The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) (26 page)

    
The newcomer was immense. Shawn’s sensors showed that it was over three
thousand feet long and nearly five hundred feet wide. Initially, all Shawn
could discern was a wide, mouth-like opening on the vessels bow that’d
threatened to swallow 
Sylvia’s Delight
 before the captain had
maneuvered out of its way. He’d swung his ship wide, taking 
D
 on
a leisurely turn that would give him a better perspective on the new arrival.

    
“What is it?” Melissa asked in awe as the large starship slid across the view
port. Even at half a mile distant, the behemoth took up the entire field of
view.

    
“Sector Command, that’s what,” Shawn grunted as 
D
 became
orientated at the bulky ship. “It looks like a fleet carrier, but I’ve never
seen one that size before.” He brought up the schematics for the vessel on the
Mark-IV’s sensor display. A wire frame diagram of the carrier was drawn on the
screen, which was followed by fighter and crew compliment information. In the
upper corner of the screen flashed the angular eagle crest of Unified Sector
Command. Shawn had heard rumors of a new carrier design that was supposed to be
completed in the next few months, and could only guess this was that same ship.
At three-quarters of a mile long, it was the largest ship in Sector Command’s
inventory. Indeed, it was touted as one of the largest ships ever constructed
in the known galaxy. Now, with its visage taking up Shawn and Melissa’s entire
field of view, he could scarcely argue with those anecdotes. 

    
“Hull identification marks and IFF show it to be the Sector Command
carrier 
Rhea
.”

    
“IFF?”
Melissa said, suddenly feeling ignorant about
something she should know.

    
“Identification: Friend or Foe. It’s used by the ships targeting computer to
tell the good guys from the bad ones.”

    
She turned her attention back to the carrier, which had since slowed to a near
crawl after its space jump. Suddenly, from the gaping maw near the bow, two
solitary flames sped out into space.

    
“Looks like their launching fighters,” Shawn nodded towards the pinpoints.

    
Melissa scowled at the enormous carrier. “I don’t like the way this looks.”

    
Shawn moved the sensors away from the carrier, orientating them towards the
recently launched fighters.
“Yeah?
What’s to like?”

    
The sensor readout screen was curiously blank, save for the message ‘Data
unavailable. Try again later.’ slowing blinking in its center.

    
Melissa was silent as Shawn tried once more to get a reading on the fighters,
but each time he tried the screen flashed the same message. “Computer, you’re
not coming down with a virus again, are you?”

    
The tone of the computers voice could almost have been described as perturbed.
“Negative, Captain.”

    
He quickly made some minor adjustments. Still, the sensor display showed only
the carrier and the Temkorian fighters, although Shawn and Melissa could
clearly see the blue-white thrusters of the Unified interceptors as they closed
in on their targets. 

    
Alternating between the sensor readout and what he could see out of the forward
view port, Shawn watched as the Unified fighters broke formation, taking on
each Temkorian fighter individually. If the Sector Command pilots followed
protocol, they would first attempt to ward the Temkorian’s off to avoid any
conflict. However, Shawn and Melissa watched as one of the Temkorian fighters
began parading his ship aggressively before opening fire on the Sector Command
pilot. Shawn shook his head gravely, having a very good idea what was in store
for the ignorant Temkorian.

    
True to form, the Sector Command fighter quickly got the upper hand on the
alien, disintegrating the Temkorian in a hail of rapid laser fire. Not
surprisingly, the remaining Temkorian made a beeline back to Minos unmolested.

    
“That was quick,” Shawn offered with an air of disappointment. “At least we
won’t have to deal with them anymore.”

    
“That may be true, but I think we have a much larger problem on our hands now,”
Melissa said as she nodded towards the view port and the lumbering carrier
beyond it.

*          
*           *

    
“Acknowledge this transmission,” the agitated female voice repeated through the
speaker once more.

