Shawn looked to his right gauntlet, watching as the pressure finally built back up to tolerable levels. The oxygen was still a little thin, but when Raven’s voice came online and notified Shawn that he had less than thirty seconds to make his escape, he decided it was now or never. He removed his helmet, took a brief, pained look at Melissa, and then dashed off toward the control deck, shouting orders over his shoulder for Adams to strap Garcia and Melissa in for what was sure to be a bumpy ride.
On the command deck, he jumped into the pilot’s seat and flipped on the engine initiators. “No time for finesse,” he said to himself, then reached up and flipped on the series of switches that would charge the laser cannons. He gently pulled back on the control stick, and the magnetic pads on the bottom of the landing struts, still in the process of releasing their grip, managed to pull up a few loose deck plates with them as they retracted. Sylvia’s Delight was now floating freely as Shawn oriented her—as quickly as he could—toward the large hole through which they had initially entered.
“Twenty seconds! Get out of there, Shawn!” Raven cried through the Mark-IV’s intercom.
“Lasers charged and ready, Captain,” the sultry, feminine voice of D’s computer rang out. Shawn didn’t have time to contemplate why the ship was still addressing him under his former title.
“Time to go,” Shawn said to himself. As D came around one hundred seventy degrees, Shawn’s finger plunged down on the trigger for the cannons. Long lances of blue-white energy sprang out from the hull, and he watched as the hangar walls of the Icarus were blasted in hundreds of places as D slowed in her turn. Metal fragments shot out into space as he tried to widen the hole for their escape, but the process was going to take longer than he required. “Mom always said that there’d be days like this.” He pulled the throttle controls full back, applying maximum thrust to the engines. Shawn watched as the shredded outer edge of the hole rapidly filled the view port. With a shower of debris in her wake, the Mark-IV shot out from the clutches of the Icarus and into the void.
Reactively, Shawn turned on his stern camera. In the screen, the lieutenant commander watched as the meteor shower pelted the Icarus lightly in the first few seconds. Then, as the larger fragments made contact with the hull, the former cruiser was holed through time and again. Within seconds, the once-glorious cruiser had completely broken apart, the shredded fragments no longer bearing even a passing resemblance to its former self. Shawn brought Sylvia’s Delight into a slow, arching turn toward the Rhea and watched as the remains of the Icarus—and the cloud-like meteor shower that had finished her off—began to burn up as they fell into the planet Tamar’s thin atmosphere.
Chapter 12
With Sylvia’s Delight secured safely back on board the Rhea, Shawn jumped from the pilot’s chair and rushed down to the cargo bay, stripping off his EVO suit as he rushed down D’s seemingly endless length. He all but jumped through the airlock door, then skidded to a halt near the bulkhead where Adams had secured Melissa’s body. The facemask of her helmet was covered in haze, obscuring her facial features. She was slumped forward, arms at her side, and she wasn’t moving. Garcia, seated beside her, was just removing his helmet as Shawn leaned down and began to unfasten her restraints.
When the clasp came undone, her body fell forward, her helmet aimed at Shawn’s lap. He tilted her body back up, then removed her helmet, tossing it behind him with abandon when it was free. He brushed strands of hair clear of her face, then lightly patted her cheek. There was no response. He ripped the gloves from her body, then briskly rubbed their clammy surface to give them warmth.
“Come on, honey,” he whispered softly as Adams and Garcia looked on. He held her hands to his face, then breathed on them slowly to help induce circulation. He rubbed her hands once more, and a soft, joyous groan escaped her dry lips. Shawn’s heart fluttered. “That’s my girl,” he said, then lightly patted her face once more.
Her knee-jerk reaction took him by surprise as she slapped him smartly across the face. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. She moaned once more as she brought a tired hand to her forehead. “You can…stop your incessant manhandling of me now, Mister Kestrel.”
Shawn beamed. “Thought I’d lost you there for a second, crazy lady.”
