Icarus (17 page)

   “Who says they’re a couple?” Shawn asked defensively, wondering if he
were the last to know about it.

   “I’m with the OSI,” she said with a sly smile. “I know
everything
.”
She nodded in the Marine’s direction. “This is Sergeant Adams. He’ll be our
escort today.”

   Shawn nodded to the sergeant before looking back to Melissa. She had
tied her hair into a ponytail that jutted loosely from the back of a black
Sector Command ball cap embroidered with a likeness of the
Rhea
on its
front. Shawn saw that, on her uniform, she wore the patch of his squadron.

   “My, my. Really trying to make yourself a part of the team, aren’t
you?”

   “I thought we
were
a team.” She then looked over her flight
suit casually. “Besides, it’s Raven’s.”

   “I see,” Shawn said, smiling ever so slightly.

   “It wasn’t my idea, if that’s what you’re thinking. She suggested it
would make me look less conspicuous.”

   “Who said I was thinking anything?”

   “You were leering again.”

   Shawn feigned shock. “I was not. I was simply inspecting. I’m
concerned that if you’re going to continue to masquerade as one of my people,
then I expect you to keep a proper uniform. I wouldn’t want a shoddy-looking
officer under my command wandering through the decks unchecked.”

   She rolled her eyes, held out her hands, and did a quick twirl. From
somewhere almost beyond earshot came a wolf whistle, probably from one of the
maintenance technicians on the far side of the bay. Melissa either didn’t hear
it or didn’t care to dignify it with a response. She simply looked to Shawn for
approval. “Well,
sir
?”

   “Sir?” Shawn couldn’t help but smile. “I like the sound of that coming
from you. And if you’re wondering, you look fine.”

   “Is that all?” she asked incredulously, and he surmised she was
expecting more from him.

   “Fine. If it makes you feel any better, you’ll probably make pinup
pilot of the year in that outfit. Every other pilot pales in comparison to your
monumental ability to wear informal command attire. Better?”

   She scowled at him. “Very funny. Now get on board before I throw you
on board.”

   Shawn flashed another picture-perfect—albeit it unnecessary—salute.
“Yes, ma’am.”

   “And stow that ‘ma’am’ stuff. I’m not my mother, you know.” She turned
and stormed up the cargo hatch. “And don’t stare while I’m walking.”

   Shawn quickly averted his eyes and absently checked his watch. “What
was that?”

   “I’m sure you can get up this hatch without staring at my backside,”
she said, continuing up the ramp without turning to him.

   “If it’s any consolation, I’m only looking for the next target for my
foot,” he said under his breath, but still couldn’t help noticing a slight
swagger to her walk. He strode up the ramp behind her and smacked the hatch
closure panel on his way to the command deck.

   Once there, he saw that Melissa Graves had already made herself more
than comfortable in the copilot’s chair. She was placing a communications
headset over her ears as Shawn climbed into his chair on her left.

   “You’re not going to even ask to sit up here anymore?” he asked, already
knowing the answer.

   She punched in the communications code that would link her headset to
the flight control officer’s station on the
Rhea
’s bridge. “Testing,
testing, one-two. This is
Sylvia’s Delight
requesting audio
communications.”

   Shawn’s unused headset was lying on the console in front of him, and
from it he could hear the control tower acknowledging Melissa’s request. It
sounded as if they were giving her orders to prepare for takeoff. He looked at
her with a blank stare.

   “Oh,” she recoiled in mock surprise. “Did you say something,
Commander?”

   “Would it matter?”

   She pondered it for a moment, a delicate finger on her chin placed
purely for show. “Is it mission-related?”

   He smiled broadly, then locked himself into the seat’s safety harness.
“Probably not.”

   “Then I’m quite sure you can keep it to yourself.” She turned back to
her controls with the skill of a professional. Shawn just wasn’t sure what
profession that was, exactly.

   “Are you going to be this way the entire time?”

   “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Commander.”

