The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) (34 page)

    
Trent looked shocked. “Captain, I’m appalled that you think my emotional
connection to this can be bought.”

    
“Uh-huh,” Shawn nodded. “How much did you say?”

    
“I’m sorry, Captain. You must have me confused with someone with less scruples.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, those technicians bungled the installation of the new
starboard bulkhead in the cargo hold. Two of the main power flow conduits were
severed, and I now have to nullify their neutrino matrix resonations,” he
replied flatly, turning back to the computer and entering the commands into the
smooth keyboard.

    
“Well, I’m truly sorry,” Shawn said as he got up to leave the cockpit. Just as
he was at the door, there was a cough from the copilot’s chair. He turned to
see Trent holding his hand to his mouth, which was followed by another fit of
coughing. “You okay?” Shawn asked.

    
“Yeah, I think so… maybe.” This was followed by yet another round of
expulsions.

    
“Is there anything I can get you?”

    
“Well, now that you mentioned it…”

    
“Yes?” 
Here it comes
, Shawn thought.

    
“Well, I noticed on the 
Rhea
’s parts manifest shows that they have
a few graviton coils lying around in storage.”

    
“Graviton coils?” Shawn smiled and repeated.

    
“Yeah,” he
rasped,
his voice scratchy. “Wow, this must
be getting really bad. So, since you’re going to pick up the coils, you may
want to just pick up a new baseline diagnostic terminal while you’re there… the
one with a spectrum analyzer and sequential optical inputs.”

    
Shawn nodded slowly. “Baseline diagnostic terminal…”

    
“Yes.
And a new waveguide splicer.”

    
“Waveguide splicer,” he repeated, continuing to nod deftly at the mechanic.

    
Suddenly, without looking in Shawn’s direction, Trent held up a scrap of paper
over his shoulder. “I took the liberty of writing down the model numbers, bin
locations, and general physical characteristics of each piece, plus a few other
assorted things you could get if you have the time.”

    
Shawn stepped up with a smirk and retrieved the list in time for another round
of coughs. “And this is going to make your little… uh…
problem
go
away?”

   
 Trent turned to him, smiling like a small child who’d just been
asked if his tummy felt better.
“Yes, sir.
I’m sure
I’ll feel great after you pick up those things.”

    
Shawn couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I’m sure. So, before I go shopping, can
we get back to how the repairs to the rest of the ship are coming along?”

    
The mechanic brightened up, all traces of infirmity gone. “Well, these fleet
techs got her back to operational shape, but it’s far from the best work I’ve
ever seen.”

    
“Good enough to get us home?”

    
Trent’s head wavered from side to side. “Sure, if you can manage to avoid
getting us into any more scuffles with Temkorian fighters.”

    
Shawn folded his arms defiantly. “Meaning what, exactly?”

    
“Hey, I’m just throwing that out there. All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t try
to push these engines in the state they’re in. So, if we
pet
them really nice, say a few encouraging things to them, and promise them a warm
oil bath when we get home, we just might make it without any problems.”

    
“Aren’t the engines fully repaired?”

    
“Yeah, but only to safe operational condition.
They
may still act a little wonky at higher speeds.”

    
“And there’s nothing else you can do?”

    
“Sure there is. We could replace the engines themselves. Heck, they even have a
near direct replacement in stock on the 
Rhea
, considering the
typical Mark-IV uses the same basic engines as the L-22 Mammoth that Sector
Command assigns to logistic squadrons. We’d see an increase in range, smoother
operation, and far better fuel efficiency.”

    
“You planned this out already, have you?”

    
“Are you kidding? There’s a pair of engines sitting on the far side of the
hangar right now. I would have had the swap done already if we had the time. If
we can stick around for another three hours, I’m sure I could—”

    
“No. That’s not going to happen. Just make sure you can get us home with what
we’ve got.”

    
“Sure. I think I have a few rolls of duct tape in the back that should do the
trick.”

    
Shawn shook his head in incredulity. “I am so glad to have the best mechanic in
Beta Sector at my side right now.”

    
Trent disregarded the sarcastic tone in Shawn’s voice and grinned widely
as he continued to enter diagnostic requests into the navigational computer.
“Ah, don’t mention it, Captain. I’m just glad to be here, you know?”

    
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

    
Trent initiated the particle detector with his left hand, giving Shawn a
dismissive wave with his right. “I know, I know. But please, stop. You’re
embarrassing me.”

    
“I’m going back aft to check the medical supplies. You think you and your ego
can manage up here for
awhile
without me?”

    
Trent paid little attention to Shawn as he watched the detector’s gauge
slide from yellow to green, indicating that the forward sensor array was
operating within specifications. “Sure, boss.
Whatever you
say.
Oh, and don’t forget about my list, and maybe grab me a glass of
water on your way back. I think I feel that cough coming on again.”

    
Shawn quickly moved out of the cockpit before Trent could add anything else to
his list of demands.

*          
*           *

    
As he entered the small lounge between the control deck and the berthing
passageway, Shawn lifted the bottom of the bench seat on the starboard wall to
inspect the contents. Reaching inside, he withdrew a makeshift prop rod that would
hold the seat bottom up as he rummaged through the supplies. He moved aside
several small, translucent bags and extracted the small medical kit, itself not
more than a simple white container with only the most basic of supplies. He
inventoried the contents, checking to see if he was missing anything he would
need before 
Sylvia’s Delight
 parted company with the 
Rhea
.
After all, it was against USC policy to allow a ship to leave a government
controlled port or ship without proper medical supplies, and Shawn was adamant
about getting as much out of the 
Rhea
’s supply stores as he could
while it didn’t cost him anything. In the distance, he overheard the fleet
technicians cycling the aft cargo hatch once more, causing a soft vibration to
reverberate throughout the hull as they did so. When Shawn finished creating a
mental list of needed supplies, he placed the kit back in the far corner of the
under-seat compartment and reorganized the remainder of the contents as he’d
found them.

