Sam Ehrmann emptied his coffee in one swallow and crushed the cup by making a fist. “You have other talents, too, or so I hear,” he commented.
Dana merely nodded, uncertain exactly what he meant.
“Don’t be modest, lady. Flaunt them. Promotions only come if you take a chance and put yourself in the right place at the right time. You’re quite a marksman.”
She shook her head. “I’m just not a gambler.”
He shrugged and got up to go.
“Sam? One last question…”
“Shoot.”
“Is this one dangerous?”
He chuckled softly. “Put it this way, keep your weapon handy.” He did a quick flick of the wrist as though quick drawing a weapon and threw the smashed coffee cup at the trash chute door clear across the room, hitting his target square on.
“Nice shot!” Dana complemented. “Thanks, Sam.”
“Hey, advice is cheap; the side action is where I make my profit.” Ehrmann signaled two thumbs up and headed out the door.
She wondered at his meaning. Side action? Could Sam Ehrmann also be suspect?
Mansfield entered, going to get coffee and a breakfast roll.
Dana stiffened, watching and following his every movement with her eyes. The last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation.
He spotted her, and appeared to be itching for one.
“I hear the Captain wants to see me again,” he grumbled, “Did you go crying to him?”
Dana looked down into her coffee. She could play this two ways — tough or meek. Much as she hated the thought, the latter appeared the better choice. “Sorry to disappoint you again, Mister Mansfield. The Captain has already chewed me out. He wants us to form a truce in the best interest of morale.”
“Truce?” Mansfield sneered at first, then gloated, “Nothing short of your transfer will suffice.”
She shrugged off the statement, which incensed him completely.
“Listen, you little bitch,” he shouted, grabbing her wrist, spilling his hot coffee all over her clean uniform in the process, “Until you came aboard, Lancer’s bridge morale was just fine!”
“Let go!” Dana insisted, squirming in his grip. She tugged and twisted, wanting to get her left hand free so she could reach the dagger in her boot.
He merely gloated and tightened his fingers about her wrists. The table limited her response, else she’d have thrown him across the room.
Janz Macao stepped into the lounge just then. Mansfield’s back was to him, but it didn’t take the Captain long to assess the situation.
Macao pushed the weapons officer aside, slamming Mansfield face down against a table with his left arm pinned behind his back in a quick wrestling hold. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on her again, Mister!” The Captain hissed angrily.
Mansfield managed a martial arts movement to get free, but that put him face-to-face with the Captain. He realized his error instantly, and snapped to attention with a sinking look upon his face.
“Are you all right, Dana?” Macao asked, worriedly, seeing the scalding coffee dripping down her jacket.
“I’m fine, sir.” She mopped up the spill with a cloth napkin that Sam Ehrmann had abandoned on the table.
“Mister Mansfield?”
“Sir, it’s not what you…”
“Silence! Assaulting an officer is a court-martial offense. Lt. Cmdr. Cartwright has refused to press charges for your past behavior. I will. Mister Mansfield, you have endangered this mission, assaulted an officer, and disobeyed a direct order. That makes for a good charge of insubordination. Do you wish to make a statement now, or wait until the hearing?”
Mansfield returned formally, “I’ll wait, sir.”
“Fine!” The Captain used his voice-badge to summon security.
Jay Gordon arrived with two of his lieutenants.
“Mister Mansfield is confined to quarters under full guard, until a preliminary hearing is convened upon my return; or when Lancer returns to Station Four, whichever comes first,” Macao ordered.
Gordon accepted the order calmly, but it was clear to Dana that the Security Chief was wondering the nature of the charges. She also wondered what Mansfield would tell him when they reached the corridor.
“Dismissed,” the Captain called, watching them leave. He reached for her right hand, inspecting it carefully. “Are you sure you are all right? That was scalding hot.”
“I’m fine,” she assured, though her voice betrayed how shaken and distressed she was.
