He chuckled at the recollection, remembering fondly that Graves had even taken to inventing a few new choice words to describe Shawn’s recklessness, but then Shawn brushed the memory aside and finished deciphering the day’s weather details. “Special Report as of thirteen-thirty local time,” he read aloud to the empty office. “Ceiling estimated at five-thousand feet, sky clear, lower scattered clouds at sixteen-hundred feet, visibility twenty miles; temperature seventy-five degrees; winds northwest at five knots.” A perfect day to get out of trouble. He smiled once again at the blinds as they came to a slow halt. He gave the computer a thoughtful glance, as if he were saying goodbye to an old friend for the last time, then tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. With my luck, at the end of all this I’ll either have enough money to buy a new one or I’ll be dead.
*
With the loading complete, the captain called both Trent and Melissa into an impromptu meeting inside the hangar. He took the time to remind them that the delivery shouldn’t take long, and that he wasn’t expecting the same type of trouble that’d occurred at Jack’s Place. Melissa had scoffed at him, saying something about it being his own fault in the first place, and that the captain shouldn’t be associating with known pirates to begin with.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about it, because you’re both staying right here.”
A broad smile indicated Trent seemed perfectly content with that bit of news. Melissa’s expression was surprisingly blank.
“Keep an eye on her while I’m gone,” Shawn said to Trent as he tilted his head towards Melissa, then turned to leave the hangar.
Trent looked to Melissa, who, unseen by Shawn, looked to the mechanic with a devilish smile and a wink. He shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling inadequate for the assigned task. “Oh… I think she can look after herself just fine, Captain.”
Outside the hangar, just as Shawn neared the ship, an additional shadow cast itself across the side of the waiting transport. He turned, not entirely surprised to see Melissa Graves standing behind him. He glared at her, presenting a strong look of disapproval, which only seemed to strengthen her resolve. She attempted to walk past him, but a quick sidestep brought the captain back into her path.
“I thought I just made it perfectly clear you were staying here.”
She stepped within whispering distance, and Shawn was amazed he could hear her hushed voice so clearly over the din of the engines. “You did. Now I’m making it perfectly clear that I’m going whether you like it or not. I’d hate to think you’re out there gallivanting around when there’s real work to be done.”
He folded his arms in defense. “I never gallivant, nor do I roam, meander, or wander. Ever. Remarkably, that’s also about as often as I take nonpaying, unwanted passengers with me on my runs.”
“My fair share, Captain, got your engines running. As far as being unwanted, I don’t really care. Now, either you let me pass, or I’ll make you. Either way, I’m going.”
Her determination on this matter seemed undeniable. In truth, there was a part of Shawn that feared what she might do if he continued to say no. Besides, what harm could it really do?
“Fine. You can come, but don’t touch anything… and don’t get out of your seat. Follow those rules and everything will be just dandy. Don’t do what I say and I’ll open the door for you personally at two-thousand feet and show you out. Remember, no matter what you think or say, I’m the Captain of the ship, and my decisions are final.” Something inside him, however, told him that everything he’d just told her was, at some point, going to be completely ignored.
Melissa nodded her head slowly in acceptance, and he didn’t believe a single second of it. So why was he allowing this to go on?
“Good,” he turned and slapped his palm against the hatch release. He moved away from the opening and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “Welcome aboard Sylvia’s Delight, and please watch your step.”
Melissa stepped into a roomy, lounge-like compartment and approached a seat near the compartments only view port, which was situated on the starboard side of the vessel. She lightly wiped the blue material off with her hand, seeing a small cloud of dust erupt from the unused cushion. After a small sneezing fit, Shawn stepped up and leaned over her shoulder.
“We haven’t seen many passengers lately,” he smiled, then walked toward the cockpit.
Melissa resigned herself to a dirty bottom and reluctantly sat down. Withdrawing a handkerchief from her purse, she dabbed at a spot of something brown and sticky on the armrest. Having terminated the spot, she attached her seatbelt and leaned back in the chair, the cushions squeaking under her diminutive weight. After getting as comfortable as the furniture would allow, she craned her head around the inside of the cramped vessel.
The compartment seemed to be invisibly bisected, with one half dedicated to seating and the other side left uncluttered—save for a computer terminal and storage locker on the bulkhead. The arrangement afforded a wide walkway between the door to the control deck at one end and a closed hatch to Melissa’s left that led aft. Directly in front of her was the back of an L-shaped couch that wrapped around a small circular table and one additional chair. On the far side of the cabin, to the right of the control room hatch, was a small wash basin and a set of lockers. Looking toward the open control deck hatch, she watched as the captain flipped at switches, turned knobs, and manipulated controls on various touch sensitive screens. There was also a female voice emanating from the room, but it was too far away for an accurate translation. The captain wore the unmistakable visage of concern.
“Mister Kestrel,” she asked, but received no reply. “Excuse me, Mister Kestrel?” this time she elevated her voice. Still, there was no acknowledgement.
The engines came online and the entire vessel began to shudder. Melissa involuntarily gripped at the armrests, only then realizing that she hadn’t completely eradicated the gooey brown substance for its surface. “Mister Kestrel!” She was now yelling across the fifteen or so feet that separated the two.