   “What happened to Shawn?”

   “I’m afraid I don’t have time for Shawn, and I barely have the
patience for Lieutenant Commander Kestrel at this point.”

   “Listen, crazy lady, not half an hour ago you were sobbing
uncontrollably in my arms, and now it’s back to ‘Commander Kestrel’ and all
that official stuff?”

   She shook her head decisively. “I was acting like a child. A spoiled,
undisciplined child. It was completely unprofessional. So if you’re looking for
an apology, then I’ll offer it.”

   “I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want to know where the hell I
stand, that’s all.”

   “You’re not standing, Commander, you’re sitting.” Her voice was
deadpan.

   “Very funny.”

   “Yes, you can tell I meant it that way from my
uncontrollable
laughter. Now, can we get going, please? We have clearance…or are you waiting
for them to roll out the red carpet?”

   “Fine,” he offered, disconcerted. This is just…fine. We’ll just go,
then.”

   “Fine. Let’s go.”

   “Fine.” Shawn reached out and grabbed his headset in frustration.
“Fine.” He quickly put it on his head and initiated the intercom with the
Rhea
’s
flight control officer. “This is Commander Kestrel on board
Sylvia’s Delight
.
Request clearance to depart.”

   “I just told you we had clearance, Commander,” Melissa said under her
breath. “Quit stalling and get this ship moving.”

   As if on cue, the flight control officer again relayed that
Sylvia’s
Delight
was cleared for departure from the forward hold.

   “I am not stalling,” he snapped. He turned on the port and starboard
initiators, and the engines began to hum to life. The same familiar vibrations
to which Shawn had always been accustomed began to reverberate thought the hull
as
D
came back to life. “That’s my girl,” he said softly as he gingerly
grabbed the control stick.

   “Your what?”

   “I’m not talking to you. I’m running some very sensitive diagnostics
here, OSI Agent Bipolar, so please turn your crazy down a few decibels.”

   “I asked you to stop calling me that.”

   “And I expected you to stop acting like it. Seems we both had
misguided expectations.”

   “I can make it an order.”

   He turned and leaned forward slightly, his eyes burning into her. “Try
it.”

   She saw the frustration in his countenance. Deciding then not to take
the argument any further, Melissa resigned her attention back to her
instruments.

   Shawn nodded in approval. He reached out for the throttle control with
his right hand, pressing the button on the side that would initiate the landing
thrusters. Within seconds, the magnetic-lined landing pads of the Mark-IV
lifted smoothly from the deck of the carrier. Shawn hovered
Sylvia’s Delight
to the center of the bay, turning one hundred eighty degrees in the process.

   “Flight control, our thrusters are at station keeping. Request you
open the outer doors.”

   “Roger, Commander. Doors are opening. Good luck.”

   “Thanks.” Behind him, the large doors that sealed off the flight deck
to outer space closed tightly. In front of him, the external door slid open,
separating into four triangular-shaped parts, each folding themselves neatly
into alcoves in the
Rhea
’s outer skin. Shawn could see the vast blanket
of stars laid out before them, and all at once was eager to get going. Just
below the bow of the
Rhea
, unseen at their current distance of two hundred
miles, was the lifeless
Icarus
.

   Shawn did a half-turn to Melissa. “Tell them we are getting ready to
depart.”

   She touched the intercom button once more. “Flight control officer,
this is
Sylvia’s Delight
. We are preparing to—” Her words were caught in
her throat as Shawn engaged the thrusters at nearly full  power, rocketing the
Mark-IV from the
Rhea
in a hail of blue fusion glow as if she were an
angelic torpedo streaking out into the heavens.

