Dana Cartwright Mission 1: Stiletto (33 page)

“Yes, but…”

“How about wiring diagrams?”

She chuckled. “Yes, I have total recall. Why?”

“I looked up a map of the nerves in the eye and brain -- pretty complicated wiring.”

“About the same as for the spine,” she mumbled, “but like a spinal weave, it just takes patience.”

Korwin scowled, admitting, “I’m a little deficient when it comes to that.”

“Did you know there’s a medical simulator, just like our flight sim? You can load it onto your viewer. I spent hours and hours working on it, even after medical school.”

“Show me?” He pleaded, jumping up from his lounge chair.

Dana followed over to his apartment and they sat on the bar stools with the padlet synced as an input device. She instructed him on simple procedures and, once he mastered the basics, let him progress at his own pace, which was quite impressive.

“You’ll be a wonderful surgeon,” she remarked.

“And you’d make a good professor,” Korwin complimented. “You don’t put me to sleep like Doctor Tracy.”

Dana chided, “Residents learn to get by on very little sleep. You don’t sleep well, you’ve said that before.”

He reddened. “I told you, I have this recurring dream. I always wake up exhausted. I couldn’t tell you about it with Jad around, because he’d tell my father. He’d make a good spy.”

Dana laughed.
 

But Korwin grew serious. “You’re my doctor, so I can claim patient confidentiality.” He shut down the simulator, saving his place then turned to her.
 

“I’m not much of a dream analyst. My focus wasn’t in psychiatry.”

He didn’t seem to care. “In the dream, I’m traveling far away from anywhere familiar. And I meet this woman. It might be at a space dock, but it’s rather deserted. I don’t know what race she is; but she’s so very beautiful.” His voice grew reverent as he continued, “She’s so petite, with a pale complexion, painted like a porcelain doll. Her hair is silver, almost iridescent, flowing long and free, kind of like yours when you don’t braid it. Her hands are different; they’re tiny and she doesn’t have fingers.” He held up his right hand and cupped his fingers together, “They’re more like a mitten, or a paw. She’s always wearing a long white gown, all ornately embroidered with gold and silver and she wears a robe with a hood. I can see she wears a tiara crown. I think she’s a princess.”

“And you’re a prince! How perfect,” Dana injected.

“If I met her tomorrow…” He stopped and sobered and grew silent.

“Is she your forever mate?” Dana wondered.

“I wish,” Korwin mumbled. “I already have a promised one, Princess Zira.”

Dana pondered a moment. “In these dreams, are you older?”

He thought about it. “Yes, yes I am. I’m self-confident and wise. Accomplished. I have a medical kit like yours, so I must already be a doctor.” He realized something more, “I’m also a High Prince because I wear the ring.” He looked down at his ring-less fingers. “To become a High Prince of the Elect will take me two more years.”

Dana smiled. “So this dream is of the future; it’s precognitive.”

Korwin nodded. “Yes, it would have to be.” He grew pensive. “She’s highly telepathic. We never speak in the dream,” he held up his hand, “but when she puts her paw in mine, I know there will never be another. She’s captured my heart.”

Dana nodded. “Is there anything else in the dream that stands out; anything significant?”

He seemed reluctant to admit, “She’s blind.”

Dana’s left, blue eye narrowed. “Blind!”

“You turning all Galaxean on me?” He teased.

“Is that why you want to become an eye doctor? Because she needs you?”

His eyes widened. “Oh! I never thought of that! Maybe that’s how I meet her!” He jumped up and stretched, full of excitement. “That must be it!”

Dana responded, “Could be. Do you wear the N-link when you have these dreams?”

“I always wear it. Well, except when having medical procedures done.” His fingers instinctively went to the little device on the thong about his neck.

“But if you didn’t, would you sense a connection with her?”

“I’m telepathic, Dana, not empathic, like you. I have to physically touch someone who is not Alphan to establish a link.”

“At the assembly, you sensed something?” Dana reminded.

She waited for him to explain, but he changed the subject.
 

“That wasn’t telepathic. It was different.”

“Maybe you should try sleeping without the N-link,” she suggested.

He scoffed, “I’m not that man yet, and she’s very young,” Korwin protested, holding the N-link in his hand, “and I’m not ready.”

