Captain’s naked back.
 

“No lacerations,” she mumbled, visually checking the outer skin. Deep greenish bruises, however, signaled serious injury. With skilled hands she gingerly felt along the curve of his spine, from the cervical vertebrae all the way to the lumbar. “I’m going to need more light.”

“The backup systems aren’t working,” the Captain moaned. “We came down hard.”

“Indeed,” she commented. “Maybe Landers can take a look at the system and jury-rig it, if necessary,” she grumbled, tapping the communicator on her sleeve, calling the order to Mackenna and Landers.

Both readily responded, “Aye.”

“Dana?”

“I’m here,” she whispered, but it did little to comfort him.

“You disobeyed orders…”

“No, sir, McHale sent us,” she answered, as she took the spinal weave computer and centered it over three vertebrae in the thoracic section.

Kieran Jai returned, quietly watching without comment. He knew this procedure; remembering it all too well from the shuttle crash on Earth when Dana Cartwright had treated him.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Janz moaned.

Dana retrieved a DIA-injector. “I’ll bet you weren’t using your safety bar,” she taunted.

Kieran groaned, remembering how she’d scolded him for the same thing.

“Move your fingers,” Dana ordered, and Macao bravely strained to comply with his left hand. “Move them one at a time. Concentrate on each.”

The DIA-injector hissed as it touched his shoulder blade, the movement of his fingers slowed then stopped, and his head lolled to one side.

“Can’t believe you still use that technique,” Kieran observed with a wry smile.

“Standard procedure…so, tell me what happened?” She began moving the neuro-scanner along each vertebrae, punching in codes and storing settings then programmed the device for a spinal weave. It continued the long, arduous process of knitting back together the damaged nerve ganglia one at a time. “This is going to take awhile.”

“Mine took twelve hours,” he recalled.

“With me assisting Doctor Garcia,” Dana reminded.

Kieran settled down on the deck, his legs folded under him, just the way he would for meditation. He recounted the story of what had transpired since
Karis
left
Lancer
, ending, “I tried desperately to keep us from crashing.”

She nodded, without looking up. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“You know I can’t disclose the details of an…” Kieran began, but let it go.

“Under the circumstances, it might be good if you told me the whole truth, Kieran,” Dana said with a frown, “since we have the time.”
 

Rather than answer, Kieran turned the conversation around, demanding, “What happened after we left
Lancer
?”