Valor At Vauzlee (32 page)

"Just remove the uniform he's stolen, Doctor," Jenetta said, "and perform the mandated autopsy. Then stuff him into a body bag and put him— put him down in the Engineering locker where we store the spent deuterium canisters. It's cold enough in there that he won't start to stink."

"I'll take care of it, Captain," Ashraf said, "as soon as the doctor is finished with the body."

"Where's my steward?" Jenetta asked suddenly. "Where's Woodrow?"

The Marines were immediately alert again in case there were other assassins hiding in the suite. They started with Jenetta's office and cleared each room. One rushed back out of the dining room and signaled urgently to Lt. Commander O'Neil, who jumped up and hurried into the dining room with Galont right behind him.

Jenetta watched anxiously from her place on the sofa. After a few minutes, Galont emerged from the dining room door and walked to Jenetta.

"They found him in the galley, Captain. The doctor says that he has a concussion, but believes that he'll survive. He's sent for a stretcher."

"Thank God Pretorious didn't shoot him," Jenetta said, relieved.

Two medical attendants arrived with an ‘oh gee' stretcher and in a matter of minutes whisked Woodrow off to the sickbay. The Marines finished searching the suite and returned to pick up Pretorious' body. They unceremoniously carried it out by the arms and legs, its head dangling slackly beneath the body.

"Major Galont," Jenetta said, "you can terminate your search for Nichol's killer. Pretorious confessed to it. He did it to keep Nichols from alerting anyone to his presence aboard this ship. If you'll check the flight bay where Nichols was assigned, you'll find a shuttle registered to the Prometheus. That's how Pretorious got on board. He said that he's filled the shuttle with weapons stolen from an armory on the Delhi. He also confessed to being the saboteur causing all those computer related problems. I'll send you a copy of the full report on this incident when I've completed it."

"Aye, Captain."

Lt. Commander O'Neil returned to work on Jenetta after Woodrow was taken to the sick bay. He squirted an antibiotic solution into the cavity created by the laser, then sprayed a solution onto each end of the wound. The latter solvent instantly solidified into flexible bandages that sealed the openings. But when he attempted to administer the anodyne, she refused.

"No painkillers, doctor. I can't afford to be less than fully alert right now."

"Captain," Lt. Commander O'Neil said cogently, in his best doctor to patient voice, "while not life-threatening if treated properly, your injury is extremely serious. You won't be able to function properly because the pain will be a constant distraction for your attention. You must take this medication and appoint someone to function in your stead until you've begun to recover from this wound."

"Doctor, this ship is scheduled to arrive at Higgins in a little over twenty-four hours. A Raider attack on the base is imminent. Perhaps even before we arrive. While I have the utmost confidence in my crew to handle this ship, I cannot afford to be napping while we fly into battle. I
will
be on the bridge, and I will
not
be impaired by drugs if we encounter the Raiders. You've said that my injury is not life-threatening. I can promise you that in six hours I will be substantially improved and capable of performing my duties. I'm a fast healer, and pain doesn't incapacitate me as it does most others."

"As chief medical officer I have the authority to relieve you of duty and order you to bed, Captain."

"And as captain of this ship I have the authority to remand anyone who interferes with the safety of this vessel or its crew, to a bed in the brig;
even
chief medical officers." Softening her expression and the tone of her voice, Jenetta said, "If— tomorrow— I believe that my condition will prevent me from performing at one hundred percent, I'll relieve myself."

Lt. Commander O'Neil grimaced, and then nodded. He knew that the best chance for the ship and crew, if they flew into battle, lay in having her in command on the bridge. "Very well, Captain."

"Now if everyone will excuse me, I'll get a little rest."

As the room cleared, Jenetta walked to her bedroom. Although the doctors at Space Command had tried to remove the mind conditioning she'd been subjected to while a prisoner of the Raiders, they hadn't been entirely successful. After a few minutes of severe pain, her DNA modified body had begun to produce a neurochemical that put her into a mildly euphoric state. She was actually feeling considerably better as she lay down on her bed. She was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Marine Captain Galont returned to his quarters after leaving the captain. He flopped tiredly onto the soft comfort of the sofa in his sitting room and stared up at the overhead. He was a failure. He had failed to catch Nichols' killer, and now he had failed to protect his captain. It didn't even seem possible that she could have survived. Pretorious had a laser pistol and the element of surprise, while she was unarmed. She should be dead! It was a tribute to her fighting skills that the assassin was dead while she was still alive after walking into that ambush, even if she had been seriously wounded. When she was feeling better he would have to interview her so he could complete the report on the incident. Incident? It was a full blown disaster. For over a month Pretorious had the full run of the ship. He'd lived in a luxurious VIP suite and walked the decks with impunity, creating one ship-wide problem after another. And he
never
should have been able to get to into the captain's quarters.

Space Command policy dictates that all warships have two permanent sentry posts on A Deck. One sentry is to be posted outside the captain's quarters, and the other is to be posted at the beginning of the corridor that leads to the bridge. That policy means that there are always two Space Marines between the captain and any potential assassins, except when he or she might leave A Deck. Captain Corriano had thought the rule ridiculous and ordered Maine Captain Galont to remove the sentry at his door. As ship's captain, the policy was within his power to alter. Marine Captain Galont had tried to convince him otherwise, but each attempt made Captain Corriano more intractable on the subject and he finally ordered that both sentries on the bridge deck be removed.

Galont should have restored those posts after Corriano was killed and Carver assumed command. The efforts to recover from the battle damage and the murder of PO Nichols had distracted him, and the situation had existed for so long that he hadn't even thought about restoration of the posts. So it was his fault that Pretorious had been able to get close enough to attempt an assassination.