He brought her a fresh cup of chocolay from the duplicator, and helped her out of her wet jacket, draping it on the back of his chair. Then he fetched another cup for himself and sank into the chair beside her, facing the door.
Janz took a sip from his cup, sighed deeply, then asked for her advice. “Will you review the bridge duty roster for me? Prepare the paperwork to promote Dawson to Weapons Specialist-First Class and have him fill in for Mansfield. I authorize a pay upgrade.” Macao mulled over some thoughts before continuing, “Your department could use another lieutenant. Start prepping Ensign Milan. He was quick to react and performed admirably during the first alert.”
“I’ll inform Mister Nichols, sir.”
“If I wanted Nichols to do it, I’d tell him,” Macao snapped.
Dana recoiled instinctively.
Janz Macao had that ‘mad at the galaxy’ look he’d worn on their first meeting in the shuttle bay on Station Four.
“Better see to it now. I want to sign off on the orders before we leave.” He checked his chronograph. “I’ll be with Chief Kulak in supply when you are ready.”
She didn’t dare to inquire if the “we” included herself. He gulped down the rest of his beverage, while staring off into space. “In my absence, you are second in command. McHale will be in charge. Questions?”
She had a few, but decided now was not the time, “None, sir.”
Macao was obviously not in the mood to disclose who was on the final team roster. There was an easy bet Dan Nichols was replacing Mansfield. And she guessed Lancer’s navigator, Carl Bryant, would take her place as co-pilot.
Macao departed without another word, leaving her mulling the possibilities.
She wondered if Sam Ehrmann would raise the odds still higher on the success of the mission.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Personnel had only one yeoman on duty during the night shift. “Mackenna, at your service, ma’am,” he offered.
Dana smiled at him. “I thought you were a supply clerk?”
“I float, ma’am.”
She began to wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. “Did you just transfer up from Four?”
“No, ma’am, I’ve been aboard Lancer for nearly a year.” He flashed a boyish grin and ran his left hand through his golden hair. “Was hoping to get left behind on Four, but was denied a transfer to Scanlos.”
“So was I,” she mumbled, then began chuckling. His easy-going manner gave her an idea. “Mackenna, do you ever pull extra duty?”
“Any chance I can.”
“Good…I want you to replace Yeoman Warren as my assistant.”
“You want me? Honestly? I’m totally flattered.”
“Yes, you, effective immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I need some orders prepared. I want a pay grade increase for Jack Dawson, effective immediately, and the paperwork for Ensign Julian Milan’s promotion to Lieutenant, Junior Grade. How long will it take?”
Mackenna set to work, banging on the keypad. “Signature required for the promotion and pay upgrades. Captain Macao’s or First Officer Nichols.”
“Macao’s,” she assured.
He never lifted his eyes from the console. “Your signature for my,” he chuckled, “extra duty.” He swiveled around the pad so she could sign off on the order relating to his assignment. “It’ll be a pleasure you know, serving you. You seem…friendlier. Most of the others on Lancer are stiff. You�
�d swear they all had something to hide.”
Dana thought about his comment; it hit home. What if there was more than one spy amid the members of Lancer’s command staff?
Mansfield? Kulak? Gordon? And certainly Nichols…all of them? Maybe even Janz Macao? Was that why Kieran Jai, an SSID Colonel, had come?
“Something wrong, ma’am?” Mackenna was asking.
Dana shook herself, recovered, and looked at the yeoman. He had all the orders requiring signatures laid out for her.
“Mister Mackenna,” she read his given name off the work order, “Daniel? Unless I’m off ship, you can collect my dictation at 0800 daily at my quarters. No editing required, not even grammatical. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am. And would you like me to enter a clothing order for you?”
“I just ordered some tunics. When it’s just the two of us, you can call me Dana.”
Mackenna grinned. “Dana…I was thinking along the lines of some civilian clothing…for the mission and all.”
“Hold off on that for now.”
She left the authorization with her signature and collected up the rest to take to the Captain.
