Dana Cartwright Mission 3: Kal-King

by Joyz W. Riter

  She took the carafe of coffee, sipped some, savored the taste, then asked the most immediate of her million questions, “What are you doing on Tonner III?”

  He countered with a question, “What are you doing out of uniform?”

  She sighed at his diversion and averted her eyes. “That’s a long story; I’ll tell you sometime when we have hours to…”

  “I can get the answer quite easily,” he reminded, again sliding his hand to the nape of her neck for a telepathic link. She didn’t fight him, but closed her eyes and seemed to enjoy his gentle probing into the details of her struggles. However, he had a difficult time because of the pain in her body.

  “You need comforting,” he whispered, this time kissing her upon the lips, not caring what anyone at the plaza might think.

  I love you, he told her telepathically. It seemed the most important thing to say.

  “Come,” he invited, after she’d sipped about half the coffee. He took it from her, throwing its contents away onto the parched ground, which swallowed it up greedily. Then he collapsed the container and hid it in a secret pocket of his tunic as he led her by the hand. They left the marketplace, now bathed in a shimmering, cool artificial lighting pink glow, deluged with life forms, small to tall.

  Kieran escorted, carefully setting a pace Dana could keep, to a full-service cab. Once they were inside, he gave the driver the name of Tonnertown’s most lavish resort hotel, Wind-o-mar.

  “I spent the first night there,” she told him, “because Ambassador Taurian prepaid for us.”

  Kieran sighed, “I know all that. I saw the incident report.”

  She seemed close to tears. “No one believes me. It was no accident. The Ambassador wasn’t strapped in. I gave him the approach warning. He was searching for something among the luggage. And then, there was an explosion. It was…”

  “Hush,” he whispered, pulling her closer so they could cuddle together during the remainder of the ride and during the wait at the resort under the awning as other robo-cabs discharged passengers. The driver diverted, since it was already dark, and helped them both out of the cab at a side entrance that avoided the crush of the lobby.

  Kieran’s room pass took them to the palatial penthouse suite, one floor above the one she’d occupied the first night. It boasted a steamy water-spa, which he instinctively knew would ease some of the pain in her leg. He pointed her toward it, while securing the door and watched as she wandered about, drinking in the luxurious smells of evergreen scented candles and exotic off-world plants.

  The spa area had the look and feel of an earthly flower garden.

  Kieran dimmed the lights with a verbal command and soothing instrumental music from a lyre began to issue from the speakers.

  “Very nice,” she said, dropping her backpack on the carpeting as he slid off his solar cloak and outer robe, draping them across the back of the common room sofa.

  “Enjoy yourself,” he offered, while moving purposefully about the suite, to closets and such, returning to her side with fluffy bath towels, lush robes, a hairbrush and a toiletries kit, which he set down on the carpeting near the spa.

  He knelt at her feet and undid the fasteners on her boots, letting her lean upon his shoulder as he pulled them off one by one. With a frown he noted the hidden sheath always concealed in her left boot was missing, along with the vintage, Sterilian dagger.

  Like a loving caretaker, he helped her out of the jumpsuit, kissing her tenderly, hands caressing, erasing all doubts and cares. She clung at first, then allowed his strong arms to guide her first step into the warm water.

  She seemed painfully thin to his observations; her always narrow hips now almost skeletal. Her waist and the mounds of her breasts seemed adolescent as she sank down, shoulder deep in the steamy oasis.

  It didn’t take much medical knowledge to realize her left knee did not conform to the right, and the ankle was swollen and bruised. It hadn’t healed properly. She could barely stretch out her leg to full length.

  Kieran turned on the timer and the therapeutic jets churned and swirled the water. “Is it too hot?”

  He felt and heard her sigh. “It’s lovely.”

  Silently, he undid the braid of her waist-length, cinnamon-colored hair, and let it drape over the side of the spa, kissing the place where the part met her forehead, eliciting a girlish giggle.

