“Oh, Mister Kestrel. I didn’t see you standing there.”
Melissa looked lovely. She had changed out of the last outfit he’d seen her in—a somewhat formfitting flight suit she’d worn on board Sylvia’s Delight—into something even more flattering. She was wearing a sleeveless green dress, made of a shimmering material that looked like diamonds interwoven with silk. Her auburn hair, usually pulled back into a ponytail, was flowing delicately over her lithe shoulders. The light from the table bathed her soft features in an almost angelic glow, and Shawn had to remind himself to whom and what he was talking.
“Miss Graves. Or are we on a first-name basis now?”
She smiled faintly, but it still pulled at something inside Shawn’s heart. “Please, have a seat and we’ll discuss it.”
Shawn silently pulled the chair back and seated himself across from her. “We’ll discuss it? That sounds awfully formal. Tell me, are we on duty or off, Agent Graves?” He hadn’t meant it as a crack, so why had it sounded like one when it crossed his lips?
“Please, don’t call me that here,” she replied in a hushed voice.
“Why not? It is who you are, after all.”
“Yes, I know. But…” she looked wistfully from Shawn to the stars. “Not here. Not right now.”
“Then is it Melissa?”
She smiled at the view before returning her gaze to him. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
“Hey, you kissed me, remember? I think that entitles me to a few liberties.”
An auburn eyebrow rose and she smirked. “Did I? I don’t seem to recall such an altercation.”
Shawn couldn’t help but return the gesture. “So you’re going to classify the matter, then?”
“Do I need to?”
“Do you want to?”
Her smile faded as she cast her eyes to the glowing tabletop. “It’s not about what I want, Shawn. It’s about what we have to do.”
“Can I get you anything?” the voice of a waiter came from behind Shawn’s shoulder. Why do they always come at the worst possible time?
“Beer,” Shawn said. “Something dark.”
“And for the lady?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
When the waiter departed, Melissa turned her gaze back to the stars. Shawn watched as her eyes scanned the heavens as if she were looking for answers. He followed her gaze as he recalled something he’d read once.
“People travel to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering.”
“Yeats?” Melissa asked softly, referring to the Old Earth poet without turning her attention from the view port.
“No. Saint Augustine.”
Her brow furrowed nearly imperceptibly. “He was a pacifist, right?”
“More or less,” Shawn conceded. “In essence, he believed that the pursuit of peace must include the option of fighting to preserve it in the long term.”
A weak smile crept across her face. “That sounds like a philosophy both you and my father would get behind.”
The waiter reappeared just then, depositing Shawn’s ale on the illuminated tabletop.
Shawn nodded to the man and then returned his gaze to the attractive woman. “Well, he was also the patron saint of brewers.”
She let out an uncontrollable chuckle and turned to face Shawn with a grin. “Now that is definitely a philosophy you would get behind.”
Shawn held his glass up in a toast before taking a tentative sip. “Now, what is this about needs versus wants?”
Her smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “The mission is our number one priority right now.”
“So that answers my first question: this is going to be an ‘on-duty’ conversation.”
Her shoulders dropped and she looked to the overhead in frustration. “Damn it, Shawn,” she cursed under her breath. “I’m an OSI agent. I’m not supposed to go off duty…ever.”
“So…is that why you called me down here?”
She jerked her head back. “What do you mean?”
“To tell me this. To say it was all a mistake…that it wasn’t supposed to happen? You asked me to stay on board the Rhea, remember?”
“I know I did.”
“And I did.”
Melissa folded her hands on the tabletop, then looked down at them humbly. “I know you did.”
“And now I want answers.”
“I’m not ready to give you answers.” She could see the frustration in Shawn’s eyes. She tentatively moved her hands on the table, close but not too close to his. “We have…other responsibilities right now. Ones that need to be addressed before I can…before I can think of myself.”
“Or others, it seems.”
“Are you kidding? That’s all I’m thinking about right now.”
“You mean your father? Because he’s still missing?”
“I mean the whole quadrant, Mister Kestrel. We’ve stumbled upon something big here, bigger than what Sector Command is telling these people.”
“You mean the OSI stumbled upon it?”
She smiled, pushing her hair behind her ear and sneaking a wink in Kestrel’s direction in the process. “I mean you and I.”
“You’re talking about what Toyotomi told us?”
She nodded slowly, her gaze digging into his. “And from what I’ve learned on my own in the last few hours.”
“Care to share it with me?”
Melissa leaned closer, her voice now barely above a whisper. “Remember when I told you I’d be in charge of you while you were on board this ship? That means you work for me, Lieutenant Commander, and I intend on sharing as much of this information with you as I can.”
Shawn moved his hands an inch closer to hers. “And would this sharing be in an official capacity?”
“I’m the lead agent on this mission now. I can confide in anyone I wish, assuming they know the price of that trust.”
“And that price would be what, exactly?”
She leaned back, pulling her hands further away. “Simple. I need you to trust me.”