“See you at 0800,” Mackenna called as she left his station.
Captain Macao had specified that she meet him in supply, but decided to detour through the detention area for a brief visit with Kieran Jai.
The security guard had no instructions to prevent visitors, so Dana passed through with a nod.
Still maintaining his impersonation of Captain Tighe, he was busy pacing the length of the confining room, side-stepping the bunk, the only furniture. He whirled when she was admitted, but kept his peace until the guard left them alone.
“What in hell are you doing?” He mouthed, telepathically adding, Why aren’t you wearing the N-link?
Dana shook her head vehemently to cut him off.
In a loud voice, she scolded, “Captain Tighe, I have completed my preflight on your ship.” She glanced back at the guard to be certain he was out of earshot and motioned to Kieran.
Change of personnel. I’m off. Mansfield’s under house arrest. Nichols is on.
Mansfield? Fane! Kieran sighed. I was particularly suspicious of him.
The Captain knows about us…
Kieran chuckled. Of course he does, he’s a Master of the Elect. So am I.
He winked, and stared into her mismatched eyes, silently adding, Don’t you realize who he is?
She frowned, nodding. He’s your brother.
An image came to her. It was Forever Pointe. Only it wasn’t the same memory Kieran had given her so long ago, of soaring over the beautiful, red rock canyon. This was Kieran and Janz, at the top, both with gliders. Kieran pushed Janz over the edge.
Why did you push him?
Had to…He’s agoraphobic. Would still be standing there.
Kieran chuckled at her reaction.
Yes, Dana, Janz is one of my brothers.
She protested, Is that why you’re here? Do you suspect him? Is that why SSID sent you?
He shook his head firmly, cautioning, Not now!
Dana finally understood. Her deepest fears were very real. She warned, There is a deeper conspiracy and all parties are now on the mission team.
He grinned. I’m counting on just that.
K? What’s a life-star worth?
He stared. Full?
Nearly…
He tilted his head, shrugging, Millions of credits, best guess. Then he frowned, Is his full?
She didn’t have the opportunity to respond, because the guard had returned. Their conversation had to end.
Kieran shouted, “I don’t intend to cooperate with the likes of you, woman. Tell your Captain I will deal with him directly.”
“As you wish,” Dana returned, storming out of the cell block. She didn’t look back.
Chief Gordon happened to follow Dana into the lift. He grinned broadly and asked, “Heading down now, Dana?”
She nodded, but made no eye contact.
“So glad you’re coming.” He sounded sincere, when he added, “Sorry about Jim. Can’t believe he really intended to hurt you.” Gordie sighed, “Afraid he doesn’t know his own strength.”
Dana let the comments go without a response.
“You, ah, considered dropping the charges by any chance?”
She hit the stop button and the descent halted. Then, she glared at the Security Chief. “Gordie, for the record, I didn’t press charges against Mansfield; the Captain did. If he drops them, and Jim Mansfield comes within two meters of me, I…well, I don’t intend to give him another shot at me, let’s leave it at that.”
Gordon snickered. “You’re no match for him.”
She stiffened, sensing a threat. Gordie knew her marksmanship score, but he probably did not know of her mixed-martial-arts black belt.
“If he corners me again, I’ll do what I must in self-defense.” She punched the release on the lift and it began to descend again.
The Chief of Security appraised her critically then announced, “I hope for your sake, Dana, it never comes down to that.”
The lift doors parted and Dana bolted, turning the same corner where she’d encountered the trio earlier — it seemed like days ago — wishing it was all over, the team gone, and the hum-drum boredom of a day-to-day duty shift.
She marched into the supply center to find Kulak and the Captain struggling with the computer terminal.
“Perhaps the system is down,” Kulak was saying.
“Try another console,” Macao muttered, still pecking away at the keypad and getting no results.
Dana stifled a grin. “Can I help?”