  
T
he
remains of the Sector Command heavy cruiser
Icarus
loomed large in the
forward view ports of
Sylvia's Delight
. Below the Mark-IV, the small
planet of Tamar spun lazily on its axis as inherent turbulent winds whipped
across its ice-cold surface. Its gravity was only point-five of normal; at its
warmest, it only achieved a temperature of thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit; it
took over four standard years for Tamar to rotate around its distant G-type
star; and it had a seventeen-hour day. Added to the fact that the thin, nearly
unbreathable nitrogen-rich atmosphere made wearing pressure suits a necessity,
it was one of the least desirable places Melissa had ever seen. She looked out
the starboard window, down to the small barren world, and thought with a brief
glimmer of terror what it would be like to be stranded there with no hope for
survival.
Is that where the crew of the Icarus was? Did they even have time
to abandon the cruiser before it was nearly obliterated?

   “It’s a long way down,” Shawn said while looking
at her wistfully.

   “Thinking of throwing me out?”

   Shawn smirked, then turned back to the forward
view. “The day’s young.”

   Melissa sighed, turning her attention back to the
slowly spinning hulk of the
Icarus
. Just as the sensor graphic had
shown, there was an enormous hole in the rounded forward hull. The
Icarus
,
like all other cruisers of her class, had a small launch bay and cargo hold at
the forward end of her structure. Though it wasn’t nearly as cavernous as the
hangar decks of the
Rhea
, the
Icarus
still had the ability to
launch and recover a single squadron of small, one-man fighters. Used mostly
for perimeter defense, the fighters would probably have been no match for
whatever it was that had decimated the cruiser.

   As the Mark-IV came within two miles of the
Icarus
,
Melissa and Shawn could clearly see that the entire bridge structure was gone,
and with it, the ship’s communications array. As Shawn brought
D
within
the last mile, he adjusted his attitude and roll controls to conform to the
cruiser’s erratic orientation.

   “You’re going to take us into the launch bay?”
Melissa asked skeptically.

   Shawn adjusted his dorsal thrusters as he lined up
the nose of the Mark-IV with the large hole. “It would seem like our best bet.
Besides, we didn’t just come here for kicks.”

   “It looks like it’s going to be tight.”

   “Well, like Dick said, we don’t have much of a
choice in the matter.”

   Although she chuckled at the reference, she’d
hoped for a more respectful answer. “Must you call Captain Krif that?”

   Shawn nodded. “Yeah, I must. Now, if you don’t
mind...”

   “Mind what?”

  
Sylvia’s Delight
slowed to nearly a crawl
about two hundred feet from the gaping hole in the
Icarus
. “I’d like to
concentrate on our penetration, so you’ll need to seal your vocal airlock for a
few minutes.”

   She shook her head at the crude reference, but
said nothing as the cruiser grew ever larger in the forward view ports. As
their point of entry got closer, Melissa could begin to see details inside the
Icarus
’
launch bay. Although the larger features were still obscured, most of the
internal structure seemed intact. The perimeter of the hole they were about to
navigate was not at all what she’d expected. There should have been
irregularities in the damaged hull plating, but instead she found herself
staring a neatly cut opening. The wound to the
Icarus
appeared to have
been cauterized, and expertly planned. The skin nearest the damage looked worn,
but not pulverized, and she found herself wanting to reach beyond the windows
of
Sylvia’s Delight
to lay a hand on the
Icarus
, as if petting a
wounded and beloved friend.

   “What could have done this?” she asked in
astonishment.

   It was at that moment that Sergeant Adams appeared
on the command deck. He placed himself between the pilots’ seats at an
unobtrusive distance and gazed with reverence at the destruction before him.

   Shawn was silent as he slowly guided the nose of
his craft through the gaping cavity of the lifeless cruiser, decelerating the
Mark-IV’s movements to a few inches per second. Firing short bursts from his
forward thrusters, he slowed even more as the bulk of
Sylvia’s Delight
neared the outer edges of the opening. He watched as the external sensors
bounced off the
Icarus
’ hull and relayed proximity data to him. The
palms of his hands began to sweat as the starboard engine pod nearly came into
contact with the cruiser’s hull, but with a quick burst from the starboard-aft
thruster, Shawn was able to compensate in the nick of time. With the opening
now almost entirely navigated, and the sensors relaying that he could continue
on his current path unmolested, he reached up and flicked on the external
landing and docking lights.