Even with their N-links about their necks, Dana sensed his apprehension. “We should get back to studying, unless you’re ready for lunch?”

He brightened. “I’m always ready for lunch. We can eat at The Viewery, instead of dinner. It won’t be as busy.”

“Great idea. I’ll freshen up,” Dana said, returning to her apartment to change into something more appropriate and to braid her hair.

Korwin waited patiently on the patio, wearing his Alphan formal, long robe against the cold breeze. “Storm incoming,” he called to her, “better wear a coat.”

She appeared, wearing her multicolored cloak over her shoulders. “Ready.”

They MAT’d straight to the restaurant lobby and stepped down from the pads just as Ambassador Solon of Galaxea was approaching the Maitre d’.

Solon bowed his head to them. “Prince Kord and Doctor Cartwright.”

Dana smiled and gave the Galaxean salute in greeting. “Ambassador.”

Korwin offered the Alphan greeting. After a glance at her, he offered, “Mister Ambassador, we were about to have lunch. Would you care to join us?”

The Ambassador raised his right hand to answer Dana’s salute, but offered, “I would not presume to impose.”

“We would be honored,” Korwin assured and asked for a table for three with a view. He graciously allowed Dana and Solon the choice seats, with the full view of Saturn’s rings and the incoming traffic. The remaining chair, however, had a better view of the entry, for security.

“How do you find Academy?” Solon asked them.

Dana chuckled. “A bit of a bore compared to all the other drama.”

“I have heard tales,” Solon responded. “All true?”

Korwin frowned. “Probably not complete. A lot has happened since we arrived.” He glanced at Dana.

She studied the Galaxean Ambassador’s eyes. “I owe you an apology. It was very presumptuous of me to so rudely suggest you might be my father. It was based upon a casual comment that our eyes were similar.”

Solon’s eyebrows rose. “You have found your real father.”

It was more a statement than an interrogatory.
 

Dana nodded. “All these years, he was right there in Capitol City.”

“Safely hidden away,” Solon reminded.

“You knew?”

Solon quietly admitted, “I was compelled by an oath to never speak of it; I still am.”

Dana looked to Korwin and then back. “I find it extremely illogical for someone well-schooled in the Galaxean traditions of ancestry and hierarchy, to condone such concealment.”

Solon’s face remained expressionless, but his eyes softened. “You will find, when you further study the Enturian race, that they have very different traditions. There are no marriages, such as Galaxean and Alphan customs require. No birthrights, no familial bloodlines. Individuality is celebrated. They have very different approaches to parenting and upbringing.”

“Doctor Tracy hardly touches upon such things in his chronicle of
The
Calvary
Incident
,” Dana offered. “Are there other works that do?”

Solon shook his head. “I do not know. You would need to go there. I have never visited the Galactic Colonies of Enturize.” His eyes went to Korwin. “Has your father been there?”

“He never spoke of it,” Korwin answered.

“Perhaps we all should visit the Galactic Colonies of Enturize,” Solon suggested.
 

“My real father has,” Dana reminded. “He served as an Exchange Officer.”

Solon bowed his head in silence, still unwilling to speak of it.

“They’re moving him to a more secure location, where he will receive physical therapy,” Dana continued. “If I had known, I might have healed him sooner.”

“Many tried with no success,” Solon admitted quietly.
 

“But I have an advantage,” Dana whispered, “because I have his DNA”

The Galaxean Ambassador stared into her mismatched eyes. “Among other things, Doctor.”

Dana stared back until the server came to take their food orders.

As the server left their table, their eyes all went to the viewports.

Solon was first to stand. Dana and Korwin jumped up soon after.

“
Starlight
!” Korwin said, with a gleam in his eyes.

The ship drifted majestically forward through the gaping doors of the space dock.

“She’s still on thrusters. She’ll go to one-quarter power once she’s clear of the doors.” Korwin said, reverently sighing at the magnificent sight.

Solon held up his right hand in the Galaxea salute.
 

“Patempore, Salakarik,” Dana offered.

They followed the ship with their eyes until it went to interstellar speed and vanished. They settled back down just in time for lunch to be served.