    
Irritated that he couldn’t seem to escape angry people shouting at him this
week, Shawn reached out and hesitantly pressed the ship-to-ship communications
button, it’s once flashing yellow glow turning to a steady white. “That’s
confirmed, 
Rhea
, we’re receiving you loud and clear.”

    
“Can’t we just leave,” Melissa whispered nervously. “Isn’t the dampening field
gone now?”

    
Shawn didn’t need to look at his instruments to tell him that the field was
indeed gone. It had completely dissipated the moment the last Temkorian fighter
returned to Minos. Unfortunately, 
Sylvia’s Delight
 was still
in pretty bad shape, and then there was the matter of the Sector Command fleet
carrier to deal with. While Shawn could have limped back to Minos to tend to
any of the repairs his ship needed, he also realized that Jack would
undoubtedly make another attempt to secure Melissa—probably a far more
successful one than his previous endeavor. There was also the fact that Shawn
had deliberately thrown all of Trent’s tools out of the back of the ship during
the fight with the Temkorian’s. Even if the captain could land the ship safely
back at the Old Flamingo hangar, he’d be grounded—probably permanently—the
moment he touched down.

    
In the last few minutes, the Sector Command interceptors had flown within
visual range of 
Sylvia’s Delight
. Shawn had to admit that he’d
never seen anything like them before. They had a pointed center fuselage that
gently swung back to widen and house two side by side engine pods. On the sides
of the pods were small vertical stabilizers, useless in space, but required for
atmospheric flight. In the rear, jutting forward at near forty-five degree
angles to the fuselage, were long, graceful wings. The cockpit of the fighters,
pushed far back on the body and aligned parallel with the wing roots, appeared
to have a wraparound front screen, with smaller triangular windows on either
side of the craft. Near the forward tip of the fuselage were small rearward
swept wings, the same shape but a fraction of the size of their larger
counterparts. He licked his lips absently as he imagined what it must be like
to be behind the controls of one of the sleek silver and yellow trimmed
fighters.

    
Glancing back down, there was still nothing registering on the radar outside
of 
Sylvia’s Delight
 except the carrier, though he could
plainly see the two fighters out of his windows less than a hundred feet away.

    
“Oh, sorry,” he said, shaking himself from the daydream as he remembered
Melissa had asked him a question. “No, we can’t just leave. Aside from the
starboard engine problems, we have a gaping hole in our rear.”

    
“And landing back on Minos is out of the question,” she agreed.

    
“It has less to do with that and more to do with that carrier out there,” Shawn
said as he inclined his head toward the 
Rhea
. “You see, they’re
obligated to help us out if we are in distress. And, by obligated, I mean
ordered to—and that means not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Besides, right now
we’re in as much distress as someone can get out here. If I don’t accept their
help I could get my license pulled.”

    
“I’m not keen on the idea of going aboard that ship,” Melissa sulked, slinking
down in her chair as if to hide her face from anyone on the carrier that might
be trying to look at her through the view port.

    
“It’s better than going back to the planet and a hell of a lot safer. Besides,
they can patch up the ship and we can be on our way.”

    
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “Will I have to leave 
Sylvia’s Delight
?”

    
Shawn pursed his lips and then looked out of the window at the fighters once
more. “I would think so.  They’ve probably already scanned the ship, and
I’m sure they’ll want to talk to anyone onboard.”

    
“So, they know I’m here?”

    
She sounded nervous. “If you’re asking if they know that
you personally are onboard, I’m fairly certain they can’t read your
DNA at this distance. Unless their scanners have vastly improved in the last
few years, all they probably know is there are three humanoid life signs on
this ship.”

    
Her nervous expression indicated that this was not at all what she wanted to
hear.

    
Shawn turned his head to her and offered her a smile. “Just relax. It’ll be
fine. It’ll be just fine. We’ll be back on our way to Corvan before you know
it.”

    
It was then that Trent came rushing through the door to gaze at the carrier.
“Whoa, now that’s a thing of beauty.
Sector Command?”

    
“Yeah,” Shawn replied.

