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breath, she muttered something far less acceptable.  

     
    The padlet in her hand meant two contrary things: a ticket off of Four, which she had been hoping for but had been lead to believe was denied, and trouble with a capital T.  
    She resisted the urge to toss the device after Captain Janz Macao. He wasn’t worth the risk of a court martial.
    “Damn right there’s been a mistake,” Dana muttered, “I am not and never will be a good substitute for the likes of Commander Brandt!”
    She returned to the pilot’s console of the little shuttle, took up her tools, let out a hissed sigh, and then tapped the voice-badge communicator on her sleeve. “Shuttle Deck Control?”
    Commander Dutch responded, “Aye,” as she reviewed the padlet screen.
    “Dutch, my reassignment orders have been finalized. They have me shipping out on Lancer in an hour. I’m taking Trader One .”
    A muffled chortle came in response followed by, “I thought your transfer was denied?”
    Dana heaved a sigh. “So did I. This Executive Order says I’m to report to Lancer , ASAP. Her Captain gave me an hour.” She imagined the whole shuttle control room crew laughing at her expense and let out another muffled groan.  
    Commander Dutch responded civilly, “Janz Macao is Captain of Big L . Good luck! You’re going to need it, Dana.”
    Cartwright understood his sarcasm and muttered a quiet, ‘Indeed.” Then she advised, “Sir, I’ll leave the chargers running on the shuttle, while I go fetch my gear. Will have to give Trader One the mandatory test flight right before docking with Lancer .”
    Dutch returned with a brief and sympathetic, “Gotcha...Very sorry to lose you, Dana. Keep your transfer order open, just in case you want to come back to us.”
    Dana knew she would never ask to be stationed back on Four, unless her life depended on it. For his sake, she responded, “Thank you, sir. I’ll do that. It’s been a pleasure serving with you. I trust I’ll get a favorable rating for my service here at Four.”
    “Absolutely, Dana, you’ve been one of my best.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Macao tapped his voice-badge, demanding that Lancer MAT transfer him up to the ship. He took a last glance back at the Alphan shuttle, watching Cartwright climb the ramp, hearing Shalee’s laughter in his mind.
    What?
    Dithering female?  
    Well, you see the way some Star Service women behave.
    She’s no yeoman, Beloved.
    He scoffed. She’s no Neville Brandt.
    Good…
    Good?
    Very good…

    The MAT pod materialized on Lancer ’s shuttle deck level, in the same room he’d used to leave, since he hadn’t specified a different location.
    A different lieutenant manned the desk. He stiffened, offering, “Morning, sir.”
    Macao nodded in response, heading immediately for the door, stopping short of it and turning back. “Lieutenant?”
    The young engineering officer looked up from the console with mismatched eyes. “Sir?”
    “Your eyes?”
    “Heterochromia Iridium, sir. It’s hereditary…or so they tell me, though no one else in my family has it.”
    They were the opposite of Cartwright’s, but equally disturbing.
    “Kind of rare?” the Captain wondered.
    “Yes, sir. I’ve never met anyone else with it, although there’s an eye doctor at Scanlos that told me he had a colleague with it, but the other doctor had an eye injury requiring a transplant when he was young.”
    “Ouch!”
    “Yeah, um, yes, sir.”
    Macao deliberated revealing that Lancer ’s new C-O-C had it, but instead continued out to the corridor.
    Jay Gordon was on his way to the firing range. Janz tagged along, telling of Brandt’s misfortune, lamenting the incompetence of the Star Service.
    “I was counting on Neville. They substituted a woman…and a relic of an Alphan shuttle instead of a newer and faster ship.”
    Gordie shrugged. “We’ll adapt. Have the mission Rules of Engagement arrived?”
    “That’s another issue,” the Captain mumbled. “Chief, I am so