Dark Space (7 page)

   Roslyn nodded, apparently
satisfied over his answer. “Then, as both your friend and his, Shawn, I’m
coming with you. I have a feeling you’re going to need a moderator, and I’ve
known Jerry the longest.”

   “Where?” Shawn asked more
calmly.

   “The hangar deck. He said
he had some checks to do on his fighter and—”

   Shawn’s worst fear had just
been realized. “Oh no,” he mumbled, then took off in a sprint toward the main
hangar, leaving the two women to rush after him.

%%%

   “Shawn, slow down!” Roslyn
called after the commander as the three dashed through the
Duchess of
York
’s
passageways.

   Vaulting through a series
of concentric hatches, Shawn rounded a sharp corner, grabbing a handrail at the
bottom of a stairwell and hefting himself upon the steps. Skipping every other one,
he was in danger of risking a bruised knee if he stumbled against their
unforgiving surface. Risking it, he kept going, taking shallow breaths as if he
were running a race.

   Up and up he went, and five
flights later, flung the hatch opened at the top. Launching himself into the
hangar, he was greeted by several crewmen gawking at him as he made his way
across the deck to where the Rippers fighters had been stationed.  The area was
completely empty.

   “Shawn!” Roslyn called
after him as she entered the hangar.

   He turned to see her
running down the length of the hangar in the opposite direction. Without
waiting, he quickly joined her and Melissa. “The Rippers were merged with the
Jolly Rogers, remember?” Roslyn said. “They’re located aft.” 

   In his haste to get to the
hangar he’d completely forgotten. Cursing under his breath, his legs were
beginning to feel the strain of his intra-ship marathon.
Perfect
.

   They continued on, past
rows of Maelstrom fighters and the Marines’ VTOL craft. Running between the two
immensely large Mammoth logistics transports, the three entered the aft hangar
deck in unison. Slowing to a jog to catch their breath, they each scanned a
different area of the deck. 

   “I sure hope this is all
worth it,” Roslyn said, her breath labored.

   “Where the hell is he?”
Shawn asked aloud.

   Melissa shook her head, her
eyes scanning the bay. There were a dozen fighters in here, all painted with
the dull yellow-and-gray of the Jolly Rogers crest. A maintenance tractor was
moving another fighter from an unknown squadron into an ordnance alcove, while
a large crane overhead lifted the battered remains of a Maelstrom to the
reclamation section of the deck, there to be stripped of all useful components
before the hulk was broken down and recycled. There, two men in fitted suits,
each holding cutting lasers, waited like obedient dogs would to get table
scraps.

   “I don’t see him,” Melissa
finally said.

   “Neither do I,” Roslyn
added.

   “You sure this is where he
said he was going?” Shawn asked as he gave the compartment a once-over.

   “He said he was coming down
here to talk to Drake about the damage to his fighter.”

   “Drake?” Shawn asked as he
looked at Roslyn.

   She nodded, still catching
her breath. “His patrol was scheduled to lift off a little while ago.” She then
looked at her watch. “Takeoff was scheduled for six minutes ago.”

   Shawn, wide-eyed, looked
frantically for the nearest officer in the hangar. About thirty yards distant
he spotted the distinctive yellow and gray coveralls of a maintenance officer. As
he took off in another sprint, Roslyn and Melissa had little choice but to
chase after him once again.

   The officer, a junior-grade
lieutenant, looked startled as the carrier’s air group commander rushed up to
him. “Yes … s-sir,” he stammered, bolting to attention. “What … ah … what can I
do for you, Commander?”

   “Lieutenant I’Rondus?” 
Shawn asked with little formality.

   Startled, the young officer
blinked several times before answering. “He’s … ah … gone, sir. He took off
about—”

   “Was anyone else here with
him before he left?” Melissa asked.

   “No, sir … ma’am, I mean.”

   “Are you sure?” Shawn
asked.

   “Oh, yes, sir. Sure as I’m
standing here,” he said, and then, realizing his relaxed tone, ended with
“sir.”

   “Damn.” Shawn cursed under
his breath.

   “Excuse me, sir,” the
lieutenant began, “but can I ask what this is all about? I’ll need to put it in
my log. Protocol, you understand.”

   Shawn shook his head as he
looked about the hangar. “I wish I could tell you.”

   The lieutenant seemed to
regard the statement with curiosity, then shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s two
strange entries for the day.”

   “Two?” Melissa asked.

   The lieutenant nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.”

   “What was the other one?”
Shawn asked as he cocked an eyebrow.

   “Well, Drake … that is,
Lieutenant I’Rondus, seemed a little out of sorts when he left.”

   “How so?” Raven asked as
she attempted to fix her black hair behind her head, its unruliness a result of
her sprint through the ship.

    “Well, normally he’s a lot
more talkative to his maintenance crew,” the young man said, throwing a thumb
in the direction of a young woman who was walking across the deck with a stack
of computer boards. She was the one in charge of getting Drake’s fighter ready
for takeoff, the one enlisted person whose sole responsibility was to let Drake
know the status of his fighter at all times.

   “What did he say to her?”
Shawn asked as he regarded the woman from a distance.

   “That’s just it. He didn’t
say anything. He just jumped in and took off with a wave and a salute.”

   Shawn wheeled back to the
lieutenant. “And you didn’t find that strange?”

   “Like I said, sir, I put it
in my log, but that was about it. I mean, he
had
clearance to take off.
Besides, being an enlisted crewman, it’s not like she could have said anything.
You understand.”

   Shawn nodded as he turned
back to the girl, who had since put her stack of cards down and was looking
over another fighter. “Yeah. Protocol.”

   “Shawn?” Melissa asked as
she and Roslyn stepped closer.