“That’s it?” he asked sarcastically. “Wow, such a small request coming from you.”
“Don’t get smart, Shawn. I only lied to protect you.”
“Yes, I see. And look where it’s got me: back in the service, apparently going to fly fighters, with you still in charge of my movements.”
She softened her eyes and her words. “At least you’ve still got your health.” She leaned back to him, reaching out and brushing his hand, but then withdrew sharply, hoping no one had seen.
“And now I suppose you have full access to my personnel files?”
She nodded gently, her auburn hair falling forward from behind her ear to cover her left eye.
“And you know everything about me now. Is that right?” he continued.
She shook her head this time. “I haven’t looked at it…hadn’t planned on looking at it.”
“Why?”
“As I said, it’s about trust. If there comes a time when I need to read it, I will. Until then, I’m putting my trust in you. I’m sure you won’t let me down.”
“That’s a pretty big leaf for a hardened OSI agent to turn over, especially a command one.”
Melissa reached into her purse and withdrew a small data cartridge. Shawn saw her fingers fumble with it before she reached across the table, grasped his hand, and slipped him the device in the process. She held his hand for a moment longer than was necessary. “People change, Mister Kestrel.”
“So I’ve heard.” He felt the softness of her fingers across the back of his hand as her grip tightened. Then, far sooner than he would have wished, she withdrew from him. “Aren’t you worried about being seen fraternizing with the enemy?”
She chuckled slightly. “Hardly. You’re far from dangerous…unless you’re behind the control of tha
t ship of yours. Only then are you a hazard to yourself and your passengers.”
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Shawn laughed back. “You had to knock my piloting again. That cuts me deep, you know.”
“A big, strong man like yourself? I’m sure you’ve suffered worse.”
Without warning, an image of his departed wife passed before Shawn’s eyes.
Melissa could tell something was amiss when his face hardened and he pulled back slightly from the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay.” He tried to dismiss his thoughts with a wave of his hand, but found it impossible. “It’s…it’s okay. I’m glad I’m not the enemy to you.”
“Well, my second point on your question is this: we’re already being watched.”
Shawn cocked his head inquisitively, to which Melissa responded with a slight nod. “From whom? From where?”
Melissa leaned toward the table, involuntarily causing Shawn to do the same. “There are at least two of them, maybe more.”
“Who are they?”
Melissa shrugged. “Amateurs. They’re probably ship’s security, assigned by Krif to keep an eye on us.”
“Where?”
“The waiter is one of them, for starters.”
“How do you know?” They were talking in low whispers now.
“I’ve been doing this long enough, Commander. I can see it in the way he walks.”
“You’ve been watching him walk? Can I ask, was it when he was coming or when he was going?”
She grinned a Cheshire smile. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“I’m just curious about your methods, that’s all.”
She gave him an approving nod, letting him off the hook gently. “Coming, not going.”
“Who else?”
She leaned her head further toward Shawn, close enough now that he could smell her jasmine perfume. “The man in the upper balcony, starboard corner, near the bulkhead.”
Shawn looked up, but could barely discern a shape in the dimly lit space above. “How do you know about that one?”
“Look into my eyes and I shall tell you no lies,” she said, causing him to do just that. The color of her eyes was somewhat different. Even in the dim light Shawn could see they were no longer the same brilliant green as before, but were now slightly more olive.
“Spectral lenses?”
She winked at him slowly.
“You OSI agents…you guys get all the cool toys.”
“Play nicely and I may share someday.”
“I thought those things were supposed to cause retinal damage after prolonged exposure.”
“You know, I’m beginning to like the sound of you being concerned about me.”
“Just your eyes.”
“You’re only concerned about my eyes?” she teased.
He smirked, beginning to enjoy the banter they shared. “Maybe I’m just concerned about what they see when they’re looking at me.”
She leveled her gaze at him and smiled. “If it were anything but good, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”
“So…no more slapping, then?”
Recalling when she’d struck Shawn before, she couldn’t help but chuckle. “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Melissa looked back at Shawn and smiled. “Speaking of appreciation, how did Trent take the news that you’d both be staying on board the Rhea for the time being?”
Shawn leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “As well as could be expected.”
“I’m sure it was colorful.”
He snickered. “You could have painted a rainbow with all the remarks he had on the subject. In the end, though, he took it well. It’ll give him all the time and resources he needs to get D back to full operational status. Once we’re finished here, I plan on getting back to Minos and getting some of my past debts paid.”
She smiled kindly. “Whether you realize it or not, you’re paying some of them off right now.”
Before he could ask her what she meant by the remark, she slid her chair out and got up from the table.
“This is goodbye?” he asked.
“For now. Until tomorrow, that is.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow we reach our destination, and I’ll need you by my side.”
“Need, not want?”
She didn’t skip a beat. “Is there a difference?”
“And just where are we going?”