  “Don’t…”

  “No, I want to,” he whispered, gently brushing her hair free of tangles, enjoying the silky feel of the natural curls. “I remember the first time we met,” he whispered, his eyes misting up with the memory. “Your hair was so soft. It’s so much longer now. That coconut oil smell drove me mad. And when you wear it loose, like Lady Godiva, hiding your treasures…” He buried his face against the back of her head. “Ah!” he sighed.

  She laughed and teased in return, “I remember you had false hair and a beard, and you wore the robes impersonating the Alphan Ambassador.”

  He chuckled, “That was a very strange mission…”

  “More than strange,” she taunted, recalling it vividly.

  “Rest,” he whispered hypnotically, kissing her sweetly upon the lips. “I’ll join shortly. Give me just a minute.”

  She nodded, eyes closed, all the tension draining from her weary body.

  Kieran took up the toiletries kit and dashed into the first master bedroom, carefully closing the door. His purpose was to extract from the kit what appeared to be a shaver, clicking off a concealing cap that contained a microphone and an ear receiver. He hesitated for just a moment before activating the communicator. By involving the Star Service and his SSID staff, he crossed a fine line between privacy and duty. Yet he could think of no other options. For Dana… He had to…

  The device glowed a pale blue as a communication signal was detected. “SSID,” came a voice.

  “This is C-Jai.”

  “Good evening, Commodore, enjoying your personal time off?”

  “I was. I need the best reconstructive surgeon you can locate in the vicinity of Tonner III spaceport. I’m at the Tonnertown resort, Wind-o-mar. MAT him or her to my private suite. Use these coordinates. Also retrieve all investigative records pertaining to the crash of the private yacht, Seraph, and its passengers, including Ambassador Taurian and retired Star Service Commander Dana J. Cartwright. Retrieve all her personal accounts, finances, and records; seal them from spaceport control and make them accessible only to my code name: Alpha-One.”

  Kieran paused.

  “Retired Commander Dana J. Cartwright…aye, Commodore. Is there anything else?”

  “I’ll need a wardrobe for a woman…”

  “Size?”

  “Extra-small…or petite…not quite sure...”

  “Formal or informal?”

  “Hmmm…both…and a solar cloak. The sun here is brutal.”

  “Yes, sir. Do you wish to retrieve your messages now, Commodore?”

  “Save them, I’ll check in again later. Tell Colonel Xalier this was no accident. Something in the luggage compartment exploded just after touchdown. Xal will know what to do.”

  Kieran signed off, clicked the device closed, and returned it to his toiletries kit. Then he brought out a digital injector, and programmed it for a strong, quick sedative. He then stripped off his thin undershirt and hung it on a hook behind the door, emptied the secret pocket in his pants of the coffee carafes, destroying the things with their fingerprints and DNA upon them in the disposal chute. He untied the waist drawstring of his loose caravan pants, letting them fall and stepping free of them, then hung those up as well. Standing naked before the mirror, he inspected his brawny physique for any telltale skin discolorations that might develop into a melanoma.

  Only the one hand that had been exposed in the robo-cab showed any signs of discoloration. He hoped the short duration of exposure would be safe.

  The last thing he needed now that he’d found Dana was to require surgery himself for the painful skin lesions to which Alph
ans were prone when exposed to ultraviolet-C rays.

  He took the injector, struggled for a moment with the idea of telling Dana what he was about to do, then cast the thought aside. She would protest and waste her precious strength. In the end, she would lose the argument. So what point was there to it?

  He returned to the spa, to the woman he loved more than life, hid the device under a fluffy robe close enough where he could reach it from within the water, stepped into the spa and slid down beside her, stretching out his body.

  His hands sought out her tiny waist and gently pulled her close. Her cheek nestled against his chest just above the waterline, beautiful curls floating on the surface of the bubbling water like a cloak spread wide.

  “Kieran,” she whispered, “we need to talk.”

  “Shh…” He counseled, drinking in the closeness, before leaning down to kiss her deeply, lovingly. “Rest yourself in my arms, my love…”

  She began to weep, overcome with emotion, overwhelmed by all the pain and the loneliness of the past few years. “Thank you…”

  He longed for physical union with her, but realized her pain was too great. Later…after the surgery…

  He thought about when to use the injector, deciding to take a few minutes more to relax.

