The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) (8 page)

    
Trent peeled his eyes away from the money and looked to Shawn
apprehensively at the mention of their small craft.
“The
skimmer?
Are you sure about that? I mean, maybe he can meet us here?”

    
“Just do it.”

    
Stepping aboard the hovering utility craft a half an hour later, Melissa was
beginning to have second thoughts about the reliability of the vehicle. What
had looked like a dull coat of red paint at a distance was actually a thin
coating of exterior rust. The twenty-four foot hover truck, with the word
Lexy
hastily painted on the curved forward section of the vessel, groaned under her
weight as Melissa stepped aboard.

    
The craft had a small, four person cabin with a wide windshield occupying its
forward half, and a slightly longer flattened area for cargo in the rear.
Mounted on either side of the stern of the vessels—at the ends of seemingly
inadequate pylons—were tube-shaped engines that barely looked adequate to
propel the work shuttle. In fact, those same engines were currently producing a
substantial haze of smoke as Melissa took an empty seat behind and to the right
of Shawn who sat impatiently at the controls. Melissa turned to see Trent, sitting
in the bed of the truck with an open toolbox at his side, which didn’t increase
her faith in the crafts dependability. When Trent had first mentioned to her
that
Lexy
—the shorthand name for
Lexington
—always seemed to break
down at the most inopportune times, she understood now that the statement
hadn’t been made in jest.  

    
Thirty minutes later the
Lexy
was on her way, hovering two feet above
the crystal clear waters of Tericeria Bay. Melissa stepped outside of the cabin
and looked into the glasslike water, pleasantly surprised at the unmolested
view. It was like looking into the largest aquarium she’d ever seen. Under the
craft, a large animal—perhaps three times the size of
Lexy
—swiftly
passed the skimmer with no warning. Melissa jumped back, startled at the
nearness of the large, spine backed creature. “What was that?”

    
Trent glanced over the side of the craft and smiled.
“Minosian
Goliath.”

    
“Is it dangerous?”

    
Trent chuckled over the whine of the engines.
“Only if
you can swim three hundred feet down.
They don’t come up any shallower
than that.”

    
“That thing is three hundred feet down? It looked like it was right under the
skimmer.”

    
“The clear water can play tricks on your eyes. Try not to stare to long.”

    
She couldn’t agree more. She stepped back into the cabin behind Shawn’s chair.
“How long until we get there?”
 

    
“About two hours,” Shawn replied over his shoulder. “It’ll be sunset by the
time we arrive.”

    
“Who are we going to see?”

    
“Jack.”

    
The simple name did nothing to quell her curiosity. “Who is this Jack person?”

    
Shawn smiled to himself while scanning the horizon. “He’s… well, he’s Jack.”

    
“That tells me a lot.”

    
Shawn let out a short laugh. “His name is Jacques De Lorme, but everyone calls
him as Jack. He’s a businessman… of sorts.”

    
De Lorme
. The name did sound familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“What sort of business does he do?”

    
“Any business that has the potential for profit.”

    
Melissa grunted. “It sounds like someone who’d be associated with you.”

    
Shawn conferred to her a look of disapproval, but quickly turned back to the
open waters ahead of
Lexy
. “Yeah… well, Jack and I go back quite a ways.
Besides, he’s got the parts we need.”

    
“So, you trust him?”

    
He jerked his head in her direction. “Me, trust Jack De Lorme? Are you out of
your mind?
No way, lady.”

    
“But you’re sure he’ll give you the parts you need?”

    
“Jack doesn’t give anything, but I’m sure he’ll sell it to us.” He nodded his
head, but his tone was far from convincing.
“Pretty sure,
anyway.”

    
“Oh, that’s reassuring.” She turned and walked back to her seat.

    
“Don’t concern yourself over Jacques De Lorme. I can handle him just fine.”

    
Melissa watched as Shawn pulled out a military issued pistol from within his
coat. Its antique patina did nothing to detract from the lethality of the
sidearm. She watched as Shawn checked its charge,
then
placed it back into a holster at his side.