Melissa made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh as her eyes slowly opened. “You’re not that lucky, Commander.”
He leaned in and, cupping her surprisingly soft cheeks in his hands, cradled her face as he gave her a quick peck on the lips. “My flight recorder says otherwise.”
She smiled, reaching up to place her hands around his wrists as she leaned her forehead against his. “I’ll go over it later and verify that claim for myself, if you don’t mind.”
Shawn tilted his head to look at Garcia, seated on Melissa’s left, who was grinning like the cat who just ate the canary. “Don’t mind me, sir. I didn’t see anything.”
Whether she was taking the lieutenant’s words at face value or not, Shawn felt her kiss him softly on the cheek. “Can we please get out of here now, Commander? I’d like to get this debriefing with Krif over with as soon as possible, then take a nice, hot bath for the next week.”
He turned to her, then to Adams, who was giving Shawn an emphatic nod.
“I’d like nothing better.”
*
Minutes later, Shawn and Melissa—with Lieutenant Garcia in tow and Adams again bringing up the rear of the formation—made their way to the Rhea’s command center before Raven’s patrol wing had even completed their landing maneuvers. For his part, Garcia was looking around the cavernous innards of the super carrier with awe as the trio traversed the main hangar bay.
“I’ve never been on a carrier before,” he said in amazement. “I had no idea they were so big.”
“Just stay close, Lieutenant,” Kestrel remarked, mirroring Raven’s words from when he’d first gotten on board. “I don’t want you wandering off and getting lost.”
“Yes, sir. No worries there.”
They made it to CIC, only to discover that Captain Krif had left a standing order for Shawn to take Garcia and report to Briefing Room Number Three—and to do it under armed escort by several of the Rhea’s attached Marines. A few minutes later, the party arrived to find Krif waiting with what was probably a stenographer.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Krif addressed the officers, but it was directed solely at Shawn.
“It’d been easier if I didn’t have to wander all over the ship looking for you, Dick.”
“I go where I please, hotshot. You follow.”
Shawn was tired from all the walking, running, and climbing he’d done in the last few hours. His ship had nearly been pelted into Swiss cheese, and now he’d roamed what felt like half the Rhea looking for its commanding officer. To say that he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Krif’s attitude would have been an understatement. “Well, here’s your survivor. Lieutenant Garcia, this is Captain Dick Krif. Dick, this is…” Shawn turned to the young man. “You know, I never got your first name.”
“Vincent.”
Shawn nodded and turned back to Krif. “This is Lieutenant Vincent Garcia, sensor operations. USCS Icarus.”
Krif gave the scruffy lieutenant a curt nod, then seemed to give the man a brief uniform inspection before turning back to Shawn with a sour expression.
“Are we done here?” Shawn asked in annoyance.
“Are you done here? What is that supposed to mean?” Krif shot back.
“We narrowly escaped that death-trap with our lives,” Shawn nearly yelled as he hooked a thumb in the general direction of where the Icarus had once been. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I need a shower, to say nothing about what the lieutenant here has been through.”
“You’re done when I say you’re done, Commander. Not before. I have some questions, and I need a full debriefing.”
Garcia, standing behind Shawn and beside Melissa, leaned closer to the OSI agent as the two men co
ntinued to argue. “Is it like this all the time?” he whispered into her ear.
She smiled faintly, not bother to turn to him. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Miss Graves?” Krif said to grab her attention.
Melissa reflectively shot to attention as if she’d just been caught cheating on one of her university exams, then took a deep sigh and relaxed. “Yes, captain?”
“Is there something you’d like to add to this conversation?”
“I think it can wait until I’ve formally debriefed Lieutenant Garcia later.”
“Well,” he began as he held his hands aloft, “welcome to the formal debriefing.”
Shawn shook his head. This was the moment he’d hoped wouldn’t come. “This isn’t the time, Dick.”
“I say it’s the time.”
