Icarus (8 page)

   The next batch of documents was a slew of trade reports from merchants
operating in this sector, and some of the names of the reporting captains were
familiar to him. While Shawn had noted that several of those same trader captains
had been detained a time or two by Unified Security, none of it seemed
particularly out of order. The merchants had been stopped for routine
inspections of their cargo, or for various minor infractions that didn’t really
require the might of Unified Security. But due to their proximity to Kafaran
space, they were probably stopped for that same reason.

   The final documents were lists of parts and supplies that had been
transported, both for the Unified Collaboration of Systems and for the civilian
populations in and around Unified-controlled space. Most of the items seemed
benign in nature, and were well within the norm for items transported
throughout the vast majority of Unified space. Shawn did note, however, a
surprising increase in the rate of military supplies being transported to areas
near the former front lines of the war—both by Sector Command and civilians. It
wasn’t an obviously large amount, but someone had taken a great deal of effort
to make sure supplies were also being sent to the other corners of Unified
space, far distant from Kafaran territory. After looking through the dozen or
so reports, Shawn’s training told him that something didn’t quite smell right,
and the knot forming in the pit of his belly indicated that he’d probably stepped
squarely in the middle of it.

   There was a knock at his door, tearing his concentration away from the
computer terminal.

   “Enter.”

   It was Melissa, looking the same as before, but lacking the playful
smile she had held less than an hour ago. “Ready to go down to the station?”

   Darus Station was a gateway to the world of Ohrep VII below. It served
as the central filter for everything coming from and going to the planet.
Nothing was allowed to go from one to the other without first checking in with
station security, and that included Sector Command carriers like the
Rhea
.

   “Yeah, I think so.” Shawn flipped off the computer, pulling the
cartridge out and securing it in his pocket.

   “How was the reading material?” she asked, turning when Shawn neared
her and heading down the passageway with the lieutenant commander close behind.

   “Informative.”

   Although Shawn couldn’t see it, she smiled thinly. “I thought it might
be.”

   “You mind telling me how you came across it?”

   She chuckled without breaking her stride. “I sure do.
If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you shouldn’t blame
the wind for revealing them to the trees. And there are a lot of trees around
here just waiting to catch wind, Commander.”

   Shawn agreed with a smirk. “Fair enough. So where are we headed now?”

   “The hangar deck.”

   “Krif has a transport ready to take us to the station?” Shawn thought
of the cramped, uncomfortable military transports of his past. He didn’t relish
the idea of being sandwiched between a squad of Marines who had the primary
goal of seeing how much trouble they could get into while on liberty. Shawn
also thought of the expression that must have crossed Krif’s face when Melissa
had ordered him to make such a transport ready. That alone brought a smile to
the commander’s face, and he could now see himself almost enjoying an otherwise
uncomfortable ride to the station.

   “Not in so many words, Commander,” she laughed in response.

   After a short elevator ride, the duo walked through a final hatch and
into the open cavern of the main hangar deck. Shawn’s eyes fell on the two
high-speed transports that were flanking the doorway they’d come through, but
Melissa kept her stride steady, making no effort to enter either of the craft.
As she and Shawn rounded the nose of the leftmost transport,
Sylvia’s
Delight
was there waiting for them. Her aft hatch was down, several
maintenance techs were removing hoses from the underside of the Mark-IV
Hypervarion transport, and Trent Maddox was there tending to some supplies that
were being loaded into
D
’s belly.

   “Good afternoon, Skipper,” Trent said joyfully. “Nice day for a
stroll, aye?”

   “We’re taking out
D
?” Shawn asked in pleasant surprise.

   Melissa ignored Shawn and turned to Trent. “Is everything ready,
Sergeant?”

   “Ah, yes Miss… I mean, Agent Graves. The last pallet is coming aboard
now.”

   She clenched her jaw, trying not to smile at the pleasant sight of the
mechanic as he addressed her. “Excellent. Please finish loading operations and
get on board. I’d like to leave as soon as possible. We need to give every
appearance that we’re a merchant vessel, just in case the station decides to
scan our hold.”