Macao looked up. “Mister Cartwright…just the person we need. Can you get this thing to…”
Dana came up beside him, surveyed the situation and then urged him aside. She reached down into her boot and retrieved the stiletto. The blade glistened as she used it to pry the keypad cover apart and began a check of the circuitry board. She didn’t see Janz Macao’s frown, but she heard Jay Gordon’s whistle.
The Captain’s hand closed over hers and he took away the blade to inspect it.
“Great galaxy, Dana,” Janz moaned, “a Sterillian blade?” He behaved as if he’d never seen one before.
Gordon was equally stunned. “That can pass through any scanner undetected.”
She took back the blade and used the tip to free a tiny metal bar from between two circuitry chips beneath the keypad. As easily as that, the monitor cleared and came back to a menu.
Dana clicked the base back into place and flicked the metal bar into the Captain’s palm.
He simply stared.
She returned his gaze brazenly, adding as she clutched the grip of the dagger, “This was a gift, for saving someone’s life.” She left him to wonder if that someone was his brother. He should know already, having touched the dagger.
Dana slid the stiletto back into its sheath and offered, “Shall I run that request for you, Captain? And by the way, your authorization is required on those promotions.” She indicated the padlets Mackenna had prepared.
“No,” he mumbled. “Kulak will. I want a word with you…outside.”
He led her past Jay Gordon and into the corridor, scolding the instant the door slid closed. “What in hell do you think you’re doing? You know it is against regulations to carry a concealed weapon of any type — let alone an unregistered blade — aboard a Star Service vessel.”
Dana didn’t interrupt his lecture until he demanded she turn it over to him to be locked away for safe keeping.
“Sorry, sir, but Section 2773 of regulations authorizes me to carry a Class four driver. That is a tool which, for all general purposes, is of a non-magnetizable metal, and therefore not destructive to sensitive circuitry. In Jakketta vs the Peoples’ Court of Rivera VII, the Sterillian blade was determined to be of the specific, Class four non-metal, and therefore qualifies as a Class four driver, which is the only tool I can use.
&
nbsp; “In addition,” she ended, “this blade IS registered with SSID in my name, fully certifiable, and quite legal.” She continued to stare. “It is not a weapon, though I might use it as one if the need for self-defense should arise.”
Macao heaved a sigh. “I never expected this from you.”
“You’d expect it of a Shonedren Star Captain though, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded solemnly.
She reached out to his left hand. He extended it tentatively, then realized she wanted the thin metal bar.
“That did not find its way into the circuitry by accident,” she observed.
“For what purpose?”
“Delay the mission? Cast suspicion?” She thought of a few more like, irritate you and discredit me, but didn’t give those voice.
Janz got the picture, but didn’t seem prepared to take action. In fact, he changed the subject.
“Those promotions?”
She reminded, “I left them inside.”
He led the way to the door, but stepped aside to let her pass through first.
Kulak and Gordon covertly whispered between themselves, but they cut off abruptly.
The Captain took up the authorizations on the separate pads and with only a cursory inspection affixed his signature using the stylus. He handed them back to Dana with a mumbled, “Thank you,” and, “that’s all for now.”
His dismissal came as a surprise, but she obeyed and returned to the corridor just as Nichols and Bryant were preparing to enter.
Neither greeted her in passing.
Ehrmann also approached with several crusty looking security officers flanking him. Sam asked flippantly, “Where’s the party?”
Dana pointed inside. “It’s just started.” She headed off in the other direction.
With Nichols, Mansfield and Bryant off the Main Bridge, Dana thought it the perfect place to go to sulk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The mood upon the Main Bridge seemed subdued. Both helmsman and navigator were last minute replacements, called up to fill in the vacancies left by Nichols and Bryant. The engineering console hummed on auto function. Dawson moped at the weapons console and Ensign Milan occupied computers. The senior officer present, Ken Nishada, sulked at the communications console, preoccupied with some routine data transfers. McHale must have stepped out for a quick break.
Dana Cartwright Mission 2: Lancer Page 17