  She seemed so comfortable; he didn’t want to move. Not just now…as he caressed her bare shoulders and kissed her upon the forehead. He didn’t dare offer food before the surgery, but she was so painfully thin.

  “What,” she whispered, “what are you thinking? I can’t sense anything.”

  “I’ve never seen you so…” he couldn’t find words for it.

  “So pitiful?” Dana frowned, “I know, I look a mess.” She started to stir and push away.

  “Rest,” he whispered. He surreptitiously retrieved the digital injector and, after coaxing her back against his shoulder, administered the anesthesia.

  Kieran wrapped Dana in a lush bath towel and carried her to the second master bedroom, fussing over the injured left leg as he set her down upon the satin sheets. He elevated the leg with one of the spare pillows and tucked the bed sheet about her as she slept. He brushed her waist-length hair and, though it was damp, tried to braid it, but gave up and simply tied it off to the side as she often did.

  Then he got up and slid into his pants and a robe, pacing for what seemed like hours, willing the knock on the door and jumping when it finally came.

  Three men had arrived in the common room. He went to meet them.

  “Your Highness,” Kieran gasped in recognition.

  Prince Korwin Kord nodded in his direction, while the two security guards fanned out protectively. “Commodore, I received an emergency medical call and brought my kit. What seems to be…”

  Kieran stepped aside and ushered the Alphan Ambassador inside, leaving the security detail in the common room. “It’s Dana.”

  Prince Korwin went immediately to work, scanning the injured leg, scowling at the workmanship of the previous doctors. “They should have…” The rest of his comment was lost as the digital injector hissed and the Prince began to surgically aligned the bones in Dana’s leg.

  Kieran paced, helpless to assist, profusely thankful to have a competent surgeon answer the call.

  “She should never have been walking on this,” the Prince mumbled, after carefully repairing one of the fractures and relocating the misaligned kneecap. He sighed, “These backward planets need a refresher course in anatomy and physiology.”

  Kieran scoffed, meeting the Prince’s gaze. “Do you know, Dana read the Alphan A & P text while I was trapped under the rubble when Stiletto crashed.”

  Prince Korwin shrugged. “She probably memorized it. It is good to have a photographic memory. Dear me, she’s painfully thin.” He ran some scans, lamenting, “And extremely dehydrated. Don’t feed her for at least an hour after the anesthesia wears off, but make sure she drinks lots of fluids. Wean her off these pain meds she’s been using. They’re very addictive.”

  Kieran watched as the youngest of the Alphan Ambassadors, an extremely talented surgeon and one of Dana’s academy classmates, pulled the bed sheet over the repaired knee and patted Dana’s shoulder affectionately.

  “Be careful of sun exposure. This is the worst possible climate for an Enturian/Galaxean/human tribrid, and for Alphans, mind you.”

  “I’ll do my best…” Kieran offered, “May I tell her that you…”

  “Certainly,” Prince Korwin answered readily. “Glad I could help. Can’t stay, however. Detouring to show Princess Micah the Terrines before The Crossroads Great Conference.”

  “An excellent choice,” Kieran responded.

  “We have just a few days to relax.”

  “Thank you so much, Your Highness.”

  They exchanged the handshake of fellow Masters of the Elect, then the Alphan Ambassador opened the door to join his security detail. The three MAT-transferred an instant later.

  Start to finish, the surgery took less than an hour; an inconceivably short time to repair what the Tonner III doctors had failed to do.

  Kieran went to turn off the spa, and then undressed, so he could stretch out upon the bed beside Dana, cradling her in his arms, closing his eyes.

  He murmured a meditative mantra to pass the time. It didn’t calm his racing mind. He had too many questions; the brief glimpse he’d seen from the telepathic link with her only added more.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dana awoke hours later, her eyelids fluttering, lips parched.