   “Yes, ma’am.” Trent said, snapping a salute to both Melissa and Shawn
before hurrying back to his tasks.

   Shawn, still in shock, watched as Trent began to sound out crisp
orders to the few techs who were nearest to
D
. “It’s been awhile since
I’ve seen him so…”

   “Professional?”

   “I was going to say ‘clean,’ but professional will do.”

   “I see,” she turned and gave Trent one last glance and then turned
back to Shawn. “Let’s get on board, Lieutenant Commander Kestrel. I’m sure
you’d like to get the pre-flight checks done as soon as possible.”

   Shawn looked at his battered, beautiful ship. It seemed like weeks had
passed since he had last seen her, and he was itching to get back aboard as
fast as he could. The thought of pushing the engines as fast as he could and
screaming away from the
Rhea
was exceedingly appealing to him. “You have
no idea, Agent Graves.”

* * *

   On the command deck of
Sylvia’s Delight
, and for the first time
in days, Shawn Kestrel again felt like the master of his own destiny. This
place was his home, where he felt most comfortable, where he knew what every
switch did and where the entire system was at his command. The plushy pilot’s
seat groaned quietly under the pressure of his backside as he settled in and
gingerly laid his hands on the control surfaces at his fingertips. It felt as
if he hadn’t seen her in a month, and he fought the sudden urge to cradle the
control stick as though it were a newborn child.

   As she entered the deck behind him, Melissa popped her head over his
right shoulder. “Mind if I sit up here?”

   He offered a shrug in response. “Why ask? It’s not like it mattered to
you before.”

   She lightly slapped him on the shoulder as she took the copilot’s
seat. “Just like old times, huh?”

   Shawn had to laugh. “Yeah, except that ‘old times’ was only a few days
ago.”

   “Does it really feel like that?”

   Shawn reached out and grabbed the control stick, jerking it slightly
left and right. “Feels longer.”

   Melissa looked around the command deck as if it were her first time
seeing it. “This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

   “Are you kidding? This means everything to me.” He looked at her, and
what could almost be described as a hurt expression crossed her face. He
decided a little backpedaling was in order. “This is where I belong…not in some
fighter.”

   She smiled weakly. “I saw your simulator report, you know. You seemed
right at home in there.”

   “That was the old me. There are some things you never forget, no
matter how hard you try.”

   “And you much prefer the ‘new you,’ yes?”

   He smirked and gave her a sideways glance. “Well, my life
was
a
lot less complicated before you came along.”

   “I’ve tried to be a good influence.”

   “Yeah, I can see that. And we’ve gotten into nothing but trouble ever
since.”

   She laughed lightly. “Regardless, you have no one to thank except me
for being back in your old ship.”

   “Oh? How so?”

   “Let’s just say that Captain Krif was far from anxious to release you
to my charge.”

   A look of confusion crossed Shawn’s face. “You mean Captain Dick
doesn’t know you’re
always
in charge of me?”

   “You’re an officer, remember? And a pilot. You are supposed to fall
under his jurisdiction, not the OSI.”

   “But you told me—”

   “And what I said was true, Mister Kestrel. I work for the OSI, and you
work for me. Commander Krif also has to report to the OSI in this matter, which
means he also works for me, but he sure doesn’t like to admit it.”

   “I can’t imagine why.” His sarcasm was plain.

   “Nevertheless, I just so happen to need a less suspicious ship for my
assignment, and you just happen to be the right man to pilot it. You and I are
here now, it’s perfectly legal, and we should really prepare to get going.”

   He couldn’t help but scoff. “What’s so important on Darus Station,
anyways?”

   “The only thing in this galaxy more widely accepted than Unified
credits: information.”

   He cocked an eyebrow before turning his attention back to prepping the
ship for takeoff. “What kind of information?”

   “The secret kind. Now, can we please get going, or do I need to
dictate my life’s story for you, as well?”

   “Well, now that you mention it, it would help to answer a few things.”

