Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer (30 page)

“Should have gotten my boots,” she mumbled as an aside, setting her gear bag down and resting a weapon within easy reach.

In the quiet, she mulled over the medical scans. Castellan-human hybrids, a tribrid and the others…

Novem’s physical characteristics indicated severe mutations. The DNA markers all matched. They — she already reluctantly began to think of him as her brother — certainly shared the same parentage — just had differing levels of influence from their three donors.

He started to recover from the sedative, struggled and winced in pain, froze at the sight of her, again staring into her mismatched eyes.

Dana blinked, staring down into his.

“Who are you?” He pleaded again.

“January…” she reminded.

He shook his head, searching for the words, “What are you?”

“Oh,” she chuckled. “I was a doctor.”

His expression changed to one of awe. “Doctor?”

“March is a doctor, too. And so is April…”

He scowled. “We are lower.”

“We?”

“Dec and I…Sep and Octo are dead. They were weaklings. We were all…slaves.”

Dana frowned. The way he said it tugged at her heart.

“We were bought by the Craz.”

“Who are the Craz?”

Novem struggled to answer. He pointed to one of the men on the deck. “He is the Craz.”

Dana nodded, understanding. “Where do they come from?”

“Beyond the Field…”

Suddenly it all made sense to her. From Doctor Tracy’s history of the
Calvary
, she recalled a mention of the Crazorians, a very reclusive race from beyond the Streetek Field, beyond even Enturian space. They were empaths and telepaths, which the GCE abhorred.

“How could they buy you?” She wondered.

“Slaves — many slaves — imperfects like me are sold. Raised by other outcasts then sold again.”

Dana felt empathically both shame and grief. She searched his eyes, detecting more painful emotions, of beatings and evil sexual things done to them.

“What of these Castellans?” She asked, directing the conversation away from him.

“They are half-breeds…slaves, too. They are used as breeders.”

She scowled.

Novem reached out to touch her cheek. She resisted the instinct to pull away.

“You are perfect. You are the first.”

“You said there are twelve?” She asked.

He nodded, retracting his hand and weakly letting it fall to his side. “Twelve months…twelve embryos. That’s what we were told. All slightly different…less perfect than the first.”

“Who told you that?” Dana demanded.
 

“The King…”

Both her eyebrows shot upward. “Who is the King?”

He tried to smile, hiding his crooked, yellowed teeth. “The King… He says you are perfect.”

“How would he know that?” Dana demanded.

“He says he tested your D-N-A.”

She scowled, “That’s impossible.”

“The King sent Via to capture you.”

“Via?
 
Xavier Via? The man tried to kill me at the Meeting of the Masters…That was ten years ago.”

Novem stared. “Not kill…Capture. The King wants you.”

Dana repeated, “Who is the King?”

Novem just shrugged.

The sound of someone materializing nearby filled the bay.

Dana whirled, grasping her weapon, aiming.

“Hold!” Janz Macao ordered, using Kieran’s shoulder for support.

She scrambled to help, easing the Captain down to the deck beside Novem, and went immediately to work, realizing Janz writhed in pain. She glared at Kieran, and then administered a strong sedative so that Macao’s body went limp. “I may have to do another spinal weave.” She dug through her gear bag, glad she’d brought everything down to the bay with her.

Kieran nodded, commenting, “We took the ship.”

Dana ignored him, focusing on the Captain. “Help me roll him over and get the armor off.”
 

She used the blanket to wrap about his bare buttocks, focusing above where she’d already done the spinal weave, taking readings, gritting her teeth.

“I need more light. Can you get the system back up?”

Kieran scrambled to his feet and left the bay, with only a cursory warning glance at Novem.

The conditions in the bay deteriorated. The temperature dropped another ten degrees during the two hours of the second surgery. They seemed much longer. Dana didn’t dare to move Janz. She left the spinal weave device in position. “We need a C-FIIN,” Dana growled at Kieran’s back.
 

He managed to get the lighting up to fifty percent, but the air circulation system just would not function.
 

“
Karis
is history…ready for scrap,” he complained, as he checked more crates, tagging a few for transport.