“We should have had champagne,” Korwin mumbled. “Isn’t that the tradition?”

“I do not imbibe such libations,” Solon offered.

“Champagne has additives such as salicylates, wood-derived substances or preservatives like sodium metabisulphite, which are highly toxic to Enturians,” Dana reminded. “Besides, um, you’re too young.”

Korwin grinned. “I wondered if you would mention that. Actually, on Centauri Prime, there are beverages which are mandatory for all ages to imbibe.”

Ambassador Solon nodded. “Under great duress, I have sampled several of them. Your father can be quite persuasive, Prince Kord.”

“Indeed,” Korwin returned. “We are celebrating, so to speak, Mister Ambassador. Dana accomplished her first, flawless landing. We took my father’s shuttle out for a short escort flight for Doctor Tracy, Major Gage and Commander Shepherd.”

Solon nodded his head. “Well-done.”

“Then we went to the Presidential Palace to pick up Ambassador Kord,” Dana said with a sigh. “He was not happy with the decision to send
Starlight
.”

Ambassador Solon seemed to deliberate for a long time before answering. “The President believes there can be peace. Captain Syzek suggests we wait and see.”

“Captain Syzek?” Korwin exclaimed.

Solon nodded. “They would not send
Starlight
without him.”

“Very interesting,” Dana commented, without elaborating.

Ambassador Solon addressed them both. “Your future — the future of the Order of Allied Republics — will be quite different, to be sure. Study hard, you will be needed.” He then called over the server and asked for a special beverage for them.

“The Enturian beverage most highly recommended is called chocolay. I think it would be appropriate for such a celebration as this; and safe for us all.”

The server brought steaming mugs and set one before each of them.

“Chocolay is great. I had it on Tritia. Smells strangely similar to hot chocolate,” Korwin commented.

They toasted with their mugs. “To the future,” Solon offered.

“To the future,” Dana and Korwin responded.

“Oh, my, that’s good,” Korwin whispered after his first taste.

Dana savored her beverage. “Nectar of the gods, I believe that is what Doctor Tracy calls it.”

Ambassador Solon nodded, “Indeed.”

Solon looked first to Dana then to Korwin. “You both shall face many trials, your oaths shall be tested. And you will make choices. The true purpose of the EVA-Stress Evaluation Module is to challenge you. Will you risk your life and the lives others to do what is right and fitting? Will you sacrifice and, perhaps, die in the line of duty, obeying orders? These are the challenges officers of the Star Service and Ambassadors to the Republic must face.”
 

Solon singled out Dana, “And having given your word and made a vow, will you hold fast and stand firm even as you face a pleading loved one?” He paused to let them ponder a moment before he stood and offered the Galaxean salute. “I have enjoyed our lunch. Peace to you both, Doctor Cartwright and Prince Kord.”

Korwin and Dana rose respectfully and watched the Galaxean Ambassador cross the restaurant to the lobby.

Dana sank back down in her chair first. Korwin sighed, but remained standing. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

She nodded and turned her focus on the moon, now framed fully out her viewport.

Solon’s words held an object lesson; one DOC had tried to teach her but, in her rebellious youth and naivety, she had refused to hear.

“I chose the Star Service to accomplish my goals, not because I wanted to serve theirs.” The oath of a doctor — the ancient Hippocratic oath she had taken at graduation from medical school — was handed down for centuries upon Earth. The oath of a Star Service officer echoed that of military officers, with the key words: to protect and defend. The Star Service focused on scientific exploration, but always had the duty of peacekeeping. And no one liked to mention the war with the Imperium that had persisted for so many long years and taken so many lives.

The oath — the vow — of which Solon spoke, went beyond both of these.

Solon had given his word. DOC had given his. A tear trickled down her cheek. Even Kieran had.

Korwin returned and saw her state and worriedly inquired, “DD, are you okay?”

She nodded and admitted, “Have to toughen up. Space holds no place for weepy females.”

He chuckled, waved to their server, and pointed at their empty mugs, asking for a refill.
 

“My friend,” he said when their second cups of chocolay arrived, “To many happy launches!”

Dana raised her cup, “And many equally happy landings.”

Korwin smiled, “Two years from now, we’ll come and celebrate again. Agreed?”