Dana Cartwright Mission 1: Stiletto (23 page)

They watched from the walkway as the rest of the cadets headed inside the student union.

“I thought I would just take a look around,” Korwin said. When they were the only two left outside, he admitted, “Dana? I don’t want anyone else to know. I think you’ll understand. I’m Ambassador Cray’s youngest grandson.”

It was her turn to stare wide-eyed. “I know your grandfather.”

Korwin demanded to know, “How?”

Dana deliberated a moment, but felt so uncomfortable, she only admitted, “I’ve attended all his lectures at Capitol City Observatory.”

“All of them,” Korwin stared. “Even the last?”

Dana nodded.

“Did you see the shuttle crash?”

“Yes, I was out on the deck.”

Korwin stared. “Did the two drones really malfunction?”

“Hey, you two!” Someone shouted at them.

Korwin looked over her shoulder. Dana turned, too.
 

An old man — he appeared to be the gardener — motioned to them from under an old oak tree.

“Hello, Mister Quayle,” Korwin responded. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

“Welcome, Cadet Kord. And who is this?”

Korwin introduced her as “Cadet Dana Cartwright.”

“DOC’s girl?” Quayle asked.

Dana reluctantly answered, “Yes, sir.”

The old man nodded and winked. “I’ve heard of you.”

Dana unabashedly stared at the old man, at his rough hands and simple overalls, asking, “How?”
 

“You aced the entrance exam.”

“I’m not the first,” Dana countered.

“Only one other cadet this year managed to,” Quayle said.

Dana seemed surprised. “Really?”

He looked at Korwin who reddened sheepishly, admitting, “Guilty.”

“You make a good pair,” Quayle commented, and unexpectedly added, “Watch out for each other.”

“Aye, sir,” Korwin answered.

“Yes, sir,” Dana echoed.

Then Quayle whispered, “We have several other VIPs this semester.”

“Other?” Korwin demanded. “Sir, please don’t tell anyone about me.”

The old man shook his head, “Too late for that, son. Everyone knows there are four VIPs this semester. The others will be obvious when you report tomorrow for orientation.”

He gave them a nod and sent them on their way.

Dana glanced back once. “Everyone knows there are four VIPs. Everyone excepting us, apparently.”

Korwin chuckled.

“Wait! You know who the other VIPs are, too?” Dana taunted, “So I’m the only one in the dark here?”

Korwin looked at his boots, seeming unwilling to spill the details.

Dana laughed. “It doesn’t really matter to me. I just want to learn to fly. See you tomorrow at orientation.”

Korwin smiled and handed over her tote bag. “I’ll look for you.”

Dana reached for her voice-badge, remembered she no longer had MCE doctor privileges and decided to walk across campus. She waved good-bye to her new friend, Korwin Kord, and started off, tote bag over her shoulder, a new path before her, and a galaxy waiting to be explored.

Dana stepped inside the studio apartment on the twelfth floor of a modern tower facing the bay. Like her old place, it was laid out for efficiency but what it lacked in space, it made up for with the view.
 

She dropped her tote bag and ignored the boxes she’d shipped from her old place, going out to the balcony. It faced east-southeast so she could watch both the sun and the moon rising.

The waxing crescent already climbed up as the last vestiges of the sunset faded. She stared for a long while before a chill breeze chased her back inside. Not as cold as the wind off of the Rockies, but biting, nonetheless.

She glanced about at the simple built-in viewer on the desk and unpacked the three Shakespeare volumes Kieran sent as a gift. The
Macbeth
volume still held the Sterillian blade in its sheath. The rules at academy made it perfectly clear that even Class four non-metal weapons were not permitted. So she set up the books on the desktop, with the blade in the left of the three volumes.

After fighting down a wave of melancholy over thoughts of him, she went to the tiny kitchen and programmed the digitizer for a bowl of vegan soup and a cup of hot, green tea for dinner. While both cooled a bit, she retrieved her new padlet. All her coursework texts were already loaded, so she dove into
Principles of Aerodynamics
and had it memorized by the time her soup bowl was empty. While savoring the tea, she dove into
Astronavigation
.