While she monitored the medical instruments, he busied himself with stacking the bodies, dragging those from the upper decks down to join the others. Novem watched his every move.

“The Captain needs medical treatment. You have to abort the mission,” Dana pleaded.

He ignored the plea, offering, “Why don’t you go have a shower. They’re working. I’ll watch over your patients.”

“Last time you…” she protested.

“Go have a shower! You’ll feel better. I insist!”
 

Dana bit back all protests. The lure of a shower and clean hair was just too enticing. After crawling around in the air ducts, she felt itchy. She took a change of clothing from the gear bag and headed up to the crew level.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Novem stared, emotionlessly watching Kieran’s every move, and Kieran did much the same, while surveying the remaining crates.
 

 
“The temperature should improve now that the sun is up,” Kieran said, taking a break and settling down on the deck to rest, legs folded meditation style.

Novem didn’t seem to care. “Are you her master?”

“Dana’s?” Kieran chuckled, envisioning the poor sap who ever dared. “Dana January Cartwright is no slave.”

The mercenary stared. “She obeys you and the other.”

“Only because we out rank her. I’m a colonel. My brother is a captain.”

Novem frowned. “Republic?”

Kieran admitted, “Aye.”

“You kill well.”

Kieran swallowed hard. “When necessary...”

“I will serve you. Novem will be your slave.”

It was Kieran’s turn to stare. “No, Novem will be set free.”

“I am not perfect. Only January is perfect,” the mercenary insisted.

“Who told you that?”

“The King... He said, twelve were made; only one is perfect — only January.”

“Twelve? So Novem is eleven of twelve?”

Novem nodded.

Kieran grinned. “I’ve met April, four of twelve, and she’s pretty perfect…she could be Dana’s twin.”

“Only January is perfect,” Novem repeated defensively. “Far from perfect were ordered destroyed.”

Kieran’s eyebrows shot upward. “What?”

“The King said many were ordered destroyed; he says we were sold, instead. Only January is perfect. The Republic does not keep imperfects.”

Kieran’s expression turned to a frown. “Novem, this may be difficult for you to understand, but in the Republic everyone is equal. There are no slaves. Some serve. Some lead. Some obey. All are equal.” Kieran pointed to his brother. “Some give orders, some obey orders — no one is bought or owned — no one is a slave.”
 

He felt distrust and disbelief coming from the mercenary, and realized that Novem’s worldview was as deformed as his body and hands, probably from decades of abuse and propaganda. He decided it was a really good idea to change the subject.

“How many mercenary ships are there?”

Novem held up his left hand, the less deformed of the two, and folded down two fingers.

“Three,” Kieran echoed, “and how many slaves?”

“Too many to count. Most are not perfect.”

“So, hybrids, like these Castellans?”

Novem nodded.

“How many like you?”

“Only one other left...Dec.”

“December? Any full Enturians?”
 

Novem held up the same deformed hand with one finger folded down.

“Four Enturians?”

“They are not slaves. They are sokem.”

The word meant nothing to Kieran. “What is sokem?”

Janz Macao broke in, groggily. “Sokem is Enturian…it means secured. They must be prisoners.”

Kieran slid across the deck to his brother’s side, checking the neuro-scan. The spinal weave program had ended, so he lifted the device off Janz’s back. “Can you feel anything? Are you in pain?”

Macao shifted his position. “No pain. Feeling starting to return.”

“Move slowly,” Kieran cautioned. “Don’t strain.”

“Where’s Dana?”

“Taking a shower.”

Janz kicked up each leg, testing his muscles, flexing toes and ankles, then he dared to roll over and sit up. “Much better.”

“Did you hear the conversation?” Kieran asked.

“Most of it… Could the four Enturians be the crew of the GCE survey ship that went missing over three decades ago?”

They both turned to Novem.

“Novem has been a slave longer than the sokem have been.”

Janz groaned. “I don’t recall any reports of other GCE ships going missing.”

“Maybe a privateer or a pleasure vessel?”

Novem looked from one to the other. “What is Terrine?”

Kieran stiffened. “Terrines is a place.”