   Her jovial expression turned blank, and she gave him the same
stone-faced look he’d seen the first time she’d peered at him in The Old
Flamingo hangar on Minos. “We haven’t the time and I haven’t the inclination,
Commander. Now, if you will, please?” She waved her hand toward the forward
view port.

  
Talk about turning on a dime
, he thought to himself. “And
what’s with the ‘Mister Kestrel’ stuff, by the way?”

   “Would we move faster if I called you Shawn?”

   “We might.”

   She couldn’t help but roll her eyes in frustration, another of her
typical expressions. “Then, by all means,
Shawn
, please get this damn
thing spaceborne now.”

   He smiled to himself, satisfied that he had somehow won this round.
“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

   In the forward view port of
Sylvia’s Delight
, Darus Station
turned in a leisurely manner on its axis as it rotated high above Ohrep VII.
The planet below was a swampy, bug-ridden nightmare that Shawn wasn’t at all
excited about setting foot on again. He’d flown some cargo this way about six
months ago, checking in at Darus along the way. There wasn’t more than a
hundred square feet of solid ground on the entire surface of Ohrep, so all the
trading complexes and landing pads had to be built on massive stilts that were
embedded deep into the planet’s rocky subsurface. The humid climate gave birth
to hundreds of species of bugs, both big and small, that would feast on
anything left out in the open for longer than sixty seconds. Large trees, some
nearly a thousand feet high, created lush groves and forests that were
unnavigable by anything except small surface skimmers. Shawn often wondered why
traders had chosen this planet as a base of operations. It was everything Minos
was not, and he again longed for the sandy beaches of his old home.

   Darus Station itself was a far cry from most orbital facilities
located throughout Unified space. Before the Galactic War against the Kafarans,
the station was firmly in the grasp of Unified Sector Command. It was a
military complex first and a training facility second. With the end of the war
and the disintegration of the Outer Sphere of Unified planets, Ohrep was now
decidedly a handful of light-years outside overt Sector Command influence. As
such, ownership of the station had fallen back to the Royal Mercantile
Electorate, the administrative arm of the local trade guild, and the military
presence on the station had all but dwindled to a single office manned by a
handful of overweight security guards.

   The station itself looked more like a giant donut in space than a
traditional space station. At equidistant points along the equator of the
toroid were four long docking piers, each capable of handling a dozen
medium-sized vessels. Perched on heavy beams above the donut hole was the
administrative complex, itself capped by enormous communication towers. Below
the hole, supported by twice as many beams as the administrative complex, was
the elliptical habitat module, and below that was the station’s tapered ion
reactor core and engineering module. At half a kilometer wide, the trading and
supply ‘donut’ easily made up the bulk of the station footprint.

   With residency normally numbering just over a thousand, Darus Station
had a habit of bloating to almost three times that, depending on whether the
Mercantile Electorate had a conference in the system or not. Judging by the
volume of ships attached to the docking piers and by the ones still waiting to
connect themselves, it looked as if the Electorate was hosting a full house
today. There were ships from almost every planet in the quadrant. Shawn saw
freighters from Erkel, Jido, and Temkor right away. There were even sleek
Lojarian bulk transports and a Hypervarion cruise liner attached to the
farthest end of one of the piers.

   As
Sylvia’s Delight
neared the station, the ship’s transmitter
burst to life. “Hypervarion Mark-IV, this is Darus Station. Do you copy?” a
controlled voice asked through the speaker.

   Shawn reached for the control switch. “We copy, Darus. Our registry
number is 459-Zed-Zed-Alpha-9.”

   It took only a moment for the station’s landing officer to verify the
information. “Our systems have you listed as
Sylvia’s Delight
, Captain
Shawn Kestrel in command.”

   Shawn looked over to Melissa, putting the communications on mute. “He
doesn’t know I’m in Sector Command?” he asked in bewilderment. “That shouldn’t
be possible. The information should’ve been automatically updated on my
merchant record when I accepted this new commission.”