“Um, no thank you,” he stammered cautiously
as he attempted to slip past the computer. “I’m just on my way to see someone.”
He had no idea why he was talking to the computer as if it were any other
crewmen—albeit one he didn’t care to interact with.
“Well, if you require anything, please let
me be of service to you. I’ve been programmed with a plethora of information,
and can assist with any query you might have. I hope your meeting with
‘someone’ goes well.”
He regarded the computer dubiously for a
moment, then laughed to himself, wondering if computers these days took things
personally. For some reason, the idea of apologizing to the computer about the
last time they’d met crossed his mind, but then he realized the thought of
doing so might qualify him as insane.
Apologize
to a computer
, he pondered as he shook his head in disbelief.
What’s wrong with me? Next thing you know
I’ll be singing bedtime lullabies to
Sylvia’s Delight
. Then, my friend, it’s only a quick off-ramp to the funny farm.
Rounding the final corner, he made his way
into the observation deck, noting from the expansive view that the
Rhea
had traversed the final jump gate
at some point after he had landed. A small blue-white sphere, a precious
sapphire against the blackness of space, was hanging almost parallel with the
front of the
Rhea
.
Second Earth
, he thought.
We’ll be there within the next day or so at
this rate.
Suddenly feeling a great sorrow, he tried to dash it away with a
deep sigh.
Turning from the view, he scanned the
compartment and found Melissa on the top deck of the lounge, having seated
herself in the center of the horseshoe-shaped balcony that lined the entire
room. Taking a small, two-man lift to the top level, Shawn could see from her
expression that she was deep in thought as she gazed out at the distant planet.
As he neared the table, he reached for a chair and pulled it back slowly. Even
though her eyes were focused elsewhere, Shawn watched as she grinned happily at
his arrival.
“You’re late,” she said.
Shawn quickly glanced at his watch. “By less
than five minutes.”
“Sometimes it takes less time than that to
make all the difference in the universe.”
“Can I talk my way out of the
court-martial?”
She turned her sparkling emerald eyes to him
and nodded softly. “Take a seat and we’ll discuss it.”
Shawn, trying first to hide his excitement
over seeing her by presenting a calm façade, quickly failed in that regard as
he beamed like a love-struck schoolboy at the auburn-haired beauty before him.
He sat in the plush chair and got comfortable, noticing a tall glass of ice
water before him. Sure that he was smiling like an idiot, he turned his
attention to the expanse of space outside the large view ports. “What’s on your
mind, Miss Graves?”
“You haven’t seen me for a week and that’s
all you have to ask?” she replied in mock anger.
Entirely unable to stop smiling, he shrugged
evasively without glancing back at her.
“What?” she asked defensively. “Can’t I just
ask a friend to get together for a drink?”
Still not looking at her, Shawn reached for
his glass of water and took a slow sip. “There. I had a drink.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught
sight of her shoulders slumping in resignation. “Oh, fine. I—”
“Yes?” he asked as he turned sharply toward
her.
The quick maneuver seemed to catch her off
guard. She smiled shyly, then cast her eyes down to the glass in front of her.
“I was…I was just wondering how you were doing. Is that a crime?”
“Not the last time I checked,” he conceded
with a smirk. “But, speaking of crimes, thanks for getting Trent out of the
brig a few days ago.”
She dismissed his gratitude with a wave of
her hand. “It was nothing, really.”
Shawn turned fully, leaning over the table
and fastening his eyes to hers. “No. It
was
something. It really was, to both of us.”
Melissa sipped at her drink. “He’s still
under supervision. Captain Krif hasn’t let him completely off the hook just
yet.”
It had been less than two weeks ago that
Krif, convinced that Trent Maddox posed a threat to ship’s security, had thrown
the mechanic into the brig along with Lieutenant Garcia—the lone survivor of
the doomed cruiser
Icarus
. The memory
of that altercation still burned fiercely in Shawn’s mind, and he knew he
wouldn’t forget it until he had a chance to return the favor to Dick Krif. “I’m
sure we’ll clear his name soon enough.”
Melissa nodded slowly, but her expression
disclosed she was far from convinced.
“Any leads yet on who the real spy could
be?” he asked.
She shook her head as she stared at her
half-empty glass. “No, none. I’m still looking into it.
Sylvia’s Delight
was completely clean of fingerprints, hair or
fiber samples. Even the most basic DNA fragments, save for ours and Lieutenant
Garcia’s, are proving to be quite elusive.”
“You think it was him?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “In the absence
of any other evidence, I’m not sure what else I can do. He’s still under tight
lock and key, and what little I could glean from our conversations hasn’t
convinced me he’s completely innocent.”
Shawn nodded and then allowed a moment of
silence to fall between them. “We’ll be arriving at Second Earth in the next
day or so.”
She inclined her head toward the wall of
view ports at the front of the compartment and the blue-white pearl-like planet
far off in the distance. “So I’ve noticed.”