But something she read in the text troubled her. Something about ‘drone escort craft’ programming…
Stiletto
crashed after two of the drones collided with the wing.

Based on the text, that was impossible.

She closed her eyes and replayed the memory Kieran had given her — the one of piloting a Blade Class shuttle on approach to Centauri Prime. His movements and piloting skills gave her the impression of being in control. The drone control station was on the pilot’s left, about midway between the altimeter and the fuel level display.

Five drones was standard; but as many as twelve of the light beacons could be programmed to swarm about the craft, like fireflies. They just should not ever make contact.

Only a disruption in the shuttle proximity field could even allow it.

A disruption… Only an Imperial disrupter could emit an energy signal strong enough to interfere with the drone pattern field.

Dana did not recall any such thing just before the crash, from her vantage point. She envisioned Kieran at the console, preparing for landing, and imagined from what location such a beam would come. It certainly could not come from below on the landing zone. Not even from Dirk Skeller’s position at the entry door of the Observatory. Not even from the control tower to the South.

Dana blinked and realized, “The disrupter had to have been fired from above — and from the West - from the observation deck, where I stood to watch the moonrise that night, or from the lobby. And that would explain the leaking fuel rods.” She mumbled, “Wow. The man Inspector Regis showed me… The man who claimed to have walked away from the crash…only he could have done it.”
 

Dana focused on her memory of the image Regis displayed on his padlet. The man was wearing a uniform — not a Star Service one, but one like Rocky Antonio’s crewmembers wore. “And wasn’t he, in the image, standing beside the keg light-stand base? The one that toppled and delayed the rescue? Was it sabotage?”

She went to the viewer and called up the information on the image of the last Emergency Responder class she’d taken. In the picture, she, Rocky, and two of his crewmembers were there with certificates. Another man took the course, also. He stood in the back, partially hidden.

Dana recalled his hard brown eyes.
 

“Computer? Contact Inspector Regis, Star Service Flight Investigation Team.”

Regis’ image soon filed the screen. “Doctor Cartwright.”

“Inspector, I’ve just had a flashback to the night of the crash.”

“Oh,” the Kentorian stiffened. “Another bit of information?”

“You showed me the image of a man who claimed to have survived the crash. I recall now that he took an emergency responder course with Rocky Antonio and several other crewmembers, just three weeks before the crash. During that class, we were trained to override the ‘tub’ security protocols. Actually, we learned how to override all android security protocols.”

“Fascinating… And do you happen to recall his name?”

“We used only our given names…I recall his badge read, August,” Dana answered.

Regis nodded. “That does not match the name he gave at his deposition. I shall investigate. Anything else, Doctor?”

“Sir, are you aware that Ambassador Cray has an android assistant?”

“Yes, LittleJohn, I believe he is called.”

“Sir, an android,” Dana repeated. “Even his security protocols can be overridden.”

Regis stared, realizing the implications.

“Inspector, I believe someone created a disrupter field the night of the crash. It hit two of the drones and caused them to wobble and deviate from the programming. The field must also have damaged the right fuel intake system, hence the leaking fuel rods during the rescue and cleanup. The beam would have been fired from the upper observation deck level as
Stiletto
passed the inner landing zone marker and hovered.”

Inspector Regis reacted with certainty. “Yes, and those cameras were working that night. Fascinating that you have come to this conclusion, Doctor.”

“I’ve just been studying my academy astronavigation text,” Dana admitted.

Regis seemed surprised by the declaration. “Academy?”

“I’ve entered a new course of study,” Dana answered.

“Oh?” Regis grinned. “Has SSID made you an offer?”

Dana shook her head. “No, sir. I have done some soul searching and decided to enter the Star Service.”

“They should be thrilled to have such a fine doctor,” he complimented.

She smiled rather than admit she wasn’t entering in the medical department.

“You’ve been a tremendous help. Thank you,” The Kentorian offered again.

Dana watched the screen go to the Star Service logo and then go dark.
 