    
“Who said anything about being worried?” she whispered.

    
Slightly ahead of schedule, the
Lexy
sputtered into the jetty on
Axa
Island. The long, narrow piers, lit every dozen yards
by faintly glowing orbs, seem to spread out like outstretched fingers, all
meeting at a single point—a large tavern built into the side of a rocky
outcropping and spilling over a small beach. Finding one of the last available
spaces, Shawn parked
Lexy
on top of a small, floating platform that was
barely wider than the skimmer itself.

    
   Once he’d stepped out, he instinctively offered Melissa a hand,
which she regarded dubiously. Glancing first at her skirt, then at the pier,
she weighed her options before reluctantly accepting his assistance. As her
fingers slipped over his palm, she was surprised by the softness of his hand.
The captain held her firmly as he guided her out of the skimmer and onto the
pier. Once she was squarely on the deck, the two locked eyes before
separating themselves. “Thank you, Mister Kestrel. That’s the most gentlemanly
thing you’ve done since I met you.”

    
   Her words seemed to catch him off guard. “Well, I couldn’t leave
you here by yourself. Who knows what pirate would come haul you off?”

    
  
“Really, Mister Kestrel.
Pirates,” she
chuckled, but then noticed Shawn wasn’t sharing in the absurdity she found in
his statement. “Pirates?” she repeated desolately.

    
   He nodded solemnly. “Just stick close to me, okay? And please, try
not to get into any trouble.” He turned and began walking down the long wharf
with Melissa jumping in step close behind him.

    
   Trent looked back to the skimmer and offered the little craft a
farewell wave. “See you soon, I hope,” then he rushed to take up the rear of
the troop.

*          
*           *

    
Jacques’ was raucous tonight—more so than most nights—and the fact that it was
happy hour certainly wasn’t helping. The large bar, which seemed to dominate
this whole side of the nearly mile wide island, was awash with bright lights
and loud music. The establishment consisted of three buildings, all circular in
shape, with the center building twice the diameter of the outer two. The
smaller buildings, mirrors of one another, were nothing more than conical thatched
roofs about sixty feet wide, held up by a dozen wooden poles around their
circumference. The central building had a square structure built as a second
floor, which had its own slightly oversized thatched roof. On the center of the
steeple was a large, glowing red sign that read ‘Jack’s Place’. There was a
single window in the upper portion lit from within, while the bottom floor was
dominated by an enormous bar and filled with patrons of all types.

    
For gamblers and wayward travelers, Jack’s Place was a beacon in this quadrant
of Beta Sector. At any given time, you could find a dozen different games from
just as many worlds being played in the main casino hall just inside from the
bar, or at the high rollers tables downstairs. There was even a large pool out
back that could be easily set up for water polo, aqua billiards, or the ever
popular—albeit highly dangerous and very illegal—Du’guwam of Tirana VII.

    
Shawn cautiously approached the translucent, saloon style doors separating the
interior of the bar from the deck outside, not knowing who or what might get
thrown through them at any moment. He gingerly pushed them open as he stepped
in, with Melissa and Trent close behind, and strode directly for the bar on the
opposite side of the room on a mission to find Jack De Lorme and get some
drinks, but not necessarily in that order.

    
Before he’d made it half way to his destination he was met by one of the local
merchants, an alien named Timo.

    
“Shawn Kestrel,” the squat being slurred.
“My old buddy,
Shawn.”

    
“Hey, Timo,” Shawn tried to wave off the man as he continued walking toward the
bar. Timo was a dumpy, pint-sized Polysaurian merchant captain. His short, dark
fur was sticking up from his scalp, a sure sign that the long tailed being was
inebriated. Timo was shuffling his three flip-flop clad feet across the planked
floor of the bar as he chased after Shawn.

    
“Been a long time, Shawn,” Timo continued as he came up beside him.

