Icarus (9 page)

   “Maybe it should have, and maybe it shouldn’t have,” she offered with
a none-too-innocent shrug. “Who’s to say?”

   He shook his head at her in disdain. “Looks like the Office of Special
Intelligence is, if you ask me.”

   Melissa’s only reply was a wink and a devilish smile.

   “And,” he continued, “tampering with—or failing to update—an official
service record is illegal.”

   Melissa rolled her eyes. “Stop being so legalistic and answer the
station’s request already.”

   Baffled, Shawn turned back to the speaker. “Affirmative, Darus. We’re
requesting to land.”

   “The trade conference has already begun, Captain. My board shows that
all docking piers are full. If you’d like to wait until the conference has
ended, we can accommodate you at that time.”

   Shawn looked to Melissa. She shook her head sharply, notifying him
that the station’s suggestion wasn’t a viable option. 

  
Time to think fast.

   “Roger that, Darus. It’s just…well…it’s just that I have a…a problem
here.”

   “We’re not detecting any problem on our sensors, Captain. Your ship is
in perfect working order. Please clarify.”

   “Well, you see, we just got detained by those Unified knuckleheads,
and they took half my cargo, and that included all my food. They said something
about it being contraband. I mean, really, how are five pallets of Denesian
cran-apples and three pallets of Hilian tree nuts considered contraband?” Shawn
said with mock disgust, knowing full well that both of those items were illegal
to transport within Unified space.

   There was a brief pause before the voice came back online. “Roger,
Mark-IV. We see the carrier on our scanners. Are you saying you’re not with
them?”

   “Them? Us? No way, pal. Not on your life! Problem is I’ve got a…I’ve
got a…” He looked to Melissa, who had no help to offer at all.

  
Well, you asked for it.
“I’ve got a pregnant human female on
board, and she’s in a really bad mood.”

   Melissa reached out and slapped him playfully on his shoulder.

   “Uh…please confirm, Mark-IV. Did you say a human female?”

   “Yeah, pal. That’s right. A pregnant one, and she’s liable to go
bat-crazy if I don’t feed her soon. She may even try to eat the ship.” He stole
a glance in Melissa’s direction. She was sitting, mouth agape and arms folded
tightly across her chest. “I need some supplies fast, or you’re going to have
an intergalactic incident on your hands.” Shawn knew it was against Trade
Consortium regulations to turn away a ship in distress. He only hoped he had
played his last-minute card well enough.

   “Stand by,” the male voice called out.

   She punched the mute button on the channel. “What on
Third Earth
are you doing, mister?”

   “Trying to land. And I could use a little help doing it, you know.”

   “I should say so! Telling him I’m pregnant…
and
in a bad mood!
You know how much I hate that.”

   The intercom came alive again, stopping their conversation succinctly.
“Permission to land in bay six authorized. Lock on your navigational computer
and proceed at half-power.”

   “Roger. Mark-IV out.” Shawn flipped the channel closed and shot
Melissa a sideways glance. “You were saying something?”

   “And just how am I supposed to pass off being pregnant? I’m not
exactly bulging at the seams here, Commander.”

   Shawn took her comment as an invitation to examine her body. He
smiled, admiring the fact that she didn’t seem to be bulging from any of the
wrong places. “Well, you’ll have to think of something, and do it quick. Then
again, isn’t that what you OSI are supposed to be best at?”

   “We’re trained to avoid trouble, Commander,” she snapped, her arms
folded tightly across her chest once again. “You, on the other hand, seem to
have an internal compass that points squarely at it.”

  
O
nce
Sylvia’s
Delight
was secured in bay six, Shawn and Melissa—with Trent close on their
heels—exited and quickly scanned their surroundings. The makeshift landing bay
was little more than a modified cargo hold, probably the last available space
on the station. The small hangar door that the Mark-IV had come through, itself
barely large enough to accommodate
D
, served as the entire back wall to
the compartment. The three remaining bulkheads had stacks of multicolored,
multifaceted crates piled high against them and extending all the way to the
overhead some thirty feet above. Some of the containers had apparently been
moved aside, neither stacked nor organized into any discernible pattern, to
uncover a door that would hopefully lead the team into the innards of Darus
Station.

   Shawn disliked having his ship so close to the core of the trading
depot, preferring the solitude and relative safety of the outer docking piers.
If he had to make a quick escape, this would be one of the hardest places from
which to do it. Be that as it may, he begrudgingly chalked the situation up as
he had so many others in the past few days, hoping he wouldn’t live to regret
it.

   “Comfy place you got us here, Skipper,” Trent offered jovially as he
strode down the cargo ramp and then stumbled as his foot caught on a bundle of
cables on the bay floor. “They really pulled out all the stops to clean this
place up for us.”

   “Relax, your highness. It’s probably the best they could muster on
short notice. And besides, it’s only temporary,” Shawn offered, before he shot
a glance at Melissa. “Isn’t that right, Miss Graves?”

   “It is, as long as I can get the information I need quickly.”

   “Then let’s not waste any time,” he said. He then turned to Trent. “I
need you to stay with the ship and keep an eye on her. The station is expecting
us to make a request for supplies, so make sure to get some sent down here.
They’re also expecting a pregnant woman to be on board.”