    
“Finally, a chance to get off of this death trap.”

    
Shawn scowled at the remark.

    
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean death trap literally,” Trent corrected. “This is a
fine… fine ship we’ve got here, Skipper. Unfortunately, it’s not really a ship
anymore, since most of the propulsion systems are dead. And, someone was also
kind enough to let all of the heat out of the cargo hold… and I’m not even sure
the airlock is one-hundred percent sealed. All indications show that we’re
slowly leaking oxygen. Oh, and the water purification system is down… as well
as the waste processing units. So, I thought I’d come up and share the news
about it with you all.”

    
“Engineer’s description of the vessel’s status is confirmed,” The computer
piped up cheerfully.

    
Melissa opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the communication speaker
crackling back to life with the voice of the perturbed female flight
controller. “Your ship has been identified as a
Hypervarion
Mark-IV commercial transport, designated 
Sylvia’s Delight
. Please
confirm.”

    
Shawn leaned into the communication speaker. “That’s confirmed, 
Rhea
.”

    
“The Unified Merchant Trade Guild identifies the owner of that vessel as Shawn
Kestrel, registered civilian cargo master. Please confirm.”

    
“Confirmed, 
Rhea
.
This is Captain Shawn
Kestrel speaking,” he tried to offer his most dashing smile to no one in
particular.

    
Melissa and Trent both rolled their eyes.

    
“Prepare to lock navigational subsystems with the 
Rhea
, Captain,”
the voice said curtly. “We will slow down our data transfer rate. I’d hate to
overload your computers. Please confirm.”

    
“The computer is still working?” Trent asked in shock. “Wow, you didn’t break
everything. I’m impressed.”

    
“That won’t be necessary, 
Rhea
.” Shawn said, disregarding Trent’s
remark.

    
“Say again?” The woman asked with a slight chuckle, obviously entertained by
Shawn’s statement.

    
“I repeat, negative on your need to streamline your data. I’ve upgraded the
transfer link in my ship to Type-III specifications. As such, my systems can
handle anything you can throw at it,” then he added smartly, “Please confirm.”

    
“You’re awfully touchy about your ship’s abilities,” Melissa said mockingly.

    
There was a small burst of laughter from the 
Rhea
 which was
almost immediately silenced, probably by the acting senior communications
officer in the room. The original woman’s voice, slightly muffled, came back
online.
“Confirmed,
Sylvia’s Delight
.
Please
transmit the encryption cipher key for your computer mainframe and prepare to
lock guidance and navigational sub-systems… and don’t say we didn’t warn you if
your
CPU melts down when our computer links up.” 

    
Surprisingly, the Mark-IV’s computer didn’t offer a single response. Shawn
wondered if the computer was just as unsure about the navigational link as he
was, timidly holding its proverbial breath in anticipation.

    
Shawn kept a conscientious watch on the fighters beside his ship. Noting that
they were holding their course, he realized that they were going to escort
D
all the way into the 
Rhea
’s hangar. He turned his eyes back to the
array of control panels before him,
then
entered in
the sequence that would transmit the requisite codes to the carrier. A moment
later the spear-shaped high-output antenna folded out from the top of the
Mark-IV and began transmitting the sequence to the 
Rhea
’s flight
control officer.

    
A row of blue indicator lights began flashing in a near random sequence as the
Mark-IV’s navigational computer system and the carrier’s own began a cautious
greeting with one another. Like two boxers in a ring, the computers sized each
other up, each calculating the best method of achieving their own goals. In the
span of a few seconds—a lifetime in a computational sense—both 
Sylvia’s
Delight
 and the 
Rhea
 had met, communicated, battled,
made compromises, and finally embraced one another as kindred spirits. The once
random blue indicators now flashed in unison, giving Shawn a visual indication
that 
D
 had relinquished control of the maneuvering and
navigational systems to the 
Rhea
’s flight control officer—or more
precisely, to the 
Rhea
’s computer itself.