Icarus (23 page)

   The hatch finally lowered enough for Shawn to jump in. Adams handed
Melissa off to the commander, then helped Garcia inside just before he himself
climbed aboard. Shawn turned and punched the door closure procedure into the
computer and was thankful that it was taking less time to close than it had to
open. When the cargo ramp was firmly sealed, the internal pressure and oxygen
levels began to return to human-normal levels. What had felt like a ten-minute
ordeal had only taken thirty seconds.

   The patch that had secured Melissa’s suit began to flake, then peeled
itself free and crumbled to the deck in three small chunks. The built-in
computer began to give her another audible warning that her suit was losing
pressure. Her still, silent form gave no response.

   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.

  
W
ith
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 continued 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.”