   “Yeah, about that,” Trent interrupted. “I’m not exactly expecting
here, you know.” He waved an exaggerated hand over his flat stomach.

   “Then put on a wig and shove a pillow under your shirt.”

   “Very funny,” Trent said mockingly.

   “Who said I was joking?” Shawn added in all seriousness.

   “Okay, let’s be reasonable. There’s no way—”

   “No one is allowed on the ship. Period. If station security shows up,
give me a call on my transmitter.” Shawn held up the small voice communicator.
“And keep a sharp eye on anyone who enters this bay. I don’t trust this place.”

   “You don’t trust
any
place, Commander,” Melissa inserted as she
slipped her hands into her pockets.

   “Exactly. That’s why we’re still alive.”

   The overhead vents came on, blanketing the trio in a cloud of
coldness. “It’s freezing in here,” Melissa said as her teeth began to chatter.
“Can we please get on with my mission?”

   Shawn turned to Trent, as if to give him one more last-minute
instruction. Trent held up a hand to stop him from saying anything further.
“Really, it’s okay, Skipper. I’ve got it handled. You’ve got nothing to worry
about.”

   Shawn looked at him questioningly, then reached over and quickly
pulled the illegal blaster out of Melissa’s holster and handed it to Trent.

   “Hey,” she began heatedly. “I might have needed that.”

   “You’re more likely to hurt yourself than anyone else with this thing.
The only thing about this weapon you can rely on is that fact that it’ll likely
blow up in your hand versus dispatching your target. That’s why they’re
illegal.” He then turned and handed the weapon to Trent.

   “Oh, gee. Thanks, Skipper. Give me the defective weapon, why don’t
you?”

   “
Now
I have less to be concerned about. Every time someone says
I’ve got nothing to worry about, something that worries me tends to come
knocking at my door.”

* * *

   After traveling down a long, lonely corridor from the hangar bay,
Melissa and Shawn finally arrived at what could be considered the actual
insides of Darus Station. To say that the sheer size of the complex was
overwhelming would’ve been an understatement to any creature who stood less
than fifteen feet tall—which, coincidently, was nearly ninety percent of the
known species.

   The inner portion of the station’s toroid body was largely hollow.
There were a total of sixteen levels, with a handful of those spanning the
entire diameter of the station. One of these decks, known as The Atrium Level,
was the central most deck in the station. It consisted of two kilometers of
shops, bars, restaurants, gambling halls, and entertainment centers designed to
quench virtually any thirst in Beta Sector. The upper-class establishments held
control of the outer edge of the ring, with their windows facing out into the
openness of space. The less-affluent shops—if they were fortunate to have a view
port at all—looked out to the opposite side of the station.

   The largest establishment on the Atrium, the hotel-casino Marzzan,
took up nearly three city blocks of space. Its gleaming silver and white
exterior was bejeweled with neon lights in every conceivable shape and color.
The crest of the casino, a twenty-foot-tall stylized ‘M,’ sat at the apex of
the building that stood four decks high at its pinnacle. So tall was the
building, in fact, that it had to follow the inward curvature of the station’s
gently sloping walls. The central façade was laden with windows that passersby
could gaze in and watch as tourists and residents won and lost fortunes at the
tip of a hat on the main gambling floor.

   Shawn and Melissa had emerged not thirty feet from the Marzzan’s main
lobby entrance, and Melissa took the opportunity to survey some of the patrons
of the establishment before moving on.

   There appeared to be creatures from every corner of the known galaxy
here, the colors and textures of their skin as varied as the spectrum of colors
discernable to the human eye. Some had hair, others had feathers, and some were
simply covered in scales. Still others wore spacesuits of a dozen different
designs, each fully capable of sustaining the life forms inside while their
owners immersed themselves in whatever pleasure they desired. There were no
less than twenty beings entering or exiting the casino at any one time through
a series of force-field-controlled revolving doors, and Melissa suspected that
even more were changing places in the escalators and maglifts inside the
structure.

   “The house always wins,” Shawn said as he observed Melissa’s
captivation by the casino’s dazzling array of external lights.

   She shook herself, as if waking from a daydream. “I’m sorry. What did
you say?”

  Shawn pointed to the strobe lights without looking at them. “Don’t
stare at them for too long. They’re programmed to read the retinal patterns of
whoever is looking at them. They change their flash arrangements accordingly,
and try to convince your brain that going in would be a pleasurable
experience.”

   “I thought…mind manipulation was illegal,” she stammered, fighting the
urge to look at the lights once more.

   “The control is subtle, so the casino skirts the line of right and
wrong,” he said, then added with a smile, “Besides, station security is in on
the take.”

   “And you know this how, Mister Kestrel?”

   Shawn shrugged. “Take a look for yourself, Agent Graves.” He motioned
to the entrance of the casino.

   Melissa turned slowly and saw two station security officers, fully
uniformed with the exception of their hats—those accoutrements adorning the
heads of two women the men were escorting into the establishment. 