“The sokem spoke of Terrines? I’ve been to the Terrines,” Janz said. “It’s a resort, underground caverns with therapeutic hot springs…a beautiful place. Shalee and I visited with the ambassador a long time ago. If the prisoners were speaking of the Terrines, it was wishful thinking.”

Novem struggled to sit up, copying Macao’s movements, gritting his broken teeth to endure a wave of pain. He made as though to answer, but when Kieran slid closer to aid him, he cringed and withdrew to just out of reach.

Macao cautioned, “I wouldn’t do that again, K…he probably doesn’t understand compassion coming from another male.”

Kieran got the picture.

Novem stared, narrowing his blue, left eye just the way Dana often did. “How come you do not ask Novem questions?”

“What should we ask?” Kieran tested.

“How the Craz knew this ship was here...How the Craz come and leave without being caught.”

Janz groaned. “I think we already know that someone in the Star Service sends messages when spoils are to be had.”

Novem’s other eye narrowed. “The Craz have — what is the word for it — infiltrated. That is not all. They buy little ones, and steal them, to use as threats. They take wo-men...perfect ones.”

Kieran tensed and locked stares with his brother. “It’s too dangerous then to take Dana with us.”

Macao nodded agreement.

Kieran turned back to Novem. “Where are the sokem and the women kept?”

“Beyond…where there is no Republic.”

“Beyond is a big place,” Macao muttered.

Novem gave a crooked grin. “The ship remembers.”

Kieran chuckled, “Good point.”

“Excellent point,” Janz added.

Both he and Kieran jumped when a COM device let out a loud buzz.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Dana decided to use the shower in the Captain’s quarters, but had the distinct feeling someone was watching as she unbraided her hair and gladly stepped out of her dirty overalls and sweaty undergarments.

Like going through decon at the medical center, the sonic shower removed every molecule of dust, dead skin cells, and even the beneficial natural oils in her hair. Nothing beat the squeaky clean feeling.

She was halfway into her change of clothes when the cabin door opened. She whirled, grabbing for a weapon, then relaxed.

“Sorry,” Kieran offered as he stuck his head in. “We’ve received an incoming.
Lancer
is two hours out.”

Dana frowned. “
Big L
? Why?”

He shrugged, and turned on his heels. “We need to be gone.”

She hurriedly finished dressing, slipping her aching feet into her boots, calling after him, “I’m ready.”

Up in the rotunda, Kieran had two mounds of gear waiting for tagging and transfer up to the mercenaries’ ship. He also had an attaché, which he set down nearby.
 

“Where’s the Captain and Novem?”

“Down in the hold…they are fine! You can tag Janz once I’m back aboard the merc ship. Take Novem with you aboard
Lancer
. He’s looking rather pale.”

She glared at him. “Janz needs…”

“I know…he needs to rest. There will be plenty of time once we’re aboard. I need him with me. I can’t do this alone.” Kieran grinned, like a boy with a new toy, “They have a very nice ship in orbit.”

“Are you going to commandeer it?”
 

Kieran nodded. “Have to…since this one is going nowhere.”
 

She shook her head in exasperation. “I won’t quote regulations to you.”

Kieran forced a chuckle. “Please don’t.” He offered her the stiletto in its sheath. “I took this from your boot. You may need it.”

She backed away. “Keep it!”

He sighed, wanting to defuse her anger. “Dana…”

She turned away.

He shrugged, hid the blade and sheath back in his boot, then went to stand beside the gear. “Ready?”

His last words, sent telepathically, were,
I love you…always.

Dana rushed back down to the storage hold, finding both Novem and Macao sitting up with their backs against crates, Janz holding a weapon pointed at Novem.

Both men were in agony. She went first to the Captain, checking the readings.
 

Macao heaved a sigh, pointing her to Novem. “Sedate him until
Big L
gets here. You should be fine during the short time we’re gone. At first I had no pain, but it’s starting to flare up again. You’ll need to give me something.”

She did as commanded, pulling the blanket about Novem’s shoulders before returning to Janz. Performing a quick scan first, she sighed and programmed an injector. “You need another dose of anti-inflammatory and you need to rest — prone.”

Macao chuckled. “Come lay next to me?”