He tried to think of what he could say to her when she was feeling better, but how do you apologize to someone for allowing them to be shot and almost killed. It seemed he was even a failure at apologizing.

* * *

Jenetta came awake instantly when the computer delivered her regular 0600 wakeup call. A twinge of pain in her left side reminded her that she had been shot less than six hours earlier, but the pain was nowhere near as bad as she would have expected. She was careful not to put too much strain on the wound as she showered and prepared for the day ahead. She found that she began to feel considerably better as she moved around. Except for the occasional reminder of soreness, and being ravenously hungry, she felt almost well.

Jenetta's first act after dressing was to contact the sickbay to learn what she could of Woodrow's condition.

"He's going to recover just fine, Captain," Lt. Commander O'Neil said. "He just needs a week or two of bed rest."

"Thank you, doctor. When can he receive visitors?"

"Not before tomorrow. I want him to remain perfectly calm until then. Don't worry; we're looking after him. How are
you
feeling this morning?"

"Fine. When I twist my body or bend over, I feel a slight bit of pain, but if I remain stationary, it completely clears up."

"Until they heal, you'll continue to feel the pain any time you put stress on the damaged muscles. Do you still believe that you can perform your duties without an anodyne?"

"As long as I don't have to fight off any assassins for a few days, I'll be fine."

"Very well, Captain. Let me know if your condition changes. As soon as we dock at Higgins, I want you to report to sickbay for a complete examination."

Jenetta nodded and pushed the viewscreen cover down on the bedside com unit. She brushed her hair quickly and prepared to walk to the officer's mess, but she heard noises coming from her dining room as she emerged from her bedroom. Walking to the door, she peered in. A mess steward, busy setting her place at the table, looked up.

"Good morning, Captain. I'm Petty Officer 1
^st
/c Cynthia Bartollow. Lieutenant Androsa has assigned me to be your steward in place of Chief Woodrow Casell, until he's ready to resume his duties. If you approve that is."

"Yes, that's fine, Cynthia. I'd like a mug of Columbian coffee, black, two sugars, two sectioned grapefruit halves, six eggs, over easy, eight pieces of buttered toast, whole wheat, half a dozen sausages, a double side of hash brown potatoes, and a tall stack of pancakes with maple syrup."

"Right away, ma'am," the mess steward said without even blinking. Jenetta instantly realized that Woodrow must have mentioned Jenetta's unusual appetite when speaking to the other mess stewards.

When the food was served, Jenetta attacked the meal like she hadn't eaten in a week. She assumed that her altered body was working overtime to repair the damage and she did her best to fuel it by polishing off everything Cynthia prepared, in far less time than it took to prepare it. Prior to having her DNA altered by her Raider captors, the amount she'd just consumed would have lasted her a week.

As she stepped out of her quarters on her way to the bridge, she almost walked into a Marine. He quickly braced to attention. She stopped short, expecting him to move around her and proceed down the corridor, or at least move out of her way, but he remained rooted where he was beside her doorway.

"Were you looking for me, corporal?" she asked.

"No ma'am, Captain."

"Then why are you standing there?"

"This is my post, ma'am."

"Your post?"

"Yes, ma'am. I have your door and Lance Corporal Dwiggens has the corridor."

Jenetta turned her head and saw a Marine, about thirty-meters down the corridor where it branched, standing at attention. Anyone on their way to the bridge, or to the quarters of the four senior command officers, would have to go past him.

"How long have you been here?"

"Dwiggens and I were part of the squad that responded to the incident last night. Marine Lieutenant Schwab assigned us to your protection detail right after we carried the assassin's body to sickbay. We'll be relieved at the beginning of first watch."

"And what are your orders?"

"To see that no unauthorized person or persons enters the quarters of the captain, that of the other senior officers, or the bridge."

"I see. Very well. Please stand on the other side of the doorway or against the opposite wall in the corridor, so I don't run into you every time I'm moving between my quarters and the bridge. Carry on, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am."

It seemed a little like locking the bank after the thief had absconded with the assets, but it wasn't something she should discuss with the Corporal. He had his orders, after all, and couldn't disobey them.

Everyone on board knew of the attempted assassination by then so Jenetta received quite a few surprised looks when she entered the bridge. All eyes strained to see if she showed any sign of the damage perpetrated on her person by the Raider assassin. Although her normally staid movements seemed to be a little more deliberate than usual, there were no signs of extreme pain, such as wincing when twisting and turning. After relieving Lt. Elizi, Jenetta announced that she would be in her briefing room and handed off bridge command to Lt. Risco. All eyes followed her movements until the doors to her briefing room closed behind her, then turned to silently exchange questioning looks with others on the bridge. It didn't seem reasonable that a person who slew an assassin by herself just six hours ago,
after
being shot in the midsection, could be walking around without evincing any pain. The legends associated with Jenetta Carver's name were sure to grow again.

Jenetta prepared a cup of steaming black Colombian coffee as soon as the doors closed behind her. Alone in the room, she permitted herself to wince slightly from the pain as she took her seat behind her desk.

"Captain, Major Galont would like to see you," Jenetta heard from her com just before noon.

"Send him in," she replied.

Galont entered the briefing room and approached the desk after being admitted. "Good morning, Captain," he said. "I was surprised to hear that you were up. Do you feel able to talk about the incident?"

"Yes, Major, I do. If you hadn't come by, I would have sent for you. I want to have the matter settled and the reports filed before we reach Higgins. Have a seat. Would you care for a beverage?"

"No, thank you, Captain. I'm about caffeine'd out this morning."

"Okay, then sit back and relax while I tell you all about our assassin."