   The inside of the bay was eerily clear. There were
no bodies, no cargo, and no fighters. While Shawn could have easily contributed
this state to the explosive decompression of the compartment when the large
hole was formed, there was something tugging at the edge of his mind that put
him on instant alert. Taking a final look at his sensor data, he honed in on
the strongest part of the deck and slowly set the Mark-IV down. The plating
under his ship groaned in protest to the intrusion, but held fast under the
minimal weight of the Hypervarion transport.

   “Some of the gravity emitters must still be on,”
he said, then verified the readings with the ship’s computer.

   “That means that something in there is still
generating power,” Adams chimed in from behind him.

   Melissa seemed startled by the man’s presence.

   “Exactly,” Shawn agreed with a nod, unfazed by the
Marine’s stealthy presence.

   “Are the sensors telling you anything else?”
Melissa asked. “What about life form readings?”

   “Whoa, hold on, sister.” He raised a hand to stem
her stream of further questions. “One thing at a time. I still need to take
some more readings to make sure this whole bay isn’t going to come crashing on
down around us. Death has a tendency of ruining someone’s day.”

   Ten minutes later, and with the last of the sensor
readings processed, Shawn was satisfied that they were safe for the moment. He
then switched the sensor palette over to scan for life readings. Shawn watched
in apprehension as the sensors swept out for nearly five hundred yards in a
three-hundred-sixty-degree arc. After five full passes he dialed the sensors to
their most sensitive level, and was rewarded with a single blip that appeared
on the screen.

   “What is it?” Adams asked.

   “I’m not sure.” Shawn fed the results from the
sensors into the ship’s main computer for analysis. “Whatever it is, it’s very
weak.”

   “Is it…human?” Melissa asked.

   He shook his head. “I can’t say. Size and shape
seemed to conform to bipedal standard, but there’s simply too much ion
interaction for a more complete scan.”

   Melissa nodded. “So you’re saying we have to go
and see for ourselves?”

   “We didn’t come all the way here just to play
ding-dong ditch.”

   Melissa peered at him quizzically. “Ding-dong
what?”

   Shawn couldn’t help but smile. Of course, Melissa
had probably never played the devious little childhood game herself. “I’ll tell
you about it later. For now, I’ve secured the ship to the hold using the
landing magnets. Would you care to go for a stroll with me?” Melissa smiled at
him faintly, and Shawn didn’t need to be a psychic to sense the concern in her
eyes. “The sensors say it’ll be fine, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”

   Agent Graves nodded. “Very well. Let’s get this
over with.”

   Shawn unbuckled his safety harness, then gestured
over his shoulder with a jerk of his head. “The environmental suits are in a
locker in the central airlock.”

   On their way, Shawn stopped in the midship area
and withdrew a small tool pouch from underneath the bench seat. As he and
Melissa continued walking down the tight corridor, he opened the pouch and gave
the contents an inspection. Satisfied that everything was there, he placed the
bag on the floor of the airlock and withdrew the two environmental suits from a
tall locker on the port side of the ship.

   Shawn handed Melissa a suit, allowing her a moment
to give the garment a quick inspection. She sat on the deck and was getting
ready to take off her boots when she noticed Shawn standing above her.

   “I wasn’t aware that it took two people to put on
an EVO suit, Commander.”

   “Sorry?”

   “You’re leering
again
. I’m sure I can get
dressed by myself.”

   He smiled mischievously and then removed his dark
leather jacket, sat on a stool near the locker, and began to take off his own
shoes. He looked over to Sergeant Adams, noting that the efficient Marine from
the 92
^nd
EU was almost finished getting his own suit on.

