The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) (28 page)

    
“Yeah, well—” Trent looked back in the cargo hold as he began to scratch his
head. “You have a point there, Skipper.” Then he turned back to Shawn in a look
of desperation. “But, for pity’s sake… those were my tools, man.” 

    
“I’ll get you some more,” Shawn replied confidently. “In fact, I’m sure Miss
Graves will be willing to help cover those costs,” he said as he smiled at her.
“After all, the only reason we’re out here in the first place is because of
her.”

    
She looked to Trent, who was slowly nodding his head in approval. She turned
back to Shawn, who’d effortlessly made her the scapegoat, and shook her head in
amazement. “You’re unbelievable.”

    
He turned and began to walk away, not really knowing where he was going, but
sure of whom he needed to find. “Duty officer!” he screamed to anyone
listening.

    
As he wandered across the deck, Shawn watched as the two interceptors that had
come to their rescue were secured in their respective alcoves in a bay across
from the Mark-IV. The two pilots extricated themselves from their vessels in a
well-rehearsed manner,
then
made straight for Shawn’s
position. The first pilot removed his helmet when they were within speaking
distance of Shawn. With a flip of his head, a swath of black hair fluttered out
from under the helmet, and Shawn immediately noticed that it wasn’t a
him
at all, but a very attractive
her
. She outstretched a black gloved hand
and Shawn took it lightly. Her grip was quite extraordinary.

    
“Lieutenant Commander Roslyn Brunel,” she offered with the same dashing smile
that every pilot seemed to be issued in flight school.

    
“Shawn Kestrel, Captain of—”

    
“
Sylvia’s Delight
,” she finished for him,
then
offered an almost imperceptible wink that didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa.
“Mighty fine flying out there, Captain.”

    
Shawn found himself smiling back at the fair skinned, dark haired officer.
“Same to you, Commander.”

    
“I never would have guessed that a ship like yours could survive a brawl with a
couple of Temkorian fighters,” Brunel continued.

    
“There were four to begin with,” Shawn said with confidence. “I managed to take
out two before you showed up.”

    
Brunel smiled widely. “That’s
very
interesting, Captain.
Very interesting, indeed.”

    
Melissa stepped around Shawn, placing herself between the mutual admiration
society
with an outstretched hand. “And I’m—”

    
“Melissa Graves,” Brunel said with a curt nod and, as she took the woman’s
hand, her smile all but vanished.
“Yes, ma’am.
I know
who you are. In fact, I know a great deal about both of you.”

    
Shawn frowned as he folded his arms across his chest. “And how is that,
Commander?”

    
Melissa caught an unmistakable sparkle in Brunel’s eyes as the commander turned
her attention back to Shawn. “I’m afraid I can’t speak about that right now,”
she offered politely. “However, I’ve been ordered to escort both of you to the
main briefing room where we will meet with the captain. He’ll explain
everything to you at that time.”

    
“He needs to see us both?” Melissa asked, trying to sound confident as she
locked eyes with the female pilot.

    
“Yes ma’am,” Roslyn replied as if she were about to scold a small child. “He
was quite adamant that both of you be present for the debriefing.”

    
“Fine.
Great,” Shawn unfolded his arms and placed his
hands on his hips, “let’s just get it over with. I’m sure he’s got better
things to do than deal with a couple of vagabonds like us.”

    
Brunel’s dark eyes narrowed as the corners of her mouth turned upwards into a
near smile. “You’d be surprised, Captain.”

    
Melissa couldn’t help staring at the captain incredulously.
“Vagabonds?
Do I look like some sort of drifter to you?”

    
Brunel motioned towards a small door on the side of the hangar not far from
their current position.
“If you’ll both follow me, please.
And don’t fall behind. You have no idea how immense this ship is. You’ll likely
get lost if you’re more than a few paces behind me.” And with that, she turned
sharply on her heel and strode gracefully towards the hatch.