The exchange touched upon a dilemma. “How much do I tell people? How much should I admit? Do I tell the whole truth? Do I explain that I’ve developed empathic sensitivities and can no longer treat patients without responding emotionally and physically? No,” she sighed. “That information is not necessary. I will admit only one thing… I have a new dream. I want to fly.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her mind. “That should suffice. I want to fly.”

She took her padlet and the remainder of her tea to the velveteen fabric sofa and curled up, but
 
fell asleep long before reading the final chapter on astronavigation.

The sun peaked above the eastern horizon at 7:11 a.m. local time. The first rays streamed in Dana’s window and caressed her cheek. She awoke abruptly and realized she had only forty-nine minutes to get to the Academy conference hall for orientation.

Taking only her med-kit and padlet, still dressed in yesterday’s civilian clothes, she headed off.

“Have to get a MAT transfer card for off-campus,” she moaned, walking at a brisk pace across the street from her apartment building, catching a tram, but wishing it went faster.

A few of the other passengers were cadets, in uniform. Some were couples that lived in her building. Dana didn’t go out of her way to speak, other than a nod in passing.

At the campus, she spotted Korwin bringing up the rear of the queue at the conference hall.

“Wow, I overslept. Just made it,” she admitted.

He beamed, “Glad you did. Wouldn’t do to be late for orientation.”

They stepped inside together, but the only two remaining adjacent seats were on the front row, left-of-center. They had no choice but to take them — right next to the VIPs, the raven-haired, Galaxean twins, Lara and Lora.

Dana knew them from an ambassadorial audience with Solon that DOC had insisted she attend. They ignored her then; she paid them back today.

The welcome lectures began with an upperclassman calling them to their feet, to stand at attention while a slew of dignitaries filed in. The first to speak was Admiral Barrett Cartwright.

Dana’s back ached before he finished.

“Get used to it,” Korwin whispered.

But Dana squirmed. Admiral Cartwright’s gaze focused on her far too often, as if he singled her out for certain statements. She wished she could tune him out just the way she did DOC. However, that wouldn’t be appropriate.

She sat when Korwin nudged her, and suffered through another two lectures, but tuned back in when a guest captain from the Galactic Colonies of Enturize spoke.

Her name, coincidentally, was January - Major Captain January Brandenberg. And she had ice-blue eyes, like Dana’s left one.
 

Dana hung on her every word, enthralled with the dark-haired Major Captain. Few other cadets were as interested or respectful.

After three more speakers, each cadet was called forward to receive their orientation package, which consisted of some useless discount cards for local off-campus businesses and a coveted MAT pod account pass card and also their voice-badges which happened to also be their tracking devices.
 

Korwin accepted his package and saluted Vice-Admiral Taleric, of the Alphan delegation.

Dana acknowledged both Major Captain Brandenberg and Admiral Barrett Cartwright by bowing her head when she approached the upperclassman to accept hers.

As the alphabet continued and other names were called, Dana once again made eye contact with the Major Captain from the GCE.

And then they were dismissed and a flood of cadets bolted for the exits, save for Dana and Korwin who stood at ease as the Admiral, Vice-Admiral and Major Captain conversed.

Korwin stood at ease when Taleric asked, “How is your grandfather, Cadet Kord?”

“Improving, or so LittleJohn told me last night,” Korwin answered, appending, “sir” after the statement.

Dana stood before the Major Captain and was preparing to introduce herself when Admiral Cartwright took the lead.

“Major Captain Brandenberg, Doctor Dana Cartwright.”

Dana knew the Enturian custom was never to extend the hand to shake, so she again bowed her head in recognition.

“You captained the
Jericho
,” Dana recalled.

“I did, until I became the liaison from the GCE
 
to the OAR Star Service.”

Dana pressed, “May I ask a question about genetics centers?”

Brandenberg nodded.

“I am part-Enturian, Major, but my DNA appears to have a mutation. I need to consult with one of the genetics center specialists. Can you recommend one?”

Brandenberg offered a smile. “You have characteristics of Anestians. Perhaps contact Luandra G-L.”

Dana asked, “Anyone in particular?”

“They will know.”

Dana grinned, “Thank you, Major.”

Brandenberg began to turn away but paused and as an afterthought turned back, “You might mention Doctor Kris Tracy.”