“No,” Melissa injected sharply. “I have to agree with the Lieutenant Commander on this, Captain. Lieutenant Garcia needs immediate medical attention. He’s been stranded on that ship a long time. He needs a full checkup and some rest before you drill him for answers.”
“Oh, it won’t just be me, my dear.”
She truly hated when he called her that. “Meaning?”
“You’re the ranking intelligence officer, remember? You’ll need to be a part of the debriefing as well.”
“I’ve already learned everything I need to know from the Lieutenant.”
“I’m sure you have but, you see, there wasn’t much legality behind it. I don’t know what went on over there, nor do I know what you talked about. I want it all repeated and recorded.”
Shawn’s eyes shifted to Melissa, wondering if she was going to mention that she did, in fact, have a complete recording of the entire conversation. She didn’t return his gaze, instead focusing all her attention on Krif. “Very well, Captain. But first, we need to get the Lieutenant checked out by medical. Once that is done, and I’m satisfied that he’s competent to endure the debriefing, I will notify you immediately. Not a moment before.”
“What if I say no?”
She stepped up beside Shawn to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, positioning herself as an equal to the Lieutenant Commander and not as his superior. “I have the ranking authority on this matter, Captain. Not you, and certainly not Sector Command. My only responsibility in that regard is to keep you in the information loop. Rest assured that I will do so, but in my time. And don’t even think about questioning him without me being present, Captain. It would not bode well for your career. Good day.”
Not waiting for Krif’s reply she turned, placed a hand on Garcia’s forearm, and spun him out of the briefing room, leaving Shawn and Krif staring at each other for a tense moment.
“Adams,” Krif said as he addressed the sergeant. “Get down to sickbay and keep an eye on Lieutenant Garcia.”
Adams brought his dark-skinned hand to his forehead in a picture-perfect salute. “Yes, sir.”
As the Marine departed, Krif turned to Shawn. “You picked a fine girlfriend there, Kestrel. A real…piece of work.”
“I told you, she’s not—”
Krif dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Save it. You know, I’d love to warn you off about her, but I think I’d rather watch you slowly crash and burn on this one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Kestrel. She’s an OSI agent. That should be enough for you to be cautious. Her only motives in this matter are either far more personal than you or I will ever know, or it’s purely career ambition. Nothing more.”
Shawn scoffed. “What makes you say that?”
“Experience. Her kind doesn’t mix well with our kind. Never has and never will.”
“You say that like she’s a completely different kind of species.”
Krif raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t they?”
The two officers stood in silence for a moment, and Shawn knew there was nothing more to say on the subject. He neither acknowledged nor refuted Krif’s claims, instead turning and departing the briefing room in a bid to catch up with Melissa and Vincent.
*
Shawn made his way through the twisting passageways of the Rhea, finally catching up with Melissa in sickbay. When he entered the space, Doctor Ophelia Finly was just starting her examination of Lieutenant Garcia.
Shawn and the doctor became locked in a friendly glance. “Hey, doc,” he said with a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re the only physician on board?”
“Hardly,” Ophelia chuckled melodically. “That’d be like saying you’re the only thick-skulled pilot on board.”
Melissa stifled a laugh, then looked to Garcia, who Shawn noted was seated on the same medical bed he’d occupied during his own physical.
“This is going to take quite a while, Agent Graves. I’ll notify you when it’s complete.” Ophelia said as she waved a scanner over Garcia’s head.
“Thank you, Doctor Finly. I look forward to it.”
“You may call me Ophelia,” the doctor replied and then smiled, knowing Shawn was looking directly at her. “My title of ‘Doctor’ is reserved for head-case pilots who need to think those things are important.”
Melissa gave Shawn an inquisitive look before looking back to the CMO. Something about the slightly older woman reminded her of an aunt with whom she used to spend summers at the family’s country home on Thress. Half-expecting to be offered freshly baked cookies and a glass of milk, she smiled at her. “Then please, call me Melissa.”
