Read Online Dana Cartwright Mission 1: Stiletto by Joyz W. Riter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joyz W. Riter
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re-reading some old twentieth century texts on that topic,” Garcia answered, drifting closer. “Why did it come to mind?”
“I speak Alphan fluently; and I happen to be the first responder.” Dana shivered, “Seems more than a coincidence don’t you think?”
Garcia grinned. “That’s just the sort of atypical — a-causal — parallelism which Jung cited.”
Still, Dana scoffed. “I have been, up until yesterday, an avowed skeptic.”
“Yes, well… Here’s an interesting bit of synchronicity for you,” Garcia said. “My adopted brother had heterochromia iridia also, with mismatched eyes just like yours; blue on the left, brown on the right.”
“Adopted?” Dana wondered.
“March is about your age, too,” Garcia chuckled.
“March?”
“That’s his given name. March Baker.”
“How strange… my middle name is January.”
Garcia seemed truly intrigued. “And guess his medical specialty?”
“Ophthalmology?”
“Exactly.”
Dana couldn’t believe it was mere coincidence. “What are the odds?”
Garcia didn’t venture a guess.
CHAPTER NINE
DOC held his comments until he and Dana were aboard the standard shuttlecraft, in the VIP compartment separated from the Navitor crewmen. He inhaled deeply and sighed heavily. “Do you realize what you’re doing? Throwing away an amazing career and…”
Dana frowned, interrupting, “Taking one week off does not constitute throwing away an amazing career.”
“Chasing after some young man does!” David Cartwright chastised.
“Chasing? DOC, you’re dreaming,” Dana protested. She was in uniform and began braiding her hair in preparation for their arrival, enjoying the smell of fresh, extra virgin, coconut oil, which made it soft and shinny.
DOC was in his traditional three-piece suit, looking far older than seventy-five.
They sat opposite each other. He declined the safety bar. Dana had hers fastened tightly.
“Colonel Jai is my patient; he is young, facing terrible odds, and is very seriously injured. He needs an advocate.”
DOC scowled and that twitter of his facial hair started.
“Would you not do the same?” She charged.
“Humph! He’s Alphan. They should intervene on his behalf.”
“The Star Service did; but not necessarily in his best interests.”
“In your opinion, Dear.”
She scoffed, but sensed something much deeper. “You’re not fond of Alphans, are you?”
She immediately regretted the question, as DOC launched into a tedious lecture on the Republic being overwhelmed with overly liberal member nations who just happened to enjoy the economic benefits of a free society without contributing to the security and safety of the whole. DOC droned on and on, even as the shuttle docked with Navitor and while they were being escorted to sickbay.
“Sorry I asked,” Dana moaned, only to receive an additional tongue lashing for being disrespectful. Of course, his rant against Alphans wasn’t.
Doctor Garcia cut the verbal harangue short, urging them to scrub and change. The coffin would serve as the OR table. Kieran was barely aware as Dana, who would manage the anesthesia, kept him unable to move.
Both she and Garcia watched and assisted as DOC Cartwright carefully reconstructed bones and joints, with great patience and thoroughness. Garcia did the right hand, a much simpler procedure.
After two long hours, it was over. Kieran had a few scars but overall the prognosis was good. Dana let him come slowly back to consciousness.
DOC ordered him to test his hands, passing to him a variety of objects from very small to those requiring both hands to grasp.
Garcia pronounced the operation a success.
“What about my spine?” Kieran quickly demanded.
“I don’t do spines,” DOC declared, going to scrub and change back to his street clothes.
Garcia didn’t want to, but offered, “I’ll be doing it in the morning.”
“One more night in this blasted coffin?” Kieran pleaded, “Please…no.” He
“I speak Alphan fluently; and I happen to be the first responder.” Dana shivered, “Seems more than a coincidence don’t you think?”
Garcia grinned. “That’s just the sort of atypical — a-causal — parallelism which Jung cited.”
Still, Dana scoffed. “I have been, up until yesterday, an avowed skeptic.”
“Yes, well… Here’s an interesting bit of synchronicity for you,” Garcia said. “My adopted brother had heterochromia iridia also, with mismatched eyes just like yours; blue on the left, brown on the right.”
“Adopted?” Dana wondered.
“March is about your age, too,” Garcia chuckled.
“March?”
“That’s his given name. March Baker.”
“How strange… my middle name is January.”
Garcia seemed truly intrigued. “And guess his medical specialty?”
“Ophthalmology?”
“Exactly.”
Dana couldn’t believe it was mere coincidence. “What are the odds?”
Garcia didn’t venture a guess.
CHAPTER NINE
DOC held his comments until he and Dana were aboard the standard shuttlecraft, in the VIP compartment separated from the Navitor crewmen. He inhaled deeply and sighed heavily. “Do you realize what you’re doing? Throwing away an amazing career and…”
Dana frowned, interrupting, “Taking one week off does not constitute throwing away an amazing career.”
“Chasing after some young man does!” David Cartwright chastised.
“Chasing? DOC, you’re dreaming,” Dana protested. She was in uniform and began braiding her hair in preparation for their arrival, enjoying the smell of fresh, extra virgin, coconut oil, which made it soft and shinny.
DOC was in his traditional three-piece suit, looking far older than seventy-five.
They sat opposite each other. He declined the safety bar. Dana had hers fastened tightly.
“Colonel Jai is my patient; he is young, facing terrible odds, and is very seriously injured. He needs an advocate.”
DOC scowled and that twitter of his facial hair started.
“Would you not do the same?” She charged.
“Humph! He’s Alphan. They should intervene on his behalf.”
“The Star Service did; but not necessarily in his best interests.”
“In your opinion, Dear.”
She scoffed, but sensed something much deeper. “You’re not fond of Alphans, are you?”
She immediately regretted the question, as DOC launched into a tedious lecture on the Republic being overwhelmed with overly liberal member nations who just happened to enjoy the economic benefits of a free society without contributing to the security and safety of the whole. DOC droned on and on, even as the shuttle docked with Navitor and while they were being escorted to sickbay.
“Sorry I asked,” Dana moaned, only to receive an additional tongue lashing for being disrespectful. Of course, his rant against Alphans wasn’t.
Doctor Garcia cut the verbal harangue short, urging them to scrub and change. The coffin would serve as the OR table. Kieran was barely aware as Dana, who would manage the anesthesia, kept him unable to move.
Both she and Garcia watched and assisted as DOC Cartwright carefully reconstructed bones and joints, with great patience and thoroughness. Garcia did the right hand, a much simpler procedure.
After two long hours, it was over. Kieran had a few scars but overall the prognosis was good. Dana let him come slowly back to consciousness.
DOC ordered him to test his hands, passing to him a variety of objects from very small to those requiring both hands to grasp.
Garcia pronounced the operation a success.
“What about my spine?” Kieran quickly demanded.
“I don’t do spines,” DOC declared, going to scrub and change back to his street clothes.
Garcia didn’t want to, but offered, “I’ll be doing it in the morning.”
“One more night in this blasted coffin?” Kieran pleaded, “Please…no.” He
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