   There were a half-dozen
scenarios rushing through his head all at once, and none of them had a
particularly happy outcome. But if he was going to act, he’d need to do it
quickly. He would have to assume the responsibility for his actions later. He
quickly turned to Roslyn.

   “I need you out there right
now, Raven.”

   She looked at him as if
he’d grown a third arm. “Out there … as in … out
there
?” she asked and
waved a hand to the nearest launch bay.

   “Yes.”

   “That’s crazy. I’m not
cleared to take off. Hell, I’m not even on the schedule for today!”

   “I don’t care about any of
that,” he said as he held his hands up to stem her thoughts on the matter. “I
need you out there, right now,” he said, then turned to the deck lieutenant.
“And you’re going to make it happen.”

   “I am?” he asked in a
helpless tone.

   “You are,” Shawn said with
a nod. “And you’re going to do it right now.”

   The young man looked from
Raven to Shawn, then to Melissa, then back to Shawn. “Well, that’s going to
make one hell of a third strange entry for the day.”

   “But—” Raven began, but
Shawn cut her off.

   “No more ‘buts,’ Commander.
That’s an order from your CAG. Get your rear in gear and light those fires.”

   She looked to him for a
moment, wondering if he’d gone completely batty or if he was going to change
his mind. “Okay, fine. But what are
you
going to do? Come out there with
me?”

   “No. I’ve been grounded. I
need to get to Ramos and get this all straightened out before it all blows up
in everyone’s face.”

   Roslyn raised her hands out
Shawn. “But what about
Jerry
?”

   Shawn raised his hands in a
similar gesture. “Who do you think you’re going out to get?”

   “But, I thought Drake—”

   Shawn shook his head. “If
I’m right, that’s not Drake. It’s Nova masquerading as him.”

   “Okay, hold on,” Roslyn
pleaded as she closed her eyes. “Run that by me again?”

   “Get to your fighter,
Commander. Once I get to the bridge I’ll let you know more.”

   “Then what happened to
Drake?” Roslyn asked.

   Shawn turned to Melissa.
“That’s your job, honey. I have a suspicion he’s still on board, and if that’s
true, he’s very likely in danger. You’ve got to organize a search party to find
him.”

   “I’m on it.” And without
another word, she vaulted from his side to a nearby hatch.

   “I suppose that’s the kind
of response you want me to give you from now on? Just say ‘yes, sir’ and be on
my merry way?” Raven asked him jokingly as Shawn watched Melissa leave.

   “I like you just the way
you are, Raven: obstinate, argumentative, and fully capable of flying that
fighter. Now get out of here. Once you’re clear of the ship, do not engage Nova
until I’ve given you an order to do so.” He then turned and took off for the
nearest lift to the elevator.

   Raven shook her head as she
watched him leave. “If it’s even Jerry out there,” she said under her breath.

%%%

   Shawn rushed through the
doors to the bridge in such a hurry that everyone present, including Captain Ramos,
turned to him in surprise.

   “Problem, Commander?” Ramos
asked in his usual calm tone.

   “I’ve got Raven getting
ready to launch down in the hangar,” Shawn said in a hurry. “She’ll need
authorization to take off.”

   Ramos nodded, seemingly
unfazed by Shawn’s serious lack of protocol. “I know. I just got a call from a
very worried deck officer down there. He said you were taking it upon yourself
to authorize the launch.”

   “Sorry, sir. It’s an
emergency.”

   “As I asked before …
problem, Commander?”

   “It’s Lieutenant Santorum,
sir. I have reason to believe he’s commandeered a fighter without
authorization.”

   “Based on what evidence?”

   Shawn didn’t have time to
go through it all. If he didn’t, it would give Jerry more than enough time to
get to the jump gate and escape to wherever he was going. “You know that
‘trust’ that you and I were talking about earlier? Well, now it’s time to put
it to the test.”

   Ramos stared at him for a
long moment, with the rest of the bridge officers staring between their captain
and the commander. Ramos pursed his lips, then nodded slowly. “Commander
Weberity,” Ramos said to his flight control officer. “Authorize the launch.
Immediately.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   Ramos then turned to the
communications station. “Lieutenant Flynn, monitor all communications between
Commander Brunel’s fighter and the other Maelstrom. I want this recorded.”

   “Aye, sir.”

   Ramos then turned to his
sensor officer. “Samantha, feed the Maelstrom’s coordinates to Raven. Let her
know everything you can about this region, and give her a full tactical
analysis of the other fighter.”

   Shawn watched as the young
woman did as she was ordered.

   “Captain,” came a voice
from the opposite side of the bridge. Shawn turned to see who it was, and
noticed the lead security officer approach the command area.

   “What is it, LSO?”

   The dark-skinned man looked
at Shawn, then Ramos. “Call just came inform the lower decks. It was Special
Agent Graves. She said she found Lieutenant I’Rondus.”

   Shawn felt a lump form in
his throat. “Is he …”

   “She reports he’s alive,
but unconscious. The security team found him bound and gagged in his own
quarters. He’s got some injuries.”

   Shawn nodded. Considering
Drake was supposed to be out on patrol, it was the last place anyone would have
accidently come across him while Jerry made his escape. “Medical team?” Shawn
asked.

   Weberity nodded.
“Dispatched. Agent Graves said she’ll stand by until they arrive.”

   “Seems your hunches have
some merit, Commander,” Ramos said stoically.

   “Sir,” Samantha said from
the sensor station. “Commander Brunel’s fighter has left the carrier.”

   Both Shawn and Ramos turned
to her. “What’s her position, Samantha?”

   “Three-quarters of a mile,
ninety degrees to port beam. Speed is one hundred fifty.”

   “And Santorum?”

   “Also speed of one-fifty,
bearing three-two-two.”