“It’s on the cartridge I handed you. Read over it tonight, Commander. You won’t have a lot of time tomorrow.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re scheduled for several hours of simulator training in the morning, and I’ll need you in the hangar deck by 1300 for our first official mission together. Again, it’s all on there…hotshot.” Somehow, the nickname seemed far more tantalizing coming from her than it did from Richard Krif. She straightened her posture, effortlessly assuming her title as an OSI command agent once again. “Good night, Lieutenant Commander Kestrel. Pleasant dreams.”
“You too, ma’am.” He took a long sip from his beer as she strode confidently away, but it did nothing to quench what he was feeling.
*
After one of the longest days of his life, Shawn Kestrel made it back to his cabin, nearly throwing himself on his bed when it was within distance. The odd concoction he’d drunk in Captain Krif’s private galley, sitting stealthily in his system without leaving so much as a hint of inebriation, had shot through his bloodstream like a rocket just after he’d finished his dark ale in the observation lounge. The Rhea seemed to be doing end overs, barrel rolls, and corkscrews all at the same time, and he wasn’t sure how long his stomach could take it. He shut his eyes, blocking out the world around him with one arm draped across his face.
He had all but forgotten the data cartridge Melissa had given him, to say nothing of the material he’d retrieved from the file folder earlier. He’d decided the moment his head had touched down on his bed that it could all wait until tomorrow. As he began to drift off to sleep, Shawn’s mind was filled with the random thoughts he’d formulated throughout the day. Then an image of Melissa popped into his consciousness, just as quickly replaced by the face of his beautiful wife, gone now nearly six years. The images of the two seemed to be tugging at his subconscious in a fight for dominance as he drifted into slumber.
Chapter 3
While there were some traditions of military service that had long since fallen by the wayside, reveille appeared to be one of the few that Shawn regretted was still a part of everyday life aboard ship. When one of the notes was down too far in pitch, Shawn assumed either the bugler was new, or it was a bad recording. Regardless, as the sounds came over the speaker in his quarters—one that, by some cruel joke, had been placed near the head of his bed—he slowly hauled himself to a seated position and was poised to get up when a brief knock came to his door. Unconcerned that he was still wearing the same clothes as the day before, he shuffled to the closed hatch with half-opened eyes.
He pressed the door release button and was greeted by a young female officer—and considering the wide smile on her face, a far-too-chipper one.
What was the time, anyway? He thought about verbalizing the thought, but then decided he didn’t really care what time it was. It was too early. Shawn looked at the rank insignia on her shoulder, noting with chagrin she was a junior officer.
“Yes, Ensign, what can I do for you?” he asked while rubbing his face, causing the words to sound slightly slurred.
“Sir, I have—”
“Wait, don’t tell me. Your high-ranking father isn’t missing, is he?”
The young woman gave him a dumbfounded look as she slowly shook her head.
“You haven’t come for my help, have you?” Shawn continued as he leaned against the doorjamb. “You don’t need me to ferry you across the sector, free of charge, where you’ll probably take
the shirt off my back when I’m not looking, right?”
The young woman’s bright, violet eyes—a dead giveaway that she was from the Knomn system—narrowed under her crisp baseball-style cap. The highly polished Sector Command logo on its center caught the ship’s lighting in all the wrong places, directing the glare straight into Shawn’s sensitive eyes. “I’m fairly certain I don’t need you to rescue me, sir, and my father’s not in the service. He’s a pastry chef.”
Shawn stopped rubbing his face, but kept his hands poised in front of his mouth. “Do his cakes create imminent danger for his customers, or are they vital to the security of the Unified government?”
She seemed to ponder the question for a moment, probably trying to gauge whether the commander’s preposterous questions were serious or not. “Not that I’m aware of, sir.”
Shawn rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and yawned wearily. “Well then, Ensign…uh…Ensign…?”
“McAllister, sir. Ensign Clarissa McAllister.” With that, her hand shot forward and she grabbed Shawn in a jolting handshake. “And I’d just like to say, sir, that it’s going to be a privilege working with you. I’ve heard so much about you, and I can’t tell you what an honor it is to be working with a living legend such as yourself.”
“I had no idea I was so old.”
She gasped in shock. “Oh…oh no, sir. That’s not what I meant. I meant that you’ve been a hero of mine since I was a little girl. No, that didn’t sound right, either.” She closed her eyes, getting the thoughts in her brain in order before she spoke again. “What I mean is that you’ve been around for so long and you’ve—”
Shawn noticed the color of her face had gone from a mild pink to nearly red, and he took it as a sign to intervene and save her from any further embarrassment. “Yes, Ensign McAllister. I think I understand. What can I do for you on this rather cold and dreary morning?”
“Yes, sir.” She located her misplaced military bearing and snapped to attention. “Uniforms, sir.”
Shawn gave her a passing glance. “You look perfectly fine to me, Ensign. Is there an inspection I’m late for?”
“No, sir. I mean, I have your uniforms.” She reached for something beside his door, beyond his field of view, and produced an assortment of standard issue Unified garments in all their utter drabness. “They’ve been tailored by the ship’s computer to your exact measurements, sir.”
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