Shawn glowered at her over his shoulder. “What?”
“Are you sure we can takeoff? We’ve got a lot of cargo back there.”
Shawn turned and shifted his eyes to the hatch on Melissa right, peering with implied x-ray vision into the cargo hold beyond. He could mentally see the crates of weapons stacked evenly throughout the back of the ship, weighing in at an average of two-hundred pounds each. He quickly did the math in his head once more, then shouted back to Melissa. “We’ll be fine. I do this all the time.”
She never felt like she’d made more of a mistake than she did at that moment. “Why do I not believe you?”
He turned back to the control panel, slowly nodded and repeating silently to himself that things would indeed be fine.
Although he couldn’t see her, she’d crossed her arms and was looking at the back of his head incredulously.
Shawn clicked on the transmitter, linking himself once again to Trent’s receiver. Deciding that closing the cabin door would only alarm his passenger, he attempted to speak low enough that she wouldn’t hear. “You checked the weight of everything first, right?
“Of course. Just like always. But, I’d still be a little cautious on takeoff. You’re slightly over your max weight.”
“I was thinking the same thing. By how much, exactly.”
There was an unnerving pause. “Oh, just a little more power on your ascent and you’ll be fine.”
“You’re positive?”
There was a burst of static on the line before a response came back through. “Sorry, Captain, you’re breaking up. Must be a faulty transmitter. I’m going to have to sign off and fix this thing. See you when you get back.”
Shawn swore that Trent was blowing air into the microphone. The captain looked out of the window and saw Trent waving a hearty good bye. Shawn extended his middle finger up to the view port, then rotated his chair back to the controls, satisfied that he’d gotten in the last word.
Reaching up with his left hand, he gradually pushed the igniter lever. The two impellors at the aft end of the ship began to spin faster and faster, their soft blue glow turning brighter with each revolution. The Mark-IV started to vibrate sluggishly with the rhythmic pulsations caused by the engines.
“A little more power,” Shawn said to himself. “Okay, if you say so.” He quickly moved the throttles to their mid-position.
The sudden acceleration caused Melissa to be pulled into the back of her seat as Sylvia’s Delight launched away from the pad. If she gripped the hand rests any tighter she was sure they would be crushed. She looked out of the small view port and saw ocean spray pelting the side of the craft as the ship hovered only a few feet from the surface of the water. An image of being eaten alive by a Minosian Goliath flashed across her mind. Her eyes darted to the cockpit, and she watched as Shawn pulled back forcefully on the control stick. For a split-second she felt the vessel glide upwards, but then it slapped against the surface of the water and skipped off like a stone on a pond. Something was definitely wrong.
With the internal stabilizers kicking in, she was finally able to lean forward in her seat. “Mister Kestrel! I would very much like to take off now!”
Shawn didn’t look back; he simply pulled as hard as he could on the control stick. “Yeah lady? Me too!” He pealed one hand away from the stick and slid the throttle control to full forward.
Sylvia’s Delight dashed into the air, as if the tension on a coiled spring had suddenly been released. Melissa could feel the sinking of her stomach as gravity tried to pull the ship—and her innards—back down. The vessel’s shaking had lessened while the whine of the engines had gotten louder. Melissa again looked out the window and saw the ocean and the island chain falling slowly behind them. She turned to face the cockpit and was greeted with the captain’s cheerful face smiling directly at her.
She released her grip on the sticky armrest and wiped her hands with a moist napkin. “I hope you end this flight better than it’s begun.”
Beaming, he swiveled back to the forward view port just as the azure sky slowly gave way to the unveiled stars beyond. Content to finally be back out amongst the heavens, Shawn sighed lightly as he sank a little deeper into the immensely comfortable pilot’s seat.
Chapter 5
The soothing vibrations produced by the ships engines, coupled with the steady stream of pinpoint stars floating past the view port, threatened to put Melissa into a deep slumber if she stared at them much longer. As her eyelids became heavy, her thoughts drifted back to cherished memories of her father. She thought of her childhood, and the precious few moments she felt they’d spent together because of his military obligations. After all, there had been a war going on, and she’d tried desperately not to blame him for having to go off and fight.
Of course, Sector Command did it’s best to keep families close to one another when they could. She remembered having to move from one planet to the next, from base to orbital station and back, changing her life in an instant. At first she’d gain friends, only to lose them when her father’s current rotation was up. After a few years, she stopped trying to form strong bonds with anyone. It was just easier that way.
Melissa’s teenage years had been the hardest time for her, but she’d remained strong for her father’s sake. She’d promised herself from a young age that she would never disappoint such a great man. She stuck to her studies through three different high schools, finally graduating with honors just before William changed posts once again—this time to the frontlines.
She thought back to the last time they were together on Thress. The newly appointed admiral had taken two days leave from his post to meet in their home city of New Wendell just over a year ago. They’d dined together that evening, and he’d told her that he loved her, and that he was very proud of her accomplishments. He spoke of going away on a special mission for Sector Command, and that he wasn’t sure if he’d be back anytime soon. They’d exchanged the typical father-daughter formalities she’d become so accustomed to, a sometimes heart wrenching routine she secretly feared would never be broken. Then he was gone.