    
As he shuffled the materials in the tight space, he failed to hear the airlock
door slide open. Due to his precarious position—with his head buried deep in
under the seat—he also failed to hear the muted footfalls of someone
approaching stealthily from behind.

    
Shawn was having a hard time getting the medical kit stowed properly, and
realized that the vintage shotgun he kept under the seat was interfering with
more than a few emergency items in the cramped space. He reached for the
weapon, shaking it furiously as he tried to dislodge it from its jammed
location. 
There must be a better way to organize all of this stuff.

    
“Captain Kestrel?”

    
The sound came as a complete surprise to the captain. Shawn quickly yanked his
shoulder back, knocking off the prop rod in the process, which in turn caused
the seat bottom to come crashing down on his shoulders. Momentarily trapped
with his upper torso inside the storage compartment, he flailed about for an
instant and grabbed for the shotgun—which had somehow come loose in the commotion.
In a fraction of a second he’d extricated himself, slumped back on the floor
against the seat frame, and fanned the weapon around the room in search of his
would be assailant.

    
The firearm was somewhat lighter than he remembered as his eyes fell on Melissa
Graves. Shawn looked at her through
slitted
eyes.
“Oh, it’s just you. Perfect.”

    
“Thanks,” she replied cynically.

    
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. I could have killed you, you
know?”

    
“Are we going for a swim?” She asked, smiling broadly.

    
“What?”

    
She pointed a dainty finger at Shawn’s firearm—which wasn’t a firearm at all.
In his haste to get out from under the seat, he’d managed to withdraw one of
the ores for the emergency inflatable boat. “I’m afraid you aren’t going to do
much damage with that, Captain.”

    
“That depends on who’s on the receiving end. I have a good mind to bend you
over my knee and use this thing on you.” He then tossed the ore aside and
slowly stood up.  

    
Melissa stifled a smile at Shawn’s predicament. “And just what is that supposed
to mean?”

    
“Never mind,” he said as he straightened out his shirt and sighed deeply.
“More uncouth pilot jargon.
I have to admit, I’m surprised
to see you here.”

    
“I’m a bit shocked myself.”

    
Shawn regarded her in silence for a moment, not knowing where to begin.
Unfortunately, there were things to be done before 
D
 got
underway, and the captain had little time for staring contests or silent
treatments.

    
“What do you want?” His heart wanted the words to be softer, but his mouth
delivered them like a judo punch.

    
Melissa shuffled her feet before she spoke. “I came to… apologize.”

    
“For hitting me?”

 
   
“For lying to you.”
She said softly.

    
“But not for hitting me?”

    
“You deserved it.”

    
“I deserved you lying to me?”

    
“No, you fully deserved me hitting you.”

    
“And what about the lying?”

    
“I said, I was sorry.”

    
“But you’re saying I deserved it?”

    
“The hitting?”

    
“No!
The lying!”

    
“No, you didn’t.”

    
“Then why’d you do it?!” His hands flew to his hips.

    
“Because—”

    
“Because…
“ In
their banter, he didn’t realize that it
was her turn to give an explanation before he cut her off. His expression
softened as he tried to salvage what remained of their conversation.
“Because of what?”

    
Melissa was still in her flight suit, her very formfitting flight suit. With
her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and her green eyes sparkling, she
looked every bit as lovely as she did the first time he laid eyes on her. That,
he reminded himself, was the whole problem. After all this time, he was still a
sucker, and she’d played him for one from the beginning.

    
“Because I didn’t think you would help me if you knew that I was with the OSI”

    
“Yeah?
Well, you’d have been right.”

    
“There! You see,” she countered. “I was completely justified.”

    
Where did she get off thinking she was justified?
 ”Now you wait
just a minute…”

    
“No, sir.
You wait a minute!” she raised, stepping up
to him with a finger pointed at his chest. “I asked you for help at first
because I needed it. You knew things I didn’t have access to… you knew my
father.”

    
“What do you mean you didn’t have access? You’re some fancy intelligence agent,
right? Don’t you have access to everything?”

    
“It may surprise you to know, Mister Kestrel, that not all OSI agents have
access to every file in our database. There is something called ‘privileged
information’.” Melissa began to calm herself down as she continued to speak.
“Besides, most of the files had been sealed to a level above my authorization.”

    
“Well, what made you think I was going to know
anymore
than you did? It’s not like I have access to—” then it dawned on him. He nodded
approvingly at her craftiness. “So, you were hoping I’d take you to see Toyo?”

    
She folded her arms and shrugged, looking at him defensively. “I may have had
some small part in arranging that impromptu meeting.”

    
“You… but, how?”

    
She raised a soft eyebrow.
“Really?
You’re going to
ask a senior level OSI agent how she managed to organize a conversation with
another covert
agent?
Isn’t that a bit like one
fighter pilot asking another one how to…I don’t know… land or something?”

    
So, Toyo was still an active agent?
 Shawn scoffed as he leaned
against the far bulkhead. “Did he tell you what you wanted to hear?”

    
She smiled thinly.
“More or less.”

    
Her expression was impossible to read. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

    
“I wish I could say,” she sighed as she cast her eyes momentarily to the deck.

    
“You know,” he replied defiantly, “I risked my ass out there for you. You could
at least humor me.”

    
She turned away in frustration, and the ensuing silence told Shawn that his
line of questioning was over. He decided to try something else. “Speaking of
the OSI, how did your meeting with the Director go?”