Ophelia nodded with a smirk, not taking her eyes from her medical scanner. “All right, you two. Get out of my sickbay before I throw you out. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I don’t need you here messing with my patient’s readings. It’s been a while since he’s seen a real woman, and if his readings start fluctuating, I’d like to know that I’m the one responsible for it.”
Melissa watched as Garcia’s face turned several shades of red.
“Of course.” Melissa nodded, then turned to Shawn. “I believe you and I have a few things to go over, Commander.”
Shawn nodded slowly. “That we do, Agent Graves. That we do.”
As they turned to leave sickbay, Shawn presented a hand to Sergeant Adams, who had been standing silently by the office door. The Marine looked confused for a moment, then took the offered hand in his own.
“Well done, Sergeant,” Shawn said as he gave the man’s hand a firm shake. “Glad you were with us today.”
Adams’ dark lips curled into a wide smile, and his deep voice filled with delight. “My pleasure, sir.”
They left the doctor to her duty and headed to Melissa’s cabin so she could shower and get changed. Without being told to do so, Shawn voluntarily offered to wait patiently in the corridor for her to get ready. Only a few minutes had passed before the doors opened and he was admitted.
Thankfully, he’d sat down in a chair before he saw what she was wearing. She’d emerged from the adjoining washroom in little more than a tank top and what could loosely be called shorts, the garment short enough to display her well-toned legs—very nearly all of them. Other than the towel she’d wrapped around her head, she wore little else. She padded to a tall wardrobe locker, withdrawing a flight suit, and headed back to the bathroom. Before entering, she undid the towel and tossed it at Shawn. “Please remember to pick up your jaw from my cabin floor, Commander. I don’t like a mess.” The door closed all too quickly, and it was only then that Shawn remembered to breathe.
She exited a moment later, looking all at once like the quintessential officer. “Follow me please, Commander,” she said, then swiftly departed her stateroom. The two silently made their way back down to the hangar bay where Trent—along with Ensign Clarissa McAllister—was busily tinkering with Sylvia’s Delight. The two acknowledged their arrival with mutual smiles and nods.
Trent looked at Shawn approvingly. “You’re both looking exceedingly well, sirs. It looks like you got away from Krif without a scratch on you.”
“You too, Sergeant,�
� Melissa replied, darting her eyes to Clarissa, who shied away from the OSI agent’s friendly scrutiny. “Has anyone boarded the ship yet?”
The mechanic shrugged. “Nope. Not a soul. Should they have?”
“Absolutely not. The Commander and I…have a few things to go over inside.”
Trent looked at her, then to Shawn as a clever smirk spilled across his face.
Melissa smiled in return. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Trent.”
“Yes, ma’am. Full gutter ejection in progress.”
“Will it be okay for us to use the ship’s onboard computer for a little while?” Shawn asked.
“Of course. I just need to reattach that emergency release bolt for the cargo ramp, per your request, Skipper.” He and Shawn smiled at one another, then Shawn and Melissa made their way inside the Mark-IV.
When they arrived at the passenger lounge area, Shawn slipped into one of the seats and initiated the ship’s main computer. “I hope we’re secure in here.”
Melissa reached into her flight suit pocket and withdrew two devices. One was the recorder she had taken with her on the Icarus, the other was a six-inch-long silver tube with a darkened ring around the top. She flipped a switch on the bottom of the tube and placed it beside the computer terminal. “This should scramble our signals sufficiently. If we are being monitored or recorded, all they’ll get is static.”
“Standard OSI issue?”
“Of course.” She smiled, but Shawn could tell something was bothering her.
“What is it?”
She spent a moment collecting her thoughts, opening her mouth as if she were about to speak and then closing it several times before something finally came out. “It’s about what happened on the Icarus.”
“Which part?”
“The…um…the part where you saved me.”
He could see this was hard for her. He didn’t smile, knowing it would only embarrass her more. “It was nothing.”
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