Melissa reached into her satchel and withdrew the final letter her father had sent. She didn’t need to read it again, having committed it’s entirety to memory. Instead, she regarded the envelope for the tenth time. It was white, unassuming, sent with no return address. Sighing, she stared at the colorful postmark and tried to make sense of a puzzle that was missing half its pieces.
“Felda City, Corvan,” she read aloud. Corvan was little more than a backwater research outpost—a far cry from the impressive research station it had once been. It was situated well beyond UCS sanctioned space, lying near the far edge of the former Outer Sphere in a desolate region once called ‘the frontier’. Its proximity to Kafaran space had driven away nearly every reputable scientist that had once studied there. She examined the envelope a few seconds more, then placed it back into the satchel. Melissa eyed the cockpit and, assuming the captain was preoccupied with the ships operation, decided to take a closer look without asking permission.
Melissa walked up to the half dozen steps leading to the cockpit and positioned herself behind Shawn’s seat. She peered over his shoulder, giving the cluttered instrument panel a quick study in the process. It wasn’t much different than any other ship she’d been in before. The black paint, applied at the Hypervarion factory decades ago, had peeled in several places, revealing the silvery metal alloy beneath. There were a few holes in the panel, indicating gauges had been removed and were not yet reinstalled. Melissa hoped they weren’t for measuring anything important. She looked to the copilots seat to the captain’s right, noticing that the green canvas cover had been hastily sewn together in several places. She placed her hand on the back of the pilots chair and leaned in for a closer look at the navigation chart, stopping when she suddenly heard the distinct high-pitch whine of a blasters safety switch being cycled off.
Seeing that Shawn’s attention was still focused outside of the main view port, she smiled sarcastically and looked down to his lap. There was his pistol and, as she looked down, noticed its green laser sight had placed a small dot on the top of her chest. Melissa looked back up, and it was then that she noticed the small mirror hanging above the instrument panel, only visible if you were this close to the captain’s chair.
“Is that really necessary?” she leaned in and spoke into his ear.
He turned to face her. When she didn’t retreat, he held his nose less than an inch from hers. “I thought I told you to stay in your seat.”
Her eyes flickered down to his gun. “You know, this is no way to start a conversation.”
Shawn smiled nonchalantly. “Who said I was looking to start one?”
“Are you going to shoot me?” she inquired cynicaly.
He sighed, then flicked the safety back on the weapon and holstered it. He casually turned his attention back to the forward view, leaving Melissa’s face hanging next to his.
“How long until we get there?” she asked, intentionally whispering directly over the skin of his ear.
This time her proximity had caught him off guard, and it sent a slight visible shiver through his body. Shawn let out an uncomfortable cough. “Forty five minutes, present speed.”
Satisfied she’d won this round, she leaned back, looking around the cabin while fidgeting with her fingernails. She caught his eyes in the tiny mirror once again. “To be perfectly honest with you, Captain, I’ve never been one to enjoy solitude. I thought… I thought we might talk.”
His eyes didn’t move from her reflection in the mirror. “Really? About what?”
Melissa bit her lower lip nervously. “Well, about my father… for starters.”
It was then that Shawn turned fully turned to regard her. At the same moment she moved her eyes down to meet his. Their eyes seemed to search one another’s for memories of the one person who had meant almost everything to each of them—albeit for entirely
different reasons. The captain licked his lips, looked back to the stars for a moment, then jerked is head sideways, offering Melissa the empty copilots chair.
“Just please don’t touch anything.”
“Thank you,” she replied genuinely. She managed to squeeze past the captain, but not before he flashed a look in her direction. Melissa scrambled into the well-used seat, pleasantly surprised at its pushiness’. She located and latched the seatbelt, gazed around quickly, then looked to Shawn, who was looking back and softly smiling.
“What?” she asked innocently.
He turned his head and spoke into the window at his left. “Nothing. I was just thinking—”
“Yes?”
Shawn turned back to her. “I was thinking of the last time I flew with your dad. The last time…” he began, but then let his words trail off.
The captain remained silent, and Melissa could tell he was replaying the moment in his mind. “Yes, Captain?” she asked, trying to keep her tone inviting.
“The last time was when I flew him off the carrier, after the war had ended. We were sitting… you know… just like this. I was the pilot and he was…he was…”
The captain seemed to be having a hard time with the words, and it was then that Melissa began to realize how much this might be affecting him as well. “The copilot?” she asked, hoping it was the right word.
“Yeah. That’s it. Anyway, he asked me to ferry him over to Tagus Station, where he was supposed to meet up a transport to take him… to take him…? I don’t remember where he was going to from there, but I do remember the flight to the station.” He chuckled as he recalled that afternoon. “It was three hours of coffee induced insomnia, narrating space stories to one another as if we’d never see each other again,” he smiled broadly at the recollection. “Apart from my first solo flight, it was the best ride I’d ever been on.”
The Army Of Light (Kestrel Saga) Page 8