“I assume you’ve cleared our journey to
Second Earth with the OSI Director?”
Again, she nodded. “I contacted him last
week, just before we went through the second jump gate. Apparently we ‘have the
full backing of both the OSI and the Unified council,’” she droned.
“You don’t seem to be too happy about it.”
“What’s there to be happy about, Shawn?” she
asked as she turned sad eyes to him.
“It’s just that I thought…that if we cleared
up the disappearance of the
Valley Forge
and the missing fleet, it would put you back in good standing with the Director
and the OSI.”
She downed the rest of her drink in one
swoop.
“I hope that wasn’t anything too strong,”
Shawn said in surprise.
Melissa narrowed her eyes and pointed an
accusatory finger squarely at him. “I’ll have you know, Shawn Kestrel, that my
life is more than the sum of my occupational accolades.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—”
“Oh, but you were!” she exclaimed, as if the
words had suddenly sprung from some inner revelation.
“I was not!” he retorted, leaning back for
fear of her striking him in her obviously angered state. After all, he wouldn’t
put it past her. “I was simply wondering why you seemed so upset about this.”
“Upset! Who said I was upset about
anything?”
He shook his head in confusion. “Your tone,
for starters.”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand as
she turned to look out the view ports once more.
“It’s not about the fleet, is it?” he asked.
“This is about your father. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She rolled her eyes, then lowered her voice
as she slumped in her chair. “It’s nice to know how utterly transparent I’ve
become.” Her tone carried the irritation she felt. She looked to her hands,
then slapped them lightly onto the illuminated tabletop. “Honestly, I don’t
even know how I can function as an OSI agent anymore. This thing…it has me
turned inside out.”
“The Director must have thought otherwise.
Why else would he have put you in charge?”
Melissa shrugged with feigned interest. “Who
knows? I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“Look, I’m sure everything will start to
come together once we reach Second Earth.”
Her eyes turned to him, appearing to search
for deeper truth behind his words. “Do you really think so? Be honest with me.”
The lieutenant commander offered his best,
most dashing smile. “I’m sure something positive will come from it.”
She sighed, then turned her gaze back to the
view ports. “Do you have any idea what the captain is planning on doing once we
get there?”
Shawn straightened in his chair. “I do.
He’ll be sending down an exploration party.”
This piqued her interest. She turned fully
toward him, leaning her arm against the back of the chair and propping her head
against her hand. “What type of exploration party?”
“A small one.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get smart with
me, Commander.”
Shawn feigned shock. “I’m serious. A very
small
team is going to the surface. Dick
wants to minimize exposure to anything we might find down there.”
“We?”
“I meant the team.” Shawn was caught, and he
knew there was no way out of this.
“No, you distinctly said ‘we,’ as in you
and…?”
Suddenly feeling exceedingly parched, it was
Shawn’s turn to take a large gulp from his drink. Unfortunately, he remembered
too late that it had only been water, and it did nothing to abate the scorn he
was sure was soon to follow. “Me and…a few others.”
“Who? Not Trent.”
“No, not Trent,” Shawn chuckled nervously.
“There’s no way Krif is letting
him
off the ship.”
“Then who?”
“Well…me…and a small squad of Marines.”
There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Anyway,
it was close enough to the truth.
“Why you?” Melissa inquired with skepticism.
“They need a pilot.”
“Plenty of those around here, Commander,”
she said as she waved a hand toward a table that was occupied by no less than
five of the
Rhea
’s fighter wing.
“We’re on a carrier, after all. Stop being evasive and just tell me, Shawn.
We’re supposed to be building trust, remember? Not…erecting insurmountable
barriers between one another.”
He leaned back in toward her, trying to keep
the conversation from escalating. “Fine. Just tone it down a little, will you?”
She did so, to barely above a whisper. “Only
if you stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you. They needed a pilot,
so I volunteered.”
She smiled deviously, but Shawn could tell
she was still upset. “I see. So what you’re saying then is that they were going
to take down the Mark-IV, and you conveniently made yourself available. Is that
right?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Why a civilian cargo ship? Why not a
logistics craft? They’re more equipped to handle whatever’s down there, and
they can certainly haul more materials.”
“My guess is that Krif wants to be as under
the radar as possible on this landing. A non-military transport wouldn’t be an
overt signal to anyone below that a military presence had returned—if in fact
someone is down there watching at all.”
Melissa snickered. “What you really mean is
that Krif thought your ship was more expendable than anything he had in his own
inventory.”
Shawn shook his head. “You know, I’m really
rethinking that whole bit about women not being able to read minds. You’re
pretty good at it.”
Melissa’s head rolled off her hand, and her
arm slipped down to her side. As the last remnant of her drink began to affect
her motor skills, she began to subtly slur her words as she spoke. “And, if I
may ask, mister Shawn Kestrel Lieutenant Commander sir, who else besides you
will be going?”