    
It didn’t take long for Melissa to realize that Lieutenant Commander Brunel’s
remark about the enormous size of the 
Rhea
 hadn’t been an
understatement. Even the state-of-the-art heavy carriers, the last of
which was built five years before the 
Rhea
, seemed to pale in comparison
to the sheer size and internal volume of this new ship.

    
Within moments of leaving the openness of the hangar deck, Melissa found
herself in a maze of brightly lit corridors, twisting and turning until she
lost all orientation. Having already traversed three levels, the only thing
seemingly different from one to the next was the banded color of paint that
outlined each section of flooring, although there were probably other small
nuances to distinguish them that were oblivious to the unaccustomed eye. She
and Shawn, following closely behind Brunel, had started their journey on the
red-trimmed hangar deck, and now found themselves on the yellow accented armory
deck.

    
They trio came to yet another mechanical door, one no different than any of the
other dozen they’d already slipped through, and it slid open silently before
them. Instead of another corridor, Melissa noted that they had walked into
another open bay, equal in length to the main fighter hangar, but only a third
of the width. High in the overhead, the evenly spaced white glow of
floodlighting dimly illuminated the long hold. Melissa’s eyes went wide as she
scanned the vehicles and equipment that were organized neatly along the
compartments bulkheads.

    
Where the flight hangar had been a bustle of activity, she and Shawn—along with
Commander Brunel—were the lone occupants of this enormous military equipment
hold. The sounds of their respective boot heels clicking on the floor echoed
off the towering walls as they made their way down the center of the space. The
enormousness of the void made her uncomfortable and, had the questions been
asked, she would have been startled to know that Shawn was feeling the same
thing and for exactly the same reasons as they trailed being their lone escort.
She instead looked to him in silence, watching him size up the various pieces
of equipment in the hold.

    
Parked on either side of the bay, with their angular barrels
facing one another, were two rows of XT-19 Unified Marine
hovertanks
.
 
At over nineteen feet long, they were the largest cavalry unit the marines
deployed with. They had an overall wedge shape to them, wide in the rear and
tapering to the front where the air inlet grills were positioned. The turret,
placed far back on the centerline, housed
a lone
,
single barreled accelerator cannon as its primary weapon. On top of the turret
was a quad barreled gun, which Shawn recognized as a rapid fire laser battery.
The XT-19’s thickly armored hulls were painted in alternating patterns of
monochromatic grey camouflage, save for the last two in the row, which were
painted a flat black.

    
Aft of the tanks, in crates stacked in four clusters of twenty-seven each, were
military issue hover bikes. Each metallic crate measured around five square
feet. On the side of each container, adjacent to the label that indicated the
contents of the crate, was a small red button. Shawn knew that, once pressed,
the box itself would automatically unfurl and the single seat hover bike would
initialize itself for its user. Shawn had experienced the maneuverability and
speed of these agile little machines on more than one occasion, and now
wondered why he’d never bothered to pick up a surplus one for his own amusement.

    
After the hover bikes, parked in four rows of two each, were what
was
affectionately known as ‘crawlers’. These one-man
artillery vehicles were six-legged infantry units, used mainly for urban
assault or jungle warfare, and could scale nearly anything placed before them.
The main body module could be outfitted with various weapons, from mortars to
flamethrowers. Currently, each appeared to be armed with the same twenty
millimeter
photocannon
. 

    
Finally, at the opposite end of the bay from where they entered, Shawn saw a
trio of forklifts parked neatly next to the imposing metal wall.

    
“What’s all this about?” he asked before they exited the space. “I don’t recall
asking for the grand tour.”

    
Brunel seemed to pay his statement little mind as they continued forward. “This
is one of the equipment holds for the Second Marine Expeditionary Unit.”

    
“Just one of the holds?”
Melissa replied in disbelief.

    
“That’s right,” Roslyn replied, and although he couldn’t see it, Shawn had no
doubts that she was smiling broadly as she said it. The twinge of pride in her
voice was unmistakable. “This is one of three identical holds for the Second
EU. The Fourth, Sixth, and Tenth EU’s have storage areas on this deck as well,
and also on the one below us.”