  “You slept a long time,” Kieran whispered, brushing strands of hair away from her neck and shoulders. “Let me go fetch you something to drink.” He slid away quickly, going to the wet bar, returning with two glasses filled to the brim of purified water.

  “I feel…numb,” she managed, speech slurred, barely aware that she was naked upon the bed.

  “Your surgeon just left.” He patted her left leg. “I think he did a marvelous job. Says you must stay off it for a few days…doctor's orders!”

  She blinked, protesting, “Not one of the locals…”

  “No,” he assured her, setting his glass on the bedside table, and helping her to sip from the other until she was satisfied. “I wouldn’t trust just anyone.”

  Dana smiled weakly, “You flew someone in?”

  “Ambassador Kord answered my distress call.”

  She yawned, then giggled, “PK was here? Why didn’t he stay?”

  “Had to leave. He does nice work.” Kieran slid the sheet away from her leg to show her.

  “It tingles, but I don’t feel any pain. You might have warned me.”

  “You’ve saved my life a time or two. It was the least I could do.” His eyes twinkled and he smiled.

  There were frown lines at the corners of her lips. He traced them with the fingers of his right hand. “Oh, Dana, what’s happened to you in the last four years? What brought you to this?”

  She stalled, pointing to the glass, drinking more, savoring the wonderful, fresh taste. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She tugged at his hand, urging him to stretch out beside her. Nestled in his arms, she slept some more.

  Kieran winced. A stabbing pain in the center of his forehead jabbed him awake. Dana still slept. He slid away, tucking the bed covers about her then padded across the room to the doorway.

  As he passed the sofa, the stabbing grew much worse. He sank to his knees on the lush carpet, like a penitent before a Master of the Elect.

  He’d been on the other end dozens of times — when he was much younger and actively involved in the occult arts. Perhaps Prince Korwin’s visit had triggered this.

  He struggled into the other bedroom of the suite and entered the meditation ritual, only to find it was his brother standing above him, with Princess Shalee at Janz's side.

  Brother?

  A flood of images and memories flowed from Janz Macao in the role of Master, to Kieran Jai, the student, along with an emotional plea.

  Com
e!

  Kieran wept.

  Brother?

  I can’t. I just found Dana, Kieran answered. See! He sent back a whirlwind of Dana Cartwright’s memories and his own, ending, I can’t leave her, brother, not just now.

  You liar! You promised to be here for me!

  Macao violently broke off the connection, leaving Kieran dazed and in a heap on the floor.

  The exchange with his brother tormented Kieran. There were no words to describe it. He pulled himself up, desperately struggling to recover his strength, hands quaking, knees still weak.

  He returned to the bedroom where Dana slept. She needed him to be strong. He knew he'd betrayed a promise to Janz, and that grieved him.

  He used a mastery technique, circling himself with energy. In his mind’s eye, he saw Janz was safe, in a deep, underground cavern, with warm water pools nearby.

  Dana, on the other hand, was in jeopardy. She'd risked her life to save him; Kieran could not — would not — leave her this time.

  Once again, he slid down beside her, left hand massaging the nape of her neck, connecting in the Alphan way, telepathically. With relaxing kisses, he gently coaxed from her more deep and painful memories.

  He looked backward to their last parting, her return to the cruiser Lancer, of the court-martial for the officers accused of smuggling, and the feelings of betrayal.

  She did not testify, however, against her colleagues.

  Doctor Francis Calagura, her dear friend, managed to intervene, taking her to Scanlos.

  They learned the truth about a genetics experiment gone wrong, of cover-ups and subterfuge. Twelve embryos were carefully crafted, each with tiny differences programmed into the DNA.

  Dana learned that each of the twelve was smuggled out of the lab. Those with severe mutations were sent away…some died. Kyoko Dey-Cartwright rescued the first, the only one with perfect, unaltered genes, and took her to Earth, to be raised as the daughter of David J. Cartwright.

  Still, the records at Scanlos were incomplete. The sperm and egg donors were merely numbers. The records were resealed. Her mission to learn the names of her birth mothers failed. The Star Service would not grant her the information.