    
“I don’t have a lot of time to chat,” Shawn replied, paying more attention to
his destination than to the conversation. He reached into his pocket and drew
out a golden five credit coin and flipped it into the air, which was quickly
snagged by two of Timo’s three hands. “Go buy yourself another round, compliments
of the Old Flamingo. Keep the change.” He finished by giving Timo a soft pat on
his whiskered cheek, careful not to rub the neurotoxin tipped quills that
doubled as his eyebrows.

    
“Hey, thanks Shawn. You’re a real pal! You know, I never forgot about that time
on Tagus! When you did that thing with the… well, whatever it was. Man, I owe
you big time for that, old buddy. You really saved my fur.” Timo kept praising
the captain even as the small creature waddled to the bar to order his next
drink.

    
Melissa leaned curiously over Shawn’s shoulder. “What was that all about?”

    
“Long story.”

    
She found herself smiling, although she didn’t quite know why. “Maybe you’ll
tell me about it sometime.”

 
   
“Yeah.
Maybe.”

    
Shawn arrived at the counter and caught the attention of the bartender. The
barkeep, a rather large and scaly creature with long black tusks, asked Shawn
what he’d like.

    
“Tell Jack that Captain Shawn Kestrel is here. He’s expecting me.”

    
“I
ain’t
no
messenger,
Earther
.”

    
Shawn wordlessly tossed him… her… it a gold coin, similar to the one he’d given
Timo, and the bartender acknowledged with a nod. However, before he ambled
away, the creature jerked his head in Melissa’s direction. Shawn slowly spun to
see two surly looking patrons, a human male and a fish-faced
Erkelian
, slowly approaching Melissa, who wasn’t right
behind him where she should have been. From nowhere a crowd had quickly formed,
blocking every available route to the young woman.

    
As soon as the tall, thin, inebriated human outstretched his hand to grab her,
Melissa had him doubled over with a kick to the stomach. When the
Erkelian’s
unblinking, saucer like eyes saw his buddy lying
in a heap on the
floor,
he lunged at Melissa with
webbed fists flying. “Wench,” he snarled.

    
She was ready for him before he got within five feet of her. As he came within
range, she smoothly stepped aside, allowing his momentum to carry him past her
before dealing a strong kick to his backside that sent him crashing through a
table near the bottom of a narrow staircase. The bar went silent, everyone
staring at her and the two men on the floor—Shawn included. Using the lull in
the fighting to extricate himself from the bar, he deftly moved to her side.

    
It was just as well, because two additional men, both humans this time, came to
the aid of the fallen friends. One rushed Melissa, the other intent on taking
down Shawn. The captain tried a maneuver similar to Melissa’s, but
couldn’t side step the man fast enough, instead getting tripped up and losing
his balance. The drunk took the offered advantage and swung a wild left hook
that connected with the side of the captain’s mouth. Stunned but not defeated,
Shawn, using the full power of his weight, planted one foot into the floor and
the other into the drunks’ abdomen, sending the assailant sailing backwards
over a table and into a transparent purple piano at the end of the bar. With
the thunderous tang of an F-minor chord, the man slowly rolled to his belly and
slithered out of the bar.

    
Meanwhile, Melissa and her assailant were having a standoff around another
small table. Surmising that she had no escape in either direction, the bronze
skinned man brazenly attempted to leap over the table, but with mixed results.
While he’d managed to get his meaty hands on Melissa’s waist, the cost was at
his own footing. He was now sprawled across the tabletop. Melissa dropped an
elbow between his shoulder blades, causing him to instantly release his already
faltering grasp on her. In a blur that was nearly too fast to catch, Shawn
watched as she crouched down and swept her legs under the table, taking out two
of its supports before she rolled and stood to its side. The attacker looked to
her nervously as the table slowly teetered, then with a loud creek fell
forward, sending the drunk face down into the unforgiving wooden floor,
knocking him out cold.

    
Shawn rushed to her flank. “Hey, I thought I said no trouble.”

    
“It’s not my fault,” she offered defensively as she straightened her still
pristine skirt. “Besides, they accosted me and got what they deserved.”

    
“And then some,” he agreed without reservation. “By the way, remind me to never
piss you off.”