   Melissa’s eyes flickered from the officers to the women, then to the
flashing lights again. The pattern appeared to change, and suddenly she began
to have an overwhelming desire to move closer to them. She wanted to touch
them, to be a part of them. It took a considerable amount of fortitude to tear
her gaze away and look back to Shawn. “Are they all like this here?”

   “The security officers or the lights?”

   She began to rub her temples as she felt a small headache rise from
the depths of her brain. “Both.”

   “As far as the officials go, I’d say it’d be a safe bet to say yes.” He
put a gentle hand behind her back and guided her away from the entrance of the
casino into an inconspicuous hallway. “But when it comes to the retinal lights,
there aren’t that many here on the station.” Shawn looked around cautiously,
hoping his movements hadn’t caused unwarranted suspicion. “Marzzan seems to
have a monopoly on that sort of thing around here.”

   As a small crowd of gawking and laughing young woman strolled by,
Melissa leaned her head back against a smooth wall and let out a slow sigh, her
eyes held loosely shut.

   Shawn reached into his pocket and withdrew a palm-sized device. He switched
it on, then waved it across Melissa’s forehead several times before pocking the
device once more. “Feeling better?”

   “Yes, thank you,” she said, her voice sounding disturbingly distant.
She had one hand on Shawn’s shoulder to steady herself, the other rubbing her
forehead slowly. “What is that thing?”

   “
Zero-point dermoscope.”

   “Very thoughtful of you to carry one around
for emergencies.” Her voice was sounding better each moment.

   “I tend to use it immediately after I’ve had
conversations with stubborn OSI agents.”

   “Ha-ha.”

   “The effects of the lights will wear off in a few seconds.”

   “It’s…it’s like a drug.”

   “If you think you got it bad just from looking at them from the
outside, try stepping into the casino and see how bad it gets.”

   “You’ve been in there before?” She jerked her head in the direction of
the casino, then instantly regretted the maneuver as the pounding headache
returned in spades.

   Shawn shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve lost more than my share, if that’s
what you’re heading toward.”

   “Well, we’re not here to gamble. I hope you aren’t disappointed.” She
rubbed her temples one final time, then straightened her hair and regained her
composure.

   “Not at all,” he offered with a smirk. “I gave that up a long time ago.”

   Melissa craned her head around. “We need to get to deck two. How do we
do that from here? And please, don’t say we have to navigate the innards of
that monstrosity,” she nodded her head in the general direction of the casino.

   “No, but the lift isn’t far from the casino’s main entrance.”

   “There’s a surprise,” she replied sarcastically.

   “You know, I had no idea you were so susceptible to visual
manipulation.”

   “I have a pretty bad headache, Commander. Now is
not
the time
to start picking at my flaws.”

   Shawn watched as she straightened her hair. “It’s just interesting,
that’s all.”

   “That I have flaws?”

   “Well, that you can admit that you have them at all. It’s…”
Attractive?
Alluring? Charming?
“It’s nice.”

   She smiled faintly. “Let’s just get going, before I shove my ‘nice’
right into your gut.”

   “Just keep your eyes pointed at the deck and try not to look at the
lights, okay?”

   The two walked out of the alcove and proceeded down the wide
promenade. As Shawn had instructed, Melissa kept her eyes focused on the floor
a few feet in front of her. Unfortunately, the lights from the casino were
reflecting off the polished silver and alabaster deck and into her eyes. She
felt herself getting lightheaded and slumped against Shawn as the two ambled
toward the lift. Before reaching the door, he put a strong arm around her waist
and held her upright as he activated the elevator. Within seconds the door
opened, and he had to practically drag her inside with him. She flopped against
the lift wall, using both hands to brace herself on a nearby handrail for
support.

   “How is it that you’re not as affected as I am by those damn things?”

   He smiled. “I suppose I am, just not as much as you are.”

   “But you don’t look like you feel as awful as I do.”

   “That’s because I wasn’t looking at the lights.”

   She regarded him through half-opened eyes. “Seems rather implausible,
if you ask me. They’re quite distracting.”

   “I suppose they are…if that’s something that distracts you.”

   She closed her eyes and smiled, still balancing on the arm rail for
support. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you were staring at me the
whole time, and that’s what caused you to be distracted.”

   “You’ve got quite the ego sometimes,” Shawn snickered. “And actually,
no, I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking at my watch. It has small radar
compass that stops me from hitting things when I’m not paying attention to my
surroundings.”

   She opened her eyes and scowled at the commander. “Really?”

   “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did notice that you have a
pretty nice figure underneath that OSI badge.”

   “I’m not sure anything will help me feel better at this point. I just
want the headache to go away.”

   Shawn slipped the small dermoscope out of his pocket once more. He
waved it over her temple, and the pained look on her face quickly melted away.
“I can’t use this on you for another twelve hours. It might cause irreparable
damage to your nervous system.”

   She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Commander. I
understand.”

   A computerized voice sounded inside the lift. “Please state your
destination.”

   “Deck two,” Shawn said, remembering Melissa’s intended destination. It
was a long way down to the lower levels from their current position in the main
toroid body of the station. Hopefully she would feel better by the time they
arrived.