   Once the three had completed donning their environmental suits, Shawn
gave Melissa a quick inspection to make sure all her life support fittings were
tight. The thin material was sufficient enough to keep out the harmful vacuum
of space, while still affording the wearer a maximum amount of movement. The
semi-metallic fabric of the garment served a dual purpose, both for insulating
the body and for negating any harmful radiation emissions that might try to
penetrate its thin surface. The fully enclosed helmet had a
two-hundred-seventy-degree field of view, more than enough for someone to
perform any extravehicular activities.

   When he was satisfied that they were ready, Shawn sealed off the cargo
hold from the mid-deck, then slowly decompressed the airlock. Melissa could
feel the familiar weightlessness release her body from the confines of the
Mark-IV’s artificial gravity, and she was silently thankful her magnetically
lined boots kept her fast to the deck. Shawn handed her a flashlight, then
withdrew his sidearm and placed it in the ready position.

   “Do you think that’ll be necessary, Commander?”

   “I don’t like surprises.”

   “I hear that,” Adams called out from behind the duo. Melissa turned in
time to see the Marine charge up his pulse rifle, then place the weapon in
standby mode.

   In the cargo hold, Shawn shuffled over to the hatch controls and
pushed the release mechanism, letting the door fall slowly to the deck of the
Icarus
.
He walked cautiously to the edge of the ramp, craning his neck from side to
side as he visually inspected the empty hangar deck. Melissa walked up just as
cautiously behind him, mimicking his movements as she too gave the hangar an
inspection.

   “It’s a little creepy in here,” she began. “I’m not used to seeing a
ship like this so…lifeless.”

   “Creepy is an understatement. Like I said before, just be careful and
try not to touch anything.” All the
Icarus
’ fighters, as well as all the
support vehicles and associated tools were eerily absent, probably sucked out
into space months ago. The
Icarus
was like one of the hundreds of
sleeping behemoths that could be found in a number of Sector Command reserve
fleet basins. She was cold, lifeless without the crew who pumped through her
passageways like blood to a living body.

   Melissa looked around at the destruction of the overhead and the
emptiness of the space. “Are you afraid I’m going to break something?”

   “I’m afraid whoever did this might not be done and will decide to come
back for seconds. I don’t want anyone to know we were here if we can avoid it.”

   Turning on the computer embedded in the left gauntlet of his EVO suit,
Shawn brought up a map of the cruiser’s hangar bay. A three-dimensional map of
their current surroundings projected itself three inches from the surface of
the computer. Finding what he was looking for, he aimed his flashlight beyond
Melissa to a series of stairs leading up to an open hatch some thirty feet
above their current position. Melissa’s own beam soon converged with his. “The
cruiser’s layout shows that this passageway is the main connecting corridor for
the ship. It should give us access to anywhere we need to go,” he said as she
stepped close to his side.

   “The life-form reading was from deck seven.”

   “That’s two decks above us.” He started for the stairs and gave
Melissa a wave to follow him. “We have to get about fifty yards down that
corridor, and then we should reach a ladder well that will take us up there.
Sergeant Adams, watch our six,” Shawn ordered, referring to the unprotected
rear of their formation.

   “Yes, sir.” Adams fell in behind the two, occasionally scanning his
weapon around the compartment.

   As they met at the top of the stairs, both Shawn and Melissa shined
their lights down the long, dark hallway. There were bits of debris and flotsam
floating just beyond the hatch. Shawn noticed an empty soda can silently
orbiting a wadded-up piece of paper, and a half-eaten sandwich frozen to its
core.

   “Someone opened this door after this section of the corridor lost
internal pressure.”

   “How do you know that?”

   “Because if they opened it before that happened, then everything in
here would have been sucked out into space.”

   Melissa watched the sandwich eerily float past her and out into the
hangar bay. “If that’s true, then where are all the bodies?”

   Shawn continued to wave his flashlight around the unlit corridor. He
silently cursed the device for not allowing him to see more than ten feet ahead
of them. “I’m not sure, but I know that most of them should still be here.
Nearly all the lifepods are still attached.”