    
“What happened to the Eighth unit?” Melissa asked as her head swiveled around
the room a final time. She didn’t hear the sound of the commander’s footsteps
coming to a halt. Had she not turned to face Roslyn at the last moment, Melissa
would have run surely headlong into the Lieutenant Commander’s nose. Mere
inches from the woman’s face, Melissa smiled awkwardly and backed up a pace.

    
“What did you say?” Brunel asked flatly.

    
Melissa was startled, both by the abrupt stop and the glare coming from the
woman’s near black eyes. “You said the Second, Fourth, Sixth, and Tenth marine
units have their equipment on board. Shouldn’t there also be an Eighth on
the 
Rhea
 as well?”

    
Brunel pursed her lips and nodded somberly. “There was an Eighth. That was…
until a month ago.”

    
“What happened?” Melissa asked with curiosity.

    
Brunel shifted her eyes from Melissa to Shawn uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I
can’t speak about it. It’s classified.”

    
There seems to be quite a bit of that going on around here
, Shawn
thought. 
And I have a feeling your commanding officer isn’t going to be
as open as I’d like him to be about it.
Still, Brunel had brought them down
here for a reason. On a ship this large, there was surely at least six ways to
get to the briefing rooms from the flight deck, and none of them would have
required a stroll through the armory. Brunel was definitely trying to say
something she wasn’t allowed to verbalize, and it was important enough to her
that it
be
done before they reached their destination.
While Shawn couldn’t piece her motives completely together, the gesture itself
wasn’t lost on him. “Well, I’d still like to thank you for saving us out
there.”

    
Roslyn smiled, dropping her defenses for a moment. “That really isn’t necessary,
Captain Kestrel. It’s just part of the job.”

    
Knowing that it would be some time before 
Sylvia’s Delight
 was
repaired, and hoping he might be able to get more information from her in the
near future, he tried to offer her a way to provide it.
“Nonsense.
Maybe we can grab a drink in the officer’s lounge later under less formal
circumstances?”

    
The commander smiled, and it looked as if she were seriously considering the
offer. Before she could answer, however, Melissa piped in. “I believe your CO
is waiting for us, Commander.”

    
The smile faded and Roslyn nodded curtly.
“Exactly right,
Miss Graves.
They’ll be time enough for less official duties later.” She
turned sharply, her thick long hair whipping behind her and nearly colliding
with Shawn’s face as her heels thudded against the metal floor of the cargo
deck.

    
Shawn turned quickly to Melissa and lowered his voice barely above a whisper.
“What the hell was all that about? I thought you didn’t want to see the old
man? Now it sounds like you can’t wait to be in his presence.”

    
Melissa scowled at him in response. “You heard the lady, Mister Kestrel.
They’ll be time for a less formal chat later, whatever 
that
 means.”
She turned to follow the commander, but then spun around quickly before she
took another step. “And, just because we’re following her, it doesn’t mean you
have to 
follow
 her. There’s such a thing as manners, you
know?” She turned abruptly and took three long strides to cover the distance
between herself and the retreating Lieutenant Commander. Meanwhile, Brunel had
stepped into what looked like a brightly lit elevator.

    
Shawn looked to the overhead and raised his hands in appeal, wondering what
he’d done to deserve all of this. Just as he was about to ask as much aloud, Both
Melissa and Brunel’s voice rang out in unison. “Let’s go, Captain.”

*          
*           *

    
Save for the rhythmic pulsations of the
repulsers
that propelled the elevator along its tracks, the ride to the upper decks of
the 
Rhea
 was silent. Brunel was still being tight lipped about
what was going on, and both Shawn and Melissa had had the good sense to stop
asking questions about it. Shawn, standing behind the two women who were
shoulder-to-shoulder with one another, idly looked around the confines of the
capsule-shaped elevator. While it was large enough to easily hold three times
as many people, the conveyer somehow felt exceedingly crowded. As he turned his
head towards the doors, he glimpsed down between the women at the level indicator
and, noting how high in the ship they were going, let a slow whistle escape his
lips as his mind took in the sheer size of the vessel.